“You have a point. You could have developed a serious drinking problem—which is where I’m headed if I don’t get out of the house and get a job soon. For real. I was eyeing the old bottle of Baileys on the fridge that you use for fudge at Christmas. I was thinking, hey maybe I put a little in the coffee, and Dad’s stories about the firehouse will be more entertaining.”
“Don’t do it. It won’t work. They weren’t great stories to begin with,” my mom quipped.
“And you always say I got my smart mouth from my daddy,” I teased.
“It’s good to have you home, baby. That old fart drove me nuts even before he retired. Then he got sick, and I’m worried all the time, doing everything I can and it’s never enough to keep the Grim Reaper away. Once we were housebound, it was binge the carbs or commit a homicide.”
“He’s not an easy patient. It’s a good thing I didn’t become a nurse. All I’m saying’s I’d be on the news as ‘local nurse slays four’ by now.”
“I know. I can’t even watch a soap opera. He has to have the History Channel turned up so loud I can’t hear myself think.”
“I have noise-canceling headphones. I’ll loan them to you while I’m at work.”
“I’d love that.”
She went back downstairs to Dad. I heard them talking low, heard her laugh and him laughing with her. It had done her good to get out for a while. They loved each other, but too much nonstop togetherness plus a serious illness was enough to stress anyone out. I was glad I could be there, and for the hundredth time, I was thankful for any time I had with him. He might drive us all crazy, but he was my dad. There was no one like him.
I sighed and shook my head, looking for something to do. I had Brody Peters on my mind. Ever since my brother mentioned him, mentioned the prospect of seeing him, I felt like a jar of fireflies had been let off inside me, a sparkly excitement was rolling through my veins. I wanted to get back to work. I was a hell of a cop, and I liked the idea of working in my hometown. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it gave me pause that it would mean working for Brody. I was a grown woman and a professional. But working closely with someone I used to have a major crush on was bound to be awkward. I wanted to fit right in on the hometown force, not fumble my words like I had in front of Damon or do something stupid like get caught checking him out.
Maybe he had gone bald and turned into a racist asshole. A girl could always hope. That would make it easier not to be attracted to him. I could control myself, and I never dated anyone I worked with. Not for lack of offers, because when you work long hours together, and go into danger having each other’s backs, close friendships develop. But I made sure mine stayed just that. Friendships with coworkers. Not personal relationships and nothing romantic. If there was one thing I remembered my dad saying when they hired their first female firefighter, it was ‘don’t shit in your own hand. You never get involved with somebody you work with’. It wasn’t exactly a beautiful piece of wisdom, but I took it to heart.
Remembering that I used to fantasize about my brother’s friend wasn’t exactly the best way to prepare for an interview with him. I had never been close with him, but I knew Damon thought the world of him. So I knew that Brody was a man of integrity. Not some creep who’d harass the officers, and definitely not the kind of person who’d put up with that kind of crap from his force. There was nothing to worry about on that front—he wouldn’t try to take advantage of me, I wouldn’t try to flirt with him. I was a grown woman who could control myself. I’d never yet met a man who could make me lose control, because there wasn’t one. I was a good cop, and my mother’s daughter. Appropriate and modest behavior, strict professionalism—it was in my blood. I might goof around with the other cops, but there wouldn’t be any joking around with Brody. I knew that for sure. Because if he looked half as brooding and serious as he’d been when we were younger, no one would dare crack a joke around him.
So if I went to bed that night having a dirty dream about Nick Jonas, that was fine. Celebrities weren’t off-limits. Only potential bosses and my brother’s best friend.
2
Brody
The slab of sugary cake from the grocery store bakery, thick with buttercream frosting swirls, sat on its paper plate. Congratulations my ass. Ray Shaw was retiring. He deserved it, and he’d be missed. But replacing him was a pain in my ass. Rockford Falls wasn’t exactly packed with qualified candidates.