Page 3 of Protector Daddy

“Seriously. You look entirely too good to be spending so much time working. At least have some recreational fun to make the work worthwhile. And hey, if you do meet someone now, at least you can bring them home without mommy and daddy peering around the door.”

“They never did that.” I shuddered. “Thank God. My mom would just ask me if I remembered to be careful. Did she ever ask my brothers that? No. And who wasn’t careful?”

Mickey sighed. “How did we both end up with older brothers?”

“Probably past life crimes.” Grinning, I gave her a quick hug. “Wish me luck?”

“All the luck. Though you’re going to ace this interview, I just know it.”

“Thanks. What are you going to do? Watch Grant jog in his short shorts? Such a blessing European men haven’t realized styles are long and baggy now.”

She gave me a light shove. “You need glasses, girl. I couldn’t see anything worth watching, long, short or otherwise.” But she sat back down on the bench anyway, crossing her legs and reclining as if she was settling in for a show.

Lucky bitch.

I crossed the street to the police station, fiddling with my dress as I walked. Maybe I should’ve gone with pants. Or a skirt and top. Something looser and not so figure-defining. It was just a bit too warm for the cardigan I’d brought with me.

Chill out. You’re dressed perfectly fine. You’re not late. You’re going to nail this interview.

At least neither of my brothers was working today to make me even more nervous. This would only take a few minutes.

I stopped in front of the door to the cop shop and frowned at the Closed sign. Since when did the police station close? Especially when I had a damn interview?

It must be a mistake. Had to be.

Taking a deep breath, I marched inside.

Instead of the usual bustle in the middle of a weekday, the place was quiet. No one seemed to be around. Perhaps there had been a crisis and that was why they’d had to close?

I walked through the bullpen area, frowning at the empty desks. I knew they were hiring on some new part-time cops to help deal with the influx of people in our growing town, but only a couple had started so far. A lot of changes were coming—both for the Cove and for me.

Steeling my spine, I stopped near the desk with Christian’s name plate. An almost empty cup of coffee sat cooling beside his mouse pad and his computer screensaver was spinning with colorful triangles. Had he forgotten our meeting? Maybe he was out writing Mav’s girlfriend more parking tickets. According to Vanessa, he routinely got his rocks off doing that.

I bit my lip, glancing around the quiet department. I’d just take a walk, see if anyone was around. Maybe he’d stepped out for a cigarette. Did he smoke?

I walked down the hall past the Chief’s empty office and came to a stop outside the glass-walled break room. Inside, Christian sat slumped over at the table, his head in his hands and what clearly looked like a flask at his elbow.

A flask? Hard-headed, strict, by-the-book Christian Masterson? What was wrong with this picture?

Tentatively, I knocked on the doorjamb. “Hi. I’m sorry to intrude. I saw the sign on the door but—”

He jerked to his feet and tucked the flask into his pocket so smoothly that I blinked. His emotionless face revealed nothing but his short blond hair stood in spikes from his hands and dark circles shadowed his eyes. The crinkles I’d noticed a few times when he came into the bakery and flashed a rare smile as I handed him his tuna on croissant sandwich were no longer present.

I set down my cardigan on the table and put my purse on top of it. “Are you okay?” I asked softly, aching for him and not even knowing why.

“I’m fine.” His harsh tone stirred goose bumps up and down my arms. I rubbed them to chase them away, and his brow furrowed. “You should have a sweater. The AC is on high in here.”

Before I could point out the cardigan folded under my purse, he whipped his jacket off the back of his chair and came around behind me to tuck it around my shoulders. His citrus soap or aftershave filled my nostrils and I tugged the material closer around me, barely stopping myself before I sniffed it.

Get it together, McNeill.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

My heart started to chug too fast in my ears when he didn’t move back from behind me. It sped up even more when he carefully pulled my hair out from under his coat, gently letting it fall over my shoulders as if we were in slow motion.

What was even happening right now?

And he still wasn’t easing back.

---