Drew & Courtney Duet

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

DREW

SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING

Don’t ask me how I got here. Most days I wonder the same thing, but if there’s one thing I know for sure, I wouldn’t change my decision to become a police officer for anything—even when a p********e is currently sleeping off the alcohol in the back of my patrol car, drooling all over herself and the seat.

“Another day, another pro,” my partner, Logan Knight, mutters from the passenger seat. He shakes his head as the girl slurs something in her sleep. Working on the Sacramento PD the last several years has its ups and downs. I wouldn’t necessarily consider this situation a pleasant one, but there’ve been worse ones.

“At least this one hasn’t tried making out with your ear,” I say, laughing as I think about the last time we brought one in.

“The night’s still young,” he mutters, annoyed.

Logan is a bit uptight. He’s former military and holds a no bullshit stance ninety-nine percent of the time. It makes for an awesome partner, though. I know he has my back no matter what, which helps ease the tension when things get intense.

“So, what’s your plan for the long weekend?” I ask. Our rotation ends tonight, and then we’re off for three days.

“Driving up to see Skylar and probably staying up there so we can go do some stuff together.” His expression doesn’t change, and I can’t tell whether he’s excited to go there or not. I know things with his ex aren’t the best, so I assume he has mixed emotions.

“How is Skylar, by the way?”

“Great. We FaceTimed last night, actually.”

The conversation is over before we drive into the parking lot of the station. The girl is still passed out in the backseat, and once we park, we team up and carry her out.

“Hey, Mr. Grabby Hands!” she yells. “This isn’t a free ride, ya know?”

We each hold an arm as she stumbles to walk. “Send my bill to the district attorney,” Logan tells her, and I hold in a laugh.

“I’m serious,” she says. “Touching is extra.”

“Extra what? STDs?” Logan spits back, having zero tolerance.

“Oh, honey…” she purrs.

“All right, that’s enough chitchat.” I tighten my grip as we walk through the doors. “Save it for the judge.”

Once my shift is over, I pat Logan on the back and tell him to have a good time this weekend. He’s a good guy to have around, but he’s very jaded. He’s been through s**t I couldn’t even fathom.

Once I’m packed up, I wave to a few other guys and head out to my truck. I check my voicemail and see Mia has left me three messages already. She lives a couple of hours away, so the only chance to see each other is on my days off.

“Finally,” she says, answering my call. “I was getting worried.”

I check the time on my dashboard. “My shift ended six minutes ago.”

She lets out an impatient sigh. “I know, but when your boyfriend is a cop, and you don’t hear from him, one tends to get worried.” She reminds me of this regularly, which makes it hard to get mad at her when she gets like this.

“All right, I’m sorry. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Good. So, when are you heading up here?” Her tone changes, and I smile.

“Probably in an hour or so. I have to head home first, shower and pack; then I’ll be on my way.”

“You haven’t packed yet?” she scolds. “Why didn’t you pack before work? You knew you were coming after your shift,” she whines, sounding panicked.

“Mia, relax. It’ll take me two minutes.”

“Well, I just really miss you,” she says, her voice softening. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be there before you know it.”

We hang up as soon as I pull into the driveway, and I notice my roommate’s Jeep is parked in my spot. Dammit, Courtney.

As soon as I walk in the door, I smell her blueberry muffins baking in the kitchen. It’s something I’ve become accustomed to since she moved into the house a year ago, and although I don’t eat muffins, she pushes me to try them every single time. She knows my routine with working out before or after work and my daily protein shakes, but she doesn’t give up trying. She’s persistent; I’ll give her that.

The oven begins beeping as I walk into the kitchen, the smell getting stronger. Courtney isn’t around, and the constant beep noise is making me panic.

“Court!” I shout, looking around for an oven mitt. “I think your muffins are burning! I’m going to feed them to the dog if you don’t come and—”

“We don’t have a dog!” she yells from the living room. “Just turn off the timer and quit being a baby.”

“Not wanting the house to burn down doesn’t make me a baby. Now, which one is the timer button?”

“Oh, for goodness sakes,” she spat, marching into the kitchen in only a sports b*a and short spandex shorts, and finally presses the damn button. She turns around and flashes me a look. “And you call yourself a police officer?” She grabs the oven mitt, pulls them out and places them on top of the stove.

“Sorry, I don’t get a lot of baking hazard calls.” I open the freezer door and grab a bag of frozen fruit.

She rolls her eyes, adjusting her straps over her shoulders. Her face is flushed, and her hair is pulled back with sweat.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a delicious, warm, homemade blueberry muffin instead of your smoothie that tastes like wood?” She waves her hand over the pan, pushing the scent closer to my nose.

“Muffins don’t create abs,” I tease, pulling my shirt up and flashing her my stomach. She blushes immediately, and I laugh.

“I might not have an eight pack, but the girls have gotten their fair share of free drinks.” She waves a finger over her chest, arches her brow, and now I’m the one blushing.

I clear my throat, looking away. “Why are you in workout clothes anyway?” I grab the ingredients for my fruit protein smoothie and turn away to the other side of the counter. Her walking around like that wasn’t something I had anticipated when my little sister, Viola, suggested this arrangement. They’ve been best friends since college, and when Viola and my childhood best friend, Travis, shacked up, I was left with an empty room, and Courtney’s lease had just ended.

“I’m trying yoga,” she explains, and I snort. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“Aren’t you supposed to do yoga in a class or something?” I pour all the ingredients I need into my blender and hit the button.

“I watched a tutorial on YouTube!” she shouts over the noise. “I think I’m finally starting to get it!”

I switch the blender off and lift the lid. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, Courtney comes and stands right next to me, wrinkling her nose. “That looks like something the garbage disposal ate.”

I ignore her comment, as I usually do when it comes to anything I make, and stir it up before pouring it into my glass.

“Should you be sweating that much?” I ask as she dabs her forehead with a towel.

“Huh?”

“Isn’t yoga supposed to be relaxing and calming? Why are you so sweaty?”

She narrows her eyes at me and glares. “I broke a mental sweat.”

I chuckle and shake my head as I start chugging my smoothie.

“The guy on the video said—”

“I can’t believe you YouTube everything,” I interrupt, shaking the cup in my hand to mix the protein powder better. “Just go to a class, and they’ll teach you properly.”

“I have learned a lot from YouTube, thank you very much. How do you think I learned to repurpose old furniture and properly fold a mattress sheet?”

I chug the rest of my drink down and set the glass in the kitchen sink.

“Figured one of your brothers would’ve taught you some of those skills?” I tease.

“They’ve taught me plenty, but I couldn’t really transfer my skills in changing a tractor tire or gutting a fish into the city life,” she says matter-of-factly as she begins cleaning up the kitchen and storing her muffins in Ziploc bags. Courtney is an obsessive baker and hoards them like an apocalypse is coming.

“Except in Texas, men happily try a woman’s blueberry muffins when offered.” She flashes me a look, and I roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt.

“Well, we aren’t in Texas anymore, Dorothy.”

“Ha. Ha. It’s called having a little Southern hospitality. You should never refuse a woman’s cookin’, drink sweet tea like water, and say, ma'am, a lot.” She gives me a wink, pops a piece of muffin into her mouth and releases an exaggerated moan. Her eyes flutter closed, and she tilts her head back like that muffin just gave her the most amazing o****m of her life. “Now I need to take a shower…and get this stench off me.” I walk out of the kitchen with her following behind.

“The only stench I smell is your girlfriend’s expired hair products.” Ugh, not this again. “Seriously, I don’t know how she hasn’t choked to death on the amount she uses.”

“Court,” I say in warning. “Stop.”

“I’m not starting anything, but as the roommate, I think I have some say on who gets to stay here.” I turn around, and she’s standing with her arms crossed. I’m not in the mood to have this conversation again.

“You only get a partial say, and unless she’s stinking up your room, you don’t get to say who’s in mine.”

“Fine, have it your way.” She marches off, and I know this is far from over.

THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING

“Drew!” I scream, stumbling over my feet as I rush out of my bedroom. Booking it to his room, I smack my palm over and over on his door. “Drew! Get up! She’s having the baby!”

I don’t wait for his response because I need to get dressed. I fell asleep looking up baking tutorials on my phone and forgot to change out of my running clothes. Well, my sweats. I hadn’t actually gone running.

“What the hell, Court?” Drew finally comes stumbling down the hallway. “It’s three in the goddamn morning.”

“Well, tell that to your nephew. Apparently, he’s ready to make his debut.” I shuffle around my room for something to wear.

“Now?” It finally hits him.

“Yes, now!” I turn around and see him in only a pair of boxer shorts, and by the looks of it, Drew Jr. is also awake. I blush so hard and turn back around before he takes notice. “Get dressed so we can go to the hospital.”

“Okay, can I at least take a shower first?”

My brain momentarily freezes as I hold onto the image of him in the shower with Drew Jr. and what it’d be like to be in that shower with him. His hard body, my hands gliding over his tattoos, my fingers combing through his wet locks.

“Courtney,” he says, pulling my attention back.

“Uh, no. No shower. There’s no time. We gotta go.” I can’t look at him right now, so I pretend to search for a hairbrush. Seeing him half n***d never gets old, regardless of how long we’ve lived together.

I hear him groan before he walks back to his room. Thank God. I couldn’t chance looking at him again and him noticing the way I was staring at his groin.

This is what happens when you crush on one of your best friends who’s also your roommate. It’s not a new crush by any means, but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier to be around him either. He’s obliviously in love with a girl who thinks Skittles really are at the end of a rainbow, and I’m in love with a guy who sees me as only a friend. Like one of the guys. I don’t pretend to know how a guy’s brain works, but I’m pretty sure Drew’s is broken and in need of a major repair. He doesn’t see Mia for what she is—a train wreck.

We carpool to the hospital, and once we arrive, we nearly sprint up to the Labor and Delivery floor. Drew called Travis on the way over, and he let us know the baby would arrive any minute. Not wanting to miss it, we rush as fast as we can.

“We’re looking for Viola Fisher,” Drew tells the lady at the nurse’s station as soon as we push through the doors. “She’s having the baby, and we can’t miss it.”

“Are you family?” She looks at the both of us expressionless.

“Well, he is,” I say, interrupting. “He’s her brother. I’m her best friend. So, basically family. Please, where is she?”

“Just a moment, please.” She picks up her phone and dials.

Ugh, we don’t have time for this.

Drew brushes a hand through his hair—frustration and annoyance evident on his face. I glance at the nurse who’s not paying attention to us and down the empty hallway. Drew notices and furrows his brows at me, curious as to what I’m up to.

Deciding I can’t wait any longer, I grab Drew’s hand and pull him down the hall with me.

“What are you doing?” he whispers as we shuffle down the hall before the nurse can stop us. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“By who?” I ask. “The cops?” At least if I did get arrested, there’d be handcuffs involved.

Grinning, he rolls his eyes at me and the both of us go searching for Viola. We round the hall and both start speed walking as soon as we see Travis. He has a plastic cup of ice in one hand and his cell in the other.

“Finally,” he groans, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Viola’s been asking about you guys.”

“Don’t look at me,” I say, suddenly realizing Drew and I are still holding hands. I release his hand and miss his warmth immediately. “Nurse Stuck-up gave us a hard time.”

Forty-two minutes later, Viola delivers a baby boy. James Travis King. Chunky thighs, dimpled cheeks, and dark hair. This kid is already stealing hearts, especially mine.

Travis and Viola have a long history together—since before middle school. I’ve heard the story over and over since Viola and I first became friends back in freshman year of college, but it’s one of those stories romance novels are made from.

Ginny is their feisty one-year-old and the coolest kid I’ve ever met. Her name was inspired by Viola’s obsession with Harry Potter, as is the name James, but I’m going to make sure they grow up knowing more than just spells and Hogwarts. As their auntie, I’ll make sure they’re corrupt in all the right ways.

“He’s so cute, Lola,” I gush, using the nickname I've called her since we first met. “I think he looks a lot like Travis.”

“Nah, he’s got some good Fisher features,” Drew says, hovering over me as I hold James in my arms.

Viola smiles and nods.

“When is your mother-in-law bringing Ginny up here?”

“Probably not until after her morning nap. We called her in the middle of the night, so his mom probably needs the nap more than Ginny does.”

“Well, you should get some rest, too,” I tell her.

“I will.” She smiles sincerely, and I can tell she’s just over the moon in love with her new baby. “Three months ‘til the wedding,” she reminds me.

“Don’t worry, Lola. You’re going to be the most gorgeous bride ever.”

She frowns. “Well, just in case, start looking around for the best Spanx on the market. Three months to lose this baby weight will probably be the death of me.”

“Spanx to flatten the stomach and a corset to lift and separate the girls. I’m on it.”