Summary: When handsome and mysterious cop Edward Cullen transfers to Forks PD, Bella Swan can't decide whether she wants to keep her distance or give in to the strongest attraction she's ever felt. AU/AH. Lemons…eventually.
Story Notes: Rated M for language, underage drinking and lemons. Just be patient.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight – no plagiarism is intended. Song in this chapter belongs to Mat Kearney.
Chapter 1. FML.
she got the call today
one out of the gray
and when the smoke cleared
it took her breath away
she said she didn't believe
it could happen to me
I guess we're all one phone call from our knees
I guess it all started when I decided to skip my very last Intro to 19th Century British Literature (or Brit Lit, as we affectionately termed it) class and surprise my boyfriend, Eric, who was cramming for his Organic Chemistry exam. We could use a study break, I figured. It was May, hot as hell for this time of year, and the entire UW campus had been holed up indoors while we tried to learn a semester's worth of material in four or five days. Ah, finals. My roommate told me that the word "finals" really stood for Fuck, I Never Actually Learned (this) Shit. It was funny in February. Now…not so much.
Well, I had been planning to surprise Eric, and surprise him I did. The unfortunate element of surprise is that the receiving party does not, in fact, know you are coming. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where the trouble began.
I stood awkwardly in the doorway to Eric's dorm room, which he repeatedly forgets to lock, holding two iced coffees and listening to Eric sputter about how "this wasn't it looks like." He hopped frantically around the messy room as he wiggled into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the floor. The bleach blonde wrapping herself in his navy bedsheet didn't even attempt to feed me some lame cover story; they were caught, and at least she knew it.
I vaguely recall emptying the contents of both Dunkin Donuts cold cups onto Eric's shirt and hightailing it out of there. The rest of the afternoon was spent hurling things out of my dorm room window and crying. My roommate, Angela, was a sweet, well-meaning girl who decided the only way to make me feel better was to get me rip-roaring drunk and to hook up with somebody else. It was worth a shot, I figured. That weekend was one long, staggering haze in which I may have had sex with my RA. I don't really remember, but he avoided me the entire last week of school. So much for freshman year.
I moved back home to Forks, Washington after my last final exam, where, as per the terms of my parents' custody agreement, I spent the fall, winter and spring with my dad, Charlie. Summers were with Renee, my mother, in Jacksonville, where she lived with her new husband. Now that I was nineteen, I wasn't bound to any custody restrictions, but I voluntarily stayed with Charlie during the shorter school breaks. I was definitely looking forward to a summer in Florida, though. Especially after my fiasco-grade end to the school year.
So the disappointment was extra bitter when my mom called the night before I was supposed to fly out. Her husband, Phil, owned a chain of restaurants that was opening several new locations across the country. He was going to have to be at each and every opening and manage the new staff so that they would be up to par with the existing locations. "Sweet," I'd exclaimed. "I definitely need a change of scenery." I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, throwing tank tops and shorts into my suitcase, but paused. What if we ended up somewhere like Alaska? I started to remove a few of the tank tops, just in case.
There was a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line. "Bella," my mom began hesitantly, and my heart sank. "Honey. It's…this isn't like a big vacation. Phil's going to be working nonstop to get each location ready and then run it for a couple of weeks until the staff gets the hang of it. I can't even guarantee how long we'll be in each place-"
"Okay," I interrupted, trying to sound unfazed. "So you and I can go do stuff while he's working. Sucks to be him, but it'll be awesome for us." I had a decent idea of where this conversation was going, but that didn't mean I had to open the door and lead it in.
"Bells. You know I'd love to do that with you. You do. And I would, I'd love to bring you along but…I'm going to be helping Phil. Be his assistant, help set things up…I'm sorry, honey."
The striped tank top in my fingers fell to the wood floor soundlessly. Was it unlike my mom to cancel plans at the last minute? Hardly. And grudgingly, I could maybe see her point. Days stuck in a hotel room or wandering a foreign city by myself? Not all that appealing. But an entire summer spent in Forks…I'd rather wander solo through a field of land mines. Forks, in my opinion, should rank in the top ten Most Uninhabitable Places in the Continental U.S., right behind Death Valley, and anywhere it is acceptable to eat roadkill. If it wasn't bad enough that it rained, snowed, hailed or otherwise precipitated in some miserable way nearly every day, the place was completely devoid of activity. A few shops, a diner, and the elementary and junior-senior high school were the only non-residential buildings in town. I guess some people would call small towns like this charming, but to me it was only suffocating and painfully, excruciatingly boring.
After a few more halfhearted words, I disconnected with my mom. The solid feeling of dread at the prospect of a long and tedious summer in Forks hung over me like a heavy veil. At the same time, it sort of dawned on me that while I wasn't expecting her to cancel, I really wasn't all that surprised. Renee had a bad track record of breaking her word – mostly due to absentmindedness and a tendency to plan before she was sure what was going on. But, like any glutton for disappointment, I continued to hold out hope every time that she would follow through.
With a sigh I regarded my nearly full suitcase. Two hours of careful and thoughtful packing, down the drain. Good thing I hadn't bought anything new for the trip. I heaved open the bottom drawer of my dresser and began replacing my shorts and capris back into their rightful places.
A brisk knock on my bedroom door interrupted my reluctant task. "Bells?" my father called gruffly through the door.
"Come in," I said loudly over my shoulder.
He entered the room hesitantly and I abandoned my unpacking, perching myself on the corner of my bed. "I, uh, just got off the phone with your mom." I said nothing in response, and at this his shoulders dropped in resignation. "I'm sorry. You know how she is." Charlie was, to say the very least, a man of few words. More like a man of a couple grunts and a head nod.
I shrugged, trying to seem noncommittal. My disappointment had absolutely nothing to do with Charlie and everything to do with Death by Boredom aka Forks. And I was fairly sure that he knew that. But I still didn't want to rub in his face how bummed I was that I'd be stuck here. "Yeah. Well, whatever. It's fine."
"No, it's not," he answered firmly as he took a seat next to me on my bed. Taken aback, I stared at him while he fidgeted with the cuff of his flannel shirt. "This isn't the first time she's made you a promise and broken it, and that's not fine." I was a little stunned at the trace of venom I heard in his normally calm and relaxed voice.
"Well technically she never promised-" I started.
"She's your mother, Bella," he interrupted. "Everything she says should be a promise, doesn't matter what it is. She has a responsibility to you and she's brushed it off more times than I'm willing to forgive." He let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, I don't like talking about her this way but this really got under my skin."
I was touched by how protective of me Charlie was, and how he understood a lot more than I usually gave him credit for. We'd grown apart more and more as I got older – Charlie meshed with adolescent girls like oil and water – and it wasn't hard to feel like complete strangers at times.
A long, silent moment stretched by in which we were both lost in our own thoughts. Then Charlie abruptly got up from my bed and glanced around. Looks like our moment was over. "I got to be at the station in forty-five minutes. Save me some leftovers?"
I smiled. "Of course. Lasagna okay?"
"Sounds good to me."
And with that he was down the hallway, getting ready for work. Charlie was Forks' police chief, and since the department was literally one of the smallest in the state, he still had to work wacky hours.
I finished replacing all of my clothes from the suitcase into my dresser and closet, and decided to venture out to Forks' only grocery store to pick up fixings for dinner. I usually prepared enough for Charlie to have leftovers for a few days in case I wasn't home.
The shopping trip was fast, and it was only a few minutes before I stood in the checkout line, watching my items be scanned and bagged by a bored-looking girl with dyed black hair and plugs in her ears. Not the kind that kept out noise, either. I stared, I couldn't help it. I could barely pluck my eyebrows without getting teary.
The heat outside was stifling – once I had left the chill of the air conditioner inside the Safeway it was even more intense. I was sweating immediately. After I had unceremoniously dumped my bag of groceries onto my passenger's seat, I hastily rolled both windows down and let the oven inside air itself out. Once I was satisfied that it wasn't going to broil me alive I climbed inside and began the short drive home.
As I rolled down the main drag of Forks, passing the library, the diner, and a small odds and ends shop, the prospect of a long summer really sank in. Months and months (well, three and a half, to be exact) of time stretching before me like an empty road. I had no idea how I was going to fill the days. I had a feeling Charlie would nudge me into getting a job, and with that I had absolutely no qualms, but in Forks my options were limited to bagging groceries at the Safeway or hostessing at the diner. Neither of which appealed to me in the least. I'd suck it up and take one of those jobs if I had to, but I was definitely going to check in Port Angeles first. Even if it was forty minutes away.
I was so far into my thoughts that I didn't notice the flashing blue and red lights that had come up behind me. Startled, I jerkily reached for my turn signal and eased my ancient truck onto the narrow shoulder.
I was sure that the cruiser would sail past me on its way to whatever crisis lay ahead. Probably Deanna Carter trying to throw her boozed-up husband out of the house again this week. Or someone spray-painted over the "C" on the Canal Park sign. Instead, the cruiser settled behind me and slightly to the left, as was customary. I noticed now that the car was white, not blue like my father's, indicating that this was a Clallam County officer. I frowned. Usually county stayed out of the towns that had their own police forces, choosing to patrol the areas where they were more needed.
I was nervous. I had never, not once, been stopped in Forks before. Since I'd known every officer in the department since I was little, and my truck was about as inconspicuous as the Batmobile, I had never been given any trouble. It wasn't like I was some reckless off-the-wall driver, either.
With apprehension building in my stomach, I watched the officer approach my driver's side. He wore the trademark aviators that seemed to come standard issue with the uniform, which was dark blue like Charlie's. Short but messy brown hair stuck in little wild tufts from his head.
He came to a stop at my open window. "License and registration, please," he requested flatly. I scrambled to get my wallet out of my purse and then dug through my glove compartment for my registration. Once I located them I handed them to the officer, who had barely moved a muscle the entire time. He studied them for a moment, glancing down between my heinous license picture and back up at me, and without another word stalked back to his car. Leaving me to sit, perplexed, in my truck that was growing hotter and hotter by the second.
As the minutes ticked by, I began to fidget. I had no idea why I'd been pulled over. I hadn't been talking on the phone, or speeding…I think. Even though my dad would probably be able to throw out whatever ticket I got, if I got one, it still made me nervous.
My eyes ticked over to the badge-shaped sticker above my registration and inspection stickers. It was from Charlie, and it had the Town of Forks Police Department insignia on it. A nice, unobtrusive way of alerting any officer (or vandal, for that matter) that the owner of the vehicle was a family member of a cop, and not to give him or her a hard time. Which I hope this guy had noticed.
Finally the officer returned to my window. He'd removed his aviators, letting me get a good look at his face…which, as it was, gorgeous with a capital G. Striking green eyes, strong jaw and cheekbones, aquiline nose. I was momentarily frozen, aware only that I was sitting less than a foot away from possibly the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on.
"Do you know why I pulled you over, Miss Swan?" My heart jumped as he said my name. His voice was low, but velvety, and he could have been telling me I was going to jail for the rest of my life and I would have gone willingly.
My mouth went dry. "Uh, I have no idea," I stammered.
"Well, for starters, you're not wearing a seat belt." I glanced down and winced. I wasn't. Charlie would shoot me dead if he found out; it was one of his biggest pet peeves. "You also ran that stop sign back there, at the corner of Greene and Hartwood. And, on top of all that, your registration is expired."
Dismay cut through my haze of lusty thoughts. What? I scanned my eyes over my registration. Four-twenty-ten. April of 2010. Wasn't it still…oh, shit. It should have been renewed last month. Dammit.
"I-I didn't even see that sign," I began lamely. Like he's never heard that one before, I chastised myself mentally. "I was thinking about, um, dinner, and I totally missed-"
"Right," he interrupted, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Well, here you go. Have a nice day." He thrust three sheets of paper into my hand. "Court's in three weeks." With that he turned on his heel, heading back towards his cruiser.
My blood began to boil as I read them all quickly. Three tickets? Three tickets! Are you serious? "Wait!" I called out desperately at his retreating back. I threw open my driver's side door and jogged after him.
He whirled around, eyes blazing. "Ma'am! Why did you get out of your vehicle? You need to go back to your car!" he barked. His right hand shot back to rest on the butt of his gun. I was aghast. Did he really think I was going to try to attack him? Me, a nineteen-year-old college student? He had to be at least sixty pounds heavier and a good eight inches taller.
Disgusted, I shook the tickets at him. "Are you kidding me? Three? This is insane! You can have these right back, buddy, because my dad's just gonna shred them anyway!"
"Your dad?" he spat back skeptically. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"
I ignored the last part and continued shaking the tickets at him. "Charlie Swan! The chief of police of Forks! Hello? Charlie Swan, Bella Swan?" No recognition on his face. I fumed as my face grew redder and redder. And what was really ironic was that even though I wanted to punch him in the balls at that moment, I still found myself admiring the square of his shoulders, the intense blaze of his green eyes. The push and pull of emotions was maddening.
People began to cluster some distance away, watching the police chief's daughter freak out at another cop. Oh, small town gossip. I'd probably be getting a call from Charlie before I even made it home.
"Well, Miss Swan, if you're done harassing me," he bit off smugly, "then I suggest you bring your citations to your father and let him take care of them. I'm just doing my job." He gave me the fakest, smarmiest smile ever and smoothly got into his car. "Drive safely," he called out of his window as he pulled back out into traffic.
I stood on the shoulder as I watched him drive away. Horrified, I realized I was still clutching the tickets in some rigor mortis death grip, and in a burst of fury crumpled them into a little ball. I stomped back to my truck, started the engine, and swung wildly back onto the road, causing more than a few horns to honk and middle fingers to appear. I didn't care. I was going to get this figured out and show that arrogant son of a bitch what was up. No matter how panty-dropping hot he was.
I pulled into the police station in record time. Furiously I jumped from the truck, forgetting all about the lasagna ingredients that were probably going to spoil in the wretched heat. I stormed into the station and yelled, "Dad? Charlie? Where are you?"
Allyson, the receptionist, snapped her head up. "Bella?" she said incredulously. "What the hell are you doing, coming in here and hollering like that? What's the matter?"
I suddenly realized that every soul in the building was staring at me like I sprouted a second head. I swallowed sheepishly and approached the front desk with my head hung slightly. "Sorry, Allyson," I said quietly.
"Well, Jesus, Bells, you just about gave me a heart attack. And that's not such a good idea, 'specially right now." As she turned to toss a piece of paper into the trash I noticed her swollen, massive belly. Good God, any day now she was going to pop like a bad grape. I felt like such a tool. "I'll find your dad, okay?" she said matter-of-factly. "So you can just sit down and calm yourself for a minute, young lady." She waddled away into another room.
I slumped into one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs and yanked the crumpled paper ball from my pocket. Try as I did, the image of that rude, cocky officer stuck in my mind. And not because he was Abercrombie-model hot. At least…not entirely. I just couldn't believe he could be such a dick. None of the cops in Forks were like that. My dad was never, ever like that. He always believed that a badge wasn't a license to be unnecessarily abrasive to someone. But this guy…he was a piece of work. He was the reason people called cops pigs.
"Bella?"
"Dad!" I jumped out of my chair and un-crumpled the wad of paper in my hand.
"God, Bella, are you okay? Allyson said you came in here like somebody was after you. What happened?" He grabbed my shoulders for emphasis.
I thrust the mangled tickets at him, which he accepted with confusion. Everything came rushing out of me then. "There was this guy from county – a cop – and he was such an a-hole!" I ranted. "He said I…well, I might've forgotten there was a stop sign at Greene and Hartwood but I totally didn't think about the registration 'cause of finals and everything, but can you, you know, take care of them for me?" I was out of breath when I was finished.
Charlie eyed me carefully as he read the tickets. "Expired registration, failure to obey a traffic device, failure to utilize safety restraint…" he murmured to himself. His eyes darkened. "Bella, you weren't not wearing your seat belt, right?" The warning in his voice made my blood run cold.
"Um," I began in a small voice. "It-it was only for like a mile-"
He scowled. "Isabella Swan."
Frustrated, I threw my hands up in the air. "Yes! Dad! I know! It was bad! I was bad! I'll never do it again! Now can you get rid of those for me? Please?" I was prepared to beg if I had to.
Charlie pondered me for a moment. With a short sigh he handed them back to me. "Even if I wanted to, which I do and I don't, there's nothing I can do about these, honey. They're issued from a county officer. If it had been somebody in town or even one of these little towns around here I could do something. But they're reporting back to the county government, Bells. I can't just tear these up – especially since they've already been submitted." His shoulders dropped a little. "I'm sorry."
Everything sort of came crashing down on me then. Eric, my canceled summer with my mom, and now this. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I wiped them away angrily. Charlie glanced away uncomfortably – tears, like menstrual cycles and makeup, were like kryptonite for a guy like him. I took a deep, cleansing breath to calm myself. "It's okay," I said, trying to force some conviction into my shaky voice. "I'll see you at home."
He nodded grimly. I gave him an awkward hug and left the station, tail between my legs. Great fucking way to start a great fucking summer.
The next night Charlie was home for dinner, and I made him the lasagna that I had promised the previous night. We ate mostly in silence, and when I heard the clank of Charlie's fork hitting the empty plate I rose to clear it. He placed a hand on mine to stop me. "Sit down, Bella. We need to talk."
Apprehensively I sat back down. "Okay," I replied slowly. "Am I in trouble?"
"No," he answered, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I didn't really plan on you being here this summer." He caught my confused frown and quickly backtracked. "What I mean is, that doesn't mean I'm not happy about it. I am. I think your mom's always made out better in the custody setup but that's water under the bridge. Uh, anyway, what did you have in mind for the summer?"
"Like what? I might go spend a weekend at the Webbers' or something, but I don't know."
"Well, that's fine. I meant, you know, something to keep you occupied all summer. Wouldn't be a bad idea if you got a job."
A job. Of course. But…in Forks? My mind flashed images of me, blank-eyed, mindlessly packing canned goods into a brown paper bag while a grouchy old lady squawks orders at me. I shuddered. I didn't mind working at all – but the options in town were so, so unappealing. I would agree to shop around, at least.
"Now, I have an idea," Charlie began carefully as he set his napkin on his plate. "And if you don't want it I won't take offense. But you know Allyson Hayes is gonna pop that baby out any day now."
I nodded, wide-eyed. Her belly could have housed a refugee camp.
"Well, nobody's figured out who's gonna replace her when she goes out on maternity. It'd last close to the whole summer, probably mid-August, which would give you plenty of time to get ready for next school year. Hours are decent, I'd have to talk to the town clerk about your pay, but if you want it, the offer's there. What do you think?"
"Sure," I agreed, my fears of retail monotony fading fast. "But…what does Allyson actually do? Besides answer phones and stuff? I just don't wanna get in over my head. She's got a lot of…you know, papers."
"It's not hard. Just filing and updating things, keeping records organized and that type of thing. I think." That was Charlie's way of admitting he had no idea.
"Well, I guess I can figure it out," I decided.
"All this, assuming, of course, that you could put up with being around your lame old dad a lot more." He gave me a tentative smile across the table.
I grinned in return. "I guess," I pretended to groan.
Just about two weeks later, I spent a couple of hours at the station with Allyson learning the ropes of my new position. I was fascinated by her belly and amazed at the fact that that baby hadn't just fallen out at some point – she was that big. Most of the morning I spent dodging her stomach and fetching her glasses of water. The heat was damn near oppressive at that point and I did not envy her condition one bit.
We stood at the main computer at the front desk while she showed me the different databases and e-mail system. "This is the internal officer directory," she said, pointing at the screen. "In here, you can type any officer's name who works in the state of Washington and get his contact information. This is helpful when you have referral cases coming in and you need more details, or if we are passing on a case to another department."
"Allyson!" My dad's voice grumbled from somewhere nearby. "Where did you put the copy paper?"
She rolled her eyes. "In the second cabinet, where it always is!"
"I'm looking in the second cabinet! There's nothing there!"
With a sigh she waddled away. A few seconds went by, and then I heard my father's voice. "Oh. Thanks."
"Of course, Charlie," I heard Allyson answer dryly. "Do you know how to load it in the copier? So it doesn't jam?"
Sensing that instructing my father on the proper maintenance of office equipment could take some time, I turned back to the computer screen. I had an idea.
I dug through my purse and retrieved one of the tickets Deputy Douchebag had given me. Under Issuing Officer was written E. Cullen, which I hurriedly typed into the database. There was only one result: Edward Anthony Cullen. I clicked on his name and his officer profile came up.
His file photo came up, and it hit me again how ruggedly handsome he was. I already knew that he was a county officer, but apparently he was part of a tactical unit that worked mostly in downtown Seattle. He was twenty-seven years old and had been a cop since 2005. I scrolled down and even though he was relatively young, his list of accolades and accomplishments was impressive. Several stints on special assignment squads, a number of excellence awards, and even a commendation from the mayor of Seattle for heroic action on behalf of another officer. I was shocked. This guy was kind of a big deal. So what was he doing in Forks? Besides antagonizing unsuspecting cops' daughters, that is?
I heard Allyson's heavy footsteps drawing closer and I hurriedly closed the search window.
"Well, I don't know about you but I could use some lunch. How about a-" Suddenly Allyson's face froze up and I heard something that sounded like a sprinkler hitting pavement. I glanced down and realized it was Allyson. She was…peeing?
"My water," she cried weakly. And then she doubled over, nearly collapsing onto the tiled floor. "You have to call my husband, Bella. And get your dad in here." She let loose a pained cry that made me wince. Contractions, I realized in a panic.
I scrambled into my dad's office. He glanced up from his desk, alarmed. "Dad! Allyson's – I don't know what's happening, I think her water broke and she looks like she's in a lot of pain. What do I-"
But Charlie had already sprinted past me and into the lobby. He grabbed one of the radios from their charging stations and barked into it that he needed an ambulance. Now. Allyson's eyes flashed wide and she grabbed her belly, panting. Terrified, I just stood like a statue, unsure of how to help.
A few minutes went by of Charlie cradling her on the floor, instructing her how to breathe and whenever a contraction hit, held her hand as she screamed. I was horrified. Something seemed to be wrong – I thought the labor process usually took a lot longer than this. As if on cue, she wailed out in pain again and clutched Charlie's arm.
"Goddammit," Charlie muttered. "Where the hell are they coming from? Topeka?" He helped Allyson to her feet carefully. "Bella, I'm gonna take her to County myself. I'll call you."
I nodded numbly. I ran around the desk and opened the doors for them as he gently carried her out to his cruiser, laying her on the backseat. As he started the engine, I stood back, watching my father's tightened expression as he flicked on his lights and sped away.
I found out later that day that the baby was fine. More than fine, actually. Eight pounds, four ounces, and a whopping twenty-three inches long. Allyson's husband, Sam, showed up not five minutes after they reached the county hospital, and thankfully everything went smoothly from there. Except now I had this job that I had no idea how to do, and no one to show me.
I stumbled through most of the week without incidence, trying hard to figure out where everything went and how things worked by trial and error. I never realized how much Allyson was responsible for – keeping track of each officer's hours, managing all of their benefits, making sure faxes went to the right person and each call was logged and handled properly. I was a disaster at first, but by the end of the week I had stopped hyperventilating as much and remembering more.
I was sorting through the sizeable pile of incoming faxes when I heard my name. "Bella!" It was my father.
"Yeah?" I called over my shoulder.
"I'm taking off in a minute," my dad announced as he I glanced up at the clock; it was nearly five. "You're coming to the Crowleys' cookout tonight, right?"
"Oh, crap," I smacked my forehead. I had totally forgotten; the Crowleys had an annual Memorial Day barbecue at their house that the whole Forks PD and their families were invited to. In a town like Forks, it was the social event of the year. "Yeah, Dad. I'll meet you at home, okay?"
Charlie and I pulled into the Crowleys' crowded driveway at almost six-thirty. Nearly everyone was at least a familiar face. Jim Crowley was the next most senior officer in the department next to my dad, and they had been friends since before I was born. It was a small, tight-knit community. Everyone treated me like a little sister – well, everyone except Mike Newton.
I had known Mike since I was in preschool and he was in second grade. He was a nice enough guy, I guess, but he was one of those people who just didn't get it. He drove a loud, obnxious Camaro, wore sunglasses at all hours and addressed nearly everyone as "bro." And…he seemed to believe that he and I were meant for each other. He'd always be just a friend for me, though. You know the kind. The friend that nobody likes.
Oh, speak of the devil.
I was immediate accosted as soon as Charlie and I walked through the backyard gate. The barbecue was already in full swing, with nearly every officer and his family in attendance. Mike almost knocked the fruit salad I'd brought out of my hands. "Let me take that for you!" he insisted loudly. Charlie rolled his eyes and set off for the beer cooler. I wished I could do the same – Mike would be a lot more tolerable if I had a solid buzz going.
I allowed Mike to take the Tupperware from me with a flourish. "How's it going, Mike?" I asked mildly, knowing that he was going to give me the complete, play-by-play rundown of his life in full detail.
And, as predicted, he took the bait. "Oh, you know, same old, same old," he replied airily. "Just the gym, work, target practice, the gym some more. I go every day, you know." Yes. I did know. He has informed me of this many times. "Went on a date last week," he threw in casually, trying to seem inconspicuous as he monitored my face for a reaction. I didn't move a muscle. "But eh, I don't know. I don't really like blondes that much." Oh, for Pete's sake. He might as well be drooling down my shirt.
Luckily, he offered to get me something to drink then, so he took off toward the refreshments. I studied him from afar. He wasn't a bad-looking guy – sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and he wasn't lying about the gym. But he was just one of Those Guys. The ones who popped their collars and wore obnoxious cologne in even more obnoxious amounts. I'm not one to judge – in places like Long Island and Miami he'd fit right in. But in Forks, he just looked…weird.
Mike returned with a cold lemonade for me and a beer for himself. And then he launched right back into the Antagonize Bella Until She Agrees to Date Me campaign. "So I see that you left what's-his-name home with his mommy today," he commented casually, leaning against the wooden post of the deck.
I shot him a withering look. "His name is Eric," I corrected him sharply. This was the last thing I wanted to talk about and he was the last person I wanted to talk about it with. "And for the record, we're not together anymore." I mumbled the last few words in hopes that he wouldn't catch them.
"Oh, is that so?" He instantly perked up, to my disappointment. "Well, not for anything, of course, but I never liked the kid."
I rolled my eyes. Mike was twenty-three. He had no business calling anyone a kid unless they were in diapers.
"Bella Swan!" Jim Crowley's hearty voice called from across the backyard. He was in front of the grill, holding a barbecue fork in one hand and a beer in the other, wearing an apron with "Kiss the Cop" emblazoned across the front. "Get over here, you old lady! When did you get so grown up?"
I was so grateful for the interruption that I gladly ditched Mike and made a beeline for the grill. He hugged me tightly. "Howya doing, kiddo? College treating you well? Nothin' too wild, I hope!" He winked at me.
"As far as Dad knows," I answered cheekily. Jim bellowed a laugh and Charlie made a face.
Jim handed me a paper plate piled high with barbecued chicken, macaroni salad and grilled vegetables. I headed over to Charlie and wedged myself between him and Jim's wife, Nina, at one of the picnic tables they had set up. Mike looked disappointed.
The backyard was mostly silent as everyone dug into their food, which was delicious and tasted exactly like summer. About halfway through the meal, Jim nudged Charlie. "Hey, boss. I hope you don't mind, I asked the new kid to stop by. Thought he could meet everybody and have a couple of beers before he starts Tuesday."
Charlie nodded, still chewing. "Fine by me. I just hope he keeps his big-city attitude to himself."
I glanced back and forth between the two men. I hadn't heard anything about a new kid.
"New? I thought he was from County," called Mike, who had finished eating early and was tossing a football back and forth with Jim's oldest son, Shawn.
"He is," my dad confirmed. "But he's been helping out with Seattle's tactical and patrol units. I spoke with his CO - apparently he's quite a good cop. All I gotta say is he better not roll in here thinking he's John Wayne or something. Small towns don't handle that kind of thing very well."
I gulped down the rest of my lemonade, suddenly feeling very warm. If Edward Cullen was transferring to Forks, that meant I'd be seeing a lot of him. My mind was swept up in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions – why did someone so freaking gorgeous have to be such an asshole?
And then said asshole walked in.
He looked pretty normal, I guess. Like I'd mentioned before, he didn't look like a complete and utter jerkoff. He looked like he stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. Only fifteen or twenty times hotter. He wore a pair of cargo shorts with a Seattle University t-shirt, and regular sneakers, and I swear, that getup never looked so good.
He carried a twelve-pack of Budweiser, which Jim immediately relieved him of with a handshake. He nodded a hello to our collective group and followed Jim to the grill. I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know what I wanted more – him to leave and get hit by a car, or for him to throw me down on one of these picnic tables and-
"Bella! This is Edward. Edward, this is Charlie's daughter." Jim was introducing each person to Edward, and I guess it was my turn.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've met," I informed everyone dryly. His otherworldly green eyes locked with mine and I saw recognition in them. He didn't smile. In fact, I thought he looked downright uncomfortable. Good.
Jim didn't catch this unspoken exchange between the two of us. "Bella's working at the station for the summer," he informed Edward, who hadn't broken our eye contact. He was staring at me so intently I thought his eyeballs would fall out. I hoped they did. Oh, God, I took that back. They were far too luscious a color.
Once Jim finished introductions mostly everyone was finished eating, so the tables began to clear out as the younger officers organized a game of touch football. Charlie and Jim settled into lawn chairs to discuss the Seahawks' draft picks, and I was left to my own devices. I decided to make myself useful and help Nina clean up.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched Edward as he participated in the game. He was a couple of inches taller than Mike, who seemed to immediately regard him as competition in every sense. And he was a bit lankier than I thought initially. He was still muscular and lithe, though, and watching him run around was something I could do all day every day for the rest of my existence.
He approached the table I was currently clearing, poured himself a glass of water, and regarded me carefully. I felt myself blush hard, cursing myself for reacting to his presence so strongly, and busied myself with wrapping everything in plastic wrap. He finished the water in one long gulp. "Your boyfriend over there seems to think I'm moving in on his territory," he said casually, but with an arrogant air – like he found my irritation with him amusing.
I set down the plate of watermelon I was working on. "Excuse me?" I replied curtly.
He gestured towards Mike, who had peeled off his polo shirt and was now playing barechested. The only one, of course. "He told me you secretly had the hots for him, and it was only a matter of time before you realized it, so I'd better keep my hands to myself." A cocky half-smile crept across his face. It was so damn sexy I suddenly felt dizzy.
Keep it together, Bella, I chastised myself. You're supposed to hate him, remember? "Well, you can reassure him that that's not going to be a problem. Because if your hands do come anywhere near me, I will chop them off and feed them to you. 'Kay?" I gave him the most insincere smile I could muster and marched away to the Crowleys' kitchen. I didn't have to look back to know that his smugness had been wiped clean off his face. Score one for Bella.
Thoughts? This is my new pet project and I know I have a bad habit of starting things and then abandoning them, but I'm confident this one won't go that way. Let me know what you think - it's gonna get a lot hotter from here...
