“Hands on the truck.”
He huffed, then turned toward the truck, following instructions. “Look, new Chief. We were just having a bit of fun with Daisy. No harm. I’ll make sure she’s back on the fountain by sunset tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, c’mon.” He glanced at me and bloodshot gray eyes finally focused. The pupils slowly went from pinpricks to a heavy darkness leaving a thin gray line around them. His gaze tracked down my body and the corner of his ridiculously full lips tipped up. “Upgrade.”
“Eyes forward.”
“Right.” He turned his head to stare straight over the hood of his sterling gray hood.
Did he pick the stupid truck because it matched his eyes?
Jeeze, Parker, get it together.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” I was a tall woman, but Cash was well over six feet. I wasn’t worried about our size differential. I knew at least six ways to incapacitate aperson of any size, but the heat pumping off his skin in the humid July night was distracting.
As was the rugged, expensive scent coming off of him. It warred with his faded Def Leppard shirt and ancient jeans wet to the knees.
“Well, it is my birthday.”
“That’s no excuse to climb into the fountain, Mr. Murdock.”
“Cash. And who said I did any of this?”
“Your soaked boots and wet jeans.”
He looked down at his feet and I could hear the squish of the water as he shifted. “Yeah, that doesn’t look good for me.”
I brusquely patted his shoulders then followed the warm line of his back and gritted my teeth at the obvious muscles beneath the cotton. I quickly checked around the waistline of his jeans. The angle he was at left a gap between his shirt and belt and my fingers skimmed over warm skin and soft hair just above the button. I quickly moved on and patted his pockets and ignored the weapon that was definitely of the skin variety until I found a pocketknife. I scooped it out of his pocket and tucked it into my vest.
“Hey. I don’t want to lose that.”
“I’ll be logging it in with you at the station.”
“Oh, c’mon Chief...what’s your name?”
“Chief Olsen.”
“Olsen.” His voice was a purr. “Are you new to town and the badge, Chief Olsen?”
“Legs apart.”
He shifted his weight, widening his stance, and I quickly ran my hands down his legs to the damp cuffs of his jeans. I gave a cursory look at his boots. They were laced too tight to be holding a gun or knife.
I’d learned my lesson by not checking all the way down. At my old job a drunk idiot had gotten a swipe at me as I’d been cuffing his friend. I still had the scar to remind me of my idiocy.
I stepped back. “Your arm, please.”
He sighed and let me bring it around his back, along with the other. I snapped the cuffs around his wrists—which barely clicked around the thickness—and turned him around. I held a hand to his middle, keeping him against the truck.
I clicked the relay mic at my shoulder. “Leroy?”
“Yeah, boss?” Came the dispatch voice.
“I have a...” I didn’t even know the code for this. “I’m coming in with a drunk and disorderly.”
“Hey, I’m not disorderly.” Cash grinned down at me. “Unless you want me to be. Do you like it rough, Chief?”
