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The club was packed.
Bodies pressed close, heat rising between them. The music pulsed through the venue, thundering over rolling waves of conversation. And it wasn’t even midnight. People were still streaming in through the entrance, jostling for space on the already crowded dance floor.
Athena sat at the centre of the half-circle booth, sandwiched between Karen and Hen, the bass from the nearby speakers vibrating through their seats. Hen’s shoulder was warm against hers. Buck slid in next to Karen, grinning like he’d been counting down to this night all week. Chimney sat beside Hen, his lips crooked in a half-smile, eyes gleaming with mischief already in motion. Bobby sat at the far end of the booth, diagonally across from Athena, watching the chaos unfold with that familiar look of amusement.
“So,” Chimney nudged Hen, raising his voice over the music, “birthday girl. Time to hit the dance floor. Let’s show young Buckaroo how grown-ups party.”
Buck gave a wounded “Hey!” and glanced at Bobby for backup.
Bobby just chuckled. The sight of his dimples made Athena bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
She hadn’t meant to stare, but how could she not? Bobby’s shirt, open at the collar, clung perfectly to his chest, and his jeans fit just right along his thighs. Even from across the booth, she could catch the faint whiff of his cologne, intimately familiar now after weeks of late nights at his place. Nights that always ended the same way: Bobby lifting her over the threshold and carrying her to bed.
By now, she’d practically memorised his scent.
She glanced at Hen and Karen on either side of her, relaxed, blissfully unaware. Of course, they had no idea that she, newly divorced and still pretending to be “taking things slow,” had been spending an inordinate amount of time in Bobby’s one-bedroom condo on the other side of town. Enough time that she’d started leaving clothes in his drawers, and had even caught herself wondering what something more permanent with him might look like.
Hen would never let her live it down.
Her best friend chose that exact moment to declare, “First, we need more tequila.”
“Y’all are way too sober for my liking,” Hen added, casting a mildly disapproving glance around the table. Her eyes landed on Bobby, on the untouched glass of Diet Coke in front of him. “You good, Cap?”
Bobby, the group’s unofficial chaperone, raised his glass. “I promise to send you all home in one piece,” he said with a laugh, then, reconsidering, added, “Or at least into the back of a cab, anyway.”
Chimney whooped, fist raised with an enthusiastic, “Let’s go!” before sliding out of the booth and squeezing his way towards the bar. Hen followed within seconds. Buck hesitated, awkward and out of place, before hurrying after them.
With the space opening up, Bobby shifted smoothly to the other side of the booth, sliding in next to Athena.
She inhaled instinctively as his cologne enveloped her, his thigh brushing against hers, subtle but intentional, sending a sharp jolt up her spine. The contact felt like a live wire crackling under her skin.
Echoes from that morning replayed in her mind: waking up tangled in his sheets, skin to skin, her cheek pressed to the pillow as sunlight crept across the room; the breathless whimpers, the molten pull of hungry kisses. She remembered the way Bobby had pinned her to the mattress, his thick, deft fingers between her legs, her back arching to meet him. And the way his hips moved, thrusting into her until all rational thought unravelled beneath wave after wave of pleasure.
Athena let out a shuddering exhale.
Karen leaned in, her face filled with concern. “Everything okay? You look tense.”
Athena was about to brush it off with something flippant, maybe a joke about paperwork haunting her after hours, but the words died in her throat. One of Bobby’s hands settled on her knee under the table, his grip tight and unmistakably deliberate.
Her brain short-circuited. Her breath hitched, loud enough for Karen to notice.
Thank God for the low lighting, Athena thought.
It hid the incriminating hand and the look on her face, a mix of panic, guilt, and unfiltered arousal. She eventually managed a weak, “I’m fine.”
Before Karen could press, Chimney, Hen, and Buck returned, arms loaded with drinks: twenty-five tequila shots, six margaritas, four negronis, and three pints of beer. And another Diet Coke for Bobby, this time with an extra lime wedge. Chimney had insisted so Bobby “wouldn’t feel left out.”
Bobby raised a brow at the lime. Hen nudged him, smirking. “Don’t ask. He pre-gamed with Buck and forgot he’s not twenty anymore.”
“He’s already drunk,” Bobby observed dryly.
Chimney lifted his margarita with a ridiculous, goofy grin only he could pull off. “If I get alcohol poisoning, don’t even bother calling 9-1-1. Just drive me straight to the hospital in that sexy pickup of yours.”
Then, after a beat, “That thing’s a total babe magnet. Those seats are ridiculously plush, and it smells like the Ritz in there. What’s your air freshener brand, Cap?”
Athena nearly spat her drink across the table.
Every head turned to her as she doubled over in a coughing fit, made infinitely worse when Bobby started rubbing her back. He slipped seamlessly into his firm Captain Nash voice and ordered Buck to get her some water.
Fuck. Exactly what she needed.
And just like that, her thoughts betrayed her again.
Because, damn it, Chimney was right. Bobby’s truck was impressive. The polished wood trim. The heated seats. The sunroof. That crisp scent of new leather that greeted her every time. And she had experienced all of it a little too intimately. The feel of that soft leather against her bare, damp skin; the way the front seats reclined just far enough; and how quickly the tinted windows could fog over.
Then there was the memory she tried, and failed, to shove away: just how perfectly she fit into the narrow space between the steering wheel and Bobby’s chest whenever she straddled his lap.
Bobby’s voice cut through her spiralling thoughts. He pressed a glass of water into her hands.
“Here, drink up.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, taking several large gulps.
Athena cleared her throat, trying to regain control and willing her pulse to settle. Her brain shifted to damage control mode, ready to deflect, snap, or glare. Anything to protect the reputation she’d earned over the years: that calm, dangerous, but grounded demeanour she was known for.
But two months ago, when she’d agreed to Bobby’s invitation to dinner, something in her had shifted off its axis. His presence in her life was a contradiction she hadn’t yet figured out how to reconcile. She was only just beginning to know him, beyond the lust-fuelled physicality that had come so naturally. Yet some quiet, insistent part of her was already imagining a future with him.
Hen leaned in from beside Karen, frowning. “You sure you’re good, ‘Thena?”
Athena nodded, setting the water glass down. “I’m fine.”
For once, Hen let it go. She reached for the tray and began distributing the shots around the table. Chimney slapped Buck’s hand away when he tried to snag one early, muttering, “Patience, man, patience.”
Once the glasses were set, Hen looked around and lifted one.
“I’m glad y’all are here with me tonight. This is already shaping up to be one of the best birthdays I’ve had. Definitely in the top three.”
Her voice strained just enough to make Karen move in with a quick peck to her cheek.
Then Bobby lifted his glass of Diet Coke. “Hen, I don’t say this enough, but the 118 works because of you. You’re the glue that holds us together, and I’m honoured to call myself your friend. Happy birthday.”
The rest of the table followed, raising their glasses.
Hen grinned. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Cap. Here’s to family.”
"To family." Everyone echoed and threw back their shots in one smooth motion. Bobby took a sip of his drink, looking pleased with himself.
Athena, to her credit, kept her expression cool and unreadable at Hen’s little playful tease.
If only Hen had even an inkling of just how special her captain made Athena feel.
By the time the group worked their way through the armada of drinks, Athena was well past tipsy. The edges of her vision swayed gently, and the room tilted around her with a dreamlike softness. And yet, even in her haze, she was acutely (and painfully) aware that Bobby’s hand had not left her knee once.
Next to her, Karen and Hen weren’t faring much better. Karen wore a blissed-out, serene smile, watching her wife with open affection, while Hen belted out the lyrics to the song pounding through the club, enthusiastically loud and completely off-key. Thankfully, the bass-heavy speakers drowned her out.
Across the booth, Chimney had turned a deep shade of red, the unmistakable victim of an alcohol flush reaction, but it hadn’t slowed him down. He was still locked in a running commentary with Buck, openly rating dancers across the club.
“That woman over there,” Chimney slurred, gesturing towards the dance floor. “Gold sequin dress. What d’ya think?”
Buck squinted. “Nah. We’re not her type. Saw her flirting with some guy earlier, and dude was built like a tank.”
“Come on,” Chimney pouted. “I thought people loved firefighters. We’re the sexiest uniformed service out there.”
Athena arched a brow, momentarily forgetting the effect Bobby’s hand was having on her. She straightened in her seat.
“Excuse me? Those are fighting words.”
Chimney flashed a wide, unapologetic grin and knocked back the last of his margarita.
“Athena. Athena. Aa-theee-na,” he sing-songed, clearly doubling down despite the warning in her tone.
Bobby watched with mild amusement that bordered on caution. Drunk or not, his team knew better than to go toe-to-toe with Athena Grant; a lesson that even the city’s most seasoned public servants learned quickly.
“It’s factually true,” Chimney continued, cheerfully oblivious to the danger he was courting. Buck hung on to his every word like he was listening to a hero.
“LAFD charity calendars always outsell whatever you guys put together. People love us more. It’s the hose,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.
Before Athena could reach across and throttle him, Hen shot up, hands raised.
“All right, all right, save the trash talk for next month’s baseball game. I’ve got twenty minutes left of my birthday, which means it’s time for a—”
“Dance-off!” Chimney bellowed, jumping to his feet.
One by one, they shuffled towards the dance floor until only Bobby and Athena remained.
Athena drained the last of her wine and slammed the glass harder than intended.
Bobby sat up straighter, his eyes widening a fraction. “You doing okay?”
She huffed. “He’s infuriating. Why is everything a competition with that man?”
Crossing her arms, Athena pouted. Had she been sober, the realisation that she was doing this in front of Bobby, her brand new situationship (that she desperately hoped might turn into something more permanent), would’ve mortified her.
Instead, it earned her a broad grin.
“For what it’s worth,” Bobby said, “if it were a competition, I’m voting for you.”
Athena shot him a look, the corner of her mouth curling up despite herself.
“Good. Because you’ve seen a hell of a lot more than whatever would end up on those calendars. Not that I’d ever agree to one,” she added quickly. “They’re objectifying and demeaning.”
“You could always pose for a private one, Sergeant,” Bobby said lightly. “For my eyes only.”
It was the way he said it, casual, unassuming, like he was commenting on the weather, that sent a visible shiver through her. The thought of posing for him, however he wanted, wherever he wanted, made her toes curl inside her boots.
She bit her lip, suddenly coy.
“What’s in it for me?”
Bobby smirked. “Whatever you want. I’ve seen you negotiate favourable terms out of far more complicated situations,” he teased.
Then his palm was flat against the inside of her thigh.
Whatever clever retort she’d been lining up fizzled out entirely, her brain short-circuiting on the spot.
Before either of them could react, Karen sauntered back to the table, eyeing them with suspicion.
“Don’t tell me it’s past your bedtimes,” she said dryly. “The party’s moved to the dance floor, and I expect to see both of you there in five.”
She narrowed her eyes like she had more to say, then seemed to think better of it and disappeared back into the crowd, searching for Hen.
They sat in silence for a few charged seconds. The music pumped around them, the booth suddenly feeling much smaller.
Bobby nudged her lightly with his shoulder.
“Shall we?” he asked, his palm still firmly planted where it very much didn’t belong. At least not like this.
“Get your hand off my thigh first,” she hissed, though there was no real bite behind it.
He winked. “I plan to have a lot more than my hand there before the night’s over.”
Athena rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse quickened in response, her body already reacting as if it knew exactly where this night was headed.
One way or another, Bobby always managed to carve out moments like this, raw intimacy hidden in plain sight, while their friends remained blissfully unaware. Or at least, that was the hope.
Plan B was to go home with Bobby and call in sick the next morning.
She could practically picture Elaine’s concerned frown, or the way her captain would inevitably put two and two together if given enough time. Athena hadn’t taken a single sick day before her divorce, and four months later, she was already up to three.
Bobby had been responsible for every one of them.
Heat crept up her neck at the memories: waking up in his bed with a soft duvet slung low around her bare waist, limping across his flat in search of ice packs for the soreness and lotion for beard burn in unspeakable places.
And Bobby, watching her from behind the kitchen counter, eyes dark with that infuriating mix of concern and smug satisfaction.
The thought alone made her inhale deeply and rise to her feet.
The dance floor was a crush of movement. Bodies packed in tight. People moving together, grinding, shimmying, jumping, pulled into sync by the beats thumping through the room and into their bones.
Strobe lights sliced through the darkness in sharp bursts, illuminating fleeting flashes of limbs and faces before plunging them back into shadow.
The DJ worked his decks with practised ease, layering high-pitched textures and bass so loud it left little room for conversation.
Finding the others wasn’t difficult.
They had claimed a corner of the dance floor near the bar. By the time Athena and Bobby reached them, Buck and Chimney were locked in a fierce and wildly uncoordinated dance-off with a group of strangers. Arms flailed, legs kicked, every exaggerated move amplified by their boundless enthusiasm.
Just a few feet away, Hen and Karen danced in a world of their own. Hen’s arms wrapped securely around Karen’s waist, her head resting on Hen’s shoulder as they moved together, an unmistakably tender moment in the middle of the chaos.
Athena smiled, a gentle warmth settling in her chest at the sight.
She looked up, shouting in Bobby’s ear, “I’ve seen Hen make some really stupid decisions over the years. But with Karen? She hit the jackpot.”
Bobby watched them too, a small, wistful smile on his lips.
“They look happy,” he said. Then, quieter, “They deserve it.”
Before she could say another word, the music cut out, dead silence washing over the floor. For a moment, everything paused. Anticipation filled the void as more people rushed onto the dance floor, their laughter crackling in the air.
Then the beat dropped again. This time, louder, heavier, and thrumming with raw energy.
Athena didn’t think. She grabbed Bobby’s hand and pulled him deeper into the thick of the crowd, winding them away from their friends’ lines of sight.
When she tilted her head up at him, she caught the unmistakable curve of his grin even through strobes and shadows.
His hands found her waist, sliding lower as he drew her in until they were pressed together, chest to chest. They surrendered to the flow, bodies swaying, hips gyrating, the rhythm doing most of the talking for them.
Bobby dipped low, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just behind her ear. Athena arched instinctively, biting back the urge to climb him outright.
Big, strong fireman built like a lighthouse, she often teased him. All solid presence and unwavering strength, the man who could casually lift her like she weighed nothing at all.
And right now, wrapped in sound and warmth and his hands, it felt dangerously easy to think she might let him if he tried.
The tempo shifted again, bleeding into a harder, deeper track. The dance floor exploded around them, swelling and contracting with every beat, the energy cresting higher each time.
Athena let herself disappear into it. She danced without overthinking, without holding herself back, her spine settling against Bobby’s chest. His hands stayed anchored at her hips, his lips traced kisses along her neck. She felt him against her, stiff as a rock, leaving no doubt in her mind where the night was headed.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as they drifted through the crowd like they were the only two people left in the room.
At some point, she opened her eyes.
Blue neon light washed over the dance floor in flashes as she scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on Buck.
He stood a short distance away, beer in hand, staring at them with unmistakable confusion. Even from across the room, she could read it on his face: the squint, the stalled mental processing, the creeping horror of a man trying to decide if he was witnessing reality or a very specific alcohol-fuelled hallucination.
One that involved his beloved Captain…and the police sergeant who, though he’d never say it aloud, kind of terrified him.
Athena let out a sigh as a fresh wave of clubbers arrived on the dance floor, cutting off his line of sight.
She didn’t wait.
Leaning into Bobby’s ear, she said, “We’re going back to your truck. Right now.”
Her firm tone left no room for debate.
Not that Bobby looked inclined to argue. His pupils were blown wide, skin flushed, and every ounce of his focus was entirely on her.
He nodded once, his gaze reverent, and took her hand without a word.
Together, they slipped away, past the booths, the noise, and another familiar pair of eyes that was far less drunk than Buck’s, heading straight for the exit.
If Athena were ever to rank the things she loved about Bobby, his ability to plan ahead would land firmly in the top five. Just beneath his truck, which was fast becoming her favourite place, too.
Especially after the newly installed tinted windows that granted them a delicious kind of privacy, allowing her to straddle his lap in the backseat, wearing nothing but her bra, unbothered by the outside world and any curious eyes it might contain.
Bobby had thought of everything.
That same foresight had him parking a block away from the club, tucked into a quiet, low-profile lot where only a handful of cars sat scattered beneath dim streetlights.
Out here, the noise was muted, the chances of interruption were practically nonexistent, or so Athena thought.
That thought scattered the moment Bobby’s teeth sank gently over her shoulder blade.
She bit back a soft, breathless sound, fingers tightening reflexively against him as warmth curled low in her belly. The truck felt smaller all of a sudden, the air heavier, charged with building anticipation that made time feel thin and utterly meaningless.
“Bobby…” she whimpered, rocking her hips against him, intentional, unyielding, revelling in the way his control unravelled.
Every sigh, every lingering touch, every subtle roll of her hips chipped away at his control. Desire burned under his skin, a hot, throbbing ache that flowed in his veins as he clung to her.
Athena moved her hand between them, reaching to undo his zipper. She coaxed him closer in the cramped space until he had nowhere left to retreat. He shuffled out of his jeans, the sound of denim brushing softly against leather, until there was nothing between them but skin and desire.
Every inch pressed together, their bodies fitting as if pulled by gravity alone.
She sank onto him, gasping, as the initial sting of the stretch gave way to something more intimate and consuming. The tension coiled tight in her bones, balancing on a precipice.
They moved in sync, caught in a rhythm that was urgent but controlled. Every time she edged too close to the brink, Bobby’s hands tightened on her hips, reining her back just enough to make it last. Soft, broken sounds slipped from their lips, echoing faintly off the polished wood around them.
It felt like a chase. Messy, breathless, and beautifully drawn out. Neither of them was in any rush to win. Not after a night filled with lingering glances, secret touches beneath the table, and promises spoken without a single word.
“We should hurry…” Athena managed eventually, in a hushed tone. “They’ll…start wondering where we are.”
Bobby didn’t bother to reply right away.
He didn’t pull away, either.
Their world was reduced to the measured roll of her hips, the way her muscles squeezed around his length, and how the girth still felt almost too big, too much.
Rough, stifled grunts caught in his throat, and the sound made her tremble.
The pressure at her core was building again, tight, coiled, and consuming, threatening to break her apart with every breath.
“Let them,” Bobby murmured, his lips brushing her neck without ever fully pulling away.
“Someone might come looking,” she whispered.
“They don’t know where I parked.”
His arms folded around her. “And I don’t care about anyone else right now. Not when I have you like this.”
There was something different in his voice, something deeper, darker. Her thoughts hadn’t caught up to the shift when he moved, strong arms sweeping her off his lap like she weighed nothing.
Before she could speak, she was on her back, pressed into the seat, the cool leather a sharp contrast to the fire burning across her skin.
He hovered above her, bracing himself with one arm as he eased her knees apart with the other. Then, without hesitation, he pushed into her again, slowly, fully, until he was buried deep and she couldn’t remember anything except the way it felt to be filled by him.
“Bobby…” she gasped, the last thread of her restraint unravelling.
His fingers moved with confident ease, tracing every inch of her slick heat, his thumb circling the sensitive nub with maddening precision, teasing, edging, but never offering full relief. He seemed intent on holding her in that fragile space, suspended between aching anticipation and surrender, stealing as much time as they could from the night, and from their friends.
He ignored her breathless, whining pleas, working her with dedication that bordered on reverence. The tight confines of the truck amplified every sensation: the sharp slap of skin on skin as he thrust into her, the maddening pace he refused to break, the scrape of her teeth against his shoulder as she fought to stay quiet.
Her control slipped, her cries shifting from desperate murmurs to raw, wailing sobs.
“Baby…” she whimpered. “I need…I need—”
The rest scattered in her throat, lost the moment she looked at him. His dark eyes locked on hers, full of need and insatiable hunger. All she could feel was the steady, pulsing stretch of him inside her.
“What, Athena?” He ground out between thrusts, voice thick with effort. “Use your words.”
The sound that broke from her was ragged and unfiltered, something between a moan and a sob.
And then—he stopped.
The shift was instant. His teasing disappeared, the slow, torturous rhythm gone. So were the smirking threats and deliberate restraint.
Without a word, Bobby lifted her legs, gently but firmly, and hooked them over his shoulders.
“I got you, baby,” he whispered, voice tender despite the fire raging behind his eyes.
Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.
Her world tilted with the change in angle, and the sensations hit her all at once: deeper, rougher thrusts that knocked the air from her lungs, the grounding weight of his body pressing her into the seat, and the return of his hand between her thighs sending her pulse into overdrive.
“Fuck.” She gasped, arching into him. “Don’t…don’t you dare stop.”
Her nails dragged down his back, carving angry red lines into flushed skin, marking him without thinking.
Bobby didn’t falter. He slid one arm beneath her to hold her steady, and his movements grew uneven, messier, none of that practised precision now. Just raw, reckless urgency. The pressure built fast, each thrust pulling her closer to the edge until—
Her muscles locked up, and she came.
The release slammed into her like a wave, hot and jolting, setting her nerves on fire. Her eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted in a soundless cry as her fingers clenched his arms, digging deep.
He met her lips with a searing kiss, swallowing the sounds that still trembled at the back of her throat. Even as she shuddered through the aftershocks of her orgasm, still trembling in his arms, she didn’t have time to catch her breath.
Because he wasn’t done.
His hand moved again. Measured strokes rubbed through her wet, throbbing core that made her body jerk at the contact. The pleasure turned sharp, overwhelming, teetering on the edge of too much.
Within moments, the second, shattering orgasm exploded, swallowing her whole.
This time, Athena screamed.
“Bo..Bobby…!”
Her voice strained from the force of it, from the overstimulation, from the rhythm he refused to let up. Her back arched again, and her hands scrambled for something to hold; him, the seat, even the air. Anything.
She could feel him losing control, too. His hips stuttering, low grunts torn from his throat, breath hot and uneven against her skin.
One final thrust, deep and desperate, and he buried his face against her neck as he came with a guttural groan, emptying into her as if he’d been holding it back for hours.
By the time they’d cleaned up and straightened their clothes, Athena had insisted on making one last stop. The gas station was a block away, and, crucially, its restrooms were operational. It wasn’t ideal, not even by a long shot, but she’d take a dingy, semi-clean gas station bathroom over the club’s any day if it meant dodging Karen’s sharp eyes…or, worse, Hen’s.
Honestly, it was a miracle their phones hadn’t already blown up with frantic texts or voicemails threatening to file missing persons reports. Her watch said they’d been gone nearly an hour.
“They’re either too drunk,” Athena said as she rejoined Bobby inside the convenience store, “or they’re having way too much fun to notice we disappeared.”
Bobby hummed in agreement, standing in front of a wall of breath mints, hands clasped behind his back, trying to pick one.
“I like peppermint,” she said, slipping an arm around him. That earned her a grateful smile.
He grabbed a box of peppermint mints and an isotonic drink from the cooler. Outside, they shared the drink, then popped two mints each. Athena reached out to smooth his collar, her fingers brushing his hair back into place. She gave him a once-over, then smirked.
“You still look like a damn watermelon,” she said, wiping a speck of dirt from his chin.
Bobby’s face was flushed, skin glowing in that unmistakable post-hookup way, the one that screamed ‘just got thoroughly wrecked in the backseat of my very nice pickup by my secretly-dating police sergeant girlfriend.’ Their friends would piece it together eventually. They thrived on chaos. And when they did, the teasing would be endless.
She could already picture Chimney’s scandalised horror, Buck’s slow-blinking confusion, and Hen’s merciless smirk.
“I could say I left my watch at the station and ran back to get it,” Bobby offered.
Athena squinted. “You ran five kilometres instead of driving?”
“Didn’t want to lose the parking spot.”
“Bobby,” she deadpanned, “they’ll eventually figure out where you parked. The lot was empty when we left.”
He paused, thoughtful. Then his face lit up. “Wait here.”
Before she could argue, he disappeared towards the restrooms. When he came back, his skin was damp, redder than before, and his hair stood in damp tufts as if he’d just survived a wind tunnel.
Athena blinked. “What exactly am I looking at?”
“I washed my face.”
She stared. “Congratulation. Now you look like an overcooked lobster.”
Bobby’s grin spread. “Lobster allergy. That’s it! I’ll say I had the bisque at dinner. Delayed reaction.”
She crossed her arms.
“You don’t have any allergies on record.”
“Everyone over fifty develops something,” he said solemnly. “It’s science, baby. Late-onset shellfish allergy is believable.”
Athena rolled her eyes, letting out a long, theatrical sigh. “You are unbelievable. Fine. You had a sudden allergic reaction to lobster bisque, and I had to walk you to your truck to get your antihistamines.”
She raised a finger. “But I forbid you from giving anyone a ride home tonight until that backseat is scrubbed and disinfected within an inch of its life. They’re all Ubering.”
Bobby raised both hands in mock surrender, a pleased little smile playing at his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
When they returned to the club, the crowd hadn’t thinned in the slightest. Bobby checked his watch: seven minutes to 2 a.m. He followed Athena, weaving past clusters of sweaty bodies as music pounded relentlessly through the space. The stench of spilt liquor clung to the air, making his nose wrinkle and his palms itch.
Back at the booth, Karen was the only one sitting, calmly sipping a Diet Coke. She looked far more sober than earlier, and much too alert. Her eyes narrowed the moment she spotted them, sharp and suspicious, as if already clocking every trace of guilt or mischief clinging to them for later analysis.
Her gaze landed on Bobby.
“Why do you look like the Kool-Aid Man?”
He threw Athena a nervous glance, then plastered on his most charming smile. When she slid back into her seat, he very deliberately claimed the spot on Karen’s other side.
“Uh…shellfish allergy,” he said, launching into their pre-rehearsed lie. “We went to my truck to grab antihistamines.” But when Karen’s expression shifted to genuine concern, he rushed to add, “I’m fine. Totally fine. Athena can back me up, right?”
Athena glared at him.
It took every ounce of willpower not to say I told you so. Karen’s expression said it all: she didn’t believe a word of it. Slipping out of the club early, separately, would’ve been smarter. She’d said as much on the walk back from the gas station.
Bobby had shut it down fast. “A promise is a promise, baby,” he’d said. Chaperone duties and all.
She resisted the urge to whack him.
“Yes,” Athena said tightly. “I did consider sending him to the ER, but he seemed—”
“Who’s going to the ER?”
Hen appeared at the booth, her expression sharper than before. Definitely more sober, too. She slid in beside Athena, quickly surveying the situation. Bobby’s flushed face, Karen’s worried expression, and Athena, who looked two seconds from committing a felony.
“What did I miss?”
Bobby jumped in. “Lobster allergy from dinner. Delayed reaction.”
Hen frowned. “You don’t have any allergies on record.”
Athena’s glare sharpened. The audacity. He was lucky she didn’t throw a shoe at his face. He wasn’t getting anywhere near third base for a minimum of 48 hours. She considered a week, briefly. Even a month. But no, self-sabotage wasn’t on her agenda.
Two days. Forty-eight hours. That would give her time to sleep, check in on May and Harry visiting their grandparents in Florida, catch up on the shows she’d been ignoring, and let him stew in the consequences of not listening to her.
Bobby shrugged. “Perks of being over fifty. Anyway, I took antihistamines. I’m fine, Hen.”
Hen didn’t buy it. “You should still go to the ER. If you die in your sleep and leave us stuck with Gerard again, I will resurrect you just to kill you myself.”
That earned a genuine laugh from Athena, one loud enough to cut through the tension.
Hen turned to her. “Why are you glowing?”
Now, it was Athena’s turn in the hotseat. Rare for a night out. She was used to running the interrogations, not starring in them.
Bobby, clearly relieved to pass the spotlight, sat back and popped another mint, watching with far too much amusement.
“See anyone catch your eye tonight?” Hen asked.
Athena didn’t miss a beat. “If you wanted me to bring a man home, Hen, you shouldn’t have dragged me to a club full of boys.”
“Don’t let Chimney hear that,” Karen said, sipping her drink, clearly enjoying herself.
Hen turned to Bobby. “Cap,” she said, with a knowing smirk. “Know any single fire captains who could handle L.A.’s finest police sergeant?”
He chewed his mint loudly and obnoxiously. “I’ll ask around.” Then, to Athena: “Got a type, Sergeant?”
She considered throwing Karen’s Diet Coke at his face. That forty-eight-hour ban was now upgraded to seventy-two.
“Why don’t you make her a profile on RomancingTheUniform?” Bobby added, leaning back, completely unbothered.
Karen choked on her drink. Hen lit up like she’d struck gold.
“That is a brilliant idea.”
Athena glared. Ninety-six hours. Just for his audacity alone.
“You need more fun under the sheets,” Hen pressed. “Thena, have you even gotten laid since the thing with the handcuffs?”
Hen was lucky to still be breathing.
Before Athena could strangle her, Bobby shifted closer, voice suddenly laced with curiosity. “What about the handcuffs?”
“None of your damn business, Captain,” Athena snapped. “And for your information, my sex life is perfectly healthy.”
He raised both hands in surrender, still smirking. She knew that look. He’d pry the details out of her later, piece by piece. When she was distracted, thoroughly pinned under him. The thought made her shuffle in her seat. The ache between her thighs hadn’t fully faded.
Just then, Buck and Chimney returned wearing identical, smug looks. Each brandished a crisp napkin with a phone number scrawled across.
“What’s this?” Hen asked.
“Proof,” Chimney declared.
“Of what?”
“That Tatiana was a blip. I still got it.” He clapped Buck on the back. “And our boy here’s not a one-hit wonder either.”
Athena picked up one napkin. The number looked familiar. She checked her phone.
“This is my church.”
Chimney’s smile faded.
Karen read the other. “Guys. This is the DMV hotline.”
Buck deflated. Both men sank into the booth, dejected.
After a long pause, Chimney sighed. “At this rate, I should just join the clergy. I’ll have better luck finding God than a date.”
A second later, Buck muttered, “I should start dating guys.”
By 3 a.m., they finally called it a night.
One by one, they spilt out of the club and onto the pavement, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat and noise inside.
True to his word, Bobby pulled out his phone and started arranging Ubers like the designated chaperone he’d reluctantly become.
Hen and Karen were the first to go, already leaning into each other, whispering in the way couples did when the rest of the world had faded away.
Chimney, waiting for his ride, swayed slightly before draping himself over Bobby’s shoulders.
“Dating in L.A. is a nightmare,” he lamented, clinging to Bobby for balance. “I think…I think I should call Tatiana tonight.” He paused, brow furrowing with great effort. “Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. I mean, the girlfriend manual doesn’t say what you’re supposed to do when your boyfriend gets rebar through his brain and lives to tell the tale. Maybe she just needed space…”
Bobby didn’t hesitate. Wrapping a steady arm around Chimney’s shoulders, he cut in, “Chim. Under no circumstances are you to call Tatiana. Do you hear me?”
Chimney just grinned and pinched Bobby’s cheek. “Whatever you say, O Captain, my very handsome captain.”
He slung an arm around Bobby’s neck, resting his head dramatically against his shoulder.
Athena snorted, resisting the urge to pry Chimney off Bobby. They weren’t at the point in their relationship where she wanted to publicly stake a claim, but that didn’t stop the spark of possessiveness flaring under her skin.
“You’re flirting dangerously close to an HR violation, Bobby,” she said smoothly, crossing her arms and her back against the wall. “I may be forced to report it.”
Bobby arched an amused brow.
Buck, ever oblivious to subtext, laughed awkwardly. “C’mon, Athena, it’s not like that. Nothing's going on between Cap and Chim. It’s totally professional.”
“He’s right,” Chimney mumbled, squinting up at Bobby. “Cap’s a beefcake, sure. And don’t think I didn’t see the looks he got on the dance floor. But he’s not my type. I respect him too much.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “I’ll remind you of that ‘respect’ next time you complain about washing duties.”
When Chimney’s Uber finally pulled up, Athena caught the moment Bobby slipped a fifty to the driver with quiet instructions to make sure he got home safe. The gesture was effortless, like second nature, even when off the clock, and it warmed something in her that she wasn’t quite ready to unpack.
As Chimney disappeared into the night, Buck frowned, turning to Athena.
“Hey…where’s your Uber?”
“I’ll drop her off,” Bobby said, smoothly. “Her place is on the way.”
Buck narrowed his eyes in suspicion just as his ride arrived. “Wait…my place is on the way too. Why aren’t you dropping me off? How come LAPD gets special treatment, and we don’t, huh? We’re your team, Cap! We watch your six on calls and—”
Athena stepped forward with a sweet smile. Too sweet to be safe. “Get in the car, Buckley. And maybe next time you’re doing fifty in a forty zone, I’ll let you off with a warning.”
Buck blinked, then wisely got in without another word.
Left alone at last, Bobby slipped an arm around Athena’s waist, tugging her gently into him.
“Did I mention how hot it is that you terrify half my team?” he murmured, smiling against her temple.
“I do not.”
“You do,” he insisted. “It’s effective. Keeps them in line.”
She bit her lip, smiling despite herself. The longer they did this, the quiet dates, the stolen moments, the more it all started to feel domestic.
Two months ago, after their first dinner together, she’d insisted on taking an Uber home. Four dates and nothing but a chaste peck later, she’d finally agreed to let him drive her.
Now? Now she was heading back to his place, to the extra clothes she kept folded beside his, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Enjoy the peace while you can,” she warned as they walked towards his truck. “Once the cat’s out of the bag, they’ll be watching us like hawks. And gossiping about it in group chats.”
Bobby bumped her shoulder playfully and pulled a ten-dollar bill. “Ten bucks says Hen figures it out first. She came close tonight.”
Athena dug into her purse, matching the bet. “My money’s on Karen. She didn’t buy your allergy excuse for a second.”
Then she paused, frowning.
“By the way… Buck saw us earlier. On the dance floor.”
Bobby raised a brow, surprise flashing across his face.
“I don’t think he was sober enough to realise it was you,” she added calmly. “Pretty sure he thought I was grinding on some random guy. Which is…not comforting. So if you hear any whispers—”
“Don’t worry, Sergeant,” Bobby said, pulling her even closer while she slipped her hand under his shirt. “I’ve got your six.”
The Wilson house was quiet, wrapped in stillness that usually lingered after a long night out. The only sound came from the bathroom, where Hen brushed her teeth and flossed, the water running softly in the sink.
Karen, freshly showered and already tucked beneath the duvet in her pyjamas, stared up at the ceiling, replaying the night in her head.
It had been one of the most fun evenings they’d had in a while. Easy laughter, good food, great music, and far, far too many drinks. And yet, her thoughts kept circling back to a handful of odd moments she couldn’t quite shake.
Curiosity tugged at her, but she was cautious. Whatever she was circling could easily go sideways for Hen, depending on how she handled it. So, she chose her words with care.
“Babe,” she said once Hen slid under the covers behind her, arms looping around her waist. “Did Athena seem…different tonight?”
Hen paused mid-kiss at Karen’s shoulder.
“You mean 'mentally undressing my boss in the booth' different?”
Karen turned to face her, brows furrowing. “You noticed too…”
“Please,” Hen scoffed. “Athena’s a lot of things, but subtle’s not one of them. Especially not around the men she likes. I’m honestly shocked she hasn’t made a move yet. Bobby’s little dating experiment fizzled out like two months ago.”
“Or…” Karen said gently, “It went exactly where he wanted it to.”
Hen narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Karen took a slow breath. She wasn’t one for drama or conspiracy, especially not when it involved people they loved, but there had been too many odd little coincidences tonight.
She scooted closer, her voice dropping. “You didn’t think it was weird they disappeared for forty-seven minutes while you, Chim, and Buck were having your dance-off? I counted.”
“They were probably dancing somewhere else,” Hen said quickly, but Karen could feel the shift in her as the thought took root in her mind. “The floor was packed.”
“They left the club.”
Hen blinked. “No way.”
“Babe, I saw them leave.”
Hen’s voice jumped. “Together?”
“Together,” Karen confirmed. Then, she added softly, “And he was holding her hand.”
Silence stretched between them as the pieces clicked into place.
“When they came back…” Hen said, her tone measured, “...that wasn’t an allergic reaction, was it?”
Karen shook her head. “Nope. Bobby had pumpkin soup at dinner. He lied about the lobster.”
It finally landed.
“Ugh. Gross,” Hen grimaced. “I do not want to picture my best friend and my boss like that.”
Karen chuckled, rubbing Hen’s arm. “Don’t be dramatic. This is a good thing. Athena deserves to be happy.”
“She does,” Hen agreed, then made a face. “But with my boss? I’ve got to face that man every morning knowing he’s—” She cut herself off with a groan. “Nope. Not finishing that thought.”
“You going to ask her about it?”
Hen shook her head. “Not yet. If she hasn’t told us, she’s got her reasons.”
Karen nodded. “We’ll let her come to us when she’s ready.”
Hen dropped her head back onto the pillow with a sigh. “I’m still going to give her shit when she does. A million single men in L.A., and she picks the one guy I can’t even threaten properly as her best friend.”
Karen grinned. “Oh, I have full confidence you’ll find a way, babe.” She nudged her. “Now…get some sleep.”
Hen huffed, but her arm tightened around Karen as the house settled back into silence.
END