Page 1 of Before They Were Lovers

Day

Day had always been able to blend into the background. It was no different for his time at the Atlanta PD training academy. He prided himself on that unique skill. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of being seen and or creating a scene, but he preferred to hide in the shadows, observing, calculating, and plotting.

He watched everyone else and learned from their fuckups or victories, but he kept his own ambitions to himself. The less people knew about him, the better.

But there was one person in the academy who’d been impossible for Day to take his eyes off.

Cadet Godfrey.

From the first training session, Day found himself captivated by him. He wasn’t just remarkable—he was intimidating. His presence commanded attention without him even trying.

Plenty of hotshot wannabe Sonny Crockett rookies in his class wanted to be the top recruit, but Godfrey carried himself in a way that said he didn’t give a damn about praise or status. He knew he was the shit, so why flaunt it?

Day was glad he wasn’t in Godfrey’s class because he wouldn’t be able to eye-fuck him the way he liked.

Day stood against the wall on the far side of the field during Godfrey’s physical fitness run. He was sprinting throughthe rigorous obstacle course, everyone else trailing several yards behind as if Godfrey did it nightly in his dreams.

Day licked his lips, staring at the way the fabric of Godfrey’s uniform clung to him in all the right places. His shoulders were broad and solid, and the sleeves of his navy blue T-shirt were stretched to their limits from his thick biceps. Big, strong legs that looked like they could hold up a building were pumping hard as Godfrey tore from one side of the field to the other.

Whether running tactical drills, breaking simulation records, or dominating the shooting range, Day had no doubt Godfrey would excel up the ranks quickly once assigned to a precinct.

The next evening, Day found himself observing Godfrey’s ballistics training exercise. Sure, he should be doing his own practicing or studying during his off time, but once again, he hadn’t been able to look away once he started.

Godfrey’s stance was perfect.

Damn, look at him.

His body seemed to align with the weapon, and his large palm appeared to swallow the basic Glock 17. Day could see him wielding a much bigger firearm.

He should be shooting a goddamn Smith & Wesson or a Desert Eagle.

Day had seen plenty of skilled shooters in his time. He’d worked in security most of his life, from mall cop to armored guard, now to police officer, but Godfrey was something else entirely. He was fluid, a blur of efficient movement. He didn’t waste an ounce of energy, no unnecessary motion, just the clean, sharp pull of the trigger and the bullet finding its bullseye each time.

Once Godfrey finished, several classmates applauded, but he just set his weapon down and walked away, ignoring the verbal accolades.

Day smirked, shaking his head.

Where the fuck did this guy come from?

Godfrey was walking in his direction, eyes forward, his stride long and confident. Day ducked his head and turned away as his obsession stormed past.

He even smelled good. Like sweat and a shitload of confidence. Fucking delicious.

Holy shit.

That was the closest Day had gotten to him.

Godfrey was handsome in a way that shouldn’t be. His face—seemingly weathered by years of tough living—was a landscape of scars and dark blond stubble. His features were sharp, rugged in a way that wasn’t conventionally handsome, yet he was.

Godfrey’s eyes—which said far more than the words he never spoke—were green and hard beneath a scowl so deeply embedded in his forehead Day wondered if he’d been born with it.

He didn’t know he could be attracted to the untamed, unrefined type, but Day was drawn to this man’s silent intensity.

An officer Day had been flirting with in the records department said Godfrey was from a Podunk county in the Deep South and had just completed four years in the military.

That was all his informant was willing to disclose unless Day was prepared to offer him something more than a quick peck on the lips. So Day hadn’t learned anything of substance about his crush.

Hell, he’d always loved a good challenge, a complex riddle that needed solving.

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