Page 3 of Cuffed to my Roomies
In fact, he looked stern. I was ashamed to admit to myself that I found that attractive, his stone-cold sober demand that I let them keep me safe. I knew I’d describe him tomorrow to my friend Ainsley by saying ‘he was so alpha’. I scolded myself for thinking like a horny teenager when I was supposed to be an independent woman with my first job in journalism.
I leaned against my car, crossed my arms to try and look casual. When Cop #2 got out of the squad car, taller and bulkier than Officer Jennings, I felt my cheeks flush. I’d always had a wild imagination, gotten in trouble for daydreaming, but this was insane. I blinked back a good cop-bad cop fantasy that threatened to scoop up all my attention. I’d file that away, think about it on my own time once I was settled in to my new life.
I extended my hand to greet the second gorgeous officer. His uniform was unbuttoned to reveal a black tee beneath.
“Brett Harding, ma’am,” he said, ducking his head a little. He was hulking and handsome, his skin caramel in color if the flashing red and blue lights did it justice, black hair, and a dimple when he smiled. He had shoulders that looked like he could bench press my Nissan effortlessly.
“Lynette Weaver,” I said, “I’ve had some car trouble. I told your partner here that I’d appreciate if you’d call a tow truck for me and then you guys can go home and rest. I know you’re officially off duty.”
“We’re not leaving you here. We will wait with you until someone comes to pick you up,” he said.
“You acted like he was going to throw me over his shoulder and carry me kicking and screaming to your car,” I said to Officer Derek.
“I never said he was a caveman. I said he’s the protective type. Most cops are. It’s against our training and our judgment to leave you out here. It’s not happening,” he said.
“I thought you were supposed to be the good cop and he was the bad cop. Is this just bad cop-bad cop?” I said, trying to make light of it. I just wanted them to go. I was embarrassed enough to find myself stranded with no money and no plan without attractive men fussing over my safety, acting like I was helpless.
“We have a room,” Brett said.
“What?”
“She won’t get in the squad car with us. She’s not gonna go for staying the night,” Derek replied.
“Uh, noo, I’m not,” I said. “How do you guys even know I’m not some psycho chick trying to set up a mark?”
Both officers smiled at me as if that was the funniest thing they’d heard in a long time.
“All I’m saying is, Derek let me bunk at his apartment when I needed someplace to stay. I moved in, paid my rent, and it all worked out. We could lend you a hand, let you bunk at our loft for the rest of the night. We’ve got an extra room.”
“Uh, no. Thanks,” I said. There was no way I was going home with two strangers and spending the night at their place, cops or no cops.
“Here,” Derek said, “Look us up on my phone, find the address, check to make sure we’re both on the force.”
I tapped the screen and searched for their employment information—both were active duty police officers with over five years’ experience. Brett had even won a commendation from the mayor for rescuing a kid from a hostage situation. I located the address and went so far as to send it to Ainsley with a message saying, This is Lyn. Car trouble, stranded, going with two cops Jennings and Harding to this address. Call u tomorrow. Then I passed him the phone.
“There’s a lock on the inside of the bedroom door,” Brett said, “We’ll give you the key. Neither one of us is looking to do you any harm. In fact, we want to prevent you getting hurt. Come with us, get a few hours of sleep and things’ll look better in the morning.”
“She has an internship at Envy,” Derek said.
“Fancy,” Brett replied, “Now will you get in the car?”
“I’m not crazy about it, I won’t lie,” I said, “This was not the plan. All the electronics turned on me at once—the battery crapped out on my phone right before the dashboard lights faded out and the car died. I’m glad you stopped, and that the police in the area are vigilant and all that, I just don’t like needing help. That probably sounds childish.”
“Not at all. It’s much harder to accept help than it is to offer it,” Derek said.
“Is there anything I can load into the trunk for you? Suitcase?”
“I have a backpack with the essentials. I’ll lock up my suitcase and my boxes in the car until tomorrow, when hopefully I’ll find a place to rent so I can unload it all. And get my car repaired really cheaply,” I said.
