Page 77 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
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The crumpled hamburger wrapper hit the cluttered floorboard at Emmett’s feet. That wasit.
“Walker, this car is filthy.” He stabbed a finger in the direction of the do-it-yourself car wash on the corner. “Pull in there.”
Walker scowled, but obeyed.
Emmett pointed at the vacuum station. “That works.”
Still glowering, Walker killed the engine. “What’s the problem?”
“This is the problem.” Emmett kicked at the debris in the floorboard and pushed his door open. “I’m not stepping out at a call, worrying about what’s going to fall at my feet or trip me up. It’s unprofessional and unsafe. Besides, it stinks. Now clean this shit out.”
Muttering under his breath, Walker pushed from the car and began tossing garbage in the trashcan next to the vacuum bank. Arms crossed over his chest, Emmett leaned on the hood.
“Everything from under the seats too.” Emmett frowned at the half-eaten burger Walker tossed toward the waste bin. It wasgreen. Any appetite he might have had evaporated.
“So you and the ER doc, huh?” Walker dropped a couple of empty fast-food soda cups in the can.
“Yeah, me and the ER doc.” He shifted his weight and crossed one ankle over the other. “Think very carefully about any words that come out of your mouth next, Walker. I might take offense, and you might not like that.”
“You two serious?”
Hell, how was he supposed to answer that? He settled for honesty. “I am.”
Walker nodded and stepped back, examining the front seat. Emmett flicked a finger at the open door. “Don’t forget the fossilized French fries.”
“You’re a shit.” On a groan, Walker hunkered down and began gathering the fries.
“No, I take pride in what I do and that includes my unit.”
“How you’d score a chick like that anyway?”
No wonder the guy was chronically single. Emmett shook his head. “For one, I don’t treat her like something ‘to score’.”
Walker tossed the fries in the trash and dusted his hands. “You know what I mean.”
Emmett shrugged. “So do you. I don’t treat her like a piece of ass, and I try to put what she needs before what I might want.”
He didn’t always succeed. Last night, she’d needed to get to the bottom of what bothered him; he’d wanted—hell, needed, maybe—the space. A smile pulled at his mouth. “And sometimes, it’s the other way around.”
He reached for his wallet and extracted a couple of singles. He slapped them into Walker’s palm. “Vacuum.”
With the roar in his ears, he perused the limited cleaning supplies in the vending machine and selected a miniature pack of conditioning wipes. While Walker vacuumed the passenger floorboard and seat, Emmett sat in the driver’s seat and wiped down the dash, console, and driver’s door. His gaze flicked over the school photo of a gap-toothed kid, maybe eight or nine, tucked into the sun visor.
Ask him. He tried to ignore the little prodding voice, but experience told him it wouldn’t go away and he’d only regret not obeying. He pointed at the photo. “Your boy?”
“Yeah.” Walker sat back on his haunches, vacuum hose in hand. Loss tightened his face for a moment, his gaze on the picture. “Lives with his mama in Alabama. I’m supposed to get him every other weekend, but he plays travel ball so sometimes it doesn’t work out. His needs before my wants, you know?”
“Bet he still needs his dad.”
“Oh, I go up there every weekend I can, even if I don’t bring him back with me.” Walker swept a hand across the newly vacuumed passenger area. “This suit your royal highness?”
He probably deserved that one. Emmett grinned. “It’ll do.”
With the dash and other surfaces wiped down, he bought a couple of cheap air fresheners from the vending machine and stuck them in the air vents. At least he could breathe.
They pulled into traffic, and as Walker cruised through patrol circles, Emmett let the long-missed familiarity sink in. The radio blipped and buzzed with communication, a blend of dispatchers, officers, and 10-codes.
