“Ladies,” Chevy greets us as we walk inside. He is the only one on duty in the open room, which has a few desks, a break room off to the side, and two holding cells at the very back which immediately try to grab my attention.
Don’t look. Don’t look. DO NOT LOOK.
It’s like I can sense Pat’s presence like an electromagnetic field around me. The room feels different because he’s here. The air feels different. I feel different.
Which is ridiculous and also needs to stop NOW.
I force myself to keep my eyes fixed on Chevy. “Hello, Chev.” Winnie greets him with a hip check that makes him stumble a few steps.
Narrowing his eyes, he takes her glasses and holds them out of reach while she grabs for them. I swear, the two of them never stopped treating each other the way they did in middle school. It’s all teasing and pranks and insults. When she kicks him in the shin, he finally hands back the glasses.
Winnie is Chevy’s total opposite in almost every way. Where Winnie is all cool snark, Chevy is warm humor. Winnie is petite with lean muscle she works hard to keep, while Chevy is like a teddy bear with a big, broad body that’s strong but also soft.
He gives the best hugs, and I didn’t know how much I needed the one he gives me now until he wraps his arms around me. He is made of comfort, and I relax into his embrace.
“Hey! Get your paws off her!” a familiar voice calls.
The possessiveness in Pat’s voice thrills and irritates me in equal measure. Pat does NOT get to comment on whom I hug or don’t hug. That ship sailed when he left me without saying goodbye.
But his jealous display is like catnip for a very, very bad feral cat who apparently lives inside me along with the zombie butterflies. I need to have her spayed posthaste, because she is purring and asking to rub up against Pat’s ankles.
Chevy chuckles as I squeeze him tighter. “Oh, is it like that?” he asks.
“It’s like that.”
Laughing a little louder now, Chevy picks me up and swings me around until I squeal.
“Police brutality!” Pat shouts, and several male voices tell him in various, colorful ways to shut up.
“Keep it down and don’t make me show you police brutality,” Chevy calls. His arms are starting to squeeze me like a sausage casing.
“I think … that’s … enough,” I gasp.
“You sure?”
“Positive. I … can’t … breathe!”
Chevy gently sets me back down but leaves a wet smack of a kiss on my cheek before he steps away. I give him a dirty look, and he just shrugs.
“HEY!” Pat shouts, and I have a very hard time not looking toward what sounds like a scuffle in the cell. “Lips off!”
“Really, Chevy?” I mutter.
He shrugs unapologetically. “Might as well go all in.”
Val tries to hide the lovestruck, hopeful look she always wears around Chevy. While I got the red carpet of greetings, he only gives Val a quick side hug. “Hey, kiddo,” he says.
I’ve never been sure whether he knows about her unrequited crush or is actually oblivious, but it’s getting painful to watch. Meanwhile, Val dates up a storm, trying to either make Chevy jealous or find someone to help her get over him. So far, she has accomplished neither.
When he steps away quickly, Val visibly shoves down her hurt and turns her attention to the cell at the back of the room. “Hel-lo, serious man candy.”
I should have known this might happen. But there will be absolutely no shipping of anyone in that cell with my friends. This is a no-ship zone. Thankfully, Winnie’s got my back.