SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“What happened tonight was a little too close for comfort, Bull. And you know it.” His father shuffled forward, appearing tired and frustrated, and some of Bull’s anger dissolved. “Something’s not right, son. They’ve gone from damaging fences and tearing up a few crops to hurling a brick into your house.”

“Sounds personal,” Fox said in his deep voice.

Bull gritted his teeth. “Except it’s not.”

“And you know this because…?” Fox moved forward, and Bull’s gaze fell to the officer’s lean hips.

“Because I haven’t gotten personal with anyone.” Bull tightened his thighs again, and Mercy shuffled backwards a few steps, giving him the space he needed.

Fox smirked, and Bull’s thoughts vanished. Damnit.

“That’s good to know.” Fox shrugged. “But it doesn’t mean that someone hasn’t gotten personal with you.”

“Put Mercy in the field and come on to the house so you can show Fox what happened. You’ve heard Captain Hart talk about him. He can find a whisper in a whirlwind, son. Means he’s a good cop. He’ll figure all of this out for us.”

Bull stared at his father. “You do know that Mandel Tucker is not a cop, right?”

“He is too. He has a badge on, don’t he?”

“I do have a badge.” Fox grinned and pulled back one side of his leather bomber jacket, showing off the gleaming gold clipped to his black leather belt.

Bull got off Mercy in one fluid motion when he saw his foreman and stable manager approaching. He lowered his voice at his father, his teeth clenched. “I mean he’s not just a cop. He’s a SWAT lieutenant.”

“No matter the title, Bull, the duty and responsibility always remain the same. Protect and serve.” Fox glanced at Bull’s dad, then towards the ranch help who were starting their chores on the far side of the property, oblivious to what’d happened overnight. “I’m here to keep you safe.”

“Morning, Walker. Good to see you getting some early morning air.” Dale—Bull’s foreman—spoke to his father, but acted as if Fox wasn’t standing there. “Bull, the guys are putting the boarders in the north pasture. We have two field trips today, so I’ve let the trail horses out to exercise. Rid’s about to head over and saddle the ponies.”

“Sounds good.”

Dale turned to Bull and nodded at his horse. “Want Rid to take Mercy over for you? I see you have company.”

“Sure,” he muttered.

“And good morning to you too.” Fox narrowed his eyes at Dale, but his unthreatening grin remained.

“Morning,” Dale said dryly. “And you are?”

“A new hire.” Fox stuck his hand out in Dale’s direction. “I’m Mandel Tucker, but you can call me Fox. Everyone does.”

“Ummm.” Bull blinked. “I haven’t exactly—”

Dale scowled as he thrust his hand out. “Dale Garrett, foreman. Why would a man call himself Fox?”

Fox’s sly smile slid away, and he leveled Dale with an unnervingly serious expression before he replied in a grave tone, “One who behaves like one.”

“That’s a wicked name. I like it.” Ridby, his stable manager, was always extra friendly no matter who he met. The guy was an exceptionally intelligent graduate student who’d come recommended by the chair of the agricultural department at his college. He was young but he was one of his sturdiest cowboys. “Name’s Ridby. I manage the stables… all five of them.”

Fox kept his attention focused on Dale, and his foreman didn’t appear to like Fox’s response as he stood there with his hands on his hips, looking the “new hire” up and down. Bull needed to clear this mess up, but just like the last time he was in Fox’s presence, he was at a loss for words.

“Yep,” his father cut in, while Bull stood there with his mouth parted but no words coming out. “Dale, this whippersnapper right here is gonna help Bull with some things around the ranch for a while.”

“I thought we were gonna have to make layoffs soon,” Rid said, his blue eyes bright enough to challenge the cobalt streaks of day streaking across the sky. “This is great.”

Dale’s gaze bounced between the four of them. It was obvious something was up, and Dale rightfully eyed Fox with suspicion before he leaned into Bull’s shoulder. “Random things like what?”

“Bull will explain all that once he gets Fox situated,” his dad encouraged.

Dale shot Fox a sideways look. “Good to meet ya.”

“Likewise” was the lieutenant’s lone response. Fox’s sharp gray eyes sent chills down Bull’s spine. He waited for Dale and Rid to lead Bull’s horse away, and then those pretty, assessing fucking eyes were on him. “No one’s gotten personal, huh?”

“That’s not… we’re not…” Bull stammered. “He’s a friend.”

Fox walked away, leaving Bull feeling foolish. Motherfucker. Against his will, Bull’s gaze fell to Fox’s tight ass in those expensive jeans. He had on motorcycle boots instead of dusty, weathered Ramblers like him and a sexy as sin, rustic bomber coat. He didn’t fit in on a ranch, and everyone would know it… Bull knew it too. Now he had to watch the man of his dreams walk around his property for who knew how long this time, only to leave again as soon as he missed the city. Why had his father done this to him? He turned to ask him just that to find his father’s eyes already on him.