Commanding the Curvy Girl (Spoon Heroes)

Chapter Three

Molly

" D ammit," I mutter, scowling at the map. The tracker marking the location of Easton's patrol vehicle isn't working. It last picked up a signal from him ten minutes ago, when he was at the coffee shop a few blocks over. It's the only break he's gotten tonight.

As soon as we checked on shift, he had a single vehicle accident to work, followed by another break-in, and then Ruby Masters called, demanding someone come talk to her grandson about sneaking out.

Red didn't particularly like the thought of having Easton come talk to him, so he bolted into the woods. Easton had to spend an hour hunting the kid down with the Fire Department. It's already after three in the morning. I know he has to be exhausted because I am, and all I've done is sit in this chair, answer calls, and boss him around all night.

I don't know why the man won't take a hint and leave me alone, but it's honestly getting ridiculous. I've spent the last month torturing him with every ridiculous call that comes through dispatch.

If there's a cat in a tree, an escaped farm animal, a gas drive-off, or anything remotely irritating enough to ruin his day, I've sent it to him. And he just takes it without a single complaint.

It's driving me nuts!

He's determined to wear me down, and I hate that it's working. I've only seen him for a few minutes at a time over the last month. But every single time, he tells me that he isn't the guy I think he is. I really don't want to believe him…but the foundation of my belief is slowly eroding beneath my feet.

It's hard to stay annoyed at a man who is utterly shameless in his pursuit. It's also hard to continue believing the worst about one who seems determined to prove you wrong. He hasn't dated anyone since he started. He hasn't been seen out with anyone. I know because I asked around. Either he's a lot better at hiding it than I thought, or he's telling the truth. I'm not sure which it is and that worries me.

My dad was good at hiding his mistresses too…at least at first. Eventually, he stopped trying. I don't know why my mom kept putting up with it when it broke her heart every time. I never figured that out. By the time I was old enough to ask, she was dead, taking any answers with her.

But, frankly, I don't want to be one in a long line for anyone. I'm not asking for a virgin. I'm twenty-three. Easton is in his early thirties. The odds of a man his age holding a V-Card in this day and age is unlikely. And let's be honest, I'm not clinging to mine out of some sense of nobility or some belief that I'm only worthy of marriage if I'm a nice, proper virgin. Women bring more than just a V-Card and sex to the table. I have mine simply because I don't date.

Dating requires trust. And trust is something I've never found easy. When I fall, I want to know that I'm safe. That I can trust my heart with the man I've chosen. That he isn't just like my father. So far…I haven't met that man. So why entertain something I know isn't going anywhere? It seems counterproductive when my other goals have always been just as important.

It's hard to feel like you're missing something when you've never had it.

But Easton…well, he's becoming a problem.

I don't want to soften toward him. I don't want to like him. And I really don't want my heart to leap into my throat every time I hear his voice on the radio or see him walk through the doors. And yet…that's precisely what's happening. It's maddening!

"Dispatch to Unit 232." I release the foot pedal and wait for him to respond.

"Unit 232, go ahead," he says, his voice sending a pleasurable chill through me. Why can't he sound like Barney Fife on the radio at least? That'd make me feel better about this whole thing. Instead, he sounds like he should be reading dirty romance novels.

"Please reset your GPS. We've lost signal."

He ignores me. Naturally. I swear to God, half the guys turn off their trackers on purpose just to annoy us. At least, I'm convinced this one did.

"Unit 232, do you copy?"

The door to dispatch clicks open behind me. I spin around, only to find him standing there with two coffee cups in hand, a sexy smirk stretched across his face.

He reaches for his radio, and I squeak.

"Don't you do it!"

He hits the button, that damn smirking growing.

I yank my headset off, scowling daggers at him as feedback squeals through the room from his radio and mine. The jerk.

"Dispatch, show me out at 2475 Broadway doing a property check," he practically purrs, humor dancing in his eyes. "I'll reset the GPS when I'm back at my unit."

"I hate you," I mutter.

He throws his head back, his deep laugh booming across the room.

I stomp on the foot pedal and then growl an acknowledgement into the mic situated on my console.

He takes pity on me and switches his radio off, killing the feedback loop.

"Did you come in here just to do that?" I ask.

"No. That was an unexpected bonus. I actually brought a peace offering." He holds up a cup of coffee. "I didn't even poison it."

I eye the cup suspiciously. "What did you do to it?"

"Bought it fresh and brought it to you?" He strolls toward me, the door to the room swinging closed behind him. "That a problem?"

"Depends on what you want while you're here."

His gray eyes rove across me, his expression heated in a way that makes my core clench. "Same thing I want every time I'm here, princess. You." He plunks the cup down on my console. "But since I have a feeling you aren't done torturing me yet…I'll settle for a conversation."

"Torturing you?" I bat my lashes at him. "Who me?"

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls up a chair, settling into it. "You're fucking beautiful when you're giving me shit, Molly. But you're a terrible goddamn liar. We both know you've sent me on every wild goose chase and bullshit call that's come through this room for the last four weeks."

"Oh, a wild goose chase." I smile, lifting the cup to my lips. "Why didn't I think of that one?"

He narrows his eyes at me, his expression severe. "I chased a group of fucking goats down Broadway during morning rush hour. Every motherfucker in this town watched me do it. I'll be damned if I chase geese too, baby."

I meet his gaze, trying like hell not to laugh as I take a sip of coffee. It's perfect. How the heck does he know exactly how I like my coffee? "But you curse so eloquently when you're running from animals, Easton."

He jerks upright, splattering coffee on himself. I throw my head back, laughter burbling from my lips as his eyes fly wide open.

"That shady motherfucker," he growls. "Dillon recorded it, didn't it?"

"Oh, he recorded it." Tears leak from my eyes as I confirm his suspicion. "What was it you called the goat? A big headed ugly biatch with no god dang manners and the breath of the back end of a donkey?" I giggle, burying my face in my cup when he growls at me. "Poor little goat was just having fun."

His lips twitch. "Pretty sure that is not what I said, Molly."

"Close enough since what you actually said can't be repeated." I eye him over the rim of my mug. "Is this a bad time to tell you that I uploaded the video to social media?"

"Depends." He leans back in his chair, hitting me with a look hot enough to scorch the entire freaking earth. "Is this a bad time to bend you over your console and spank your perfect ass until you're pleading for mercy?"

I gulp, my entire body catching fire as an image of that exact scenario slams into me—him behind me, his hand on my ass, one hand in my hair. Me, writhing in sweet torment.

I sit upright, clearing my throat. Good grief.

"We already discussed you touching me, Easton."

"Did we?" He smirks. "Don't remember it."

I roll my eyes at him, knowing damn well that he's lying. He remembers exactly what I said. Honestly, I'm pretty sure he remembers everything. But he forgets when it's convenient. The man is infuriating.

So…why can't I get him out of my head?

"Why are you here?" I ask abruptly.

"Told you, I brought you a peace offering."

"That's not what I mean. Why are you working nights this week? Why haven't you given up already?"

He eyes me for a long moment, not speaking, and then he shrugs. "You're working nights, so I'm working nights." He takes another sip of his coffee. "Wasn't going to let some other asshole spend the week annoying you."

I blink at him, caught off-guard by his response. Is he…jealous? Holy crap. He is. It glitters in the depths of his eyes as he holds my gaze, unblinking. And I have no idea what to say to that. What to do about it. No one willingly works nights for an entire week just because I am…just because they don't want someone else working with me.

"I don't date cops, Easton," I say quietly, dropping my gaze to my lap.

"Good to know," he murmurs, stretching forward. A split second later, I feel his fingers slide beneath my chin, tipping my face up toward his. He's a lot closer than I expected, practically hovering over me, his cup on the console beside him. His lips are inches from mine, so close I smell the coffee on his breath. I see little flecks of blue in his eyes. "I'm not asking you to date a cop, Molly."

I lick my lips, staring at him as confusion swirls through me.

"I'm telling you that you're going to marry one. Me."

"Easton," I whisper, my heart thudding against my ribcage so loud I'm sure he probably hears it.

"I get that your dad was a cop," he says, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. "I get that whatever bullshit he did made my job here a helluva lot more difficult than it needs to be. But my dad is a cop, too, princess. And unlike yours, he didn't fuck around on my mom. That's the man I aspire to be. He's my role model, not guys like your dad."

"I…" I blink at him again. "Your dad is a cop?"

"Federal agent." He smiles. "He worked for the DTF here in Texas before he was transferred to Seattle. He's the SAIC of the office there."

"I didn't know that," I whisper.

"I know you didn't, baby. That's why I'm telling you now." His thumb slides across my bottom lip again. "I'm not like your dad or any other asshole with a badge you've met. I'm just Easton."

For some reason, I think that might be what scares me the most. But he doesn't give me time to think about that before he leans down, touching his lips to mine. I think he intends for his kiss to be soft, a simple punctuation at the end of his statement. But my traitorous tongue darts out, desperate to touch…to taste.

It flicks his bottom lip, and he groans like a dying man. His hands lock down on the arms of my chair, trapping me in place.

"Do that again," he rasps.

I obey that gravelly command on instinct, my tongue darting out to touch his bottom lip again.

He growls, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.

A bolt of white-hot desire rips through me. I sob wordlessly, sloshing coffee over my hand. He grabs my cup, prying it from my fingers. I lose track of it then, lose track of everything but the way his mouth moves over mine, stealing my breath.

"Goddamn," he growls against my lips, thrusting his tongue into my mouth to tangle with mine. "That sweet fucking mouth…"

I whimper, my nails digging into his forearms as he consumes me alive, annihilating my defenses and every damn chance I have of resisting him. God help me, he kisses me like he can't live without me, and the only thing I can do is kiss him back the exact same way.

"Shit." He rips his mouth from mine, breathing hard.

Then and only then do I hear the 911-line blaring through the room. My heart jolts against my ribcage, mortification rushing through me. I grab the phone, my cheeks blazing with heat.

"911, where is your emergency?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"2187 Bluebird Lane," a man says. "There's a raccoon in my living room! It just stole my damn dog's food!"

"2187 Bluebird Lane?" I confirm.

"Yes. I need help getting this crazy thing out of here," he says, panting for breath. "As soon as I get the little bugger cornered, he starts throwing shit at me."

"I'm sorry. Did you say the racoon is throwing things at you?" I ask, spinning to put the call on the board. It's not the craziest thing I've heard. Honestly…it's not even on the list.

"Jesus Christ," Easton mutters behind me, shifting around. I don't look at him though. I can't. He just kissed me at work. That can't happen. This job…my career and his…they're too damn important for us to risk it because we were being stupid and got carried away.

It doesn't matter if I do like him. It doesn't even matter if I believe him when he says he isn't like my dad or guys like him. All that matters is that we can't do that again. Not here. Not ever.

I finish putting the call in, encouraging the caller to stay far away from the racoon until I get someone there to help him trap it, and then disconnect before slowly turning to face Easton.

"Molly, I…"

"That can't happen again," I say, my voice soft but firm. "I don't date cops for a reason, Easton. This is one of those reasons."

"Princess, I didn't mean for that—"

"You have a call."

He growls a curse, glaring at me. "You done now, baby? Because I have something to say."

"You have a call, Easton."

"And I'll go," he says, pinning me to my seat with the weight of his gaze. "But not until you hear what I have to say."

"Fine. Say it."

"I shouldn't have let that happen, but I'm not going to apologize for it," he says. "I stopped as soon as that call started ringing. I'll make sure it doesn't happen on the clock again because it upsets you, but I'm not backing down, baby. You are mine. I'll fight as long as I have to fight to make you see it too."

"I don't belong to anyone, Easton."

He ignores me, leaning forward to brush his lips across my crown. "You want me too, Molly. You're just too damn afraid to admit it to yourself." With that, he turns on his heel and strides out, leaving me trembling in my seat.

He's right, damn him. I do want him. And that does terrify me.

So…what the hell am I going to do about it?