“Colter Brooks, I have known you since you were in diapers. Do not give me the runaround.”
I couldn’t see the man, not his face anyway. But that didn’t stop me from staring. He was tall, likely bordering on six foot five. But that height took a back seat to shoulders that were so broad they made the tan shirt he wore pull taut across them, something likely helped by the fact that his arms appeared to be crossed as he looked down at the woman.
“We don’t use the Jaws of Life for a cat rescue.”
He shifted then, his body canting to the side slightly. The movement revealed two things. Thick scruff lining an angular jaw, with a muscle lining it that was currently fluttering wildly. And a shiny silver star pinned to his shirt.
The hot guy was a hot cop. Even more interesting.
But hot cop had said the wrong thing. Celia’s entire form puffed up as her face turned a mottled shade of red. “This is a living, breathing being. He should be treated with respect. He is worth saving.”
With that she stormed toward a trash can that looked as if it weighed twice as much as she did. Even though it was bolted to the ground, she started yanking on it with all her might.
“Celia,” Hot Cop growled. “Do not make me arrest you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I would’ve let the show go on because it was an epic one, but I didn’t want the woman to hurt herself. So I cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”
Celia paused her trash can efforts, and the man turned slowly, his eyes narrowing on me. I just smiled in response, giving a little wave. “Hi. This is my van.”
“You left your cat inside to fry?” Celia demanded.
“Tater has AC. She’s just fine.”
The woman’s entire demeanor shifted. “I’ve heard about this. You can get a separate system for your vehicle that doesn’t run on gas.”
Hot Cop’s eyes narrowed. Eyes that were a brown so dark they almost looked black. Storm eyes. And they should’ve warned me about the thunder incoming. “I could’ve bashed your window in. Your irresponsibility could’ve prevented me from being on a call out where there was an actual emergency. The least you could do is leave a note saying the damned cat was fine.”
I stiffened, hackles rising. I had a healthy respect for law enforcement, when they were doing their job. I appreciated that they were often underpaid to do the impossible, just like teachers and nurses. What I didn’t appreciate was this too-attractive-for-his-own-good jerk suggesting that I was an idiot.
I crossed to the front of my van and tapped on the window. “You mean a note like this one?”
I knew it was sitting on the dash since I’d made it myself. It had paw prints drawn along the border and said, Tater has food, water, and AC. She is very happy to stare down at you in supreme judgment from her perch.
Celia let out a cackling laugh. “She does have a good judgy face.”
“Celia…”
The growl was back again and I hated the fact that it skated over my skin in a pleasant shiver.
“All right, all right,” she said and then waved at my cat. “See you around, Tater.”
“I fucking hope not,” Colt muttered.
I choked on another laugh as Celia hurried down the sidewalk.
Colt turned slowly to me. Those dark eyes flashed, and I swore there was a hint of mischief in them. “You know, this van should be parked in oversized parking. It’s not.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “It’s a van, not a monster truck.”
He shrugged, making what I saw now was a sheriff’s department uniform pull taut over a muscled chest. “Maybe so, but I’m guessing it meets the weight requirements to be ticketed and towed.”
I gaped at him. “You wouldn’t.”
“ID please.”