Maybe Swearing Will Help (SWAT Generation 2.0 3)

“Fine,” he said. “Deal.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why don’t we make it interesting and bet on it?”

His eyes sparked with interest.

“Okay,” he said. “What are the stakes?”

I’d heard that the officers got to choose where their portion of the calendar’s proceeds went.

“I win, you do the calendar and donate to my charity. You win… your choice,” I said.

“There needs to be a time limit,” he said. “And you have to go through official channels. You have to apply and get hired. And you’re going to have to take a lie detector test. You’re going to have to tell them that you lie.”

I sighed.

“I lie to my mother and father all the time,” I told him honestly. “Taking a lie detector test will be a cakewalk.”

Ford snorted.

“Sure. Whatever you say.” He paused. “You have five months. That gives you enough time to attend the police academy over the winter break while you’re off school.”

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll show you.”

He grinned. “Fine.”

“What do you want if you win?” I asked curiously.

“A date,” he said.

My mouth fell open.

“You want a what?” I barked.

“One date,” he said. “To the Japanese noodle place that just opened up in town.”

I grumbled under my breath. “You know that I hate ramen.”

He shrugged. “Guess you better win.”

Nobody would go to the noodle place with him. This was desperation if he was asking for this.

But Ford had a phobia of going out to eat on his own.

I wasn’t sure why or how he’d gotten this phobia, but if it was affecting him enough that he’d stoop to this level, he must be desperate.

“Fine,” I said, thinking nothing of it. “But you won’t be winning. You’ll be losing, Chevy. And you know it.”

Hopefully, anyway.

I really wanted him to donate to my charity.

I couldn’t stand to see any more of my beautiful babies euthanized if I could help it.

“Whatever,” he sighed. “Good luck. May the best man win.”

I gave him an annoyed face, then watched him go.

He was wearing jeans and a collared shirt that denoted him as a KPD SWAT team member.

And his stupid jeans fit him good.

Too good.

So good that I knew I should look away.

If he looked back, I had no doubt in my mind that he’d catch me, then use the information against me.

I practically forced my eyes away, then drew in a steadying breath.

Don’t look back, Ashe. Don’t look back.

I looked back.

I couldn’t help it.

And when I did, it was to find ol’ Chevy looking at me over his shoulder.

I flipped him off, causing him to laugh.

Rolling my eyes, I forced myself to once again look away, dropped my hand, and thought about what I was going to have to do.

Now, I had to figure out how to get hired on at the police department. Following that, I had to try out for the SWAT team.

I did the only thing I could do.

I called my mother and told her what happened.

“So you’re applying for the SWAT team?” Mom asked.

Before I could answer, my father, better known as Torren Trammel, shouted from the background, “She most certainly is not! Don’t put ideas in her head, Tru!”

My father was a staunch believer in women being able to do what a man can do, but he drew the line, apparently, at a woman joining the SWAT team.

“Actually,” I said, “I am. I’m not going to stay on it if I get on it, though. So tell Dad to hold his horses. I’m planning on only trying out because Ford told me I couldn’t.”

My mother sighed.

“There was this one time that Ford dared you to jump off the back patio’s deck railing. Do you remember what happened then?” she pushed.

I didn’t have to remember anything.

My lower leg still ached every winter.

“I broke my leg,” I sighed. “And, Mom, that was when I was fifteen. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“Then there was that one time that you dared him to jump out into the pond from the tree. Do you remember what happened then?” she pushed.

“I remember,” I said softly.

That time had been bad.

Ford had jumped out of the tree as far as he could go. Only, by him doing that, he’d jumped directly on top of the old Christmas tree we’d thrown into it for a fish habitat. The very top branch had impaled him through his lower left abdomen, and he’d lacerated his liver.

Needless to say, Ford and I daring each other to do things never really turned out as well as we imagined it would.

“I’m joining the police department,” I said. “There’s no reason I can’t hold down a job while I’m going to school. In fact, it’ll actually be good for me to see who I’m going to be dealing with on a regular basis.”

My mother didn’t disagree on that one.