My Fake Husband Black, L. (year 2 reading books TXT) 📖

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.

You had two kinds of applicants here. One, the dumbass redneck boys that barely passed high school and wanted to run around waving a gun to prove how tough they were, maybe get back at some people who hassled them growing up, show them who’s boss. Two, the naïve kind who thinks they’re gonna catch all the bad guys and keep this sweet little town as squeaky clean as ever. I didn’t want to deal with either type. In my seven years as chief, I’d had my fill of both. The first kind, I had to waste time policing their off-duty antics and make sure they weren’t misusing the badge or intimidating anyone, threatening to arrest their mom’s neighbor for playing music too loud or trying to get their ex-wife’s new man to take a swing at him so he could drag them in for assaulting an officer. The second kind was a lot of trouble to keep alive. They didn’t think anything too serious went wrong around here—and for the most part they were right, but they were also the type who went into a domestic disturbance call thinking they could help settle the argument and everyone would hug it out. When you’ve got a guy holding a Santoku knife to his wife’s neck in the middle of supper, you don’t wanna waste time talking about feelings.

I only had three applications, and they were all small-town boys who fit neatly into those two categories. Petty assholes looking to settle a score and starry-eyed idiots who thought jaywalking and littering were all we had to deal with. I let out a heavy sigh and took a big bite of cake.

“Since when does Captain Fitness eat baked goods?” I heard Damon barge into my office.

“You realize I carry a gun. And this is my private office. If you took me by surprise, shit could happen to you,” I said wryly. “Besides, it’s damn good cake.”

“You could’ve saved me a piece,” he said.

“Nah. Cops only. I’m sure they have Fig Newtons over at the fire house. Besides, moderation is key.”

“That piece of cake is about the size of the state of Indiana, bro.”

“Who asked you?” I asked. “Plus, I have to vet applicants for Ray’s job. It requires a lot of sugar.”

“Guys whose juvenile records were expunged and wanna be cops?” Damon asked.

“One of those—history of B&E and domestic battery, and I’m supposed to give him a gun?”

“Wife dropped the charges?”

“Girlfriend, and she refused to file charges on three occasions,” I corrected grimly.

“Heather West’s boyfriend? What’s his name? Donnie? Donnie Abrams,” he said. I rolled my eyes.

“I can’t tell you names.”

“Whatever. It’s a small town. He was a little shit even as a kid. Used to throw rocks at my dog.”

“Forget that fucker. Banger was a great dog.”

“Yeah, he was the best,” Damon sighed.

“So, you kicked his ass?”

“Me? No way. I was eight years older than Donnie Abrams.”

“You kicked his ass,” I said, lifting one eyebrow.

“Fine, maybe I did,” Damon shrugged.

“Uniforms come in yet?” I said.

“Not yet. Tracking email says they’ll be at the firehouse by tonight. They would’ve been here sooner if Josh hadn’t had that growth spurt and we had to redo the order.”

“I know. He grew like four damn inches.”

“That navy blue is gonna be nice. Just so they’re in time for league pictures.”

“They will be. I said tonight. The Rockford Rockets have never looked so good,” Damon said.

“That’s partly down to the chili supper you all had at the firehouse to raise money.”

“I got sick of our Little League 10U team having to wear matching t-shirts when the other teams had uniforms.”

“Nothing wrong with sponsored-by-Biggie’s-BBQ on the back of our shirts,” I chuckled.

“Yeah, it was great for intimidating the other teams. They have better equipment and nice uniforms, but look out, we probably got some bad farts from the mesquite pit,” he chuckled. I snorted.

“So no luck filling Shaw’s position?” Damon asked.

I shook my head. “Not at all. I’m gonna have to advertise outside town, I guess,” I said.

“You know Laura’s back,” he said. I narrowed my eyes, surprised at that news. His baby sister had been four years or so in Charleston on their police force. I couldn’t believe she’d come back here.

“She did? What’s wrong?”

“My dad’s not doing great. It was too much on my mom. He wouldn’t let her have a nurse or anything in to help, and Laura got it in her head she was gonna come back and fix it all up. Funny thing is she’s been back less than a week, and she pretty much has. She just smarts off to my dad