I wasn’t ready to be a father. There was no nine months to prepare for what was to come. Charlotte was propelled into my life as much as I was into hers. A signature here, an exchanging of details there, and suddenly I was a parent. Fear crept in, would I be a good father? I came from a good family. I had two loving parents, could I do this? One smile from her, the hope in her eyes and the moment she called me Dad, there became no option but to be the best father I could be.

Anger bottled up inside of me for weeks after. How could Victoria not tell me? We were never in love with one another, but were good friends. We even kept in touch after we went our separate ways. We never shared an epic love; our story wasn’t one full of passion, rather convenience and fun. Yet together, we created the most perfect person. Victoria wasn’t my forever, but Charlotte is.

Roamyn’s hand waves inches from my face, drawing me from my thoughts. “Earth to Mason. Where’s your head at, man? Those chicks were hot. If you don’t start using that dick of yours soon, it’s gonna shrivel the fuck up,” he jokes. I laugh. He’s probably right. It’s been a year.

I shake my head, smirking before I take a pull of my beer. “My dick’s just fine, but it thanks you for your concern.”

He turns sideways on his stool, now facing me with a shit-eating grin from ear to ear.

“So no pussy tonight, huh?” He reaches for his drink off the bar before turning back to me. “Not even a sweet little brunette, small perky tits, great ass?”

“Not interested in an easy lay, man.” I loosen the knot in my tie, the tightness around my neck suddenly irritating. I open my mouth to speak as Roamyn coughs in a fucking obvious attempt to subtly tell me to shut the hell up. How he pulls off undercover work without blowing his cover beats the shit out of me.

If the smirk on his face didn’t give away the fact someone is behind me, his eyes on that someone would have.

“Well now, that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think, Detective Cole? This little brunette is no easy lay. Although, Detective Tate, thank you for the compliments. You’re great for my ego.”

Shit. I stiffen at the mention of my name slipping past her perfect lips. Fuck, it sounded good. The smooth tone of her voice flushes a spike of adrenaline through me. Slowly swiveling on my stool, I prepare to face a pissed-off Lindsey. Fucking Roam, the shit-stirrer baited me, all the while knowing she was within hearing distance.

Shocking the shit out of me, a twinkle of mischief adorns her beautiful face. Along with a slight smile unveiling two dimples, defined in each of her cheeks. Well, I’ll be damned. She just gets sexier.

The smile gives her away. She obviously thinks she’s caught me in a weak moment, the element of surprise leaving me unable to validate a response. Maybe she even thinks I’m embarrassed. I’m not usually a cocky bastard, and any other time I’d think fuck it and get back to another drink. No woman I’d met was ever worthy of a goddamn chase. But the thought of challenging Lindsey, the excitement, the thrill, it awakens a part of the old me lying dormant. The carefree me who doesn’t have the blood of innocent children on his hands. I had a feeling provoking her would be much like poking one scary-ass bear, and if my mind wasn’t already made up, it didn’t matter. My cock had spoken for me, and it wanted Lindsey Jenkins.

“Really, is that so?” I respond, my tone sharp. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we’ll find out if there’s any truth behind your words. What do you say?”

I appreciate her from the ground up, stopping when my gaze meets hers. A silent war passes between us, the gleam in her eyes telling me game on.

She smiles and folds one arm over the other, popping a hip out as she changes stance.

“Well, since it looks like you’ve brought me my coat, I guess I owe you a drink.”

A male arm drapes over her shoulders and immediately Roamyn and I are alert. On the job or not, our cop instincts are like second nature, kicking in constantly. I grip my beer tighter, resisting the urge to rip the dude’s arm off her.

“Lindsey, babe. Who are your friends?” He smiles kindly, but I don’t miss the underlying suspicion in his tone. Lindsey turns in his grip and steps out from his arms, flipping her long straight hair behind her.

“Oh, right. Olly, this is Detective Cole and Detective Tate.” She smiles as she spins back around to face us again. Maybe he isn’t her man.

“Remember I told you about them earlier?” She moves beside me, sitting down on the now empty stool. I guess she’s staying for that drink.

“Nice to meet you both.” He extends his hand for me to shake and I return the sentiment with a sharp nod before he does the same with Roamyn. His shake is firm, his expression pinched. A knot forms in my stomach; something is off with this guy.

“And you are?” I ask.

Lindsey interrupts before he can answer. “This is Oliver.”

“This your man, Lindsey?” Roamyn pipes up.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, turning his head toward Lindsey. “More like Lindsey’s… partner in crime.”

He smiles at her playfully. Her face pales, features falling, but she covers it up quickly with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. A moment of silence passes; the awkwardness in our little group growing rapidly with the lasers of fury Lindsey’s throwing at Oliver. Their silent conversation speaks volumes. I just have no clue what it’s about.

She glances in Roamyn’s direction and mine. “Well, gentlemen, how about that drink? I’m guessing you’re here with my coat so you can return it, unless you two are suddenly having casual drinks at the bar I visit regularly. Or is there something else I should know about, Detective Cole?” Her brows are wrinkled as she eyes me suspiciously. What is she searching for?

I stare into her greyish-blue eyes. “No, just here to return what belongs to you.”

A small smile spreads over Lindsey’s face and she exhales air like she was holding in a breath, waiting on my response. Odd. What is it about this woman? I make a living solving puzzles and I’m fucking good at it. But Lindsey, she’s a mystery, an unsolved puzzle luring me in piece by piece. A game set out to test my limits gives her a power over me that I’m not entirely comfortable with.

“In that case, thank you. I appreciate it. Let me buy you both a round to say thanks.”

Lindsey motions to the bartender for another round of beers before grabbing her coat and saying goodbye to us. Without even a second to get a word in, she’s gone. Pulling Oliver by the hand to the back of the bar.

All night I watch her. I watch her beautiful face light up at another man’s words. Her hips sway while in another man’s embrace. Just when I think I can’t bear to see any more, she stops dancing. Her lust-filled eyes capture mine and desire shoots straight to my semi-hard cock. I don’t know if the look is fueled by an over indulgence of alcohol, but I don’t care. I bask in the glory of a feeling I’ve long since lost, because for the first time in years, I have hope.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lindsey

Fate. I never believed in it. Fate was a bitch I wanted to bury. But one chance meeting, one touch, it left me questioning everything. If it wasn’t fate, what was it?

The toxic liquid burns down my esophagus as I swallow another shot of straight bourbon. The alcohol allows me to float with lightness for just a short while, temporarily washing away the worries of work and life. I was going to need something strong to keep my mind from wandering to one tall, dark, and handsome police officer. He’s nothing more than a stranger, and I don’t know how, or why, but he makes me want to feel. After years of guarding my emotions, I want to release every overwhelming feeling bursting to break out, and I can’t have that, so I got up and walked away like a coward. But no amount of dancing or drinking was pulling my attention away from him. Maybe the attraction isn’t about him. Maybe it’s that he’s something I can’t have. He’s stunningly gorgeous without a doubt. Could it all be because he’s forbidden fruit?