Page 31 of Full Mountie

“Good deal.”

I regretfully point towards Spark Street. “I gotta go.”

He points back in the direction of work. “Yeah, me too. Someone’s called in sick, so I’m covering an overnight shift tonight.”

Bummer. No late night booty call for me from the forearms I’m gazing at lovingly. “Good luck with that.”

“Have a nice dinner.” He gives me one more smile, then he’s gone.

I rub my chest. Oy. That man makes me feel things on top of things.

13

Hugh

I’mon the schedule to work at 24 Sussex all week. I don’t mind these shifts—they’re quiet and it’s a good chance to get to know the other RCMP officers I’m working with.

But this week, of all weeks? It means no lunch encounters with Beth, and little-to-no run-ins with Lachlan.

I live for run-ins with Lachlan, so this seems terribly unfair on a totally irrational level.

Except Wednesday morning when I show up to work, there’s the chief of security, every last inch of him, slouched in the guardhouse watching the security videos.

We’re not alone. There’s a constable filling out an end-of-shift report at the desk. So I don’t say anything, but when Lachlan spins around in his chair and gives me a look, I notice.

“Morning.”

He yawns. “Indeed.”

“You were here all night?” He’d worked yesterday, too.

“Malcolm called in sick. I’m heading home now that you’re here. John will do the shift handover.” He rubs his eyes. “I’ve got my phone on me, but seriously, don’t call me about anything until I’ve gotten at least a few hours sleep—not unless the residence is on fire or something. I’m on again tonight and tomorrow night.”

“Are you still going on the junket out west?”

He nods. “Even if Malcolm is still out sick, we’ve got two more officers back from holidays by Saturday. It’ll work out.”

And in a pinch, he could pull staff from RCMP headquarters or the Ottawa police department. I’ve done the supervisor and scheduling thing a few times, in both small town detachments and big cities. It’s never easy and it always falls on you to fill in the gaps.

“We’ve got it covered here.” I move closer. Nothing a colleague wouldn’t do. I clap him on the shoulder and squeeze. “Go to bed.”

His muscle rolls beneath my hand. He doesn’t move, but he does turn and look at me, amusement and something else, something tighter, playing across his face. “Thanks, boss.”

I chuckle. Then I squeeze harder. “Give us a call if you need anything later.”

He doesn’t call. I wasn’t expecting him to, not really. I’ve been at work all day—his work, too—so he can hardly call me up and ask me to bring him another pizza.

But he brings takeout with him at the end of the day shift, and enough for me to stay and share.

That gives me an idea.

So the next morning, when he drags his sorry ass home, I’m sitting on his front step with breakfast.

Thursday is the start of a couple days off for me. I’m pretty sure he’s only got a few hours of down time now, so I’m not going to stay long.

“What are you doing here?” He stops in front of me, his feet wide.

I lift the bag of food. “Brought you some egg sandwiches. Thought I could help you unwind.”

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