Just Kidding (SWAT Generation 2.0 1)

I shook my head. “There are none. I only had the one set.”

“Okay then,” he said, gathering me up, naked, in his arms.

I gasped in surprise and would’ve protested, but he was out the back door before I’d even had a chance to tell him anything.

The next thing I knew he was leading us into his kitchen, then farther into the bedroom.

Once there, he pulled me down into his arms and threw his top sheet over the top of us.

“Good?” he asked.

I snuggled into his chest, rubbed my face along his pecs, and said, “Yeah. Couldn’t be better.”Chapter 13Twunt- because sometimes ‘twat’ and ‘cunt’ just don’t cut it.

-Dax’s secret thoughts

Dax

“Unit 453, I need you en route to 44554 Eleventh Street,” the dispatcher said into the mic that was next to my ear. “We have a woman saying that her husband won’t wake up. Volunteer firefighters and an ambulance are en route. Ambulance is ten out.”

I looked at the clock on the dash and groaned.

I’d miss my date with Rowen.

I just knew it.

“10-4, Unit 453 responding,” I said as I depressed the button on the mic.

The woman I was writing a ticket to looked at me warily.

“Slow down,” I said as I handed it to her. “And make sure you get him a car seat ASAP.”

The woman nodded.

I looked at the kid that was only restrained by a seatbelt in the back seat.

He would’ve probably been fine, but the law was the law and the kid wasn’t even six yet. The law stated that he had to be or at least four-foot-nine. They usually hit that height by the time they were eight years of age. Which he was not.

Turning on my heel, I walked back to my cruiser, annoyed and pissed off that I’d be missing my movie date with my girl.

I just knew that I wouldn’t make it back in time to grab dinner, and the movie was definitely going to be questionable, too.

Getting into the cruiser, I tapped the ‘responding’ button on my computer and headed out, making a quick call to Rowen on my way.

She answered within two rings.

“Hey!” she chirped. “I’m almost done.”

I sighed.

“I’m not,” I admitted. “I caught a call about two minutes left in my shift.”

She sighed. “That sucks, but it is what it is. I have some work I can finish here… will you text me when you’re done? Then I’ll leave and we can still meet for dinner?”

I loved her.

She didn’t cry or get bent out of shape when she knew things weren’t going to go her way.

She didn’t try to make me feel bad like my other girlfriends did.

Hell, she just said to call her when I was done.

What kind of special, alien girl had I been given?

“Are you real?” I teased.

Her husky laugh made my balls tighten in reaction.

“You do realize that I grew up with a man that was on the SWAT team, right?” she asked. “I can’t tell you how many family dinners, birthday parties, or Christmases he was called out on. And it never failed. When we were all out and about together, and he got a call, we were left stranded. So… yes, I’m used to it. And I’m more than capable of doing stuff on my own. And figuring out a way home.”

I’d forgotten that I’d dropped her off that morning. Our original plan had been to meet at a restaurant that was within walking distance of her office, meaning she wouldn’t have far to go before I picked her up and took her home with me.

Shit.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I promised.

She snickered.

“Don’t worry,” she ordered. “I’ll be okay. And if you’re too late, I’ll just call my dad. He’ll understand.”

With that, we said our goodbyes, and I was left driving to a call that I knew was going to be bad—because shit, it was on Eleventh Street, and that was the baddest of the bad in our town—and contemplating what I needed to do next when it came to Rowen Roberts.

I knew I wanted to make it more official.

We hadn’t really talked about being boyfriend and girlfriend, but we were. We also hadn’t shared any feelings that we were feeling, though the ones that went through my head all day every day when it came to Rowen Roberts were anything but platonic.

And never would be.

I wasn’t sure how she’d managed it, but one second she was just a friend. Hell, not even that. A child of my boss likely the better description. Whatever way I described it, though, I knew that we’d changed.

We’d morphed into a relationship that men often killed for.

Picking up my mic, I said, “This is Unit 453, arrived on scene.”

“10-4,” came the dispatcher’s more even, slow drawl.

Once she knew I was there, I got out of the SUV and headed up to the front of the gate.