by Ella Fox
“Really?” I ask. “That’s it? Why can’t I take the backpack, too?”
He shrugs. “Looks heavy.”
True, it’s not the lightest thing in the world—but I’ve carried heavier. Heck, I got it and my luggage down here without a lick of help from anyone.
He raises his hand when I open my mouth to argue.
“Not gonna win this battle, sweet girl. You need to let me do this.”
I let out a heavy sigh and nod. Gesturing down to my feet he says, “shoes.”
I gesture back over my shoulder. “They’re back in the living room,” I answer.
“Cool. Put ‘em on so we can bail.”
Once I’ve handed off my backpack I head into the living room with him right behind me. I stop at the end table next to the couch and slide into my purple Muggs. They’re a knockoff of a big name brand because I can’t afford a pair of the real ones.
“Babe,” he laughs, “it’s about ninety degrees out. You really wearin’ boots?”
I push my hair back from my face as I stand up. “They’re really comfortable,” I explain. Men are oblivious to the cozy comfort of a faux-fur lined boot.
He rolls his eyes but smiles as he does it. “Alright, let’s get out of this dump. Once we get outside you’ll have to tell me which car is yours.”
I wrinkle my nose and look down at the gross carpet. “I don’t have one.”
This makes him frown. “No car?” he asks, like he can’t believe what I’ve just said.
I shake my head. “I can’t afford insurance so I sold my grandmother’s car. That’s a large part of why I had the money to move here. Anyway, I took a car service to get here from the airport. Location is part of the reason I chose this house—it’s close to public transit which would’ve made it easy to get around while I looked for jobs.”
When I look up, John’s staring at me in a way that makes my pulse start to race. “Gonna thank God every day from here on out that I found you before you started spending time at that fuckin’ bus stop.”
I frown. “What’s wrong with the bus? I’ve been taking it for almost six months.”
He grimaces as he raises his hand behind his head to rub his neck. “There’s nothing wrong with the bus,” he answers, “but the bus stop in this neighborhood is routinely the sight of drug deals and petty thefts.”
That sounds awful. “Oh,” I mutter.
“Yeah, oh,” he says. “Got a feeling if I didn’t come across you today our meeting up would’ve been inevitable. Gonna work on those street smarts, sweetheart. Right away.”
“I don’t want to be a bother—”
I stop talking when he reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You are never a bother, Mallory. Want to sit and catch up with you but we can’t do that here. Let’s get gone.”
I nod my agreement as he picks up my big suitcases—like they weigh nothing—and gestures to the door. “You follow along right behind me. We’re walking up the stairs and right out the door to my squad car.”
I can’t help the little squeak of excitement that bursts forth. John raises a brow in question.
“I get to ride in your squad car,” I say with a high degree of excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like in one.”
John guffaws like I’ve just cracked the funniest joke he’s ever heard. When he gets himself together, he shakes his head and smirks.
“Looks like we’ve got a wish list item to knock off. If you play your cards right I’ll let you turn the siren on for me a minute.”
Chapter 4
Mallory
It was impossible not to notice how the scenery steadily improved the further we got further away from the disastrous rental. After John let me turn the sirens on and off, he moved on to interviewing me. Since then he’s been peppering me with questions, which means I told him about losing Grandma Ruby to a stroke a little less than a month after he left.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel and his jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ,” he rasped. “Can’t believe you’ve been all alone this entire time. Really wish I’d known that.”
“It turned out okay,” I hasten to assure him. “I made a few friends at my job and I was able to move in with one of the families from church so I could save money.”
“You were waitressing, right?”
I nod. “Grandma Ruby would never have allowed that if she were alive but I saw it as an adventure and I really liked it at first. It didn’t take long to wear me down, though. People are mean, John.”
He frowns but stays focused on the road. “Someone was shitty to you?” he asks in a tight sounding voice.
“No one in particular,” I hasten to explain. “It was just a general thing. I’d run myself ragged for a four top—”
“Four top?”
I giggle as it occurs to me that he doesn’t know restaurant lingo. “Sorry—four people at a table. Anyway, I’d bust my buns to make sure everything was perfect and half the time I’d be lucky to get a five dollar tip. The other half of the customers who tipped well meant I broke even, but for the amount of work I was doing I really started getting down about it. People get really testy about their food and I swear twenty percent of the people who go out to eat are looking for an excuse to send food back and make their server feel like garbage.”
John nods as he turns into an adorable little neighborhood. “See that in my job too, babe. Not all the time—the badge tends to keep a lid on a good amount of shitty attitude—but some people just can’t wait to get testy. Sometimes all you can do is shrug it off. Sucks, but it’s a fact.”
“I get that.”
I don’t get to say anything else since John has slowed down and is pulling into what I know must be his driveway. My eyes go wide as I take in the tan colored brick house with the chocolate shutters and a driveway long enough for several cars. The front yard is quite large and there are two large trees with purple, yellow, and pale blue pansies planted around the base of each with a thick layer of dark mulch around it. The front walkway is lined with pansies as well as more dark mulch and there are perfectly pruned box shrubs beneath the front windows. From the outside, the house is so perfect I can’t wait to see the interior.
John pulls all the way down the side of the house and stops right before what looks to be fairly new wood fencing. Putting the cruiser in park, he turns off the engine and hops out. I barely have time to unbuckle my seatbelt before he opens the passenger door and holds his hand out for me. Taking it, I feel my heart skip a beat or two. After letting go of my hand, he opens the rear door and pulls out my toiletry bag and purse before he reaches back in for the rest of my stuff.
He closes the car door and gestures to the house. “Let’s get you settled.”
It’s a short walk from the car to the side door. Sliding his key into the lock, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Forgot to mention—I’ve got a cat. She can be a little high maintenance and she may give you a little shit but don’t worry, she’ll come around.”
I nod before he turns and opens the door. I suck in a surprised breath as I walk into the kitchen behind him. I was never allowed to go inside of John’s apartment when we were neighbors—my grandmother would’ve beaten me silly— so I had no idea he was so clean. I look around slowly as I drink it all in. The honey colored hardwood floors run as far as my eyes can see, through the kitchen with its big oak cabinets and creamy silestone countertops, into the dining room and the living room. The walls are painted a neutral khaki color and the trim is all done in a crisp white. He doesn’t have anything like photos or artwork on the walls and the couch needs a throw blanket but even without those things, John’s house is nicer than almost any I’ve ever been in.
“Wow. This is lovely.”
John grins and gestures with his neck for me to follow him. As I do my eyes dart around and take it all in before he stops at a white door in the hallway and opens it.
The sound of a little meow draws my attention. Glancing down I
find myself looking at a beautiful gray British shorthair cat.
Crouching down, I wave. “Look at how adorable you are.”
John groans at the same time the cat rears her head back and glares at me as if I’ve mortally offended her. She then proceeds to growl low in her throat before John tsks her to make her stop. Once the growl stops, John crouches down next to me. “My fault, babe. First, don’t worry, she doesn’t bite. But remember I said she was high maintenance?”
I nod as I look at the beautiful piece of fluff trying to give off murder vibes. “Mm hm.”
“She hates the word adorable. Don’t even know why, but that’s her trigger. She accepts cutie, princess, beautiful, pretty, and sweet girl. Or you can call her by her name, which is Cleo. The A word is off limits and she has no problem making that known.”
I bite my lip to hold in a laugh as I look at Cleo. “Hey pretty girl.”
She stares at me like I’m a lower form of life.
When John gestures for the cat to come, she hurries over to her dad and rubs her body against his leg. “Cleo, this is Mallory. She lives with us now.”
Cleo stops rubbing against his leg as she cocks her head to stare at me. I wiggle my fingers and smile at her. “Hi Cleo.”
After staring me down for maybe four seconds, Cleo cat puts her nose in the air before she turns and saunters off.
“Like I said,” John laughs as he stands and holds out a hand for me, “high maintenance. Don’t worry though—she’ll come around. She always does.”
I try my best not to focus on how much I enjoy having my hand in his as I let him help me up. “You never struck me as a cat person.”
John barks out a laugh as he lets go of my hand and picks up the luggage again. When he gestures with his head for me to follow him, I nod.
“She was just a kitten when I found her out behind the precinct one night during my first month of work. Fed her for a week before she would let me approach her and then she almost killed me for calling her adorable. By the ninth day I had her comfortable enough to let me pick her up. As soon as I had her snuggled up against me, I knew I couldn’t let her go to anyone else. Took her to the vet and then brought her home. On the way home from said vet I dropped into Pet Palace and spent a fuckin’ fortune on shit I still don’t really understand. You might say that she’s spoiled.”
We’re walking through the living room on our way to the hall where I assume the bedrooms are as he says this. I can see what he means by spoiled, since the back corner of the living room has a five-level cat condo shaped like a castle. Then on the floor next to it is a bin of toys, most of them pink or purple. My attention returns to John as we enter the hall and he opens the first door on the left.
“This is it,” he announces.
I can’t contain my happy sound as I follow in behind him. The walls are painted the same soft khaki as the rest of the house and the floor is the same hardwood as well. There’s a simple oak bedroom set with a queen-sized bed, a TV on the wall, and a small chair in the corner. There isn’t a lot of personality to the room, but the bed is done up in simple white linens and it’s clean, fresh, and super inviting.
“It’s perfect.”
John laughs as he hefts my luggage onto the bed and lays it out. “It’s definitely a hell of a lot nicer than Mario’s shitty basement,” he says, “but it ain’t warm and friendly. I’m a lot of things, but decorator isn’t on the list.”
“I think it’s awesome,” I say softly.
He grins as he turns to face me. “I dig that you’re into it, honey. The guy at the furniture store helped me pick out sets of furniture and other than that, I’ve done nothing. I’ll move making the house into a home to the top of my list now.”
There’s something about the expression on his face that makes my stomach flip-flop. “Now?” I ask, my voice more breathless than I’ve ever heard it.
He steps in so close to me that we’re almost touching. I stifle a little gasp as his sporty scent washes over my senses. “You’re here now and that changes everything, babe.”
I gulp as my eyes go wide. He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying— right? “I don’t think I get it.”
John grins as he lifts his hand and cups my cheek. “You get it— you’re just shy. We’ll get there.”
I tilt my head, lean my cheek further into his palm as I lick my lips and blink up at him dazedly. “Where will we get?”
He growls as he sets his left hand on my waist. “We’ll get—”
His sentence is interrupted by chiming from his cell phone. Exhaling with frustration he drops his hand from my cheek, reaches for the cellphone clipped to his belt and brings it up to read the screen. He grimaces and shakes his head. “Shitty timing, but I have to get back to work. Need to do my portion of the paperwork from today and then clock out. You good here?”
“I can honestly say that I’m better than good,” I answer.
“Follow me to the kitchen,” he instructs. “Got some stuff I want to give you.”
As we walk into the hall he gestures to the door across the hall from the bedroom I’m in. “This is the bathroom. The next room down is my office— you can feel free to use the printer or anything else in there. Use my computer if you want,” he says. Then he points down to the end of the hall. “Door on the left is the master bedroom. On the right are the stairs to the game room upstairs. Got a pool table and a big screen up there. Knock yourself out anytime you want to go up.”
I nod as I take it all in before he guides me into the kitchen. Pulling a pad of paper and a pen from a drawer by the fridge he writes something down before he rips off the top piece and hands it to me. “Here’s the Wi-Fi password and my cell number. Spare key is on a white lanyard in the draw next to the door if you need it for any reason. Eat whatever looks good in the fridge or the pantry. My shift ends at six so I’ll be home about half an hour after that. You good?”
I nod. “I’m good.”
Stepping close, John cups the back of my head and then drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’m really fuckin’ happy you’re here, honey. I’ll see you in a few hours,” he says before he steps back and turns to leave.
I think I say something like see you when you get back but I don’t know because I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing when he kissed my forehead.
Chapter 5
John
I’ve never been so anxious to get home, and it’s all because Mallory is there, waiting for me. Fuck, I can’t believe she’s here. It was like a kick in the gut to hear that her grandmother died just after I left. Had I stayed, I’d have been there for my girl. Instead, she spent the better part of the last six months by herself and that shit is not cool. It’s a blessing that she’s here with me now, though.
After parking my big truck in the driveway, I hurry toward the house. As I open the door, I'm hit with the scent of pasta sauce. I grin when Mallory waves to me from the kitchen island where she’s busy slicing garlic bread. Cleo is lounging on the counter watching—close to my girl. Apparently progress was made in their relationship while I was at work.
“I made dinner,” Mallory announces.
“Seein’ that, honey,” I say as I hang up my car keys on the hook next to the door. “Need me to do anything?”
She gestures toward the bubbling pot on the stove. “Spaghetti is probably ready if you want to drain it.”
Crossing the kitchen, I open the lower cabinet closest to the fridge and pull out the stainless steel colander. “On it.”
After draining the spaghetti, I dump it into a ceramic pasta bowl and carry it to the counter where Mallory already has the pot of sauce waiting. Setting the pasta down I lift up the sauce and start pouring as she uses a spaghetti server to mix the sauce with the pasta. Just doing these little things with her is infinitely better than what typically goes down when I come home from work. Usually, I crack a beer, turn on the news, and heat up something from the freezer.
We each make our plates and then hea
d to the table to eat. Cleo follows to the table and then plops her ass down at my feet, as per usual.
“See you two made some progress today,” I say.
Mallory looks down at Cleo and smiles. “She sat in the doorway to the bedroom and watched me unpack. The second it was clear she came in and jumped up on the bed where she then proceeded to stare at me until I got a clue and started to pet her. She’s a good snuggler—I wound up falling asleep with her for almost an hour.”
I smile and lean over to pet Cleo. “See what happens when you’re nice, pretty girl? You made a new friend.”
Cleo purrs as she rubs her head against my hand. When I straighten up, she gives me a dirty look and meows. I swear if she had her way, someone would be petting her fluffy ass about twenty hours a day.
Turning my attention back to Mallory I ask, “So you settled in okay?”
“I did,” she answers as she places her napkin in her lap. “This house is amazing.”
This house was fine before. With her living here? Now it’s amazing.
“Glad you’re feelin’ it, honey. Gotta say it was a treat and a half to come home to dinner, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to cook.”
Her sweet lips curl up into a smile as she shakes cheese onto her pasta. “Are you kidding? I was happy to do it. I love to cook. The only bad thing was that there was no ground beef for me to make meatballs. You haven’t lived until you’ve had them the way I make them.”
“I’ll add meat to the grocery list,” I laugh.
She nods and takes a bite of spaghetti. I’m a glutton for punishment because I can’t look away from the way her lips move when she chews. In an attempt to keep things from getting weird, I take a bite of my meal.
After Mallory swallows and takes a sip of milk, she says, “How far away is the closest store?”
“About two miles. Nice store—brand new. They’ve got a great deli.”
I swear her smile lights up the room. “That’s awesome. I can walk to and from tomorrow while you’re at work. I’ll pick up some chicken and beef.”
