Muffled yelling and slams were audible from behind the door. I added my own loud knock to the mix. “Mr. Lafferty?”
A crash, then a low voice, “Screw off!”
I knocked again. “Mr. Lafferty. This is the police. I’m going to have to ask you to open the door.”
Another pause, then the door smacked and reverberated with a kick. “You’re not coming in here until I’ve trashed this whole goddamn room! Her parents are footing the bill, let them pay for what their whore daughter did.”
I sighed. Oh, the joys of marriage.
“They’re married, you know,” an older lady hissed to me from the corner. “Bride’s in the car with her parents, crying.”
“Thank you,” I told her, turning my attention back to the door. “Mr. Lafferty, this is your last warning. I’m going to break down this door.”
“You don’t even know, do you?” he yelled back. “How she cheated on me with my best friend. Found out from the bastard after I put the ring on her whore finger.” A crackled guffaw. “The best man screwing the bride, what a cliché!”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him, my jaw tightening. “But what you’re doing is against the law.”
“Aw, what do you care?” – the door reverberated with a new slam – “You have no fucking clue what it feels like.”
Suddenly, the screen which had been between his words and my mind fell down.
“Wanna bet?” I said. “You’re the one who has no clue.”
“Oh yeah?”
My gaze swayed about the goddamn overdone place – the one Melinda had insisted on.
I can almost see her now, excusing herself at our rehearsal dinner, her and my brother all tucked up together in the corner, crying and patting away each other’s tears.
“Yeah,” I said, then, lowering my voice. “Maybe women can’t be trusted, and maybe your wife is a crazy whore, but don’t do this. Don’t make yourself the bad guy, let her ruin you too. Best thing you can do is divorce the bitch with your head held high, have the best fucking life you can so she can cry herself to sleep at night over her mistake.”
A pause, then the door swung open. Reagan Lafferty regarded me with his red eyes, holding out his hands for the cuffs. “You know, they probably teach you to say that trite bullshit in cop school, but you really made it sound real, man.”
“It is real,” I told him as I snapped on the handcuffs. “You’re not the only guy a woman’s cheated on.”
I made a point of walking the guy out the back entrance, the same one I’d taken after I’d seen it. What Melinda denied up and down and cried and moaned and begged about and around, saying everything except for the truth, which she finally admitted, when I got Ben to confess.
Out the back entrance we went, doing a big circle around to my cruiser to mostly avoid the crowd.
Way I figured it, Lafferty had screwed up, but he’d also been through enough today.
--
End of the shift, I jumped in my cruiser and tried to figure out whether I wanted DQ or Death & Co. DQ would mean a nice whopping brownie explosion that could set my mind at ease, but Death and Co. would mean a nice cool beer – and maybe a nice hot girl too.
Checking my phone, I scowled. Bastards.
So, if I asked you for her number, and you said no, and I threatened to steal your phone when you weren’t looking, would you say yes? Kingston asked.
I know you don’t approve, but if you give me her number, it’ll be a lot easier than me jumping through a bunch of hoops and showing up at the Whale during hours to get it, Wyatt said.
I turned off my phone. Then on.
Then I gave her a call.
“Hey?”
“For the record, I am sorry about being a dick the other night. Kingston and Wyatt were super pissed. Wouldn’t share the hotdogs with me.”
She chuckled, though she sounded sad when she said, “I’m sorry.”
“I am too,” I said. “Now I’m supposed to give you their number, and want to know the worst part? I really don’t want to. I want to keep it to myself.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line and I immediately regretted what I’d said.
“You do?” she finally asked, a hint of appreciation in her voice.
“Yeah. I mean, I know I haven’t exactly been real outgoing with you, but I have to admit that you intrigue me.”
“Um, I intrigue you? Like I’m something you want to study and find the answer to?” now she sounded a bit annoyed.
Shit.
“No, not like that. Like, oh hell, I’m doing this all wrong,” I said, struggling to regain my composure.
Another pause. “Touché. But still, I think you may have been right in the beginning. Not sure this is a good idea for either of us.”
Her answer slammed me in the gut. It was all I could do to croak out. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Crap, crap, crap. I was totally and completely blowing this.
“Are you sure, though?” I finally said.
“No,” she admitted. “Are you?”
“I’m sure that I want to take you out and get to know you better.”
I realized it as I said it. Ever since the first moment I’d seen Britt, her beautiful face uncommonly calm in the face of such terror, I’d known. I wanted her. And the sooner I stopped fighting it, the sooner I could figure out what it meant.
“So,” she was saying. “When then?”
“Why not now?”
“Maybe I have plans now.”
“Tomorrow then. Or Friday? I don’t know, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
Another pause and I sighed. “How about this: I hang up now, drive on over to you, and take you out.”
A pause on her end now. “Sure, why not.”
I nearly fist-pumped but managed to keep my excitement at a reasonable tone in my voice.
“Great. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I dipped my head back onto the seat, starring into the indifferent grey ceiling of my car.
What the hell had I just done?
My dick was stirring in my pants, excited already.
7
Britt
“This place actually sell tea?” I asked, lingering in the doorway.
Walking through the Russian Tea Room restaurant had been an experience in itself – glitzy-dressed socialites, nondescript efficient waiters, gorgeous mirror-flecked décor, but this took the cake.
Right now, my gaze couldn’t decide what to stop on – the life-size glass bear fish bowl, the lantern-swathed tree, or the candelabras built into the wall.
“Pretty sure,” Bradley said. His palm in the small of my back gently eased me forward.
“Honestly, I’m not dressed for this place,” I whispered.
“Honestly, me neither,” Bradley whispered back, grinning.
“Here you are,” the high-ponytailed waitress said, patting the table before gliding off.
I sat down, my bare legs enjoying the plush stroke of velvet of the booth.
“Was that fun for you?” I asked him.
He eyed me quizzically. With his tousled light brown hair and wide-set Ashton Kutcher eyes I felt myself melting, so I directed my gaze to the army of spoons and forks on the exquisitely folded napkin before me.
“Coming in here when we’re clearly not dressed the part.”
He eyed me. “You look great. What’s the problem?”
I looked down. ‘Great’ and punk, maybe – with my red denim miniskirt and black cut-sides tee. But this place had people dressed in things that looked like they cost my entire weeks’ paycheck. Had he done this just to prove to me that I didn’t belong in his world?
“Sorry,” I said, realizing it as I took in his genuinely confused eyes.
That had just been my foster kid suspicious mentality creeping up – assuming he’d taken me here as some ploy to make me feel inferior. I could see that Bradley wasn’t like that. Sometimes it was a daily strugg
le to keep my insecurities and shitty early life experiences at bay.
“I’ve never been in here before, was just always interested by the sign and the golden bear on the building.”
“And you thought to take me here?” I said, flattered.
He took a sip of his water and shrugged. “Yeah, you seem like the perfect person to try something new with.”
“Why?”.
“From what I’ve seen, you’re good at going with the flow.”
I smiled. “You learn to be, being a foster kid. Every new house is like a new present that’s probably filled with a different flavor of garbage, but that you still hope beyond all hope, is filled with what you actually want.”
He stared at me, and I gulped. “Forget it. Definitely not first date conversation.”
Under the table, his knee found mine, rested against it. “What is first date conversation anyway?”
The feel of his leg on mine was buzzing through my body.
“Uh, where do you see yourself in five years?” I said.
He cracked a grin, shot back, “Do you prefer to stay in, or go out?”
“Can you see yourself as a father?” Was mine.
“What are your thoughts on cops with STDs?” he quipped.
We gaped at each other, aghast, then burst out laughing.
“What can I interest you in tonight?” a heavily-accented voice said.
I turned to the owner to find myself full-out gaping. She was the definition of a Russian Barbie doll woman – white-blond hair, D-cups pushed up to say hello, blue big heavily-lined eyes.
“Probably this is a dumb question” – Bradley flashed a smile – “But do you actually have tea here?” Over the table, he clasped my hand. “I promised her tea.”
The waitress named out the teas, while I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He hadn’t even glanced the insanely hot waitress’ way.
“Britt?” Bradley was asking.
“Uh, peppermint?” I said.
“Two peppermints,” Bradley said. “You want anything else?”
I shook my head. My nerves were too jumbled for anything more substantial.
Once the waitress was gone, Bradley sighed. “Really is something, isn’t it?” – he swept an arm around – “The décor.”
“Like art,” I agreed.
“Speaking of,” Bradley said. “Would you ever want to check out an art gallery sometime?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said, grinning. “I always have to drag Simone out to go with me.”
“She’s my co-worker and friend,” I explained. “She worked at the Louvre for a summer and somehow got tired of art, she claims.”
“Sounds like a nice place to work,” Bradley said.
“So, you’re asking me on our second date before we see how the first goes?” I teased.
He made a face. “That’s a faux-pas, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s just really optimistic,” I shot back.
“And optimism isn’t your thing?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s not been part of my normal experience.”
He sat back and studied me for a moment before speaking. I would imagine growing up in the foster care system didn’t exactly lend itself to a positive attitude. Probably why you’re so tough.” I twirled a tiny spoon in my fingers, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting him to see just how right he was. I was slowly but surely venturing into revealing-too-much territory.
“Be right back,” I said, getting up and heading toward the back of the restaurant.
I needed air – and a few minutes to get my shit together.
Inside the bathroom – which was a gorgeous mirrored palace – I rushed into a stall and closed the silvery door behind me, leaning on it. I’d known Bradley for all of three days and already I felt like I’d known him way longer. Like I could do things with him I’d barely thought about for months.
It was easy, back home with my Mr. Rabbit, not going to clubs. That was how my ex had kept me – so dicknotized that I put up with our worsening ‘relationship’. No way did I want to go through with it again.
My phone pinged and I took it out.
It was Kingston: Enjoying your date? Ask Bradley about his budgie, he looooves talking about that ;)
Clearly, Bradley had given the others my number after all. As much as I wanted to respond, I didn’t want to get into a long conversation with Kingston right now.
At the sink, I wet my hands with cool water and placed them on the back of my neck. There.
Don’t freak out, it’s just a date, I reminded myself. Don’t freak it, you can stop at any point.
Although, as I strode back to our table, some part of me felt like the last chance for stopping this rollercoaster of an attraction ride with Bradley had been back there in that bathroom.
Our tea had been set down while I was gone, and I sipped at mine before I spoke.
“Kingston texted me. Told me to ask about your budgie?”
Bradley smiled thinly. “Figured he would. Though, yeah, you should totally meet my budgie sometime.”
“Wait, so that wasn’t a joke?”
“No joke.” – he grinned fully now – “He’s this cheeky green and yellow thing my mom bought me after my break-up. I think to cheer me up. Anyway, turns out I actually like him. He has this thing where he runs in circles and hits this penguin on wheels… pretty weird, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Guess you’re not some stereotypical grown-up jock.”
He smiled ruefully. “I was captain of the football team in high school.”
“Color me shocked.”
“Let me guess, you were-”
“A bespeckled, forgotten, book-obsessed loser.”
Now it was his turn to regard me with a surprised stare. “No joke?”
I shrugged. “Books were my escape from the real world. Anyway, I only started dressing this way, dying my hair crazy colors because I found people bothered me less. If I looked more like a “normal teen” people wouldn’t have as much to talk about. “
“Wait, that isn’t your normal hair color?” he asked.
I shook my head, “Nope. I’m a natural blonde. Dye my eyebrows too. I like this look better.”
“I do too,” Bradley said, his hand reaching out and touching my chocolate brown hair with an enrapt expression. “Suits you.”
“Thanks.”
Below the table, our legs were wedged together, and his gaze was dipping irresistibly to my lips. I peeled my gaze up to his, sipping at my tea. Was I happy or upset that this table was in the way of us actually doing anything?
“Want to see him?” Bradley said suddenly.
I looked at him with my eyebrows raised. “See who?” I asked.
“Bob, my budgie,” he explained.
My smile was fleeting. “I don’t know…”
“It’s fine,” he said, rising. “I’ll take you home then.”
I frowned up at him. “Now?”
He came over to my side of the table, leaning in so his warm breath stroked my ear. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. And I won’t be able to much longer if I have to look at you with those sexy lips parted for a kiss.”
I swallowed. I could feel my pulse all the way between my legs. My arousal was swollen, aching. The way he had just said it.
“Do you want the tea to go?” he offered, but I shook my head.
He put some bills on the table to cover our tea and led me out of there. I couldn’t tell whether he was smiling at the other guests’ stares resting on us, or the fact that his arm was around me. All I knew was that the steady assertive hold of him made me feel perfectly at ease.
At his car, he opened the door for me, and I got in.
In the dark, I could still make out his longing look. “Well. Better get you home then. Same intersection?”
As he pulled out and merged into traffic, the way he’d just assumed it touched me. Bradley really hadn’t invited me out just to get in my pants. If he dro
pped me off at the intersection, then there’d be no time for anything more than a quick goodbye kiss.
“You can drop me off right at home – 245 73rd Street, if you don’t mind,” I said, smiling.
He nodded. As we drove, his hand found mine. Every part of me was brimming with so much excitement I could’ve jumped him in the middle of traffic. His fingers were dancing over the outline of mine like they were trying to memorize the shape.
By the time he pulled onto the curb, I couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“I had a great time,” he said, his lips dipping to mine.
That first kiss was pure electricity. It awakened my body as if I were kissing an electric fence. Our fingers rippled over each other’s faces, as though wanting to see where such a kiss could come from.
His stubble was exquisite agony across my palm, combined with those lips, so smooth and right. Our tongues twined as if they knew each other before. He cupped my face with both palms and kissed me slow and sweet.
When I pulled away, taking some of his lower lip with me, his whole body reacted. His hands settled under my butt, easily lifting me out of the car seat and on top of him. Then, his lips continued where we’d left off. More building upon more.
“God, you’re so sexy,” he pulled away to say, before pressing his lips to mine once more.
Tongues twisting, mouths feeding, fingertips exploring. Mine were figuring out just how much of a six-pack he had, while his were trickling under my shirt.
When they reached the cup of my bra, I moaned, and he paused.
“Are you sure?”
I stared into his eyes. “What do you mean?”
He bit his lip. “Just… this date was really good, and I don’t want you to just think…”
All of me was aching with pent-up horniness. Why couldn’t I just let things continue and deal with the consequences later?
“I guess we could stop,” I said, staring into his eyes.
He couldn’t resist another kiss. Then, suddenly, he whipped out his door and staggered out, holding me.
“Sorry,” he said, placing me on his car seat. “I just…” He smiled ruefully. “Don’t think I could manage resisting you otherwise.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I said.
Her Protectors: A Reverse Harem Romance Page 4
