Cop a Feel

Welcome, angels!

A couple of things:

♡ I don’t always mention contraception or STI’s, please assume the characters are being safe and not playing pregnancy roulette.

♡ I use British English. PLEASE do not correct my spelling with American English (it’s super annoying sorry 😩, not everyone spells words with a ‘z’ or one ‘s’.)

♡ That being said, if you notice any grammar mistakes, it would be great if you could point them out.

♡ I write mature romances. The words ‘clit’ and ‘cock’ will make an appearance. If that’s not your thing, please leave without complaint.

♡ You can follow me on Instagram, naughtyxchristian.

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Lucas.

Scowling, I press and hold on the app until they all start to jiggle. Then I click the ‘x’ and select delete.

Gone.

I feel a sense of relief as I lock my phone and slide it back into my pocket. Dating apps are so much fucking work, they drain me. Being single is fun at times and I enjoy going on the odd date now and then, but it all feels so pointless. Dating never leads anywhere. There’s always something that goes wrong. One of us loses interest. We don’t connect. She stops replying. Conversation dies out.

I grab my shaker and down the last of my water. The pre-workout is still thrumming in my veins, I glance at the clock and mentally tell myself to train for another thirty minutes. My shift doesn’t start for another hour, I’ve got time.

Just as I’m finishing another set, my phone buzzes. I drop the bar and draw in a long breath. Sitting back on the bench, I slide out my phone and read the message. I press my lips together as I read the WhatsApp from Tara, inviting me over tonight. She must be ovulating. She only messages me when she’s horny. Every now and then, I indulge her. We’re both adults. I know I’m one of a couple guys on her roster and honestly, I don’t really care. There’s no chance of a relationship between us, she isn’t interested in anything long-term.

I lock my phone and move onto my next set. Even though it’s been over a month since I last slept with someone, I’m not feeling it. I don’t need another meaningless fuck. I’m going to be thirty-one in a few months. Since turning thirty, half of my mates have gotten married or had kids. I’ve been ‘best man’ twice and I’m a godfather to my best friend’s son. I’m ready for these milestones myself, and I’m not going to find them between Tara’s legs.

Two hours into my tour, the name for a police officer’s day, I push back from my desk and take a breather. I’ve had three coffees and I’m holding myself back from getting another. One of my constables, Jon, knocks on my office door and pokes his head in.

“Got a welfare check on Mrs Wilkes, wanna come with?”

I glance at the clock and get to my feet. “Yeah, I’ll come. Let’s stop by Starbucks on the way there.”

He smirks at me. “Knew you’d agree to it.”

As sergeant, I manage a team of six constables. I check in with the others on tour before we go out to Jon’s car. We head straight to Starbucks and once I’ve got my Americano, one shot of hazelnut syrup in hand, I’m a happy man.

“Fill me in on this Mrs Wilkes, I’ve forgotten who she is but I remember she’s in Silver Oaks.”

Silver Oaks is one of the suburbs at the edge of the city. I live in the bordering suburb, Grove Hill.

“Mrs Sandra Wilkes, sixty-two,” Jon rolls off. “Her son, Dave, is a piece of work. He regularly rocks up and demands money. She won’t get a restraining order but she calls us if he gets violent. It’s been a month since the last call. Two constables were on scene and have advised that he has left the premises now but they wanted me to do a welfare check as I’m her assigned officer.”

“Understandable, okay.”

Jon parks up in front of a semi-detached house with a beautifully-manicured garden. I drain the last of my coffee. We get out and I roll my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the stiffness from this morning’s gym sesh.

Mrs Wilkes answers the door and ushers us inside. She brings us tea and biscuits, earning her points in my book.

“It was okay this time because Darcy was there,” she tells us.

“Darcy? Who’s that?” Jon asks before I can.

“Darcy is my new neighbour. She’s moved into the house next door,” she explains. “She’s been so great. When David showed up, she grabbed a bat and got him to leave.”

Jon and I share a look. I slowly raise to my feet. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go speak to Darcy. Do you think she’s in?”

“Oh, yes! She works from home, we sometimes have lunch together. She’s a jewellery designer, runs her own business and everything.”

I raise my eyebrows and force a smile. “That’s cool. Thank you, Mrs Wilkes. Jon? I’ll meet you outside when you’re done.”

I step outside and take a breath of fresh air. Mrs Wilkes has clearly not opened any windows this year, her house is stuffy as hell. I take the steps down off the porch and walk three metres over to the house attached to this one. I press the doorbell under the metal ‘8’ next to the door. A few moments later, the door opens and my eyebrows raise in surprise.

I don’t know what I was expecting Darcy to look like, but the stunning woman with bright red curls and striking blue eyes is a total surprise. For a second, I flounder and don’t say anything.

She’s taking me in, pale blue eyes dragging over my police uniform, pausing on my hands, hooked in my vest. I’m pleased she’s noticed them. It’s funny how for women, their curves, their smiles, their eyes, those are things that men notice. For women? Large hands. Veiny forearms. Tattoos. They go mad for that shit and I’m glad that I can fall into that category.

I let myself check her out too, seeing as she is giving me an open perusal. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that hides most of her figure, but her leggings cling to her muscular legs, telling me she works out. She’s wearing fluffy socks that have little goldfish printed on them. To live up to her role as a jewellery designer, she is wearing gold dangly earrings, six rings on her hands, two layered necklaces and whole bunch more of studs in her ears with those fancy names like faith or something.

Daith. That’s it.

She rubs her lips together and finally speaks, her voice soft and kind of flirty. “Officer, hello. How can I help you?”

“Are you Darcy?”

“Darcy Ashby, yes,” she replies. “Is this about Sandra’s son?”

“It is. Can you tell me what happened?”

Her perceptive eyes are still looking me up and down and I find I really like having her attention. I get a few looks anyway because of my size and my ink, and even more in uniform although that’s mostly to do with cops making people nervous, but it feels good to know that Darcy is checking me out.

“I already told the other officers.”

I flash her a smile. “But they weren’t me.”

She raises her eyebrows and smirks. I probably shouldn’t have said that, it’s too flirty, but I don’t give a fuck right now. This woman is gorgeous.

“And who are you?”

I realise that I’ve forgotten protocol and haven’t even introduced myself.

“I’m Sergeant Lucas Starling. Can you tell me what happened?”

Her smile turns coy. “Say please, Sergeant.”

I press my lips together to hide a smile and indulge her. “Please.”

“Very well. I was unpacking some boxes when I heard tyres screech outside. I looked out of the window and saw this man get out of a beat-up Golf. He went marching up to Sandra’s door and started hammering on it with his fist. I grabbed my rounders bat.”

“You keep a rounders bat to hand?”

“I was given it by a friend when I moved into my first apartment alone,” she says, shrugging. “I went onto my porch and watched as Sandra opened the door. The man started shouting at her.”

“What was he saying exactly?”

“You owe me money,” she says. “He kept saying that over and over again. Said that he was her son and she was supposed to look after him.” Darcy scoffs, “If you ask me, he looked far too old to be relying on his mother.”

“What happened then?”

“I was hovering because I didn’t want to interfere if Sandra didn’t need me but the guy started pushing his way into her house and I heard her say she was going to call the police, so I ran round and held the bat up. I shouted at him to get the fuck out.”

I’ll admit, I’m impressed by her gumption.

“And then what?”

“He asked me who I was and told me that this was none of my business. I said that Sandra is my friend and if he didn’t want to lose some teeth, he should leave.” She shrugs again like it’s no big deal. “He just laughed and said I wouldn’t hit him, so I told him I’d go for his car instead. I walked down the path towards it and he shit himself. Don’t know why, the car was an old banger anyway, but he pushed past me, swearing and all, and got in the car. Sandra was already on the phone to you guys when he pulled away.”

“Thank you. You did a brave thing, but in the future I’d advise that you call us straight away and don’t try to confront him yourself.”

She rolls her eyes and leans against her door. “Sure thing, Sergeant. I’ll wait for you guys to show up while my elderly neighbour gets beaten up by her son.”

I press my tongue to my top teeth and ignore her snarky comment. Her eyes flash with amusement, she knows she’s irked me.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Ashby.”

“Darcy, please,” she says and smiles wide.

Something about seeing her smile at me like that is like a punch to the stomach…but a good punch, one that stops you in your tracks.

Who is this woman?

“Darcy,” I correct myself and give her my best smile. I pull out one of my cards with my extension at the station. “Don’t hesitate to give me a call if Mrs Wilke’s son shows up again. I promise I’ll get here as quickly as possible.”

She takes the card from me, her fingers with green-painted nails brushing over my hand as she does. She looks down at the card, smiles, and then looks back up at me.

“Sure thing, Sergeant Starling.”

I grin at her. “Lucas, please.”

She smirks back. “Nice meeting you, Lucas.”

I realise that my constable is probably waiting for me so I give her one final smile and nod and then step down off her porch. I feel her eyes on me as I walk over to Jon’s car. When I get into the passenger seat, I spot her just closing her door. Jon catches me looking at her.

“How did it go with the neighbour?”

“She gave me her account of what went down.”

“All good?”

“Yeah.”

Jon looks sideways at me as he turns off the street. “What was she like?”

“Hot, man. Really fucking hot.”

That makes Jon laugh. “Next time we get a call out here, you’re coming with me.”

Damn right I am.