Just Kidding (SWAT Generation 2.0 #1)(72)

See, I was five foot nothing. In fact, if you asked my doctor, I was four feet eleven inches. I rounded up to five because I could.

My legs were about half the size of Mr. Valentine’s, and I would never be able to keep up with that man even when he was walking slow.

He waited almost impatiently at the end of the walkway, then held his hand out to me the moment I arrived at him.

“Keys,” he snapped.

I quickly foraged for my keys in my back pocket and handed them to him.

He frowned at the huge set of keychains I had on my keyring, then rolled his eyes and walked away.

I watched him go, wondering whether I should try to go with him or not.

When he stopped about halfway to the truck and turned to see where I was, I decided that most likely I was supposed to follow.

Running now, I caught up to him, and immediately stopped once I reached him.

“They’re gonna need your signature,” he muttered when he walked me to the passenger side of the truck.

I nodded and got in, using the step on the side of the truck and the OS handle (oh shit handle) to climb in and plant my booty in the seat.

He slammed my door shut, quickly walked around the hood, and hopped in. I breathed deeply at the smell of him that permeated my senses due to his proximity and turned to survey him settling into the seat.

He had drops of rain gathered on his hat, and his hands were also wet.

The white shirt he had on became transparent in the spots that the rain hit him.

I tore my eyes away and looked out the window, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms bunched and lengthened as he turned the wheel.

“Thank you, Mr. Valentine,” I whispered.

He turned to me before hopping out of the truck and said one word that changed my life. “Ace.”

I followed him, thankful that the portion of the loading dock that we were now in had a covered area where we could unload the cows into the chutes without drenching ourselves.

Except once I’d signed the papers, I didn’t have to do a damn thing. Ace wouldn’t let me.

“Go stand over there, out of the way,” he ordered angrily.

My brows furrowed.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

“You should’ve never put that bull that close to in heat cows,” Ace chastised me. “He could’ve really hurt himself or them.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” I said. “Granddad made me do it this way. He was worried if I had to make two trips, the truck wouldn’t make it.”

Ace’s eyes flared.

“Could’ve called me, I would’ve come and taken it. Stubborn bastard,” he growled.

I bared my teeth. “Don’t call my granddad names.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re pretty mouthy for such a small thing,” he said.

My mouth dropped open.

“You should really not talk. It’d help you stay sexy,” I muttered darkly.

His white teeth flashed. “Is that so?”

I nodded.

“You’re done, Valentine,” a man called from behind us, handing Ace a slew of papers, which Ace immediately turned over to me.

“These are yours. They have your numbers on them,” he informed me.

I nodded and took them, tucking them into my bag.

“Can you get the trailer from here?”

I nodded my head. I could.

I had no clue where to go, but I could do it.

He must’ve followed my thoughts, because he sighed and took my hand, once again leading me to the side of the truck and helping me into the passenger side.

He took us both around to the same spot I’d been in before, expertly parallel parking it into the exact same spot I’d been in previously.

I had to say, his skill at backing a trailer was extremely impressive.

Not that I would actually say that to him. He didn’t need to know.

“You know where to go now?” he asked.

I nodded.

He handed me my keys, then got out of the truck, leaving me without another word.



Fries Before Guys

2-11-20

Prologue

I really don’t mind getting older. But my body is taking it badly.

-Coffee Cup

Derek

I don’t want to do a fucking picture for a calendar, Dad.

Those had been the words that I’d said to my father, the chief of police, two weeks ago.

Yet here I found myself, getting myself photographed, in a motherfuckin’ bed.

Or, at least, there was a fucking bed in the room.

“I am not getting in that bed,” I said to no one in particular.

Dax, who was coming out of the room as I was going in it, rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I got in the bed. I’m sure she’ll make you do something else… like get naked in the shower.”

I snorted. “I’m not doing that, either.”

“Don’t get too excited,” a soft, feminine voice said from somewhere in the room. “I’d planned on a totally different look for Mr. February.”

Dax slapped me on the shoulder and shut the door behind him as he left, leaving me giddy to see the owner of that voice.

Except, when I finally got a good look at the lone figure sitting on the bed, her back to me, my excitement deflated.