Just Kidding (SWAT Generation 2.0 #1)(74)

I nodded but didn’t reply, too busy berating my body for doing things that it shouldn’t be doing for a nineteen-year-old.

“How’s your dad?” she asked conversationally.

And that was a very good way to get my mind out of the gutter and back to the matter at hand.

“My dad’s good,” I said. “Going on a cruise in a few months. So I’d say he’s stressed seeing as he’s trying to figure out how to delegate tasks while he’s gone. But what he does is too much for one person to do, so he’s struggling with it.”

Avery snorted. “Your dad works too much. And he should already be delegating a lot of those things without having to take a vacation.”

My sentiments exactly.

“I agree.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

Avery got her lens switched out and gestured for the door.

I followed her, then had to take over because she stopped and looked confused.

“This way,” I said, leading her out the back door.

I nodded at the two men that were at the back door smoking.

Avery, on the other hand, started to cough.

“Oh, God.” She coughed again, waving her hand in front of her face. “That’s awful.”

Both officers froze as they saw her.

“Officer Morre.” She tilted her head, looking at the officer on the left. “I didn’t realize you started smoking again. Didn’t your wife say you quit?”

Officer Morre winced. “I only do it upon occasion.”

Avery raised a brow at Morre. “Is that right?”

Morre immediately dumped his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out with his boot.

Officer Tuscon, the man on Avery’s right, snickered.

“And you,” she said. “Tuscon, is it?”

Tuscon nodded, his smile slipping away.

“Don’t you have a pregnant wife at home?”

Tuscon nodded. “Four months.”

“Hmm,” Avery said. “Did you hear about that little baby, she was three years old, that got lung cancer? From secondhand smoke?”

Tuscon froze.

“It’s not just you anymore, my man.” Avery patted him on the shoulder. “Gotta think about that.”

Avery followed me down the steps and to the front of my cruiser, and I couldn’t help it. I had to ask.

***

Avery

Holy. Shit.

I was standing next to Derek Roberts, and I was about to take his photo.

How was this my life?

“Did you have someone close to you die of lung cancer or something?” Derek asked, looking at me curiously.

I shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just like to spread my ‘it’s not good to smoke’ vibes everywhere. Plus, Morre’s wife, Natalie, has a family history of lung cancer. He should be doing better than he is with that hanging over his head.”

Derek grunted.

“Did you really know a three-year-old that got lung cancer?” he pushed.

I snorted. “No. I didn’t know them. I only read about it on the internet.”

He grunted again, making me think he didn’t like that I’d told the men that smoking was bad.

Smoking was bad.

It wasn’t my fault if they didn’t like to hear the dangers associated with it.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, and the vibe I was getting from him was a whole lot more formal now.

“I want you to get in your cruiser and act natural.” I paused. “With your shirt off.”

He lifted a brow at me, making my heart race.

“Do you honestly think it’s ‘natural’ for me to be in my cruiser shirtless?” he wondered.

I looked at him.

“I’m just doing what I was told to do,” I said. “If you don’t want to take off your shirt, fine. Not my business. I was just told to make you take your shirt off and make it look ‘hot’ but ‘tasteful.’ Those are direct quotes from the man in charge. So completely up to you, you’ll still look good with all of your clothes on, but Dax, who was before you? He was able to do it shirtless in the bed. Just sayin’.”

Derek rolled his eyes and started to unbutton his shirt.

There was a wolf whistle from the doorway, and I turned to see that there were four other SWAT team members standing there making raunchy comments and thrusting their hips against the air.

Derek sighed.

“I hate my life,” he mumbled darkly.

My lips twitched as he stripped his shirt off and laid it neatly on the hood.

The next thing to go was his Kevlar vest.

Followed by the white t-shirt that he wore underneath it.

“Why aren’t you in the SWAT pants and t-shirt like them?” I asked curiously.

Derek looked at the four imbeciles on the steps who were still gyrating their hips, then back to me.

“I have a court hearing today,” he said. “At court hearings, I have to wear my uniform.”

I opened up his car door and then pointed for him to get inside.

He did, leaving one foot to rest on the running board outside the door.

He had his closest hand resting on the steering wheel, and his head leaned back against the headrest.

“Switch your hands around so that this arm isn’t blocking the rest of your chest.” I tapped his wrist, right above his big ass watch. “And tilt your head toward me and lean it forward a bit.”