Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(12)

“How is this possible?” His eyes fill with suspicion like he thinks I’m keeping something from them.

“Well, she only moved in a few weeks ago, you know how it is. Between training and late night call outs, I barely see anyone these days.” They all nod, agreeing with my summary of the life of Trebook’s tactical team.

“So what is she doing to piss you off?” Sterling presses for more information.

I’m not sure pissing me off would be the correct word to describe the woman in apartment seven. I’m not even sure she realizes she’s pissing me off.

“Let’s say she’s a bit of a prude.” It’s the only way I can describe the issue with the mystery woman since I’m still trying to wrap my head around the strange turn of events.

It all started the night when I f*cked up and talked to her. I should have let her get off, but my need to want to come with her had me calling out and scolding her.

My demand was met with silence, followed by a thud to the floor.

I nearly laughed. I managed to contain it, but I did give a tap on the wall and asked her if she was still with me. I didn’t hear anything back and after a few minutes waiting around, I realized I was alone.

I thought about heading over and knocking on her door. But this situation is not something I’ve ever experienced before and, to be honest, part of me wasn’t sure it happened the way I had imagined it. It wasn’t until I received the anonymous note a few days later letting me know I was too loud, that I knew it really happened. At first, I thought her smartass letter was funny, maybe a little sassy, but then the more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off. I mean, why would she care how loud I am? Clearly, she needs to work on that issue herself if her f*cking vibrator is waking me up.

I should have marched over and knocked on her door the day I received the note, but that didn’t excite me. Instead, I found myself being louder, more obnoxious, hoping to rile her up and get some kind of reaction.

“Earth to Hetch!” I cop a slap up the back of my head.

“Sorry.” I stall, not sure I should go there with them. If my promotion goes through, conversations like this will need to simmer down.

“Come on, you gotta give us more. How is she a prude?” Hart enters the conversation, making it harder for me not to spill.

“She left me a rather interesting note about my extracurricular activities.”

Hart, Sterling, and even Fox laugh, understanding my meaning right away, but Tate is slow on the uptake.

“What sort of extracurricular activities?” he pushes, making the guys laugh harder.

“His f*cking activities,” Hart answers, and we wait for Tate to catch on.

“Jesus, Hetch.” He blushes slightly, reminding me he’s still fresh.

“All I can say is it’s the thin walls.” I shrug, not in the least apologetic about it. She wasn’t so f*cking worried how loud she was when she was getting off last week.

“So what are you gonna do?” Sterling leans in closer, more invested in the story than the others. Of course he is. The f*cker lives for my discomfort.

“What do you think? Fuck louder.” The boys burst out in laughter, and I earn myself a slap on the back from Fox. The truth is I’m not sure I know what I want to do. Part of me wants to replay the night over, preferably with no wall between us. The other part wants me to say f*ck you and make her regret the stupid note.

Fuck, I need to f*ck her out of my head.

As if on cue, the blonde woman from earlier takes my attention again when she walks past our table and heads back to her friends.

Maybe she can help me stick it to the prude in apartment seven.

“What’s the tall blonde drinking?” I ask RJ while watching her take her seat next to a pretty redhead.

“Rum and coke.” RJ answers, already knowing my game plan. “But, you’re wasting your time. She already sent one back from that douche.”

I follow his gaze and eye the sorry f*cker who struck out.

“Send her a rum and coke.” I ignore his warning. I’m pretty sure her earlier display of feathers tells me I’m not wasting my time. RJ smirks as I sit back and watch the waitress walk over with her drink.

She doesn’t turn like I expect her to; instead, she whispers something into the waitress’ ear. I wait for another beat, before she returns back to the bar, drink still on her damn tray.

“Ohhh, burn.” Tate smacks me on the shoulder, offering me some bullshit comfort.

“What the hell was that about?” I try to think of the last time I struck out.

Besides the mystery neighbor last week, never.

“I told you it wasn’t going to work.” RJ offers no sympathy as he moves on to serve another customer.

Not prepared to accept defeat, I stand and reach for the drink.

“Where the hell are you going?” Sterling calls out when I head toward the woman in question.

“Going to ask her what her deal is,” I call back.

“Oh, Jesus, here we go.” Fox laughs, no doubt shocked at my play. Normally, I don’t have to work this hard. The badge alone gets me the * I need. Chasing after a woman with huge effort is not my normal play, but something about the way she is sending mixed signals has my attention. Sure, it may also be the way her legs look in her tight-as-sin jeans. It might even be the hint of a f*cking delicious cleavage that has every guy in the bar’s attention. Or maybe I just want to see those red lips wrapped around my cock, while I f*ck her mouth into submission.