AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sunnie squared her shoulders. “Says who?”
Finn opened his mouth, then shut it. Landon recognized the second his best friend realized he was talking to the wrong person. Finn sat down on the edge of the coffee table.
“Drunk?” he asked Landon, with a surprisingly affable grin.
“As a skunk.”
Finn loved the response, as Landon knew he would. With just a few words, he’d assured his friend the kiss wasn’t intentional.
It was a mistake.
Or…
Fuck.
It wasn’t a mistake.
“Damn, man,” Finn said, slapping a hand on Landon’s knee. “Not sure I’ve ever seen you this wasted. Hope you remember this in the morning, because I’m going to have a good time with this story.”
Landon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you will, but for the record…” He decided to prove he could push back just as hard. “I just kissed your sister.”
Finn laughed loudly as he stood back up. “Jesus. You’re right. The joke’s on me. Might have to scratch my own eyes out. That is something I cannot un-see.”
Sunnie punched Finn on the arm, calling him an idiot as her brother headed back to the bacon feast.
Landon glanced up at Sunnie, who wasn’t very steady on her feet. Part of him considered apologizing to her, but he wasn’t sorry. Truth was, he was sorrier Finn had stopped them.
He stood as well.
“That was…interesting,” she said, grinning widely, completely unruffled by what had just happened.
Meanwhile, Landon was struggling to keep himself from kissing her again.
She lifted her pinky out to him. “I pinky swear never to ever kiss you again. That was just too freaking weird.”
Landon wrapped his pinky with hers, though he made no such vow aloud.
There was nothing weird about that kiss.
Nothing at all.
Chapter Three
“Baltimore. There’s more than murder here.”
Landon nodded as the reporter doing a ride-along with him explained the impetus behind the article he was writing. His superior, Aaron, had already given him the rundown earlier at the precinct. And he’d caught shit from his partner, Miguel, for getting stuck with “babysitting duty.”
The phrase that had prompted the New York journalist’s story idea was actually a hot-ticket item with tourists—the damn words emblazoned on T-shirts, hats and bumper stickers—sold at nearly every gift shop in the city.
As a cop, working hard to keep Baltimore safe, he took exception to the slogan. In truth, there’d been a decrease in violent crimes last year, but even Landon knew that was hardly something worth bragging about, considering the city still ranked in the top ten when it came to murder.
They continued to drive through the city, Landon making sure to show the man a fair mix of all Baltimore had to offer. There were dangerous areas—that was true of any large city—but there were safer zones as well, places where people could walk without fear.
It had been a long shift, but a glance at the clock in his dashboard proved it was finally over. The reporter hadn’t gotten much of a show. They’d answered two domestic violence calls—both involving alcohol—dealt with one mugging, one lost purse, three noise complaints—all in the same neighborhood, thanks to some teens throwing one hell of a wild party in their parents’ absence—and issued a handful of citations for driving violations.
“We should probably start heading back. I hope you’ve gotten enough information for your article,” Landon said, turning off Madison, onto a smaller side street. “I realize—”
Landon stopped talking.
