Falling for the New Guy

Tess looked back at Berkley and Granger standing in the doorway. “What’s up, guys?”

“We wanted to meet the new guy. Had to thank him since we’re not the rookies anymore.”

“He’s still got a bunch more experience under his belt than you two dipshits.” She nodded to Marc. “Santino. This is Berkley. Granger. They’re full of shit. Don’t believe anything they say. Ever.”

“Aw, come on. We’re not that bad.”

She smiled at Berkley. Even though they made her feel old. Kids ten years her junior were wearing badges now. She felt motherly toward them. Might as well start walking with a cane.

“Franks rip you a new one?”

“Nah, he loves me.” She tried to smile, but with Marc looking at her so seriously and her phone buzzing—which was pretty much only ever Dad on a bender or someone calling about Dad on a bender—she mostly felt sick.

What she needed was to be around people. Not go back to her place and be alone, because when she was alone, all the guilt twisted until she couldn’t stop herself. She’d help Dad and screw herself in the process.

“Shit.” Granger grumbled about reverse sexism but it was mostly just a buzz in Tess’s head.

She needed a distraction. She needed to not be alone. Which was usually when she organized a department outing. That’s exactly what she needed. Dipshits complaining about her preferential treatment and making her feel old. Much better than dealing with Dad.

“Hey, you guys busy tonight?”

“Never too busy for you, sweetheart.”

“Screw off, Granger. We’re having a get-to-know-the-new-guy get-together at Good Wolf. See who else can go, huh? Meet up at eight.”

“Sure.”

She turned to Marc, determined not to care that he was scowling and obviously not happy that she’d created some fictional get-to-know-him event. The department had to be a family, and she needed a distraction so she didn’t screw up work with Dad again. Lucky for Marc, he was her new distraction.

* * *

THERE WERE A LOT of ways Marc could play this and not have to go. A lot of ways, and yet every time he thought of one, he inevitably thought about the look on Tess’s face when he’d found her after her meeting with the captain.

Lost.

It was uncomfortable, the urge to help that surged through him. It had always been uncomfortable, and that’s why he’d gone into police work. You could help without being too involved. The badge, the uniform, it all got to be a barrier.

You didn’t have to get wrapped up in someone else’s problems and lose sight of everything else in the process. You got to fix what you could fix under the law and move on. Not be constantly stewing in things you had no control over.

That barrier was kind of there with this, but not enough for his liking. It all felt too personal. Going for drinks with a bunch of people he didn’t know. All because he couldn’t say no to a woman who was his FTO and, as far as he could tell, a bit of a mess.

She did command a certain amount of respect around the station though. Even with the asshole “sweetheart” comment, people seemed to look at her and see fellow officer first, female second.

There weren’t a lot of guys who had felt that way at his last department. Still, respect or not, he didn’t want to go hang out at a bar with a bunch of people he didn’t know. Even if they were going to be his colleagues. Bars, laughter, people. He hadn’t done much of that. He’d always been so focused on doing what needed to be done, what was expected of him.

What might garner him some love and attention.

Yeah, well, even if he had moved here at his parents’ directive, it didn’t mean he was that same young kid desperate for their attention.

He scrubbed a hand over his face before shrugging into his jacket. This was his new life. Fresh start. No one knew him here. He didn’t have to be all closed off and stoic. Didn’t have to toe the line. Mom and Dad were a whole state away and that wasn’t changing for months.

And it wouldn’t matter when they got here. They’d be so wrapped up in Leah and her boyfriend, the fucking amazing Jacob, what Marc did wouldn’t matter.

Never had. Wasn’t going to change.

Christ. Maybe a bar was exactly what he needed.

And what about Tess?

He yanked his door open. It didn’t matter if she was pretty. If his body had some different idea of her than his brain did. Because his body was kind of interested in her body. His mind? It found her irritating as hell. Besides, she was practically his superior.

Three days. He’d been at work three days, with a two-day break in between, and he was already screwed up. That was impressive, even for him.

“Thought you’d chicken out.”

He glanced up from locking his door to see Tess leaning against the rail at the top of the staircase. She’d changed. Jeans, long-sleeved T-shirt, leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Her hair was still pulled back, but in a looser way than it had been when she’d been in uniform.

There was nothing sexy about it. Nothing. But sexy was the first word that popped into his head anyway. Something about her heavy top lip, the look in her eyes, the sly smile on her face. As if she was queen of the world and she knew it.

Trouble. Plain and simple. He’d never done anything remotely resembling trouble. Was that why it seemed so enticing?

“Not exactly my first choice of evening activities.”

“Really? What would be?” She started walking down the stairs and he followed.

His gaze strayed to her ass, the jeans she wore perfectly molded to—nope.

“Let me guess. Something that requires silence? Meditation? Building creepy serial-killer shrines.”

“I’m not creepy.”

“You’re not exactly Mr. Warm and Friendly.”

“Quiet doesn’t equal serial killer.”

“But it can.”

“I’m a cop.”

“It doesn’t make us perfect.”

“Why am I doing this?”

She stopped at an old, junky sedan, jamming her key into the door. “I don’t know. Why are you doing this?”

“You seemed...” It was probably too direct to admit the truth, but he wasn’t very good at white lies. He could keep his mouth shut, but he didn’t lie well when faced with a direct question. “Like you needed it.”

That queen-of-the-world expression disappeared, replaced by confusion. A hard-edged, brows-together confusion he didn’t want to mess with. “What do you care what I need?”