Page 102 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

PERRI

Elias bops.

His shoulders shake, his hips shimmy, and his head bobs as he leaves the police station a few feet ahead at the end of a shift, the evening after Derek moved in.

He hums some sort of hip-hop tune, then sings, “All night long . . . I want you all night long.”

I call out to Elias, “Hey, Officer Jazzy Jeff. You auditioning for a talent show or something?”

Laughing, he turns around and waits for me as I head down the steps. “Something like that.”

“Seriously?”

He motions for me to come closer. “You’ve seen those hot-cop videos, right?”

“Sure,” I say tentatively. “I mean, it’s not like I go online hunting for them, but I’m familiar with the concept. Like that one Gainesville PD did, right?”

“Yup.” He waggles his hips, waiting for me to say something. When I’m speechless, he fills the silence. “What do you think?”

As dry as a wine-country summer, I say, “I think you should keep your day job.”

“C’mon, Keating. Admit it. I can groove.”

I pat his shoulder. “Fine, you’re a good dancer. But are you actually going to make a dancing video?”

He taps his nose. “Bingo. That’s the plan. I’m hoping it’ll impress the big man.”

“A dancing video?”

“Well, if I can get it to go viral. Will you share it for me?”

“I’m not on Facebook. Besides, I think you want others to share it. People who have lots of friends and fans online. You want to get it in front of the right audience.”

“Good point. I need to think this through more. Find some influencers , as they say.”

His phone bleats and he grabs it, answering instantly. “Hey, honey bear.” He mouths the wife , waves, and takes off.

As I walk to my car, awareness hits me square in the sternum.

If he’s trying to impress the big man, he’s probably gunning for the promotion too.

My jaw tightens. Reasonably, I figured I wasn’t the only one who’d want the gig.

Still, it’s tough to go up against a buddy, even if the chief told me I should apply.

I weigh what I can do to increase my own chances for the role, but I feel a smidge guilty. Elias’s wife is pregnant. Does that mean he deserves this more than I do? He has more at stake, doesn’t he? I don’t like the thought of competing against him, especially given his family expansion plans.

But that’s life. Sometimes you have to compete against a friend, I tell myself as I stroll past the yarn shop.

I pop inside to pick up another ball of merino wool and stop short when I see Jansen at the counter, his arms snaked around his wife and his lips planted on her cheek.

I avert my gaze, but she calls out to me.

“Hey, crafty lady. I still have your yarn.”

I look up and smile like I didn’t just see them practicing . “Oh, thanks. Just need to get cracking on some new patterns.”

She waves me over, and Jansen barks out a greeting. “Evening, Officer Keating.”

“Evening, Chief.”

“What are you making?” he asks.

His wife nudges him. “She’s going to make you a new pink hat, Jeff. Now don’t be so nosy.”

I laugh. “It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing. I found an adorable sweater pattern, but I’m not sure who I’m going to make it for. But I find the routine of knitting helps me unwind.”

“That’s good. Personally, I like to do jigsaw puzzles,” Jansen puts in. “That helps me let go of the unsolved mysteries at the end of the day. Like who broke into the jewelry store off Main Street the other month.”

I frown. “I know. Me too. I wish we had more leads.”

“So do I.”

“Trust me, we all wish we knew what went on there,” Theresa says. The jewelry store theft is one of the few “high profile” crimes we’ve had to deal with recently in Lucky Falls.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m confident of that,” Jansen says, then fastens on a smile. “But I also want to know why so many damn people are speeding on Hollowstone Road.”

That sparks an idea. Jansen did say the other day that he appreciated my willingness to do grunt work and pick up traffic duty without grumbling. “Want me to run traffic duty there this weekend?”

“That’d be great. Especially since some of them are likely to be DUIs. Let’s get ’em off the road.”

“I’ll do it, sir,” I say, deciding to ignore the dollop of guilt. I’m not taking anything away from Elias. I’m simply competing in the way that I have to. I’m doing my best to go above and beyond.

I take my yarn and head down the block to Helen’s Diner, where I happen to know my trouble-making brother usually goes when he’s done with work.

True to form, he’s parked in his regular booth by the window, digging into his favorite roast beef sandwich. I rap hard on the glass.

He looks up, and I bug out my eyes and point at him. You’re in so much trouble , I mouth, then head inside, march over to him, and push his shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

He stares at me, chewing slowly on the sourdough. “I was thinking how tasty this sandwich is.”

“What on earth were you thinking, inviting that man to rent my room? I’m going to wrestle you and take you down to the ground right now.”

“Just sit and have a soda, Meryl Streep.”

I sit across from him, staring. “I’m not being dramatic.”

“Seriously, what is the problem? I thought we worked it all out.”

“Listen, no joking, no teasing.” I scan the joint for anyone in earshot, then whisper, “You know that guy is one hundred percent my type, and yet you asked him to live with me?”

“That’s what you wanted me to do. Plus, you already made out with him.” He shivers like the thought of me making out gives him the willies.

“Shaw, what have you known about me and men my whole life?”

“That . . . you haven’t dated in a while?”

“Hello? Tattoos, ink, tall, dark, and handsome, bad boy. It’s that simple. It’s my temptation.”

“You’re not going to go to the bone zone, so what difference does it make?”

“You couldn’t have found some nice, quiet, skinny accountant who drives a Subaru and spends nights with his calculator?”

Shaw cracks up. “You’re never satisfied.”

I slump down. “I appreciate you doing it, and Derek and I have sorted it out. But it’s honestly one of the most insane things you’ve ever done.”

“Some might say it’s one of the most helpful.”

“I’d have thought you knew better than to put me in that situation.”

“And what situation did I put you in? Something where you can’t handle your own hormones? You’re a big girl. You’re one hundred percent capable of keeping them in check.”

The bell above the door rings, and Vanessa strides in. Shaw whips his head around, and I swear something changes in his dark eyes. Before she can reach us, I hiss, “Don’t even think about it.”

“About what?”

“Are you thinking of making a play for one of my best friends? You do know she is precious to me. And I don’t want you and your ladies’ man attitude anywhere near her.”

He jerks his gaze back to me. “I’ve known her since she was six.”

“And you will keep your playboy paws off her. She’s like a sister to me. Which makes her like your sister.”

He scoffs. “You do know she has her own sister? Also, I definitely don’t think of Vanessa as our sister.”

I don’t even want to know how he thinks of her.

Vanessa reaches us. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Shaw clears his throat. “We were just chatting about Perri’s new roomie.”

And I want to kick his shin all over again.

But I don’t. Because I can keep my shin-kicking desires in check, right along with my hormones.

In fact, it’s no big deal whatsoever.

Derek’s not even home when I return that evening. I presume we’re on opposite shifts, or he’s out doing whatever he does when he’s not home. Hell if I know what that is. But I do find a note on the chalkboard.

I replaced the eggs I ate. Have I mentioned I have a large appetite? Also, I picked up some of that coffee you seem to like. And I noticed you were low on Talenti Caribbean Coconut. Don’t you know that’s a crime, officer? You’ll find some more in the freezer.

My stupid lips curve into an even stupider smile as I take out the pint and enjoy a few spoonfuls.

And I’m still smiling the next morning when I make my coffee.

Shaw was right.

I keep my hormones in check the next day, and not seeing Derek in the kitchen helps the cause immensely.

When I return home on Wednesday night, my hormonal state is as cool as a cucumber.

As I drive home.

As I park the car.

As I get out of the car.

And when I hear a voice. A sweet, bright four-year-old voice. “It’s the animal-sound lady!”

But then I walk around the garage and stop in my tracks. I run a hand through my hair, and my chest flutters.

Because holy shit. Derek is pushing a baby in a stroller down my walkway and holding the hand of the frog-loving little girl from the market.

Just like that, I zoom from cucumber-cool to red-hot chili pepper. These hormones are so very not in check.