"God, I need to get a life."
The words came out in a groan as Teresa Vargas pointed the remote at her TV and pressed the "off" button with more force than necessary. The on-screen drama heroine's profession of love was abruptly silenced.
"I do not need a guy in my life. I don't even want one," she declared to her empty apartment.
She was not going to think about the mess that had been her and Joe. Love. Yeah, right. If you loved someone, you did more than just sleep with them. You made an effort to build a life, to show them that you cared. You didn't automatically expect them to make the sacrifices.
Standing up from her couch, she snatched her jacket, shrugging one sleeve on as she pulled open the door. "A decent hobby or something is what I need," she grumbled, closing the door behind her.
Being on the force, and staying in shape to stay on the force, didn't leave a girl with much free time to devote to anything, never mind anything with a schedule. Any kind of classes were out, and most officers didn't even have pets—herself included.
Her first stop was the coffee shop around the corner. "Decaf mocha latte, please."
It was more about the comfort drink than the caffeine. It was a "girly" drink she'd never had in front of Joe, never gotten when she came down here to get coffee for both of them. It was one she only recently allowed herself to start ordering, despite the fact that she loved chocolate and hated the taste of the hard black coffee at the precinct.
Taking her drink with a quick nod of thanks to the barista, she picked a table back in the corner, where she could stare out the window and people-watch. That wasn't what she ended up doing, though. Her thoughts strayed.
"Seriously? You want a dog? Like one of those little yappy things that remind me more of my lab rats than actual predators?" J.T. laughed, twisting his coffee in his hands.
They looked strange, both in rumpled evening clothes, sitting in a coffee shop at ten in the morning, dressed up to go to a wedding but otherwise looking like they'd just tumbled out of bed (which they had). She just couldn't bring herself to care at that moment.
"No, not one of 'those yappy little things'." Tess rolled her eyes, smiling. "Not a huge one like your typical German Shepard, either. Medium-sized. A terrier. Maybe a pit bull."
"How many beasts in your life do you want?" J.T. quipped with a slight smirk.
That comment pulled a snicker from her. "Our neighbors had one growing up. She was the sweetest dog I ever saw. They're not all vicious fighters like you see on the news." She took a sip of her coffee, warmth filling her. "Your turn. Did you ever want any pets?"
"Vincent's family had a dog. I was always a cat person," he answered with a shrug.
She ducked her head a little to keep him from seeing her grin. "Good thing. A dog would probably starve and go crazy from boredom while you were caught up in—whatever you're researching at the moment. Cats can at least sort of survive without much attention."
"Hey, my powers of concentration and professional skills have been a major asset more than once." His tone sounded vaguely insulted.
She wondered how many times he had been taken for granted, or not noticed at all."Relax. I never said it was a bad thing."
He nodded quietly, taking a sip of his cafe au lait, carefully studying the table.
"You know, I've been really glad to have you around," she added, looking at him.
The smile that spread across his face made her insides flutter.
Suddenly glad she'd gotten her coffee in a to-go cup, Tess stood and practically sprinted out of the door, away from things she was trying not to think about. Shoving her hand into her pockets to protect from the cold, she brushed her phone, and ran her fingers over the case for a moment too long.
From J.T. Forbes: Fact of the Day: In a study conducted by National Geographic in 2005, the pit bull's bite was measured at 235 pounds of force, less than a German Shepard's and a Rottweiler's.
The text was several days old. She had practically memorized it, from many swift glances and re-readings and small smiles because those words meant he was thinking of her. She realized she was smiling again now, and made sure to stop.
It was sweet, in a geeky way, but how were you supposed to respond to something like that?
And she didn't do geeks. She did muscled, athletic. She did a little macho, as long as they still respected her. She did people who thought in black-and-white, not in survival. She did powerful, confident.
She did not do shy, chubby, reticent scientist.
Still, it niggled at her that she was ignoring him. He had called in that case for her, one of the few truly sweet things anyone had done for her in a long time, and she felt bad for keeping her distance.
Despite the fact that they weren't together, and she didn't owe him a thing. She hadn't asked him to crush on her, after all. And it was better for everyone if she stayed away.
"You can't have a relationship with anyone that's not on the force, Tess. They won't get it." Danny, in a rare brotherly moment, slung his arm around her shoulders.
"It takes a rare kind of person to understand why we do what we do," he continued, "Never mind put up with us having to leave at all hours of the night, knowing we might be in danger. Mom is special, and Dad's lucky."
He sighed. "But you gotta face it, Tess, most people can't deal with that. And Aaron was one of 'em. Katie—my ex, you know—was, too. I had to figure it out the hard way, just like you."
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thanks. I'll—I'll keep that in mind."
He patted her back, and stood. "That's what you got us for—family, and your fellow officers. Now man up, little sis."
And she had remembered it—Not that it's gotten me anywhere so far, she thought bitterly. Joe certainly hadn't been any better than Aaron, and hadn't lasted as long, either.
Double-checking that she had one of her guns on her—which she did, because she felt practically naked without it, these days—she changed her course, heading back to her garage. The shooting range was only a twenty-minute drive away, and she needed something to concentrate on.
It helped, somewhat.
The target was riddled with bullet holes, two satisfying, small clusters in the forehead and the heart. Still, she didn't need to be reminded that she was a fantastic shot.
"Whoa, wait."
She had to admit she kind of relished that tone of 'she-isn't-gonna-do-what-I-think-she's-gonna-do-is-she?'. It meant she had the upper hand, the chance to prove, again, that she was just as good as the boys—and better.
The shot rang out, metal handcuffs clinking against metal radiator as J.T. jerked away.
"Don't you even check the trajectory for ricochets or something, first? Geez."
Please. She had known exactly where that bullet was going. She'd been around guns her whole life. "I'm gonna take that as a thank-you."
She relished that look in his eyes she preferred to label as 'awe-struck' for one split second, before it was back to business.
It struck her then that she'd give anything at that moment to have J.T. look at her like that again. Even better, look at her like he had on the ride to the hotel—a ride filled with snickers about that ridiculous flower bouquet and flushed cheeks and stolen kisses at red lights. To have him look at her like she was the best thing to happen to him, like she made him unspeakably happy at that moment.
Resisting the impulse to bang her head against the wall, her temples thrumming from the noise of the firing range that penetrated her protective earmuffs, she aimed between the target's eyes and fired off several shots in quick succession.
Author's Note: Many, many thanks go to Sylva Dax for her beta read, edits, and insights!
It should go without saying that I don't own Tess, J.T., or Beauty and the Beast, but I don't (sadly, though the actual writers are doing a pretty good job on their own).
I hope you all enjoyed this!