Page 118 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

PERRI

As my Thursday shift draws to a close, I head to the break room, log in to the online entry for the kissing contest, and tap the button for our category.

As I snag a Diet Coke from the vending machine, I hit submit on my phone. Jansen strolls past, heading to the coffeepot. “Most passionate?”

Damn, he has eagle eyes. Good thing I wasn’t looking at anything private. It’s an even better thing I placed my lingerie order at home last night.

I tuck my phone into my back pocket and grab the can, cracking it open, acting as nonchalant as I can be. “That’s the plan.”

I hope my response comes out casual, but I can hear the hint of embarrassment in my voice.

I don’t want to discuss kissing with my boss.

More specifically, I don’t want to discuss passionate kissing with the man who signs my paychecks.

Talking about entering the contest when it was a mere idea was one thing. Now it’s a reality, and it feels weird.

I shrug and take a sip. “Seemed like an easy one.”

“Is it?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Seems like it’d require a lot of practice.”

A blush creeps across my cheeks. I swallow roughly as I try to fashion an answer.

Am I supposed to say, Hey, don’t worry, I’ve been spending my nights practicing ?

Or wait till you see how jiggy we can get ?

Did I cross some strange line by entering the contest at all, or by entering in that category?

“Should I switch to something else? Maybe sweet?”

“Hell no. Theresa and I don’t need that kind of competition. I’m just impressed you entered in most passionate.”

“I could change to another category?” I offer, but the question, and asking it again, comes across as meek. I want to kick myself for asking it. I sound wishy-washy. I don’t sound like someone who’s tough on criminals.

He smiles, the teddy-bear grin that he’s known for. “Just giving you a hard time, Keating. You know I think it’s great that you’re doing this.” He grabs his cup of coffee and leaves.

I down a thirsty gulp of Diet Coke, wishing it would calm my nerves.

It doesn’t, and I’m honestly not sure why I feel any nerves. Except I can’t help but worry that I’ve overstepped somewhere, somehow.

I return to my patrol, walking the streets in the town square. When my shift ends, I bump into Elias on the steps leading out of the station.

And he’s not bopping this time. He’s grinning, and his smile reaches the stars.

“My, my, someone is happy,” I say, grateful for a distraction.

Elias’s eyes dance with delight. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Did you win the lottery?”

“Feels like it.” He punches the sky. “I got it.”

I tilt my head, inquiring, “What did you get?”

“Chief just told me I’m going to be a sergeant. I landed a promotion.” He taps his chest. “Me! Holy shit! Me! I can’t wait to tell the missus. She’s going to be so proud of me.”

I blink, shock slamming into me, making it hard to breathe. He can’t be saying what he’s saying. Please don’t let him be saying that. “You did?”

Shaking his hips, he dives into a whole new kind of dance. A victory jig. “And I didn’t even need a viral video to do it. Chief just said he was proud of my track record and I’d earned the job. No need for theatrics. Just good, honest work.”

I draw a harsh breath and will myself to show nothing.

Display nothing. “That’s the way to do it,” I say robotically.

But underneath, a knife of self-doubt slices away at my heart.

Did I take on too much with the extra reports?

Did I botch the jewelry store case? Was traffic duty a mess?

A new issue lodges in my mind—was it a mistake to enter the contest?

But I can’t wallow in my worry. I have to care. Elias is my friend, and he wants this. He’s earned it. I should be thrilled for him. I slap on a smile. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”

I give him a quick hug.

“Aww, thanks, Keating. What about you?”

“What about me?” I ask, dropping into my cool-as-a-leather-jacket mode.

“Were you going for it?” he asks, sounding worried on my behalf. I can’t take a chance that his concern will morph into pity for me.

I wave a hand, admitting nothing. “Please. It went to the best man. I’ll see you later.”

Quickly, I race to my car, yank open the door, and slide inside. I jerk on the seat belt, my throat jamming with stupid emotion.

I swipe at my cheeks, erasing any evidence of sadness as I turn on the engine and pull away.

I gulp back the idiotic tears as I drive.

But they won’t listen to me. They keep threatening to spill free.

I turn the corner and pull over at the sidewalk.

I do something I can only do when I’m finished at work.

I cry.

And I hate myself for it.

I should be happy for Elias and his family, but I’m selfishly sad for myself.

I shouldn’t care this much.

But I feel like I failed.

Like maybe I didn’t deserve it in the first place.

Maybe I was focused on the wrong things.

I blink back my tears and stare at the dashboard.

I should go find my girls, drown my sorrows in a glass of wine the size of my head, throw darts at a board, and then drink some more.

But I don’t call them because for the first time in forever, they aren’t the ones I want to turn to.

Derek is.

I want to find him, tell him, ask him to wrap his strong arms around me. Feel him smooth my hair, kiss my forehead, and say, Don’t worry, kitten, you’ll get the next one .

I want him to kiss away my sadness, to hold me close, to let me know he’s there for me even if the job isn’t.

Gulping, I look in the rearview mirror at the sad, unexpected truth reflected in my eyes. I want all that because I’ve fallen in love with my housemate.

I’m head over heels for the man.

But what if he’s the reason I didn’t get the gig? What if love made me lose my edge?

What if I took my eyes off the prize?

The questions stab at my brain as I head back on the road and drive home. By the time I reach my house, I’ve arrived at several new conclusions.

Falling in love distracted me.

And falling in love was indescribably dumb.

Derek made it crystal clear from the start that he’s not interested in a relationship.

That’s why there’s only one thing to do.