Rookie Mistake (California Dreamers #4) (9 page)

He points a finger at me. “You’re still not getting it out of me. It’s not something we talk about. If you really want to know you need to ask CJ.”

“I’m afraid he won’t tell me.” I take another sip of my beer.

Russ shakes his head. “I thought police officers were supposed to be good communicators. You haven’t been listening. CJ is nuts about you. He would literally do anything for you. And I mean do anything. If you ask him to tell you he will.”

It takes a moment for Russ’s words to sink it.
He’s crazy about me.
No one has ever been crazy about me before.

“That gives you a lot of power,” Russ warns. “Don’t abuse it. You could break his heart.”

I drink the rest of my beer in a single gulp. I feel dizzy with emotion and alcohol. “I really need to go.”

I hand Russ the empty bottle. “All done.”

Before he has a chance to stop me I head towards the door. Just as I’m about to grab the handle the door flies open.

Cody’s eyes widen when he realizes I’m standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Russ comes up behind me carrying his bottle. “Your girlfriend stopped by for a beer.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Cody snaps.

“I was just leaving,” I tell him.

“Why were you here?”

When our eyes meet the exchange of electricity between us is so overpowering my knees get weak.

“Are you okay?” Cody asks.

“Just a little dizzy. I think I drank that beer too fast. And I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“You shouldn’t be driving,” he warns.

“I can walk home.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers.

I wave him off. “It’s not necessary.”

“I want to,” he insists.

The beer has hit me a lot harder than I expected. I’m a little unstable on my feet.

Cody puts his arm around me to steady me.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I tell him.

“I want to get you home in one piece. It’s a safety precaution.”

“Okay,” I agree. I have to admit that it feels nice to have him touch me again. I relax into his protective arms.

“Why were you so late?” I ask as we head down the street towards my apartment.

“String quartet. The band director hired me on the spot. The kids need a lot of work.”

I can hear the enthusiasm and joy in his voice.

“I need to ask you a question.”

“Anything.”

I gulp. For some reason I’m suddenly afraid to ask. Maybe I’m afraid of what I’ll hear. It’s got to be something pretty bad if Russ refused to talk about it.  

“What is it?” he prods.

I take in a deep breath. “Why did you drop out of student teaching?”

He’s silent for several moments. Then he clears his throat. “I was engaged to my high school sweetheart. We were going to get married at the end of the school year, as soon as I finished my student teaching. She was an English teacher at the same school. We had just found out she was pregnant. We wanted to have kids right away so we were both thrilled. That afternoon we had both stayed late. I was giving a private lesson to one of our flute players, and she was helping the kids put together the school literary magazine. She was their advisor. We planned to meet in the parking lot at five thirty.

“As I was leaving the building I saw her in the distance. She was standing next to her car talking to three students. They were joking and laughing. Another car sped by as I hurried over to them. A guy leaned out the window and shot all of them. One minute I saw her laughing and a moment later she was dead. One of the students she was talking to was in a gang and someone wanted him dead. She and the other two students were collateral damage.

“I never went back. I just couldn’t make myself walk into the school again. As soon as I graduated college I left LA and went into the police academy. There’s not too much you can do with a music education degree when you’re not certified to teach. A few of the guys I served with in Iraq became police officers so that’s what I decided to do.”

“What was her name?”

“Julia.” There’s so much sadness in his voice it makes my heart ache.

“I’m sorry you lost her,” I tell him.

“Can you believe I made it through two tours of duty and never saw anyone get shot. When I come back to California I witness my fiancée being gunned down right in front of me? How messed up is that?”

“Very.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to love anyone the way I loved her.”

We’re both quiet the rest of the way back to my apartment.

Once we’re at my front door he removes his arm from my shoulder. “You’re back safe and sound.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d better get back…”

I place my lips on his before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

“Kissing you,” I whisper back.

“I thought…”

“Just kiss me before I change my mind.”

That’s exactly what he does.

My heart flutters with excitement as he reclaims my lips. Within moments he’s devouring me, his mouth hard and searching on mine.

“I’d better go,” he says breathlessly.

“Stay.” The word leaves my lips before I can stop it.

Or maybe I don’t want to.

“Are you sure?” I can see the confusion in his tortured eyes.

“No,” I admit.

He places his hand on my cheek. “I want you, Maya, a lot more than I should. But I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you or jeopardize your career.”

My judgment is so clouded by desire that I can’t even think. I know he’s right. The best thing would be for him to walk away. But my body has other ideas.

And so does my heart.

“Stay with me tonight.”

He presses his lips together. He looks as torn as I feel.

I turn and unlock my door. Then I take his hand and pull him inside.

When I turn on the light I can see that his eyes are moist. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t ever talk about Julia,” he tells me.

Is that why I’m agreeing to be with him again? Because I want to lessen his pain? That’s definitely part of the reason, but it’s not all of the reason.

I think I’m falling for him just as quickly as he’s falling for me.

“I know I can’t make you forget her,” I tell him. “But I can make you feel better, at least for a little while.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not good enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t just want to be with you for a little while. I don’t want another hookup.”

“What do you want?” I whisper.

“I want you a lot longer.” The need in his eyes is unnerving. 

My stomach knots. Everything that Russ said about Cody rushes back to me.

I realize at that moment that if I head down this road there’s no turning back. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt Cody even more than he’s already been hurt.

“I can’t do this,” I tell him. “Not now.”

He nods. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” I blink back tears. “It’s not fair. For years I’ve waited for a guy who would accept me the way I am. Someone who would still want to be with me, even when he found out I was a police officer. Now here you are and I can’t have you.”

He wraps his arms around me and I melt into him.

“You can have me,” he whispers. “Just not right now.”

I enjoy being wrapped in his warmth for several moments.

“Now I’m going to tuck you into bed. You’re going to go to sleep and I’m going to go home.”

***

“Oh. My. God,” Hadley says when I enter the kitchen. My mom and stepdad invited me to dinner. Since I’m out of groceries and don’t have time to shop, I readily accepted.

“What’s so amazeballs?” I ask. Hadley looks more excited than I’ve seen her in months.

“Mr. Jackson is an amazing teacher. We’ve learned more in a week than we learned with Mr. Mintz the whole year.”

“You’re talking about Cody Jackson, the police officer I was with the other day.”

She rolls her eyes at me. It’s one of her favorite facial expressions. “Isn’t he like your boyfriend or something?”

“I’m his Field Training Officer,” I clarify.

“You do know he’s in love with you.”

I frown. “What gives you that idea?”

“He gets goo-goo eyes whenever he mentions you.”

I have to admit I get a little tingly all over just thinking about him.

“Maybe we won’t embarrass ourselves at the spring recital after all,” Hadley says.

“I’m glad he’s helping.”

“He’s the best.”

“Who’s the best?” my mom asks, joining us in the kitchen.

“Maya’s boyfriend,” Hadley blurts out before I have a chance to respond.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

My mother eyes me. “How does Hadley know him?”

“He’s Mr. Jackson,” she explains. “The music teacher who they just hired to conduct the string quartet.”

My mom frowns, clearly confused. “He’s a police officer and a music teacher?”

“He’s working with the students part-time, after school, just as a volunteer,” I explain.

“Sounds like a modern day Renaissance man.”

“He’s cute too,” Hadley adds.

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “Like your college applications?”

Hadley glares at me. “I already told you, Mom and Dad like a million times I’m not going to college. I’m going to work as a nail tech and play music.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have a back-up plan I tell her. I didn’t have to go to college to become a police officer, but it’s nice to have the degree just in case.”

Hadley gives an exasperated sigh.

“No one can ever take your education away from you,” Mom adds. “It’s one of the most valuable investments you can make.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t want to be an indentured servant to student loans for the rest of my life.”

“I told you that your dad and I would pay for college. You don’t need to take out any student loans.”

“I’m not going.” Hadley grabs a celery stick from a plate of vegetables and starts munching on it. “Now can we talk about something else?”

Five

“The what?” Cody asks.

“Tipsy Taxi,” I repeat. “It’s a service we perform for the community. If a citizen phones and is too drunk to drive we give the person a ride home.”  

“Isn’t that what regular taxis are for?”

“Sometimes people don’t have money for a regular taxi. Better to call us than to drive drunk.”

“So where are we supposed to pick him up?”

“The golf course.”

“Then he’s been drinking and driving all day,” Cody jokes.

I glare at him.

“Get it? You drive the ball in golf.”

“I got it,” I tell him. “It’s just not funny.”

“It’s hilarious.”

“You seem to be in a really good mood.”

He starts to sing
I’ve Got You Babe
, the Sonny and Cher song.

“You’ve got something,” I reply. “I just hope I don’t catch it.”

It only takes us a few minutes to get to the golf course. A wobbly man dressed in golf attire is waiting out front.

Cody and I exit the car and approach him.

“Did you phone for a Tipsy Taxi?” I ask.

The man starts laughing. Then he points to the police car. “That’s not a cab.” He moves in close like he’s trying to examine me. “You don’t look like a cab driver.”

“We’re police officers, sir. We can drive you home.”

That makes him chuckle. “Do you know where I live?”

“If you give us your driver’s license we can take you there.”

It takes several tries before he actually gets his hand into his pocket. He keeps missing it. When he finally retrieves his wallet it rolls right out of his hand onto the ground.

“Oops.”

Bending down to pick up the wallet proves to be an even bigger challenge. Controlling his body is about as easy as controlling gelatin. Just when I think he’s about to grab the prize he tumbles over and lands on his butt instead.

He glances around. “What am I doing down here?”

As I pick up the man’s wallet Cody helps him to his feet.

“Sir, do you mind if I open your wallet to retrieve your driver’s license?”

“I’m not driving,” he slurs. “I’m too drunk.”

“We’d like to take a look at your license to see where you live. So we can take you home.”

“There’s no place like home.” He clicks his heels together like Dorothy trying to return home from Oz. 

I open his wallet and remove his license. The man’s name is Chuck Morris, age 39. Luckily he only lives a few miles from the golf course.

I place the license back in the wallet and hand it back to him.

He moves his head back and forth as if he’s trying to focus on the wallet. “Why are you giving me this?”

“It’s your wallet. Please put it back in your pocket.”

It’s another ordeal to get the wallet back into his pocket.

“How much did you have to drink today, sir?” I ask.

“Three beers.” He holds up all ten fingers.

“You may want to consider cutting back a bit the next time you golf, especially as the weather gets hotter.”

“Yes, sir.” For some reason he salutes me. Then his eyes narrow. “You are a sir, aren’t you?”

“I’m a female officer,” I tell him.

He tilts his head to one side and then to the other. “You’re blowing my mind.”

“Let’s get you into the back of the squad car,” I urge.

He points a finger in the air. “Right-o. Let’s go.”

Cody acts as a guide as we escort the man to the police car. As I open the passenger door Cody helps him inside. He’s so floppy that he falls right back out of the car before I have a chance to close the door.

Then he laughs hysterically.

“Great,” I mutter.

“Let’s grab his elbows and help him up. When you get him into the car this time we flip him over to the other side so he doesn’t flop out again.”

“How are we going to get him into his house?” Cody asks.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let’s get him back into the car first.”

Cody and I eventually manage to get him back in the car and get the door closed, but it’s a challenge.

“I’m exhausted,” Cody remarks when we take our seats.

“And we’ve still got three more hours until the end of our shift.”

By the time we get to the man’s house he’s sprawled out in the back seat snoring.

“Now what?” Cody asks.

“Let’s knock on the door and see who is home. Maybe they can give us a hand.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We approach the house and knock on the front door.

“Just a minute,” a woman’s voice says.

The house is extravagant. It’s not beach front, but still expensive. More than I could afford even with ten year’s salary.

A middle-age woman wearing a very revealing white silk bathrobe answers the door through a crack. “Can I help you?”

“We’re the police. We have Chuck Morris in the back of the squad car.”

Her heavily mascaraed brown eyes dart back and forth. “He’s early.”

“He’s drunk. He phoned for a Tipsy Taxi.”

She smacks her bright red lips together. It’s odd that she’s wearing nothing but a robe, but her face is heavily made up.

“Your name?” I ask the woman.

“I’m Mary Morris. Chuck is my husband. I thought he’d be golfing for another hour at least.”

“Is everything okay?” I hear a deep voice call from another room.

“It’s the police,” she shouts. “They brought Chuck home. He’s drunk.”

“Is there someone else in the house with you?” I ask Mrs. Morris.

“My brother-in-law,” she replies sheepishly.

Cody and I glance at each other. Something tells me she’s getting a little action on the side with her brother-in-law.

The man who joins us at the door looks completely disheveled. The t-shirt and shorts he’s wearing are wrinkled and his hair is askew.

“Phil Morris.” He gives us an unenthusiastic wave.

“Is your husband aware that his brother is keeping you company while he’s golfing?”

To my surprise she nods. “He’s not concerned about bourgeois values like fidelity.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her the way my teenage sister would. Why bother getting married if you want to sleep around? 

Instead I say, “Would you mind giving us a hand getting your
husband
back into the house?”

Mrs. Morris places a hand on Phil’s arm. “Why don’t you help them with Chuck?”

We wait a few moments for Phil to slip on some sneakers. By the time we get back to the cruiser Chuck is stirring.

When Cody opens the back door Chuck looks around blankly. “Where am I?”

“We brought you home, sir.”

Cody helps him slide out of the back seat then he and Phil make sure he doesn’t fall over when he stands up.

Before any of us realize what’s happening Chuck starts to pull his pants down. “I’ve really got the take a leak.”

A little too much of his nether region is exposed before Phil grabs him and yanks his pants back up.

“Please wait until we get you in the house,” Cody instructs.

As we quickly pull him inside before he wets himself Cody leans over and sings some of the lyrics from
Bad Moon Rising
by Creedence Clearwater Revival in my ear.

“Funny,” I whisper back to him.

“At least you only had to deal with the moon view. I had a full view of his Big Dipper.”

***

“I think it’s time for an ice cream break,” I tell Cody.

“You said the magic words.” He licks his lips in anticipation.

The last thing I need is to start thinking about his lips. I steer my attention back to food. “Please tell me you love gelato.”

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “As if there’s any other option.”

“Key Lime with Graham Cracker,” we both say at the same time.

Then we both laugh.

“I know just the place,” I tell him as I head for my favorite little ice cream place.

The Ice Cream Shack is just that. It looks like a tiny hole-in-the-wall, but they have the best ice cream on the planet. Admittedly I have not tried every ice cream shop on the planet to compare, but I’m still comfortable in making that claim.

“My treat,” Cody says as we approach the counter.

“You don’t have to buy me ice cream,” I tell him.

“I know.” He removes his wallet from his pocket. “I want to.”

Now I’m the one licking my lips in anticipation as Cody orders us two large cones.

The young girl at the counter doesn’t look much older than Hadley, but she’s flirting with Cody like he’s a teen her age.

“Now who’s the one being fawned all over?” I whisper as we take our gelato to a table where we sit down.

“She’s a kid,” he argues.

“She still gave you the googly eyes,” I tease.

“I only have eyes for you.” The tone of his voice is serious.

I take a seat and start licking my cone.

Cody joins me and takes a bite of his gelato. “It’s good.”

“No, I won’t accept that,” I tell him. “It’s great.”

He grins. “Okay. I’ll modify my assessment if you insist. The gelato is magnificent.”

“That’s better.”

We both eat in silence for several moments watching the cars whizz by us.

“Hadley told me that your dad died when you were young.”

“I was nine.”

“That must have been difficult.”

“For me and my mom. I think the grief is worse when the death is unexpected.”

“What happened?”

I let out a sigh. “This isn’t something I talk about.”

“Maybe you should,” he suggests.

“I don’t like to burden people with my baggage.”

His eyes search mine. “I’m just trying to get to know you better, Maya. You don’t make it very easy.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t open myself up as readily as I should. As Zoe says: I don’t
let down my armor
.

“My dad was a police officer for the City of Los Angeles, one of the largest police departments in the country.”

“The third largest after New York and Chicago,” Cody adds.

I nod. “My dad was so proud of his job. He loved everything about being a member of the force. My fondest memories of him are when he was in uniform because he always looked so content. He used to tell my mom that he felt like he was born to be a police officer.

“He was killed in the line of duty. Shot by a suspect in custody who got ahold of a weapon. It felt surreal for a long time. He went to work that morning like he always did, but he never came back.”

“And you followed in his footsteps even though he was shot and killed.”

“I always knew I wanted to be a police officer. Just like my dad I felt like I was made for it. Of course my mom tried to talk me out of it for years. She didn’t have much luck.”

“You seem to be very determined. I don’t think I’d ever waste my energy trying to talk you out of anything.”

“Smart man.” I take a lick of my gelato before it melts down my arm.

Cody eats quietly for a while. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”

“You showed me yours the other day when you told me about your fiancée. I figured it was only fair for me to show you mine.”

“That’s not all I want you to show me.” He gives me a sexy little grin.

I get shivery thinking about all the things we could show each other, but I also know it will have to wait. I take another lick of my gelato to cool me down a bit.

We both watch the traffic zip by for a few moments until a white Volvo speeds by us with what looks like a driver holding a baby in his lap.

“Did you see that?” Cody’s voice is filled with unease.

“Did it look like that driver was holding a baby?”

We’re both out of our seats before I have a chance to say, “Let’s go.”

What’s left of our cones is gobbled down as we make our way to the patrol car.

Within seconds we’re both strapped in and on our way in pursuit of the white Volvo.

When we finally catch up to the driver I urge Cody to call in the license plate.

Then I turn on the lights and we pull the guy over.

The car is registered to a local man in his 40s with a clean record. The driver of the car looked a lot younger however.

Maybe the man’s son?

Cody and I exit the patrol car and step up to the driver’s side of the Volvo.

The driver is definitely a teenager, probably in high school. And there’s no baby visible anywhere.

“License, registration and proof of insurance,” I recite after the teen rolls down the window.