Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

He salutes me with his beer. “Thank you for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” This is getting ridiculous, and if I don’t put a kibosh on the sex talk, I’m going to keep thinking about sex. With Charlie. Or maybe just the cords of Charlie’s neck, standing out when he’d tipped his head back and moaned my name, that hand stroking, stroking . . . “This is serious, Charlie,” I blurt out. “I made a promise to my mother. She has never wanted anything from me. Anything. If you knew her, you would understand how difficult it was for her to confide in me. I can’t let her down the first time she gets the courage, because maybe—maybe—she’ll come to me again. For something else. Anything else. If I can manage not to screw this up.” Not having voiced my determination out loud before now, my heart is racing like a window-unit air conditioner in August. My voice falls to a whisper. “So, please don’t try to knock me off course, okay?”

Poor Charlie. His face is white by the time I finish speaking. This little unplanned meltdown of mine is exactly why he avoids commitments. I can hear the man alarms going off inside his head. We didn’t sign up for this, bro! Get out. Get out now.

To say I’m shocked when he sets down his beer and pulls me into his arms is an understatement.





Charlie


Well, that was a kick in the ass.

Since the day Ever approached me in the bar, played her game, let me kiss her face off and said those magical words—nothing serious, ‘kay?—she’s been a mystical being without flaws. I mean, a woman who looks like a sexed-up angel that cooks and doesn’t do relationships? It was like God had scratched his chin and said, You know what? It’s time to remind men they’re not worthy of the fairer sex.

Ever clearly isn’t perfect, though. Her breath is coming fast in the crook of my neck, and I can tell she didn’t expect to pour all that out. I sure as hell didn’t, either. But if she thinks I don’t understand the pressures a parent can place on you, she’s wrong. We have more than identical beer selection in common. I’ve been sleeping with a woman who had a lot to say, things I would have understood, if we’d been functional enough to communicate.

“Ever. Hey.” I smooth her blonde hair back, thickness building in my throat. “I won’t—”

I cut myself off. I won’t try to knock you off course. That’s what I was about to say. Only, it’s not true. Christ, I already ruined her very first chance to meet someone else. I probably shook her confidence, accounting for the sadness she dragged up the sidewalk. Worse, I’m probably going to do it again. I’ve already determined there’s no one good enough for Ever. So if she lets me into the sanctum of friendship, I won’t be capable of stopping myself from dissuading her from every new man she considers dateable. I’m becoming her friend in the hopes of knocking every other dude out of the running and graduating to friend with benefits.

So I can slide in there real smooth. Like a snake.

“What?” She pulls away from me, her cheeks pink. “You won’t . . . ?”

I could lie and follow through anyway. But there’s no pretense in the way she’s watching me, chewing on her lip. I can’t be untruthful when she’s looking at me like that, grateful for the comfort. Especially because there wouldn’t be a need for comfort if it weren’t for me. “I won’t understand pressure placed on us by our parents, is that what you thought?” I pick up my beer and take a long pull. Washing down my evasiveness. “My father is a bureau chief in the department. I don’t know if I mentioned that.”

She shakes her head slowly, gaze thoughtful. “No.”

Why would I? It’s only something I carry around on my shoulders all day. “Yeah. And my brother, Greer, is a lieutenant. The blue blood in my family must continue flowing at all costs, so I understand. About needing to measure up to a parent’s expectations.” Following impulse, I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I live it, Ever.”

She looks down and away, almost like she’s shy over me laying a smacker on her head. Really? I’ve kissed her a lot lower. A forehead kiss shouldn’t even rate, right? Either way, it’s goddamn adorable. What other reactions would she have to things? What if I tickled her? “It’s a family institution,” she says finally. “So that’s why you work so hard.”

“Yeah.” I laugh at the word, because I’m thinking of Ever squealing and trying to get away from me. “Every minute is spent studying, improving my drill times, perfecting my shooting accuracy. My father expects me to make sergeant as soon as possible after I leave the academy, then take the lieutenant’s exam by the end of my third year on the force. There’ll be no time to breathe even after I graduate.”

“You’ll do it.” She lays a hand on my arm. “It’ll be fine. It seems impossible now because you’re in the middle of it, but in ten years you’ll want to do it all over again.”

Holy shit, that actually makes me feel better. What have I been missing out on here? Trying to talk to Jack or Greer about the pressure is like a comedy sketch. They just eye roll or needle me. Three sentences out of Ever’s mouth, and I’m floating on a cloud. Later I’ll remember all the times my father told me never to let a woman lull me into a false sense of security. I’ll recall his lectures about not letting women close enough to make a man comfortable, then bail. But right now, I’m soaking up her empathy like a sponge. “Thanks.”

Her smile turns my cloud pink. “Don’t mention it.”

“What or who is the Ghost of Mistresses Future?”

That smile of hers morphs into a laugh, and I feel it down to my toes. “My mother. Until last week, she only dated married men. As a rule.”

My beer is permanently suspended in midair. “Get out of here.” Without missing a beat, she slides off her stool, turns and heads for the door, but I grab her elbow and haul her back. “You really are a smart ass.”

Ever looks down at my hand, which is still locked around her elbow. My thumb is brushing the inside of her arm, an unconscious gesture, and we separate like I burned her. “Um.” Her fingers fidget with the fringed hole of her jeans. “My mother expected me to follow in her footsteps until recently.”

“Be a mistress?” Yes, I shout those three words, like we’ve teleported to a Gwar concert. I give myself a pass, though, because I’m suddenly imagining slimy, businessman hands all over Ever, and I think I’m going to be sick. Or find the closest dickhead in a tie and strangle him with it. “But you didn’t, right? Follow in her footsteps.”