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Jackpot!
I accelerated the truck at a normal pace when the light turned green. I ran my hand over my girl, my partner: my gun. She was where she always was when I was undercover—in my deep concealment underarm gun holster. Animal control officers were allowed to carry guns on their tactical belts when on duty as a measure of self-defense, but I preferred her right here where no one knew I had her.
My plan had not changed in the least. I’d drive to my community garden and go about my business. Nobody knew me there; it was just a patch of dirt that I had claimed years ago near the Eliot Burying Ground.
Turn after turn, the silver car followed me. Even into the construction street of Martin’s, which every soul in Boston avoided like the plague. I had only one turn left to get to my garden when I looked in my rearview mirror and realized that the BMW was gone.
Damn it!
I almost turned to look over my shoulder. An amateur mistake that could give away my knowledge of being followed.
Slowing down, I pulled onto my community garden’s street and parked the car in a shady spot under a big tree. It wasn’t too hot today, but I still wanted to keep it cool for Thor. I cranked the windows. Then I put on the ridiculous animal control officer cap since I didn’t have my usual baseball hat that I wore while gardening. I also took off my tactical belt in the wide open, just in case I was being watched. It would be better if my stalker thought me unarmed, which I wasn’t. My girl was safely placed in my deep concealment underarm gun holster, which was practically invisible under my shirt.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Thor. She was sleeping peacefully.
I pushed the old wooden gate open to enter the community garden and grabbed one of the cardboard boxes people left for others to use for harvesting. Like most days, nobody was here. Even if there was, folks here never talked. We were all here for peace and quiet, not to hang and chat.
Standing in front of my patch of the garden, I scanned the overall health of my vegetable plants. I didn’t have my gloves or garden tools with me, but that was okay. I’d just do some basic work. Remove pests from leaves, harvest vegetables to donate them to homeless shelters and churches. As a cop, I didn’t exactly have time to cook, and I kinda didn’t know how to. I was living the life of a twenty-first century man, which was probably one of my shortcomings. I’d always sworn to myself that should there ever be more than one person living in my household, I’d take a cooking class.
I kneeled in front of my dark red tomatoes, which were the biggest in the garden, and started picking them. Usually, I’d start to feel calm right now, at peace, but not today. Tomato by tomato, my mind kept wandering to those icy blue eyes and that damn smile—then to her perfect body.
“I never pictured you as the type of guy to grow vegetables.”
I literally dropped a tomato when I heard her voice. After the BMW had followed me here, I’d been prepared for pretty much anything, including the cold metal of a gun pointing into my back, but not...her. All the air left my lungs when I turned and saw Mila on the other side of the gate. The sun was shining on her, highlighting her figure as if she was a statue of a Greek goddess. She was wearing a white, knee-length summer dress and heeled sandals. Her hair was hanging loose over her shoulders; her glasses pulled up onto her head. She smiled with that unbelievable charisma of hers.
Stunning. Simply...freaking...stunning.
Carefully, she opened the gate to the community garden and walked toward me. I picked up the tomato I’d just dropped and placed it in the box with the others.
“So this is what you’ve been up to,” she said, looking at my plants, then back at me. I rose to my feet and realized for the first time that I was easily a head taller than she was. I towered over a lot of women, but this time I actually cared that I did. I hoped that she would like how tall I was.
“Pretty much. That and work.” I wiped my hands on my pants and rolled up my sleeves. Her eyes wandered over my forearms. Did she like them muscular like mine?
She’s checking me out.
“It must be a beautiful feeling to create things rather than destroy them like we humans usually do,” she said, looking at my plants.
“I never looked at it that way.” I really hadn’t, but now that she mentioned it, maybe it was reason why I loved gardening in the first place. Damn...this woman was not only hot but smart too!
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I said casually. “I haven’t seen you at the clinic for a while. I hope all is well with school.”
“I could say the same about you,” she countered with an innocent smile. “Haven’t seen you at the clinic for almost two weeks.”
“Me? I was at the clinic with quite a few interesting guests this week.” I lifted my arm to demonstrate the claw marks from an owl that had been trapped in a train station. For some dumb reason, I’d taken the call. No, not some dumb reason...to stop sitting at my fake apartment with a boner for her.
She stepped closer, placing her left hand on my arm next to the wound. I could feel her slight tremble.
“M-may I?” Her voice was soft and insecure—a first for this usually confident woman.
“Be my guest.” I stretched my arm closer to her, trying hard to hide my excitement at her touch. Gently, she moved her fingers closer to the wound and leaned over it. Her scent bloomed from her body, intoxicating me as her beautiful face focused on the claw marks. She was so close, if I leaned forward just a bit, I could place a soft kiss right on the side of her pretty, long neck. I could run a trail of passionate kisses all the way to her—
Don’t do you, don’t do it, don’t do it!
Too late. My eyes had already wandered down to her cleavage, granting me a first-class peek at her perfectly shaped breasts. They were heavy and filled every inch of that strained black bra.
Fuck.
“This one might need stitches,” she said, biting her lip as she ran the tip of her finger over the wound.
