room, masking the burned odor that had pervaded previously. She didn’t know how this crew got along without her on her nights off. Soon she’d have her degree in psychology and she could find a job counseling military wives and families.
“Lucy.”
She jerked around, startled at the gruff tone of Officer McCoy. He was a giant teddy bear, older and a little pudgy in the midsection, but an amazing cop.
“Hey.” She greeted him with a smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I need you to spend a few hours with Officer Spencer. Carla was going to, but she had to leave suddenly to get to the nursing home for her mom and there’s a last-minute meeting so he’s getting paired with you for just a bit.”
Perfect. Spending some up close and personal time with the town’s newest officer would be fine...if she weren’t a bundle of nerves just looking at the man.
All she knew was that he was a widower; she’d learned that last night after the meeting. Word around the station was that he was from a small town outside of Houston, Texas. That was pretty much the extent of what she knew of Noah Spencer.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew he had a swagger that could make a woman’s knees go weak and he had that Southern drawl that had her belly curling with arousal.
Still, she shouldn’t be eyeing the new guy with such affection, or any coworker for that matter. The town was small and everyone in this department was like one big, happy family.
“No problem,” she stated, lying through her teeth. “I’m happy to help out.” That part was true; she’d pinch hit for her fellow dispatchers whenever she was needed. “I just had to get this coffee going since Officer James burned the last pot.”
“James tries hard, but she’s never made a decent pot in her life,” McCoy grumbled. “Thanks for saving us. James just went out on a domestic dispute, by the way. She’s better on the streets than in this break room.”
Lucy laughed as she turned to reach for a mug from the counter. “At least she tries. Let me get a cup and I’ll be right out to talk to Officer Spencer.”
First she needed some caffeine because this was going to be a long night. A dose of coffee to add to her jitters. Perfect.
But she was a professional and so was Noah. Besides, he hadn’t shown the slightest interest, so this little infatuation was quite possibly one-sided. The man was still mourning his wife for pity’s sake. She could appreciate his looks and perhaps this learning period would get him to open up. He didn’t have to come to meetings to heal.
She poured her cup of coffee and just as she turned, she ran into a solid chest. The hot liquid spilled onto her hand, burning her skin and causing her to drop the mug, which then hit the floor and shattered.
Firm hands gripped her shoulders. “You all right?”
Noah’s worried look had her nodding, though her hand burned. “Did I spill coffee all over you?”
Great first impression, Lucy. Way to get him to notice you.
“How’s your hand?” he asked, ignoring her question as he took her wet hand in his. “Did you burn yourself?”
“It’s fine.” Could she be more of a fool? “Let me get something to clean off your shoes. Are you sure it’s not on your uniform?”
Thankfully the uniform was navy blue, but still, she didn’t want to have him soaking wet and smelling like he was a barista on patrol.
Still holding on to her hand, Noah led her to the sink and turned on the cold water. “This is looking a little red.”
Was it? Because the way he was holding on to her and the way his body aligned with hers, she really had no clue anything else existed except him.
“You okay?”
Lucy glanced over her shoulder at Officer McCoy, who stood in the doorway. “Just dropped my coffee,” she replied.
“I’ll clean it up.”
He disappeared for a moment and came back with the mop. As he started cleaning, Lucy realized Noah was still holding her hand under the water. She focused her attention on him and smiled.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Noah’s dark eyes seemed so dull, so...sad. She wanted to reach out to him, somehow. Nobody should live in misery. Wasn’t that the whole reason she and her friends had started the group? They were each recovering and wanted to get others to live again.
Noah turned the water off and reached for a paper towel. When he started to wrap her hand, she took the towel from him and did it herself. Too much touching was dangerous...at least to her mental state. She was to work with him, and hopefully get him to open up and recover from his loss, so anything beyond that wasn’t an option.
Besides, she’d vowed never to fall for a man who risked his life on a daily basis ever again. Living through hell once was more than enough for her.
“I can get that,” she said as she turned her attention to McCoy.
“You made the coffee, that’s enough.” He picked up the large jagged mug pieces and tossed them in the trash before soaking up the liquid. “Get to work and make sure you don’t pull any pranks on Spencer here.”
She glanced to Noah, who was still standing far closer and smelling far better than should be legal.
“I’ll have you know that last stunt with the sugar and salt with the coffee was not me. It was Carla.”
When he grunted, Lucy merely glanced to Noah and shrugged. She headed from the break room, well aware the new officer was directly behind her. If only Carla were here tonight to help take some of this pressure from Lucy. She’d never had this instant attraction before so she seriously needed to get ahold of herself.
Why did the first interest since her husband’s death have to be a man dealing with such grief? He was in no place to even look her way, let alone flirt.
Flirt? Mercy sakes, what was she saying? They had a job to do and she’d do well to remember they were technically coworkers.
“Are you sure your hand is okay?” he asked as they came to the dispatch desks with all of the monitors and phones.
“It’s fine.” How many times could she say fine? “Did you get cleaned up?”
He glanced to his shiny, patent leather shoes. “They just got splashed. I think your hand and the floor took everything.”
When he looked back up, his eyes went straight to her chest. Well, maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided.
“You have coffee on your sweater.”
And perhaps it was, because he wasn’t looking at her boobs at all, but the coffee she’d spilled. She knew her sweater was damp, but she didn’t exactly have another shirt to put on. And of course it was a white sweater. Classy. So classy.
“It will dry,” she stated, waving a hand through
