Page 5 of Playing With Temptation

Ethan raised his hands in surrender. “Please continue.”

“I was just talking to Jase about how much fun it would be to do a fundraiser. Hot cops⁠—”

“No, you weren’t,” I quickly interrupted her. I watched Matt approach Chelsea behind the bar.

“Hot cop?” Ethan asked, smiling.

Chelsea shrugged. “That’s what Sophie calls Valentine. And lucky for me…wait! Hot cops and firefighters. Jackson and Brice could get some of the guys at the firehouse to help.”

“Help with what?” Matt asked as he pulled his wife to his chest and kissed the top of her head.

Thank fuck.

Matt would put an end to whatever crazy shit Chelsea was cooking up.

“Hot cops and firemen going up for auction to help fund Women’s Inc.’s holiday extravaganza.”

Auction?

That was a hell to the no.

“What’s a holiday extravaganza?” Ethan inquired instead of doing what he should’ve done and flatly refused.

“The holidays are always tight. They’re especially tight for the parents we work with. Our goal is to be able to fund Christmas for at least ten families. Presents, wrapping paper, food, baking supplies, the whole shebang.”

Fuck. Now I was going to be an asshole and a Scrooge when I said no.

“You know Jackson won’t say no to Quinn if she asks,” Matt told her. “And Shiloh will tell her brothers where to be and what time, and Phoenix and Echo will be there.”

What the hell was happening?

What was supposed to be a drink, albeit non-alcoholic, with my partner had turned into a nightmare.

I swiveled on the stool to make my exit when Ethan called me out. “What’s wrong, Jase, afraid no one will bid on you?”

No, I was afraid someone would. Then I’d have to take part in whatever they won.

“Detective Lenox?” A soft feminine voice called from behind me, drawing Ethan’s attention over my shoulder.

“Stacey.” Ethan greeted the newest server at Balls Deep before I could turn to face the woman.

“Uh…hey…um…Detective Turner,” she stuttered her greeting. “Sorry to interrupt.”

I wasn’t.

Stacey was the perfect distraction from Chelsea’s devious scheming.

“Everything alright?” I asked when I caught her look of uncertainty.

Stacey Witmore was shy, quiet, and very timid, but the way her gaze was bouncing between our huddle, with her shoulders stiff and her back ramrod straight, was next level.

“Sure…I mean, yes. Everything’s fine. You asked me to let you know if I saw Tate.”

Tate Hendrix lived two doors down from Stacey. He was also bad news and currently wanted for questioning in connection with a missing persons case Ethan and I were working on. That was how I’d met Stacey. She’d called emergency dispatch the night before Tate’s girlfriend, Samantha, was last seen. During our interview, she was fidgety and nervous. It wasn’t until she’d checked the clock on her wall for the third time that Ethan asked if she needed to be somewhere. Reluctantly, as if admitting she was a single mom who needed to pick up her child from school was a felony, she explained why she was in a rush. When we offered to come back, she again hesitantly told us she had a job interview she couldn’t miss.

It was obvious from the neighborhood she lived in, the beat-up old Sentra in her driveway, and the sparse furnishings that she was struggling. If there was one thing both Ethan and I had a soft spot for, it was single parents fighting to survive.

Me, because I was raised by a single mom who worked hard to keep me clothed, fed, and a roof over our heads. Being a single dad now, I understood struggle went beyond the financial strain.