Page 4 of Officer Gabriel

I find myself standing at the kitchen counter, my eyes glued to my phone, a lifeline that feels more like a burden at the moment. I'm sure I look a little off-putting, lost in my thoughts. "Not glum at all," I reply, shaking my head in an attempt to dispel the weight of my worries. "Just got off the phone with my parents, is all. Nothing crazy, really. Damon is taking a bath right now. He and Joey were in the backyard building an impressive moat after dinner. I made sure to tell him to get cleaned up before you arrived."

Luna's grin widens, and she shakes her head in disbelief. "And how's Joey doing?" she asks, her curiosity piqued, clearly eager to hear more about the antics of the two boys.

I shake my head, a small smile creeping onto my lips despite my earlier frustration. "He didn't like his bath at all. The way he was yelping made me think I was killing him. Unbelievable." That little furball was going to send me to an early grave with his antics. I could just picture him cowering under Damon's bed, wide-eyed and waiting for me to leave the bathroom, convinced I would come back to 'murder' him again. Truly overdramatic, that one.

"A little off-topic," I say as I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure, "but I was wondering if you might be interested in going on a date with me." Did the words jumble together when I said them? Because they sounded a little smushed as they tumbled out of my mouth, like a clumsy confession that had been waiting to escape.

Luna cocks her head slightly, a playful smile dancing at the corners of her lips. "Officer Livingston, are you nervous?" Her teasing tone sends a flutter of uncertainty through me.

Yup. Those words definitely jumble together. "Ma'am, I'm the one who asks the questions around here," I respond, attempting to adopt an affected demeanor of confidence, even as my heart races in a mix of excitement and trepidation.

"Right, right." Her smile broadens, transforming her expression into something radiant. "Well, I'll have to check my schedule. I have a very demanding evening job that takes up my weekends. How're your weekdays lookin'?"

I can’t help but feel a rush of warmth whenever she smiles. It’s as if her joy illuminates every corner of the room, making everything else fade into the background. "I'm thinking they're free, but I'll double-check and get back to you. What if we reconvene in the morning?"

She pushes a few stray blonde curls out of her face, her fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, and nods her head thoughtfully. "I think I can do that. I'm thinking maybe Tuesday evening?"

I can easily arrange for my parents to drop by on Tuesday for a few hours. Or I could take Damon over to their place for the night. He absolutely loves spending time at his grandparents' place, and it gives me a little freedom, too. "I think Tuesday sounds great."

"You know, I've never gone out with a cop before," Luna says, her brow furrowing slightly as if she’s pondering the implications. "But I guess this gives a whole new meaning to 'fuck the police.'"

My body reacts instinctively, my cock going unbelievably hard in my pants at her words. Sweet, sweet Luna... The thrill of her teasing combined with the promise of what’s to come sends a joltof electricity through me, igniting my anticipation for our time together.

"Anyway, have a good night, Gabriel! I'm going to go see if Damon is finished with his bath." With a playful wink and a casual wave, she glides away toward the bathroom, her confident demeanor lingering in the air like a tantalizing fragrance. It’s hard to believe she just brazenly flirted with me in a way that ignited a fire deep within.

Once inside my car, I have to discreetly adjust myself, feeling the effects of her flirtation pressing against my jeans. Beautiful, blonde, and curvy Luna might very well be the death of me, and the thought sends a thrill racing through my veins. And honestly, part of me is more than willing to embrace that possibility.

4

LUNA

Gabriel and I hem and haw around the edges of when he arrives back the next day, the anticipation hanging like a thick fog between us. I try to remind myself that he's my employer, the father of the kid I'm babysitting.Yeah, the kid you're becoming emotionally attached to,chides the voice inside my head, a persistent echo that refuses to be silenced. As if I needed any other reminders that I stepped into their lives on a whim, a mere chance encounter, and have been woven into the fabric of their everyday existence ever since.

"Just come over on Tuesday night," he decides with an easy confidence that both reassures and unnerves me. "I'll cook you dinner, and we can chat. Nothing too crazy or wild. You can even wear sweats if you want." His casual tone attempts to dismiss any tension, but the invitation lingers in the air, laden with unspoken possibilities.

But even though he says the attire is casual, I find myself spending a frantic forty-five minutes staring at my wardrobe, the seconds ticking away as I try to figure out what the best option is. Do I wear jeans and a nice blouse that might strikethe perfect balance between comfortable and chic? Or should I put on a skirt, one that flares just right, though I worry it might accentuate too much of the curvature of my ass? The mirror reflects not just clothes but the myriad emotions swirling within me, each choice feeling like a step deeper into uncharted territory.

I've known since the very first day I showed up on his doorstep that Gabriel was undeniably attracted to my figure. I saw his eyes roam across my body, taking in every ounce of me—and believe me, there were a lot of ounces to take in. His gaze lingered, tracing the contours that made me who I am, yet I couldn't shake the nagging thought that perhaps he would prefer me a bit more toned, an ounce or two lighter, especially on days when insecurity nipped at my heels. He never made an inappropriate move toward me nor flirted in a manner that could be construed as sexual harassment, which is why it caught me completely off-guard when he casually asked me out.

For a police officer who spends his days and nights roaming the streets, hunting down lawbreakers with a pair of dark, piercing eyes that could intimidate anyone, Gabriel is surprisingly putty in our hands when he's at home with Damon and me. In the safety of that space, he sheds his tough exterior, revealing a gentler side that makes me feel both cherished and perplexed.

"I think a dress will do," I say to myself, my voice barely above a whisper as I pull a white, strapless dress out of the closet. It boasts a vibrant print of monsteras in shades of lush green, interspersed with delicate pink flowers that bloom all around, giving it a lively, tropical feel. As I slip it on and pair it with light brown wedges, I can’t help but feel a surge of confidence. The dress conceals my curvy waistline, yet it manages to accentuatemy chest in a way that feels daring. I guess the girls will be on display tonight, ready to make an impression.

It makes no sense to drive over to Gabriel's, so I walk over like usual, enjoying the warm evening air brushing against my skin. I wave to the neighbors who are outside on their porch, their laughter mingling with the sound of children’s playful shouts as they chase each other across the lawn. Immediately, a few gossips hide behind their hands when they see me, their whispers barely concealed. What I'm wearing isn't your usual babysitting outfit—it's far more daring and unique. Oh, well. If the worst gossip in this neighborhood is about my blossoming relationship with Gabriel Livingston, so be it. In a few years, when their kids are in high school, navigating the tumultuous waters of relationships and sneaking out of the house, we'll see who's truly the talk of the neighborhood then.

When I arrive at Gabriel's front door, I don't use my key to let myself in like usual. This time, I knock, my heart racing and butterflies fluttering around my stomach in a chaotic dance. I need them to calm down so that my heart can settle with them, but nobody listens; they only grow more restless as I wait.

"Hey," Gabriel greets when he opens the door, his voice warm and inviting. "Wow." That same look he gave me on the first night we met rears its beautiful head once again. He looks me up and down, taking his time, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail. His eyes linger on my legs for a fraction of a second, a spark of admiration flickering in his gaze before they travel all the way back to my face. "You look beautiful." The sincerity in his voice sends a thrill through me, making the butterflies in my stomach dance even more wildly, but this time, it feels exhilarating.

Gabriel didn't wear sweats, but he also didn't go all out. A pair of fitted blue jeans hung casually off his hips, accentuating his toned physique, while a snug black t-shirt clung to his muscular chest, showcasing the hard work he put into staying in shape. "You don't look so bad there yourself, officer," I teased, my tone light and playful.

He waved off the compliment with a dismissive gesture, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he stepped aside to invite me in. "I try to leave Officer Livingston at work. He's a real hardass," he replied, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within me, because that was not the Gabriel I had come to know and love. "I'm hard-pressed to believe that. You've never even disciplined Damon when I've been around," I countered, raising an eyebrow in playful challenge.

Gabriel moved behind the kitchen island, his movements fluid and confident as he returned to work on dinner, the rich aroma of spices wafting through the air. "That's because Damon is a good kid. I'm sure when he's sixteen and takes my car on a joyride, it'll be a whole other story," he said with a chuckle, his voice warm and teasing. "But for now, I'm enjoying sweet, innocent Damon, whose biggest offense was making a moat in the backyard that involved digging up the azaleas my sister planted. She was upset about that, but oh well. She can plant more," he added with a shrug, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he recalled the incident.

He manages himself in the kitchen exceptionally well. I've seen him whip up every type of breakfast food imaginable, from fluffy pancakes to perfectly scrambled eggs. But now, he’s peeling potatoes at lightning speed, expertly multitasking while chatting with me, the sound of water boiling on the stove filling thebackground. "So where's Damon at tonight anyway?" I ask, casting a quick glance around for the little guy, my curiosity piqued. "I thought I was his main babysitter. Are you cheating on me?" I muster up some mock indignation, raising an eyebrow for effect. "Is there someone else?"

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