The Officer Breaks the Rules (7 page)

These, however, weren’t such.

“Mad, hey!” Matthew walked into the room, picked her up under the armpits, and hauled
her up for a big hug, spinning her around once.

Over his shoulder, she couldn’t help but notice Jeremy staring holes through Matthew’s
head before directing his intense focus down to the paper clenched in his hands.

Okay. She started it, so she had to go with it. Plan Matthew Makes Moves was now in
action.

***

Who the hell was this dude?

A tall guy with a tight graphic T-shirt and shaggy blond hair stepped into the room.
Without hesitation, the new guy greeted Madison, picked her up, and spun her around
like a toy.

Jeremy watched as the guy’s hand slid down to support her body from her thighs, just
under the curve of her ass.

Friend from work, he mentally scoffed. Like fucking hell.

The other man set her down and grinned. “So how goes it? You said you needed help
with furniture?”

Jeremy stood up, and the other man’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t realized anyone
else was even in the room. “Yeah, sorry you got dragged away from… whatever you were
doing. I’ve got it, though.”

“Oh. Well, I’m already here to lend a hand. Maybe it’ll go faster this way.” The guy
shrugged, then held out a hand. The sleeve of his shirt cut into the muscle in his
arm. The guy looked like he lifted weights and surfed for a living. A beach bum with
a gym membership. “Matt McCormick. Call me Matthew.”

Jeremy shook his hand, doing his best to not squeeze too hard like a douchebag. “Jeremy
Phillips.” He took his hand back and wiped it on his pants before he could help it.
“So you guys work together?”

“Yup.” Matthew slung an arm around Madison’s shoulders, to which she rolled her eyes
in response. What did that mean? Did she not want the guy putting the moves on her?
“We work the same nursing rotation. Hey, wait. Jeremy Phillips. Yeah, I remember you.
You came in the other week after laying down your bike, right?”

He held back a wince. Not a finer moment he wanted to remember. “That’s me.”

“Cool. Glad you’re okay, man.” Matthew surveyed the room with everything laid out,
then swiped the hair out of his eyes with one hand.

Get
a
haircut, hippie.
Jeremy shook off the negative thought. He had no right to feel this… jealous? Was
that what this burning, pinching feeling in his chest was all about?

“So, just putting together some furniture, right?” He bent over to pick up one of
the instruction sheets. “I actually have this dresser at my place. I’ve had to take
it apart and move it twice already. I could put it together in my sleep now.”

“Great!” Madison said, eyes lighting up.

“I got it,” Jeremy insisted, pulling the paper out of the other guy’s hand. “They
asked me to do this as a favor, so I’m working on it.”

“Two heads are better than one and all that,” Matthew said easily, taking the paper
back.

“Too many cooks,” Jeremy replied, grabbing the paper and stepping away. And then he
felt about three feet tall… the average height of a five-year-old. Exactly how he
was acting.

Madison glared at him. Without removing her all-too-knowing gaze, she patted Matthew’s
arm. “How about you help us load some of Veronica’s boxes over at Skye’s place? So
when the furniture is done, Veronica has something to put away.”

Matthew stared at him too, and there was no mistaking the tone of this gaze. Primitive,
all the way. One male taking measure of another. Though how he measured up, Jeremy
had no idea. “Sure. No prob.” He turned and headed back to the living room by himself,
calling out to Skye along the way as if they were already best friends.

There was a beat of silence. Then Madison nudged a metal bar with the toe of her running
shoe. “I might need to go help him.”

“Sure.” Jeremy realized, as she was turning to go, he didn’t want her to leave. Not
with Matthew. But really, not at all. Her sitting with him, surrounded by puzzle pieces
claiming to be furniture parts, was the most relaxed he’d been in who knew how long.
And he wanted more. Stupid as it was, dangerous as it was, he wanted more of it.

“Will you be okay here?” She stared at him, as if this were a serious question. Like
there was a definite right or wrong answer.

He always hated these types of questions in school. Give him an essay any day.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m a guy; we build shit. It’s what we do. Hammer, saw, screwdriver.”
He sat back down, refusing to look at her face for his own safety. He didn’t want
to know if he chose right or wrong.

It felt wrong. It felt really wrong to him. But that didn’t matter.

“Okay.” Her voice sounded small for once, rather than the larger-than-life quality
it usually had. “I’ll be—we’ll be back later, then.”

He waved over his shoulder, as if it didn’t matter where she was or what she did or
who she did it with.

But it mattered. It shouldn’t. But it mattered so fucking much.

Madison sat in the car, folding and unfolding her fingers together, not sure at all
that she’d played this hand well.

“Being a beard is fun.”

She slapped at Matthew’s arm without looking at him. “You’re not a real beard. I’m
not pretending to be straight.”

“You’re pretending. Isn’t that the major point of the beard? Being something you’re
not?”

“What am I pretending to be?”

She slid her eyes over to Matthew’s in the driver’s seat, only to catch a hell of
a look from him.

“You’re pretending not to be in the mush with that guy.”

“In. The. Mush.” Madison shook her head and laughed, albeit hollowly. “There’s a new
one.”

“It’ll catch on. Face it, Mad. You’ve got it, and you’ve got it bad.” He stopped for
a moment, then chuckled. “Just call me Usher.”

Madison groaned. “Awful. I’m going to call you awful if you keep this up.”

“I say this with all the platonic love in my heart, but you are the world’s worst
person at hiding shit. It’s written all over your face. He might not see it, because
guys tend to wear blinders at the most inappropriate times. Mostly when it concerns
themselves.”

“So what am I pretending to not be again?”

Matthew reached over and squeezed her knee. “Not completely in love with him. And
totally okay with the fact that he isn’t going to be asking you over tonight to watch
the game.”

“What game?” As far as she knew, no games were playing that anyone would care about.

Matthew shrugged. “Isn’t that what all guys use as code for ‘Come over for some beer
and sex?’ No? Just me then, huh?”

She slugged him again.

He laughed, pretended to veer the car off the road at her abuse, then straightened.
“Be nice, or I won’t share the bright sunny side to this whole tragic thing.”

Madison perked a little. “There’s a bright side?”

“Oh yeah.” Matthew made the turn, following Skye back to the townhouse where Veronica
had left all the boxes full of her possessions. “And it’s really very simple. Funny
how women tend to wear blinders right back.”

“Speak English please, Usher,” she said through her teeth.

“He’s dying about it. The whole ‘I want you but I think I can’t have you’ thing is
killing him. He wanted to rip my head off, stuff it down the garbage disposal, and
toss a few lemons in after it.”

“He looked fine.” Madison reached for the door handle as he put the car in park, but
Matthew’s hand covered hers.

“Trust me, he’s not. That guy back there? Dying on the inside. Something holds him
back from going after you balls-out. No clue what it is; I can only see so far into
the situation. But there’s something holding him from going after you like some wild
animal stalking its prey.”

Madison absorbed that fact for a minute. “Was I childish, inviting you over?”

“Maybe a little.” Matthew opened his door and grinned at her. “But there’s a bright
side to that too. I’m a fantastic pack mule.”

***

Jeremy attacked the furniture project like the hounds of hell were nipping at his
feet. Like hell was he going to let that surf bum come back and see him only halfway
done with the project and think he was struggling or some shit. No. He wouldn’t be
able to get it all done—effing screws and bolts and forty-seven different ways to
assemble a bed frame—but he could make a huge dent in the project. And not look like
a jackass when the crew returned.

The front door opened and Skye’s voice rang out in the empty apartment. “Jeremy, we’re
back!”

“Still back here,” he called back, focusing on the teeny, tiny screw that the instructions
swore was critical to the entire construction.

Whatever happened to wood? Real wood, from one tree. Carved out, sanded down, nailed
together. Jesus Frankenstein Christ, this thing was a mess and a half. You needed
a master’s degree and two doctorates in aeronautical engineering to put the damn thing
together.

Skye came in and stepped gingerly around the graveyard of scrap parts. Her eyes ping-ponged
between the floor and the mostly constructed bed frame. “Should this much still be
left over?”

He glanced around the floor and let his eyes widen. “Oh shit. That’s all still left
over?” He laughed when Skye looked horrified. “Yes, they’re all extra parts, in case
something happens, so you can replace them. I’m not building Veronica a faulty bed.”
God, I hope.

“Oh.” Skye looked relieved. “She’ll be glad to hear it. And she’s extremely grateful.”

“Yeah. I know.” The gratitude that girl put off was almost uncomfortable. As if he
was curing cancer in her bedroom or something. But it came from a good place, and
he wasn’t about to mock her for it. He just didn’t think he could handle someone as
sweet and gentle as Veronica on a daily basis.

“Screw you, McCormick!”

Madison burst into the bedroom, delicate flower that she was. As if the heavens above
wanted to provide him with an example of the reverse of
sweet
and
gentle
. “See, I told you he’d be more than halfway done.”

Pride bloomed through his chest, even though he mentally realized it was pathetic,
as far as compliments went. He—wait.

“Who said I wouldn’t be more than halfway done?”

She grinned. “Matthew thought you’d need a second pair of hands. I bet him you’d be
more than halfway done all by yourself, so thanks. He’s buying pizza.”

Pizza. Bet. Yeah, okay then. He nodded and concentrated on the world’s tiniest screw
again, trying to get the damn thing to align properly with the—

“Nice work.”

The man’s deep baritone had him clenching his fingers, dropping the screw in the thick
carpet. “Fuck.” Just what he needed.

“Uh-oh.” Skye stepped out of his light so he could look closer between the carpet
fibers. “I think we might be distracting Jeremy. How about we step out for a bit and
order that pizza? If he needs us, he can call.”

“Yeah. Sure. Hey, I bet you’ll be on my side, Skye. Madison here likes all that greasy
pepperoni on her pizza. I’m more of a veggie lover myself.”

Skye bounced in place. “Me too!”

Matthew slung an arm around Skye, all buddy-buddy, and they headed out the door. Jeremy
wondered what Tim might have to say about that sort of close contact. Not that he
thought for a second Skye was tempted by the surfer boy. Skye and Tim were so into
each other it was almost embarrassing.

In an enviable sort of way.

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. Hell no. Matter of pride, that one.

Someone cleared their throat and he glanced back up. Madison gave him a small smile.
“Are you sure you don’t want help?”

He wanted things to go back the way they were an hour ago. Madison sitting next to
him, joking with him, being his second pair of hands, another set of eyes. Being a
friend.

A friend that might just crawl into his lap, snug her ass against his raging erection,
loop her arms around his neck, and—

“Jeremy.”

He shook his head and realized he’d been staring at the blank wall by Madison’s arm.
“Sorry, what?”

She shook her head and snorted. “Sure you don’t need to take a break? You zoned out
there for a bit.”

“No,” he bit off. “I’m good.”

She waited another beat, as if giving him a chance to change his mind. Then she shrugged
and walked out the door.

And he zoned out again, only this time watching her fine, heart-shaped ass sway down
the short hallway before hooking a right to go to the living room. And he was forced
to shift, then give up and crawl to his knees to readjust his shorts around the straining
erection tenting the zipper.

He really had to get a grip on this hard-on for his best friend’s sister. Tim asked
him to watch over her… and the others. Not think about them naked.

Of course, thinking of Skye and Veronica naked wasn’t even possible. Not even a minor
threat. Madison, on the other hand…

God, she’d look fantastic naked. All those toned muscles, slick skin… She’d go all
out. He knew it. In bed she’d be an active participant, fighting for dominance all
the way. And when she lost, she’d lose without grace, but damn that would be a sweet
submission as he—

“Triple meat okay?”

“Jesus!” Jeremy lost hold on the two metal rods of the bed frame—currently rivaling
the rod in his pants on a scale of one to fucking hard—and they clattered down in
a ringing peal that had him wincing.

Matthew whistled low. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me,” he said through gritted teeth, picking up the metal again.
What the hell was he doing with this piece, anyway? “You just… whatever. What did
you want?”

The other man propped a shoulder against the doorframe, then changed his mind and
walked in to sit down on the floor a decent distance away. Smart guy. “Madison said
you’d want the triple meat pizza. I was just double-checking for her.”

“Oh. Yeah. She’s right.” He stared at the instructions intently until the words blurred
in front of his eyes.
Blink. Blink, dammit.

There was a long silence, to the point that Jeremy wondered if the other guy had fallen
asleep, or somehow teleported out of the room. But he wasn’t going to look up. Not
if it killed him. It was like some silent, unspoken showdown, and he’d be damned if
he was going to lose to a gym rat hippie surfer.

“She’s right about a lot of things.”

Okay, so he looked up. Matthew the surf bum was giving him a too-knowing glance that
sort of freaked him out. The sort of look he imagined therapists gave their patients
right before they called them on their bullshit.

“Who, Madison?” He snorted. “Squirt’s not right about much.”

“I thought only her brother called her that.”

The man knew way more intimate details than he wanted him to. “I’m his best friend.
We hang out enough in a group. It all comes out to the same thing.”

It was Matthew’s turn to snort. “I’m going to bet the way you think about her is nothing
close to brotherly.”

Who was this guy—Jesus? “Yeah, sorry, but you’re way off. I don’t really have time
to think about Madison. She’s a friend, but I don’t spend my downtime thinking about
friends.” Lies double-battered in lies then deep-fried in more lies.

Matthew shrugged. “Fine. Works for me. If she’s free and clear, then it’s not poaching,
right?”

Poaching? Like Madison was a fucking animal and he was a weekend safari hunter. A
screw dug into Jeremy’s palm, and he realized he’d been clenching his hand too tightly.
He loosened his fingers, rubbed at the red mark on his palm, and sighed. “Sure. Whatever.”

Matthew laughed, a big roaring laugh that had Madison poking her head in.

“What’s going on in here?”

Matthew fell to his side, curling up into a semi-fetal position, and laughed harder.

Jeremy waved her off. “It’s fine. Your boyfriend here is just having a mild seizure.
Nothing to worry about.”

She glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Then, as if to prove it, she walked in
and kicked Matthew in the thigh, which only had him laughing harder. “Get up, weirdo,
and tell me what’s going on.”

He shook his head and rolled the other direction, facing away, still laughing his
weirdo head off.

He’s not my boyfriend.

Four words had never sounded more sweet. And that was seriously fucked up. “I think
maybe he’s been out in the sun too long or something.”

“Or something,” Madison mumbled, agreeing with him.

Finally the subject of their conversation seemed to calm down enough to sit up and
rub at his damp eyes. “Madison, babe, could you run to my car and see if you can find
my cell phone? I think it fell out of my pocket in there, but if not then I’ll have
to run back to Skye’s townhouse to look.”

She raised an eyebrow at that but shrugged and left the room.

As she left, Matthew’s goofy grin morphed in front of Jeremy’s eyes to a hard, grim
line.

“Look, here’s the deal. You want her. You don’t want to want her, but you do all the
same.”

“I don’t—”

Matthew cut him off. “Six of one, half-dozen of the other. You’re about to say you
don’t want her. Which is half of what I just said, if you were listening.” He reached
out and grabbed the knob for a dresser drawer and twirled it in his palm, taking his
sweet time getting to the point. “I love Mad.”

And apparently, when the man had a point, he had a big one.

Jeremy’s blood boiled until he saw red. Another reaction he had no right to feel.
But feel, he did.

“Yeah,” Matthew smirked, as if reading Jeremy’s mind. “I thought that would be your
reaction. You couldn’t look more pissed off if you tried for it. Looks like someone
just shot your dog in front of you.”

God dammit. He wasn’t just going to sit here and take shit from this guy because he
was Madison’s friend. The muscles in his neck screamed, he was clenched so hard against
the urge to throw himself across the room and beat the guy into dust.

He held up a hand. “I love her, as a friend. She’s my
best
friend
. That’s the end of it, lucky her. I would make her a terrible boyfriend.” He smiled,
almost to himself, as if enjoying a private joke about something. Though what he could
have to smile about when he just admitted he loved her but would never be with her,
Jeremy couldn’t say.

The thought of never being with Madison definitely didn’t leave him with a smile.

“So what’s your main excuse?”

Jeremy looked up to see Matt holding out the next piece he needed for the bedpost.
He reached out to grab it. “Excuse for what?”

“Not going after the girl. Mine is we’re best friends. Well, among other things,”
he added, almost under his breath. “You’re a single guy, I’m sure girls are something
you enjoy on a regular basis.” He laughed at Jeremy’s snarl. “Maybe not recently,
then. So what is it? Guilt? Misplaced duty? Got a girl on the side nobody knows about?
Think she’s not good enough?”