Page 122 of Protector Daddy

“You did. You’re a decent man, Officer Masterson. Honey could do way worse. Like that ex of hers, Sal.” She shook her head in obvious disgust before stepping back. “It’s cold out here.”

I had never heard of this Sal. Probably best I didn’t know. “Sure is.”

“Let’s go inside and discuss some ground rules and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you’re on the schedule soon.”

“I am, yes.”

She clapped my back vigorously. “No need to belabor this. Kevin, put a pot on. I’m sure Christian needs to get out of here in an hour or two.”

Narrowly, I avoided groaning.An hour or two?Dear Lord.

What I undertook just to do this properly and beromantic.I hoped Honey appreciated my efforts.

I also hoped I survived.

TWENTY-FIVE

“So what’sMr. Wonderful doing for Christmas?” Mickey asked from our bench not far from the police station.

It was a rare warm late December afternoon with no new snow in sight and the remaining snow on the sidewalks melting into slushy piles. Everyone was out rushing around to get last minute shopping done since tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

Even the ducks seemed to be in an unaccustomed hurry, barely stopping by for some lunch hand-fed from me and Mickey. I’d skipped the afternoon story hour since I had company and my Kindle was dead.

Mav had better pony up my new one. He owed me. He could’ve at least made sure his courthouse ceremony was taped, for pity’s sake.

I had a right to cry over such things as his sister, dammit.

“Not sure,” I said vaguely, tossing grains at a passing duck who didn’t seem to care.

Even my prime rice and oats couldn’t lure the ducks.

“He hasn’t given you any hints?”

“Other than the oddly locked room he won’t let me into, no.” I shrugged and drained the rest of the baggie behind the bench on a rare patch of bare grass with no snow. “We’re too far from the lake. That’s where the real action is.”

“Not when you’re trying to peep the new hot cop. Have you seen all his tattoos? I want to play connect the dots with my tongue.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re sitting this close to the police station to watch Jimmy? I don’t even think he’s on today. No, he’s not on,” I added after a quick flip through my hunger-addled memory banks.

We’d had sandwiches we’d made for ourselves from the bakery before we took our break, but I was craving home fries from The Rusty Spoon.

“Dammit. It’s not like I can sit here every day waiting for him to pass. You’ll have to give me his schedule.”

“Why?”

“Are you so domesticated you no longer remember the single girl hustle?” She shook her head. “You obviously don’t even notice the eye candy anymore. Christian probably does not have a single tattoo.”

“No, he does not. But his body is a work of art. When you have that many muscles, tattoos are just a distraction from the canvas.”

“Jimmy has tons of muscles too, you know.”

“You haven’t seen his naked though.”

Mickey let out a sound that resembled a snarl. “You know, you don’t have to brag.”

I snorted. “Brag, yeah, right. You would never go for someone like Christian. You would never want to gain weight on purpose.” I rubbed my belly as I now did on an almost hourly basis. “You would never enjoy wishing lunch was hourly. Hey, want to go to The Rusty Spoon?”

“We just ate?”

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