Hot Cop: A Brother's Best Friend Romance Read online

  “Yeah, that part’s a barrel of laughs,” he deadpanned. “Good thing you’re here sweetie.”

  “Yeah, I’m a total Florence Nightingale, I know,” I said. “There’s a reason I didn’t become a nurse. Anyway, I’ll settle in. I’m just antsy because I’m used to working fourteen-hour days…” I trailed off, not wanting my brother to know how restless I really was.

  “They’re down an officer here in town. Ray Shaw’s finally retiring. Brody’s the chief now. I’m sure he’d give you an interview if you wanted to join the RFPD.”

  “Brody’s the chief?” I asked, trying to pretend that my cheeks didn’t flush at the mention of his name.

  Brody was my big brother’s oldest friend, tall and handsome and out of reach, my teenage crush. If we’re being honest here, he’s the reason I have a type. My type is tall, dark hair, quiet and brooding with the warmest brown eyes—those coffee eyes that missed nothing, that seemed to hint at depth and compassion and strength, dark eyes fathoms deep. I felt a pull in my stomach remembering his eyes. The eyes of a man I never dated, never slept with—a man who was just my brother’s friend who married a sweet girl I was always low-key jealous of. Now he was grown up and the chief of police. I tried to act more casual than I felt.

  “That’s great. I’d love to talk to him. I mean I’d love to talk about a job, have an interview,” I said, stumbling over my words in a way that made me feel younger again and stupid.

  “He’s not much on catching up. He’s been a bit of a loner since Missy died.”

  “I heard about that. I sent a card,” I said.

  I didn’t come back for the funeral. I hadn’t really known her and hadn’t seen Brody in years, so I hadn’t taken off work. Now somehow, I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t offered my support in person. I knew Damon had always been a good friend to him, almost like a brother. So I was sure he supported him a lot during that time. I shook my head. I had too much time to sit around and think. That was my problem. A job interview was just the thing for me.

  “I’ve got to head to the firehouse. Just wanted to stop in and say hi. Where’s Mom?”

  “I made her go into town. She’s getting her hair colored. I can’t believe she’s been doing it all on her own for months.”

  “I’m sitting right here, daughter,” our dad said grumpily.

  “Yep. You sure are,” I teased. “Not that he’s not a complete delight to take care of, it’s just a big job to handle the house and cooking and the health care needs of another human. At least with babies they don’t talk back,” I said to Damon, shooting a mischievous look at my dad.

  “I can still take you out behind the woodshed and bust your ass, little girl,” he said wryly.

  “We don’t have a woodshed, and Mom always busted my ass with a wooden spoon. You were the good cop, remember?”

  “Those days are gone. It’s bad cop worse cop now, right Damon?”

  “It’s no cops. It’s firemen only,” he said. I rolled my eyes.

  “Remember when she was little and we thought she was so sweet?” Dad asked pointedly to Damon.

  “Yeah, those were the days,” he said.

  “Then she started talking, and we found out we were wrong,” Dad sighed.

  “More green tea?” I asked sweetly.

  He rolled his eyes big time at that one. “You sure you counted my pills right? Cause I remember we never thought you’d learn your times tables.”

  “Yeah, sis, we thought you’d have to be a stripper when you grew up because you sucked at math too bad to wait tables,” Damon chimed in.

  My mom walked in then, tossing her shiny, newly darkened hair in its neat bob.

  “You look fabulous!” I said, hugging her.

  “See, she’s nice to her mother. Saves the backtalk for me,” Dad said.

  “Well?” Mom posed, showing off her haircut.

  “Have you got a tan?” Dad asked.

  “Laura was a sneak. She called ahead and paid for the works. I had my hair done, my nails done, and a spray tan. I feel like I’ve been to Jamaica!” she said. I grinned. It was money well spent. My mom deserved a little spoiling.

  “You look beautiful as always,” Dad said. “But don’t you go running off to Jamaica with some guy that has two working kidneys.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” my mom said, kissing his cheek, “Never.”

  “It’s grim humor. I enjoy it,” he said.

  “Dark humor,” my brother corrected.

  “Oh, go to work, you’re as bad as your sister,” he said with a wheezy chuckle. I was worried about him, but it did us all good to hear him talking shit and full of spunk. When he really felt bad he was cooperative. It was scary as hell, and none of us ever wanted to see him like that again.

  I followed her to go hang her coat up, “I called Hester at the hospital auxiliary. She’s getting me a list of names, people who help out with home health care.”

  “Your dad—”

  “Is going to have to deal with it.”

  “But I—”

  “Need my help? I know. Look, I’m the bossy one. And you always encouraged me to do what I knew was right. So here we are. I’m being bossy, and I know what’s best here. Between you and me and the cleaning lady and the health aide, we can do this and keep our sanity. I also checked at the library and book club is still during Wednesday afternoons.”

  “But your dad has dialysis Wednesday mornings and—”

  “And so we’ll make sure someone is here on Wednesday afternoons in case he needs something. You look great, but you’re run down. I know it, Mom,” I said.

  “I want to go back to the gym,” she admitted. “I used to go to the seniors’ aerobics class. I’ve gained thirty-eight pounds since your dad went into kidney failure. He lost weight and I found it,” she said ruefully. I nodded.

  “Then figure out when you need to be there, and I’ll make sure we build that into the schedule for the people who’ll be helping us out.”

  “I’m not sure about this. Your dad won’t like it.”

  “Dad also doesn’t want you running yourself ragged trying to meet everyone’s needs but your own. I’m here, and I’m a fixer. Let me help you both.”

  “He sure has perked up with you around. He’s talking shit nonstop. He loves to try and get your goat, always has,” her smile was teary.

  “You know how we are. It’s all affectionate. We tease each other. I compared him to a baby. He said he missed it before I learned to talk.”

  My mom looked shocked.

  “Your face is gonna freeze like that. You have to get used to us again. I’ve been gone a long time.”

  “But, honey, Rockford Falls never changes. That’s the great thing about it.”

  “No, being close to my family is the great thing about it. I was happy in Charleston. But I think it took coming back home to realize how bad I really missed you all. Even Damon. But don’t tell him I said so.”

  “I won’t say a word,” she promised with a sparkle in her eye.

  “I may head down to the station tomorrow and see about getting an interview here in Rockford Falls,” I said tentatively.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked. I shook my head, a grin forming on my face. “Because there is nothing that would make me happier than knowing you were staying. Putting down roots.”

  “If the next word out of your mouth is grandchildren, Mom, I swear I’m putting hot sauce on your tongue,” I said.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “But you know I want a baby to love on.”

  “Get a cat.”

  “Cats don’t like to be held. Also they shed.”

  “Well, I’m a cop. I just moved home to help with dad. The odds of me hooking up with my future life partner—”

  “Why can’t you just say husband? Why?”

  “Because it pisses you off,” I said. “But the odds are not in my favor at this point. I’m thirty. In small-town years, that’s like seventy-five. I’m an old mai
d and a police officer so people probably think I’m a lesbian.”

  “It’s not the cop thing. It’s your hair. Fix it once in a while.”

  “I have lesbian hair? Is that even a thing?”

  “I have a Pinterest board of hairstyles for you. There are even TikToks on how to fix the hair you have now.”

  “You have a Pinterest board devoted to my potential hair?” I said, making a face.

  “Yes. I’ve been cooped up with your father for months. I had to do something besides eat Pringles and fold laundry.”

  “You have a point. You could have developed a serious drinking problem—which is where I’m headed if I don’t get out of the house and get a job soon. For real. I was eyeing the old bottle of Baileys on the fridge that you use for fudge at Christmas. I was thinking, hey maybe I put a little in the coffee, and Dad’s stories about the firehouse will be more entertaining.”

  “Don’t do it. It won’t work. They weren’t great stories to begin with,” my mom quipped.

  “And you always say I got my smart mouth from my daddy,” I teased.

  “It’s good to have you home, baby. That old fart drove me nuts even before he retired. Then he got sick, and I’m worried all the time, doing everything I can and it’s never enough to keep the Grim Reaper away. Once we were housebound, it was binge the carbs or commit a homicide.”

  “He’s not an easy patient. It’s a good thing I didn’t become a nurse. All I’m saying’s I’d be on the news as ‘local nurse slays four’ by now.”

  “I know. I can’t even watch a soap opera. He has to have the History Channel turned up so loud I can’t hear myself think.”

  “I have noise-canceling headphones. I’ll loan them to you while I’m at work.”

  “I’d love that.”

  She went back downstairs to Dad. I heard them talking low, heard her laugh and him laughing with her. It had done her good to get out for a while. They loved each other, but too much nonstop togetherness plus a serious illness was enough to stress anyone out. I was glad I could be there, and for the hundredth time, I was thankful for any time I had with him. He might drive us all crazy, but he was my dad. There was no one like him.

  I sighed and shook my head, looking for something to do. I had Brody Peters on my mind. Ever since my brother mentioned him, mentioned the prospect of seeing him, I felt like a jar of fireflies had been let off inside me, a sparkly excitement was rolling through my veins. I wanted to get back to work. I was a hell of a cop, and I liked the idea of working in my hometown. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it gave me pause that it would mean working for Brody. I was a grown woman and a professional. But working closely with someone I used to have a major crush on was bound to be awkward. I wanted to fit right in on the hometown force, not fumble my words like I had in front of Damon or do something stupid like get caught checking him out.

  Maybe he had gone bald and turned into a racist asshole. A girl could always hope. That would make it easier not to be attracted to him. I could control myself, and I never dated anyone I worked with. Not for lack of offers, because when you work long hours together, and go into danger having each other’s backs, close friendships develop. But I made sure mine stayed just that. Friendships with coworkers. Not personal relationships and nothing romantic. If there was one thing I remembered my dad saying when they hired their first female firefighter, it was ‘don’t shit in your own hand. You never get involved with somebody you work with’. It wasn’t exactly a beautiful piece of wisdom, but I took it to heart.

  Remembering that I used to fantasize about my brother’s friend wasn’t exactly the best way to prepare for an interview with him. I had never been close with him, but I knew Damon thought the world of him. So I knew that Brody was a man of integrity. Not some creep who’d harass the officers, and definitely not the kind of person who’d put up with that kind of crap from his force. There was nothing to worry about on that front—he wouldn’t try to take advantage of me, I wouldn’t try to flirt with him. I was a grown woman who could control myself. I’d never yet met a man who could make me lose control, because there wasn’t one. I was a good cop, and my mother’s daughter. Appropriate and modest behavior, strict professionalism—it was in my blood. I might goof around with the other cops, but there wouldn’t be any joking around with Brody. I knew that for sure. Because if he looked half as brooding and serious as he’d been when we were younger, no one would dare crack a joke around him.

  So if I went to bed that night having a dirty dream about Nick Jonas, that was fine. Celebrities weren’t off-limits. Only potential bosses and my brother’s best friend.

  2

  Brody

  The slab of sugary cake from the grocery store bakery, thick with buttercream frosting swirls, sat on its paper plate. Congratulations my ass. Ray Shaw was retiring. He deserved it, and he’d be missed. But replacing him was a pain in my ass. Rockford Falls wasn’t exactly packed with qualified candidates.

  You had two kinds of applicants here. One, the dumbass redneck boys that barely passed high school and wanted to run around waving a gun to prove how tough they were, maybe get back at some people who hassled them growing up, show them who’s boss. Two, the naïve kind who thinks they’re gonna catch all the bad guys and keep this sweet little town as squeaky clean as ever. I didn’t want to deal with either type. In my seven years as chief, I’d had my fill of both. The first kind, I had to waste time policing their off-duty antics and make sure they weren’t misusing the badge or intimidating anyone, threatening to arrest their mom’s neighbor for playing music too loud or trying to get their ex-wife’s new man to take a swing at him so he could drag them in for assaulting an officer. The second kind was a lot of trouble to keep alive. They didn’t think anything too serious went wrong around here—and for the most part they were right, but they were also the type who went into a domestic disturbance call thinking they could help settle the argument and everyone would hug it out. When you’ve got a guy holding a Santoku knife to his wife’s neck in the middle of supper, you don’t wanna waste time talking about feelings.

  I only had three applications, and they were all small-town boys who fit neatly into those two categories. Petty assholes looking to settle a score and starry-eyed idiots who thought jaywalking and littering were all we had to deal with. I let out a heavy sigh and took a big bite of cake.

  “Since when does Captain Fitness eat baked goods?” I heard Damon barge into my office.

  “You realize I carry a gun. And this is my private office. If you took me by surprise, shit could happen to you,” I said wryly. “Besides, it’s damn good cake.”

  “You could’ve saved me a piece,” he said.

  “Nah. Cops only. I’m sure they have Fig Newtons over at the fire house. Besides, moderation is key.”

  “That piece of cake is about the size of the state of Indiana, bro.”

  “Who asked you?” I asked. “Plus, I have to vet applicants for Ray’s job. It requires a lot of sugar.”

  “Guys whose juvenile records were expunged and wanna be cops?” Damon asked.

  “One of those—history of B&E and domestic battery, and I’m supposed to give him a gun?”

  “Wife dropped the charges?”

  “Girlfriend, and she refused to file charges on three occasions,” I corrected grimly.

  “Heather West’s boyfriend? What’s his name? Donnie? Donnie Abrams,” he said. I rolled my eyes.

  “I can’t tell you names.”

  “Whatever. It’s a small town. He was a little shit even as a kid. Used to throw rocks at my dog.”

  “Forget that fucker. Banger was a great dog.”

  “Yeah, he was the best,” Damon sighed.

  “So, you kicked his ass?”

  “Me? No way. I was eight years older than Donnie Abrams.”

  “You kicked his ass,” I said, lifting one eyebrow.

  “Fine, maybe I did,” Damon shrugged.

  “Uniforms come in yet?” I said.
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  “Not yet. Tracking email says they’ll be at the firehouse by tonight. They would’ve been here sooner if Josh hadn’t had that growth spurt and we had to redo the order.”

  “I know. He grew like four damn inches.”

  “That navy blue is gonna be nice. Just so they’re in time for league pictures.”

  “They will be. I said tonight. The Rockford Rockets have never looked so good,” Damon said.

  “That’s partly down to the chili supper you all had at the firehouse to raise money.”

  “I got sick of our Little League 10U team having to wear matching t-shirts when the other teams had uniforms.”

  “Nothing wrong with sponsored-by-Biggie’s-BBQ on the back of our shirts,” I chuckled.

  “Yeah, it was great for intimidating the other teams. They have better equipment and nice uniforms, but look out, we probably got some bad farts from the mesquite pit,” he chuckled. I snorted.

  “So no luck filling Shaw’s position?” Damon asked.

  I shook my head. “Not at all. I’m gonna have to advertise outside town, I guess,” I said.

  “You know Laura’s back,” he said. I narrowed my eyes, surprised at that news. His baby sister had been four years or so in Charleston on their police force. I couldn’t believe she’d come back here.

  “She did? What’s wrong?”

  “My dad’s not doing great. It was too much on my mom. He wouldn’t let her have a nurse or anything in to help, and Laura got it in her head she was gonna come back and fix it all up. Funny thing is she’s been back less than a week, and she pretty much has. She just smarts off to my dad when he tells her what he won’t stand for, and he lets her have her way. My mom looks ten years younger already. Just because she’s had some free time and some help. I feel like crap for not doing more but—”

  “You’ve got your hands full at the fire station. I know that. Your family knows that. And you take him to dialysis every week, right?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not all there is to do. Laura coming back proved that all right. But my point is, she might be interested in the job.”