Dad’s Policeman Friend by Lena Little

4

Camila

“I’m surprised you know about this place.”

“Never been here myself, but I figured you might like it.” Caden smirks and then reels it back in almost immediately. “So…what are you going to be studying in college?”

He adjusts himself in his seat and leans back, his big body taking up more space than anyone else’s here by a country mile. There are at least three other tables of girls having a variety of coma inducing sugar filled breakfasts, and they’re all looking at Caden and giggling.

But he’s with me, not them. Don’t blow it, Camila.

“Criminal justice,” I say, blinking rapidly as I run my hand across my forearm, unable to relieve the nervous feeling of ants crawling on my skin. I cross my feet at my ankles and begin bouncing my toes into the floor below, my entire body a nervous wreck.

“Why did you choose that field?”

I cross my arms and then uncross them again, leaning back in my seat only to cross them again. And then uncross them and lean forward once more. Get a grip, Camila.

My lips part slowly before the words, “I always admired what you do,” slides off the tip of my tongue. I lean back once again and it’s only then I realize my body language is exactly mirroring Caden’s now. Relaxed, leaning to one side, calm cool, and collected. How come I’m anything but while he looks cool as a cucumber?

“You want to be a cop?” His ears perk up but his eyes narrow. “That’s a noble idea, but I don’t think I…I don’t think you’re dad would approve.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Chris wouldn’t want his daughter in the line of danger, and neither would I.”

“I’m not sure why either of you has a say. It’s my life and I can do what I want.”

Caden considers me, nodding but he doesn’t say anything.

“But I don’t want to be a cop actually,” I say.

“Please don’t say a lawyer.”

“Why?”

“They are constantly trying to undo all us cops’ hard work.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Cinnamon roll with extra icing, blueberry muffin, and an iced cappuccino for you,” the waiter says. “And a coffee black for you.”

“Thank you,” Caden says, making brief eye contact with the waiter. I appreciate him acknowledging people in the service industry, especially after working as a waitress in high school while I was living with my mom down in Florida. Between the foreign visitors who aren’t familiar with the United States’ tipping culture and people from every walk of life who demand everything under the sun, I can relate to what it’s like working in the service industry. That must be a hundred times over for Caden, who risks his life on a daily basis and might not even get much of a thank you most of the time. “Lawyer?” Caden tries a second time.

“No. Actually, I want to work as a prosecutor, to help you.”

“Prosecutors are lawyers too.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m going to study, but not in the way you alluded.” I pause. “Would you ever give an interview if someone asked?”

“Who’s someone?”

I flash him a Cheshire grin. “I already checked the syllabus and I need to interview someone for one of my classes.”

“How about we do it now.”

“I don’t know what to ask?” My cheeks heat.

“Just try.”

I press my lips together. “Okay. So let’s pretend I’m a prosecutor and you’re being cross-examined for...for the way you handled an arrest…of a woman.”

He grunts and nods, letting me know he understands where I’m going with this.

I slide forward on my seat until I feel the sides of my legs make contact with his underneath the table. His calf muscle tenses and mine do too, but I press forward.

“Mr. Justice. Why did you pat down and cuff the suspect instead of having a female officer do the job?”

For the first time, Caden leans forward. “I don’t put my hands on women. Never have and never will, especially when I’m coming from a position of authority and they’re not on even ground with me, as would be the situation in an arrest.”

I roll my eyes. “Just humor me for a second.” But there is no humor in his eyes. I stall him out.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, motioning with his fingers.

“So, Mr. Justice. I’ll ask again. Why did you take the suspect into custody yourself and what do you have to say about the fact that she says you touched her…inappropriately while you were securing her for transport.”

“Define…inappropriately.”

Touché. I gather my thoughts. “The suspect says your hand was…wandering.”

“Where exactly? If I’m going to be accused of something I at least want to know what I’m being accused of.”

A flush creeps across my cheeks, even more than before, and I can feel sweat rolling down my spine. My chin dips down and I summon the courage to say what I need to say.

“She says your hands slid too far up the insides of her legs, and that she was wearing a skirt that day so that you were able to feel her there.”

“I think I remember it now. It’s coming back to me. Was it a white skirt with dandelions on it?”

I wince at Caden’s shot, my eyes going to my lap as I stare down at the skirt of my dress of the exact same description. “Yes.”

“I thought she might have had something underneath there.”

“Such as?”

“Something that belongs to me.” Caden’s forearm tightens like corded rope with all the slack pulled out of it and his coffee cup shakes on the table before he bends at the elbows and steeples his fingers.

Heat spreads like wildfire in my belly, my thighs. “What did you think was under there?”

“I think we both know what was under there.” He leans impossibly closer. “Something so dangerous it could bring a man to his knees. Something so powerful that a man would kill for it, start a hundred year war for it, die for it.”

“Or even betray his best friend for it?”

Caden’s body jerks back in his seat, his palms finding the table in a slap as coffee sloshes in his cup and spills out over the top.

“No telling what a man would do for something so perfect.”

My hands grab at my knees as my sex clenches like never before.

“And how do you think that girl’s daddy would feel if he knew an officer was doing that to his child.”

“You mean her father?”

“Father. Daddy. It’s a matter of semantics, Captain Justice.”

“See, but it’s not,” he says, wagging a finger slightly. Not in my face but enough that it’s a visceral action that he’s unable to control. “See, it sounds like this girl, the one in the white dress with dandelions, already has a father. But what she really needs is a daddy.”

“Again. What’s the difference?” I ask softly.

“A father is her biological creator, the man should fill the paternal role in her life but due to circumstances, very possibly in this…hypothetical situation…he’s not able to.”

“And her Daddy?”

“He’s the man who not only tells her when she’s misbehaving, makes sure she takes good care of herself and talks about herself in a positive way, but he also sets her stomach on fire and keeps her up all night trying to put out that blazing inferno that ignites like gasoline being thrown onto a forest fire.”

“But what if she’s not sure if that’s what she needs.”

“Her legs are pretty friendly for someone who’s uncertain of exactly what they want.”

His words slap me in the face like a stack of unpaid bills, and I realize I’m running the inside of my leg up and down his. I stop immediately, jerking my feet together and straighten my back like a board.

“I didn’t say you have to stop.”

“What?”

“Badgering the witness,” he fake protests.

“Badgering?”

“If you think those little blueberries in your muffin are the only thing that’s blue right now you’ve got a lot to learn. And I’m the one to teach you.”

He stands from his chair and moves around to my side of the table, scooping me up in one motion and carries me to a booth in the corner. He goes to retrieve my things, bringing them all back in his two giant hands, sitting right beside me.

The table blocks the view of the staff and the patrons and Caden wastes no time putting his hand on my thigh.

“Now, where were we?” As if he already knows the answer he reaches for my leg, maneuvering it so one leg falls across his thigh, and then my other leg quickly follows.

He catches my calf and rubs his calloused thumb along my flesh, igniting a wildfire that threatens to quickly burn out of control. His touch continues down, slow and smooth until it finds my ankle. His index finger joins in with his thumb and he massages both sides and I swear my body feels boneless. I melt into the seat, but he’s not done yet.

He moves down to the ball of my feet and applies pressure in my arch and I melt into his touch.

“I’m used to dealing with rough people day in and day out. It takes a lot to bring out the beast inside me, but you’re doing exactly that. But it’s a different kind of beast with a different kind of need. Don’t push me over the edge. Don’t make me do something that’s looking more inevitable by the second.”

My stomach does a backflip as butterflies take flight. “You’re right. We can’t do this,” I agree with his plea but we both know we’re lying. My mind flashes to that picture of my dad and Caden from years ago. The one where they’re shirtless, having just finished a game of basketball in the backyard. All of Caden’s thick muscles on his display. His diamond cut abs calling out for my fingers, but I was too young then. But not too young to cover the part of the picture where my dad was with my thumb, and then used the thumb on my other hand to brush against my clit, to explore these new feelings in my body from the masculine man I knew from afar.

A few of the girls at the other tables look in our direction, their expressions turning from a juvenile crush on Caden to one of absolute shock. They can’t see what’s going on underneath the table, but they can probably figure it out.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Caden’s buttery smooth baritone comforts.

“Those girls…the way they look at you. It’s making me jealous.”

His other hand slides up the back of my neck, taking hold of me possessively so that they can see. “From this moment on you’ll never feel jealous again. I’m going to make damn sure of it.”

“This is all so new to me. How can you be so sure.”

“This is how I can be sure.”

Without asking he pivots my body toward his and stamps his lips down on mine. Hard. I hear gasps from the peanut gallery followed by the sound of one camera phone clicking a camera, the culprit forgetting to place it on silent.

But I have no time to look over because I’m lost against his lips. I feel like I’m drowning but in the most peaceful kind of way.

“Mine,” he growls into my lips, and I feel his teeth baring against my kisser. The possessiveness of his claim washes over me like a wave and I gasp for air as if he knew exactly the life raft I needed to survive.

“What about my dad?”

“You’re father,” he corrects. “What about him?”

Before I have so much as a second to reply a man walks in with his daughter. She’s about my age, maybe a year or so younger. It’s hard to tell. But what isn’t hard to tell is the look of disapproval on his face as he stares holes into Caden.

My eyes move to Caden’s just in time to catch him staring back as if they’re two silverbacks on the jungle floor exchanging looks before going to battle.

The intruder adjusts his trucker cap and I watch Caden’s jaw harden like granite in real time.

Caden’s arm wraps around my body and he pulls me in tight.

“Maybe we should just go,” I suggest.

“I’m not the kind of man who just tucks his tail between his legs at the presence of another man, or in his case a grown-ass boy.”

“You put me away for breaking the law,” the man finally offers.

“I’m not doing anything illegal, so why don’t you get outta here before I change my mind and do…break a civilian’s jaw…for the second time.”

“You’re lucky you walked, asshole.”

“Watch your mouth in front of my lady,” Caden snarls. “And you’re lucky you’re not still drinking out of a straw.”

“Maybe she’s the one who needs a straw for that milkshake,” the still unidentified stranger cuts, misidentifying my drink, but I catch his drift.

“It’s not a milkshake, jerk. And if you’re implying I’m underage you’re wrong. Leave us alone.”

“Maybe we should call the cops and let them check your ID. I’m sure a cop in jail would have a lot of fun reuniting with the boys he put away for a similar offense.”

“That’s enough,” Caden barks, standing and flipping the table up on end. He marches right over to the man and grabs him by the neck, flattening him to the wall.

“You insult me it’s one thing. You insult her it’s another. Now listen to me and listen to me good. You’re going to leave and you’re not going to come back in here, ever again. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.”

“What’s stopping me?” he gurgles out.

“I am.”

Without giving him a second chance Caden adds a second hand around his waist and carries him to the door, tossing the man out on his back. He rubs his hands at the quickly forming red mark around his neck and then stumbles to his feet, taking off.

“Caden,” I call out from next to the booth where I’m now standing, the floor to ceiling glass windows in the front allowing me to watch it all go down.

Caden stomps back to the table, setting it upright and apologizing to the staff before sliding them what appears to be a stack of hundreds for the mess he caused. I have no idea where a policeman gets that kind of money, but it’s not my job to ask.

“We’re leaving,” he says.

Without hesitating he takes my hand and guides me out of the shop. I can feel his pulse beating in the vein in his palm and I know he’s still filled with rage. That’s easy to understand.

But what’s confusing is…how much it turns me on.

In a world filled with hipster boys more concerned with the prints on their socks than taking care of their woman, Caden is a breath of fresh air. The last thing I want is a guy who’s lukewarm about being with me. Caden is the farthest thing from that I’ve ever seen, as I’ve just witnessed.

But when we step out into the morning, what I quickly realize is that this little fiasco is far from over.