Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
But even with the disorienting lights, there’s one thing I can tell for sure—this is not your stereotypical donut-and-coffee-for-breakfast kind of cop.
He’s tall, broad shouldered, and muscular, the kind of guy who looks like he spends more time in a gym than a precinct. The sight of him standing here, so authoritative and composed, makes me suddenly hyperaware of my own appearance. I’m still in my robe, underdressed and vulnerable, a detail that makes me pull the robe tighter around my body.
I have no idea why he’s here, but part of me, maybe the writer in me, can’t help but appreciate the timing. If I had to imagine what Hot Cop Cam from my book would look like, this guy would be it.
My brain catalogs the moment, storing away the image of him for later use. This is the face you need to put on Cam, I think, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips despite the odd circumstances.
The officer holds up his badge, the metal catching the porch light for a moment. I squint, my eyes landing on his name and then on the glint of a wedding ring on his left hand. Of course he’s married. Not that it matters, but it’s another detail my overactive mind clings to as I add to the list another similarity between this guy and my character.
I feel like I just found my muse.
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” he says in a scratchy deep baritone that seems to vibrate through me. “I’m Officer Nathaniel Saint.”
I stare at the badge, reading his name again, even though it’s already etched in my memory. My heart is still racing, but now it feels like a different kind of racing, equal parts nerves and something else I can’t quite name. I bring my hand up to my throat, pressing it against my skin as if I can physically calm my own heart down.
As Officer Saint lowers his badge, putting it back into his pocket, I realize this isn’t some dream or figment of my imagination.
This is real.
There is a police officer standing at my door in the middle of the night, and that can only mean one thing: Something bad has happened.
Panic surges through me as my thoughts immediately jump to my family. Did something happen to someone I care about? The cold rush of dread washes over me, making it hard to breathe as a thousand horrible scenarios flash through my mind.
As if sensing my unease, Officer Saint softens his voice, his tone smoothing over like he’s trying to reassure me. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he says, his voice gentler now, more calming. “I’m just here to inform you that there was an incident that occurred on this road tonight. I just have a couple of questions if you don’t mind. Protocol.”
I let out a shaky breath of relief, my tension easing a little at the words.
Everyone is safe. No one I love is hurt.
I nod, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me, and unlatch the chain lock on the door. The officer isn’t here to deliver bad news, just to ask some questions. I can handle that. But then my mind wanders to Louie and his wife, Mari.
“Are the neighbors okay?” I ask as I open the door wider. I’m met with a cool breeze that makes me even more acutely aware of how underdressed I am. The night air wraps around me, and I instinctively cross an arm over my chest, feeling exposed. I gesture toward the kitchen, inviting him inside.
“They’re fine. Just left their place.”
I sigh in relief, but am still confused. “Come in,” I say, my voice quieter now, as if the weight of the situation is starting to sink in.
As Officer Saint steps inside, I notice just how tall he is. He’s at least five inches taller than me, maybe more. He takes up more space than his body requires, his presence commanding but not overbearing. I close the door behind him, still feeling a little disoriented, but thankful the night’s chill is now shut out.
“What kind of incident?” I ask, my voice steadier now, though my mind is still buzzing with unanswered questions. I motion toward the kitchen table, but he declines my offer. “What happened?”
“This shouldn’t take long,” he says, remaining near the door.
This is not exactly how I pictured my night going, but then again, I guess that’s the nature of plot twists. And now that I know everyone is safe, I welcome this intrusion. It’s the most dopamine I’ve had in years.
I stand a few feet from him, keeping a cautious distance between us, unsure if it’s from instinct or the strange, almost surreal feeling of having a police officer standing in my cabin. He remains close to the doorway. He seems aware of the tension, the delicate balance of not wanting to overstep while still delivering whatever news he’s here to share.