With Me: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella Read online

  I pull into the visitor space in front of her place and hop out. Brit had to go in early this morning and won’t be home until after five, which gives me the day to search for my own place. She says she’s fine with me bunking on her couch, but I know it’s hard when you have someone constantly underfoot. Her place is only one bedroom with a dinky bathroom, so there’s barely any privacy for either of us. She doesn’t even have room for a proper Christmas tree.

  Inside, I grab my laptop and start the search for a place to live. I click on the bookmarked tab of a local realtor dealing with rentals and start to browse. There is a handful available in my price range, which is a plus. Even though I haven’t worked for the last month and moved to a new state, I was able to put aside enough over the years for a decent savings account. At least I’ll be able to cover first and last month’s rent, as well as grab a few of the furnishings that aren’t sitting in a storage unit after making the trip with me from Oklahoma.

  When the clock finally hits eight, I dial the number on the site and set up an appointment with a woman named Jani for one that afternoon. She says she has five different rentals for me to check out, all of which fall within what I can afford. As I hang up, I find an incoming text from Barry, one of my old buddies from home.

  Barry: How’s life in Podunk treating you?

  Me: Great. Checking some rentals today.

  Barry: Make sure you get two bedrooms. This way, when I come visit, I have privacy to entertain the ladies.

  Me: The only entertaining you do is with your hand. The ladies hate you.

  Barry: You wound me.

  Me: Hardly. Did you want something or just to bug me?

  Barry: Did your sister ask about me?

  I practically growl at my phone screen. Even though my sister wants nothing to do with Barry and his bed-hopping ways, it still bugs the piss out of me when he heckles me about her. Especially because I know it’s all bullshit and he’s doing it just to get a rise. I fall for it every time.

  Me: Nope. Doesn’t even remember your name.

  Barry: Oh, she remembers. She was yelling it all night long.

  Me: I can kill you and cover it up, you know.

  Barry: I always knew you were crooked.

  My gut churns. I know he doesn’t mean it, but still, the implication hurts. For weeks after my partner’s shit was discovered, I was investigated and interrogated. Even after being found innocent of any wrongdoing, I felt a big black mark following me wherever I went. Barry knows this, which is why I know he didn’t mean anything by his comment.

  Still doesn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

  Me: Anyway, I better get going. Meeting the realtor later.

  Barry: She hot?

  Me: The hottest

  Barry: Don’t hold out on me. You better send pics.

  Me: Ain’t happenin’

  Barry: Fine. I’ll just have to come there and see for myself.

  Me: You’re welcome anytime

  Barry: Later

  I drop my phone onto the couch and head into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. I have a handful of hours before I have to head to the first house. If I can find one today that I like, I might be able to be in by the new year in just a few weeks. Then, I can feel like I can finally start my life again.

  *****

  “Good to meet ya, Ramsey. I’m Sergeant Hall, and this is my partner Officer Hamm,” the older gentleman says as he approaches, a friendly smile on his face. “We’re the other team on nights.”

  “Happy to be here. I’m looking forward to joining the team,” I tell him as I shake both of their hands. I take a quick glance around the small pit space for officers, unable to spot my new partner.

  “You’re riding with Jackson tonight, right?” Hamm asks, a weird grin on his face.

  “Yeah,” I answer, but before I can ask why the face, the object of my latest inappropriate fantasies steps out of the tiny office I met her in yesterday, Captain Jackson hot on her heels.

  Hamm takes off to one of the desks and gathers a few items on top. “Don’t worry about him,” Sergeant Hall says quietly. “Jackson’s a good officer, just thinks she has a lot to prove.” Then, before he can elaborate, he’s gone, meeting his partner and heading out the door.

  “Ramsey,” Captain Jackson says as they approach. I know they share a last name, but I don’t see a resemblance. Where the older man has dark salt and pepper hair and even darker eyes, the young woman’s hair is very blonde with light blue eyes, not to mention the fact that their facial features are completely different. If they’re related, I’m thinking it can’t be blood.

  “Captain,” I reply, reaching for his proffered hand.

  “Officer Jackson has been briefed on tonight’s proceedings. You’re in good, capable hands,” the older man says, smiling down at the younger woman. She blushes a bit, an act that seems to make her entire face shine like a rare diamond. Her hair is pulled tight in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and my fingers tingle at the thought of sliding up her neck and tangling in that hair.

  Clearing my throat, I turn away from the woman I shouldn’t be attracted to, yet can’t seem to stop thinking about. “I’m ready to get started, sir.”

  He stares at me, our eyes connect, and I swear he knows what I’m thinking. The same thing happened yesterday, and it leaves me a little unnerved. Captain Jackson turns to my new partner and says, “Call me directly if you have any issues.”

  She rolls her eyes. Like full fledge rolls them, an act I’d never expect to see from an officer to his or her superior. “We’ll be fine,” she states bluntly, turning her back and grabbing a few things off a desk.

  Captain sighs and mumbles, “You are your mother’s child.”

  My partner doesn’t laugh, but grins widely before turning it off and walking to the exit, leaving me a bit more perplexed than before. “Let’s go, Ramsey,” she yells before hitting the doorway, her hips swaying beneath her standard blue uniform. She moves so fluidly, so beautifully. She’s a fucking knockout.

  “Eyes up, Ramsey.” His words come out a slight growl. Realizing I’ve been busted ogling her very nice ass, and clearly overstaying my welcome in the captain’s presence, I move quickly to catch up with my new partner as she makes her way out of the police station.

  We don’t talk as we meet at the squad car we’re assigned. Jackson heads to the driver’s side and climbs in, firing up the heat before I even have my door open. She calls dispatch, relaying our badge numbers, and lets them know we’re on duty. Then, we’re off to patrol the streets of Rivers Edge.

  She drives easily around town. Most of the main streets I recognize from my short time living here, but there are a few I’ll need to learn and familiarize myself with. Neither of us talk for the first thirty minutes or so, which is a huge change from the chatty partner I had back in Durant.

  Unable to take the silence any longer, I adjust myself in my seat and ask, “So, have you lived here your whole life?”

  She glances my way, a look of question on her face. “Yeah.”

  I nod, waiting to see if she’ll elaborate. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Any good pizza joints in this town?”

  When she looks my way this time, I see a little relief in her baby blues. “Yes, actually, there is. My favorite’s over on Locust. It’s an Italian place, but the pizza is better than everyone else’s. Try the margherita pizza or the barbeque chicken ranch. They’re the best.”

  “Sounds good, though I’m more of a banana pepper and bacon guy myself,” I tell her, glancing around at the landscape of my new town.

  “Banana peppers? On pizza?” she asks.

  “Don’t knock it until you try it. I’m from Oklahoma. We put peppers on everything.”

  As we reach a stop sign, our eyes meet and hold from across the seat. My heart starts to pound in my chest, an unfamiliar beat that’s both exhilarating and a little scary. She quickly looks away and returns her focus to the road ahead of us.

  There was s
omething there, in that moment. I can’t say what it was, but I felt it like a zap of electricity or a shot of whiskey. I know I shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting to explore it further, breaking every code known to man. There isn’t a rule against interdepartmental dating, but it’s definitely frowned upon when working directly together. No, I didn’t exactly seek out the information, but it was part of the training handbook.

  Nonetheless, I should keep a professional relationship with my new partner, or anyone in the department. Not only am I the new guy, but I’m also the new guy in town. I need to direct my attention to the job, not the pretty lady sitting beside me.

  Vowing to return my focus where it needs to be, I keep my eyes on the road ahead of us and my mind on the job. I need to ignore the subtle scent of jasmine that’s wrapping around my senses like a familiar blanket and the stir in my groin whenever she looks my way.

  Just over eleven hours left of my first shift.

  Shouldn’t be a problem, right?

  Chapter Three

  Brooklyn

  I can smell him.

  I’m trapped in the cab of the squad car with the scent of musk and woodsy soap suffocating me. How am I supposed to focus on driving or, I don’t know, my job, when all I can think about is Ramsey in the shower, with water cascading down his hard, muscular body?

  Only eleven hours of this hell left until I can go home and pretend I don’t want to climb him like a tree and ravish his naked body with my tongue.

  And probably have to take care of the ache I feel between my legs.

  As we roll up to a red light, I see a truck barreling down the street, clearly driving faster than the twenty-five-miles-per-hour limit. I glance at the radar gun on my dash at the same time Ramsey grabs the device, pointing it at the truck. “Forty-six,” he says, setting the device back in the holder as I flip on the lights.

  I pull out behind the recognizable truck, which immediately puts on the brakes and pulls over. “I’m sure traffic stops are the same in Oklahoma as in Missouri, but watch this one. You can take the lead during the next,” I tell him as I park behind the truck and type in the plates. It comes up quickly and after a glance at the familiar details, I climb out. Ramsey is fast, already in front of me before I reach the vehicle. He doesn’t say anything though; just glances inside the truck bed and keeps to the passenger side to provide coverage.

  “Hey, Paul,” I say as I reach the cab, heat billowing out from the window.

  “Hey, Bean,” he says, a sheepish grin on his face. “Guess I was going a little fast, huh?”

  Ignoring the nickname I was given as a baby by my uncles, I reply, “Yeah. License, registration, and insurance?”

  The man I used to live down the block from grabs the identification swiftly and hands them through the window. “Sorry about this. I was trying to get to the DQ before they close. You know they have weird winter hours. Marge has been craving those banana splits lately,” he replies, a slow blush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

  “How’s she doing?” I ask quietly.

  “She has her good days and her bad ones. This last round of treatment is really taking a lot out of her, but she’s the strongest woman I know. She’ll beat it,” he adds, his eyes filling with unshed tears and love for his wife.

  Marge was diagnosed with breast cancer. It started in her lymph nodes, and while they were able to treat and remove the cancer there months back, it spread quickly to her right breast. She’s undergoing an aggressive chemo treatment in hopes of killing the disease once and for all, but the fact that they’re dealing with this right before Christmas has definitely put a damper on the festive vibe in town.

  Handing him back his identification, I find myself saying, “Follow me,” before I can give it a second thought. I climb back into the squad, Ramsey quickly getting in behind me.

  “Everything okay?” he asks as I pull out, killing the lights, and leading the way. He blows on his hands to warm them up.

  “Yeah,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.

  He doesn’t say a word as I drive us toward the Dairy Queen and wave to Paul, who turns into the lot with two minutes to spare. I keep going, trying to think about anything other than Marge at home and tired from fighting for her life.

  As we continue on our patrol, Ramsey keeps quiet while I work out the emotions running through my mind. Finally, I pull onto the familiar street where I grew up and smile. “Paul’s wife has been fighting cancer. I’ve known her most of my life. They live there,” I say, pointing to the tri-level home across the street from the one I pull into to turn around.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.

  “Sometimes, what’s right isn’t the right thing to do, Ramsey,” I whisper, glancing up at the house my parents still share as I reverse and back out, heading the way I came. “There’s no way I could give him a ticket, not when he was on his way to get her ice cream.”

  “You made the right call,” he says, validating what I already knew. “I would have done the same.”

  I glance his way, those intoxicating hazel eyes seeming to look directly into my soul, and nod.

  We spend the next couple of hours answering a few calls and making some stops. When our dinnertime rolls around, we opt for a quick sit-down meal at the diner instead of a drive-thru burger. Honestly, a little fresh air would do me good. I’m not sure I could stay in the small confines of the car with Ramsey much longer. He smells too amazing and he’s messing with my mind. I need to get myself together, and I need to do it quick.

  The familiar bell chimes over the door as we step inside the diner. There’s a small Christmas tree by the door with wrapped empty boxes stacked beneath it. The place is almost completely empty as we approach their closing time. “Hey, Bean!” Lilly Harris greets from the counter. “Have a seat anywhere,” she adds.

  I head to where she stands, opting for the casualness of the counter instead of the more intimate booth seats. “We’ll just sit up here,” I tell her, nodding to a group of teenagers eating cheese fries at the end of the counter. This place used to be one of my favorites too at that age.

  “What’s good here?” Ramsey asks as he takes the seat beside me.

  “Everything, but I’m partial to the BLT and cheese fries,” I tell him, not even bothering for the menu at the edge of the counter.

  “The usual?” Lilly asks as she sets a glass of sweet tea down in front of me.

  “Yep.”

  “What can I get you to drink?” she asks my partner, giving a slow appreciative look that leaves her smiling.

  “I’ll just have what she’s having,” he says, returning the menu to the rack.

  “Tea?”

  “Unsweetened,” he replies, glancing around the small diner with a critical eye.

  After Lilly walks away to put in our order, I can’t help but ask, “Unsweetened?”

  “They always put too much sugar in, so I prefer to do it myself.”

  “There’s no such thing as too much sugar, Ramsey,” I tell him, taking a big gulp and sighing happily.

  Our food is out quickly, most likely because it’s the only order in the kitchen. I stab a few cheesy fries with my fork and shovel them into my mouth. A moan of pleasure slips from my lips as I chew. Feeling his eyes on me, I turn toward my partner. Those hazel orbs are dilated and dark, watching my throat as I swallow the food.

  “Umm, sorry,” I reply, my eyes dropping to my plate of fries.

  “Don’t be sorry for enjoying your food.” There’s a heavy weight in the room, and it feels a hell of a lot like sexual tension. I need to squash it quickly before it gets out of hand. We’re partners.

  “So… Bean?” he asks as he takes a bite of a fry, a smile on his full lips.

  I groan in embarrassment, closing my eyes for a moment to try to block out the look of humor most likely smeared across his gorgeous face. “You heard that?”

  “Twice. The guy we pulled over f
irst said it and then the server.” He takes a big bite of his sandwich and then turns expectantly, waiting for me to explain.

  Sighing, I finally answer. “It’s the nickname I was given as a baby. There are a few people who still call me that,” I shrug casually.

  He nods, sticking a handful of fries in his mouth. After he chews and swallows, he turns, setting his elbow on the counter and locking his eyes on mine. “So, Officer Jackson, what is your first name?”

  “Brooklyn.”

  He’s silent and when I look his way, there’s a slight grin on his lips. “Brooklyn. I like it. It fits you.”

  I can feel the blush creep up my neck and spread throughout my entire body. A warm feeling settles in my chest as I ask, “How so?”

  Ramsey finishes chewing the final bite of his sandwich, balls up his napkin, and drops it on the empty plate. “It’s feminine, yet tough. Like you.”

  I gape across the way, my mouth hanging wide open. “You don’t even know me,” I reply, my voice quiet and hoarse.

  The new officer shrugs. “It’s mostly just an observation. You wear a thick coat of armor across your chest and carry the weight of something heavy on your shoulders.”

  I blink repeatedly at his statement, hating that it’s crazily accurate. “This is a little heavy for first night conversation,” I reply, tossing my own crumpled up napkin on the counter and reaching into my pocket for cash, essentially closing off the rest of the discussion.

  “I’ll get it,” he says, pulling his own wallet from his back pocket.

  “No, I got my own. Thanks, though,” I state, throwing enough cash on the counter to cover my check and a decent tip. Before I even wait for his reply, I jump up off the stool, throw a wave to Lilly, and head toward the door. The bitter December air bites at my face and sends a shiver through my body. Sudden images of Ramsey’s arms wrapping around me, pulling me tightly against his hard body fill my mind. I bet a man like that knows how to keep a woman warm…