Hot Cop

We climbed back in the car, and I drank noisily from my mostly empty iced coffee just to break the silence.

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” I told him, “just a little tired probably.”

“Same here. I missed my workout. Not to mention a couple hours sleep I was counting on,” he said.

“We should get something to eat,” I said.

“I got some almonds in the glove box. A bag of jerky, probably some dried fruit.”

“I meant food. Not, like, trail rations.”

“Protein’s good for you. The fruit’s for emergencies.”

“I’m not sure you understand emergencies. Fruit is for everyday. Chocolate is for emergencies.”

“Chocolate, huh? Kinda basic,” he said, giving me hell. I shook my head.

“I own that. I like iced coffee and chocolate and I love my Uggs. I think they go with everything in the winter, even though winter isn’t really that cold around here.”

“Nothing is ever that cold around here unless you go to the mountains. The only thing I don’t love about this place is how hot it is all the time.”

“It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,” I said automatically, trying to peel my sweaty shirt away from where it was clinging to my stomach. Polyester in the heat was not fun.

“Why do people say that? It’s not even noon, and it’s scorching out. Anyone with sense is in a pool or air conditioning right now.”

“Hey, I got plenty of sense. I just work for a living. For what it’s worth, Charleston is hot as balls, too. But here you can look at the river which seems to cool you off for a minute.”

“That’s just a hallucination from the heat,” he deadpanned, and blasted the A/C. “I know, it needs the Freon refilled again. It’s not a new car.” He sighed. “Every time I have to get it filled up, I have to sign paperwork that says I know it’s horrible for the environment. Like I’m admitting wrongdoing and I don’t care about nature. I do care about nature, but I guarantee my sweaty, swamp ass isn’t good for the environment either.”

I snorted. I squinted my eyes shut. “You are so gross. Here’s a hint. Don’t put swamp ass on your dating profile.”

“Really? That disgusted you? You have a mouth like your brother—I’ve never heard a woman say ‘hot as balls’ before. But you’re too delicate for swamp ass?”

“Hey, I’m a lady.” I laughed. “I shouldn’t have to think about such things.”

“You broke some dude’s hand on purpose. You’re not a lady.”

“Yes I am. Because that’s all I did. I didn’t stomp his face in, the rat bastard. See—ladylike.”

“Yeah, rat bastard is perfect for afternoon tea,” he snarked.

“God, it’s good to be back here, Brody,” I said, laughing and wiping at my streaming eyes.

“It’s good to have you back. I think your wiseass attitude may be just what the department needs.”

“What, for the Christmas party?”

“For everything. You won’t let us get lazy. You’re too quick and too ready to give me hell. My chief’s badge means nothing to you. You know you’re my equal, and you’ll call me out on shit.”

“To be fair, your chief’s badge would impress six-year-olds a lot, probably. Go hang out in first grade and get some attention.”

“See, exactly. I mean, I’m thinking about the case, we’re doing our job, but you’ve kept my mind off the worst outcome, which will help keep me focused on the search. That’s not a small thing, Vance. It’s a fucking survival skill. And I’m glad you’re on my team.”

“I’ve never had someone thank me for busting their balls before. You’re most welcome.”

“You know how this job is, how dark it can be. Joking around with you makes it easier, makes it feel possible. Like we’re not just going through the motions before I have to tell Pat and Kayla that we did all we could, but it was too late.”

“That could still happen,” I said, “but not if I can help it.”

“You’ve got more steel than Damon. You can tell him I said so. He’s a great guy, probably my favorite person in the world, and loyal as hell. But he’s not going to go scorched earth on everything.”

“I think that means he has a sense of proportion and knows when to quit. I don’t. So what you’re describing is in his favor, even if you meant it as a compliment. Which, stop it. I don’t need flattery. I want to be good at my job.”

“You are good at your job,” Brody said, and I found his praise utterly exhilarating. What the hell was wrong with me?

“I have a feeling you’re good at everything you do, and you’ll run yourself ragged doing it,” he commented.

I shook my head. “I only have one setting Brody. Full steam ahead.”

“If I told you we had a wellness program you could go to, to help you cope with the hard parts of the job and make sure you make time for self-care—”