Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(27)

“Planning on it.”

“You know what I meant,” she snapped. “Enjoy looking now because you won’t be seeing it again in the near future.”

“I heard you. I choose to interpret it differently.”

“I’m finished.”

“Already? I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

Her body straightened on a disgusted groan. Brent, for what seemed like the hundredth time this week, whispered a heartfelt goodbye to Hayden’s ass. “Think you can you manage to help me down without groping me?”

“Can I or will I?”

“Brent.”

“Fine. Down you go.” He pulled her off the bumper, but couldn’t resist hooking an arm beneath her knees and cradling her against his chest for a moment. She started to protest but the loud cheering from the bus cut her off. He didn’t take his eyes off her as her expression slowly transitioned from annoyance to astonishment. “Miss Hayden saves the day,” Brent observed casually, setting her on her feet. He could feel her watching him as he quickly poured in the quart of antifreeze to replace what had leaked out, then closed the hood and signaled the driver to start the engine. When it roared to life, the excited cheers only increased.

On the way back to his ESU truck, Hayden stopped him with a hand on his arm. His skin burned beneath her touch. Damn, why did she have to look so pretty? “Hey. Thank you. For whatever that was.”

“That was all you, duchess.” His damn radio crackled on his shoulder. He wanted to throw it into the Hudson just so he could stand there with her a minute longer. It figured that he’d gone the entire morning without one incident on his patrol shift, only to be called away now. “I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly.

She nodded and stepped back. As he pulled into traffic, heading toward an incident involving a boat collision that might require underwater search and rescue, he watched in the rearview mirror as the kids on the bus greeted her with a group hug. Just how many layers were there to Hayden Winstead? God, he hoped he hadn’t lost his chance to find out.





Chapter Nine


Hayden squinted to make out the colorful dartboard, biting her lip in the hopes it would make the thing clearer. When the single board suddenly had a twin, she made a sound of frustration, waving the dart in her friend Ruby’s general direction.

“What trickery is this? Are you a dart hustler, too?”

“No,” Ruby said, then threw back a shot of tequila. “You’re terrible all on your own.”

“I make up for it in spirit.”

“Your spirit is causing property damage.” Ruby gestured to the scatter of darts lodged in the wall around the board.

Hayden fell into her chair with a snort, knocking over an empty glass in the process. Troy, Ruby’s boyfriend, worked with Daniel and Brent on the force, which allowed the girls to meet Ruby over beers one night in Quincy’s. They’d absorbed the reformed pool hustler into their twosome without missing a beat. Since Daniel and Troy were occupied for the night watching the Mets game with Brent, she’d kidnapped Story to meet up with Ruby at one of her old pool haunts, a gigantic warehouse-style bar complete with a handful of pool tables and a dance floor. Die-hard regulars and college students mixed together to create an eclectic atmosphere. Pool balls cracked, glasses clinked, and laughter punctuated the air. When they’d arrived, classic rock was blaring from the speakers, but had since been replaced by nineties pop anthems, played for the sake of irony.

She’d needed this. Needed not to think. A night to let everything with Brent, with her family, with Stuart, float away in a bathtub of tequila.

Thankfully, she had friends who didn’t pester her with questions about her odd behavior or uncharacteristic decision to party like a rock star on a Thursday night. Good thing, since she didn’t feel quite ready to share the Stuart Conundrum, as she’d been referring to it in her head. Her friends would yell, scream, and curse like sailors on her behalf, outraged over the idea of Hayden’s being forced to get married against her will. While some support might make her feel better in the moment, it wouldn’t solve the problem. Nothing would.

“Where is Story?”

Ruby pointed beyond Hayden’s shoulder. She turned and saw her best friend soft-shoeing with an older gentleman, laughing like a lunatic. Hayden turned back to Ruby with a questioning look. Ruby shrugged. “He’s teaching her how to tap dance.”

“Oh.” She drained another shot. “Fair enough.”

Ruby pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen. “Uh-oh. I’m getting the Troy Bennett Booty Call.”

Story fell into a chair next to Hayden. “Daniel just texted me to come over. Are we wrapping up this little shindig any time soon?”

Hayden did a double take. “Did you two just get simultaneous booty calls?”

“The Mets must have won tonight.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Story agreed into her drink. “You want to share a cab?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Hayden tilted on her chair. “That’s it? Girl’s night out is finished just cause some baseball team used a thing…to hit a ball…out of the thing.” She shook her head. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

“No idea.”

“I’m lost.”