"If you could have sex with a Disney princess, who would you pick?"

Eddie's question slices through my concentration as I sit across from her at our precinct desk. And really, after four years working by her side, her question hardly surprises me.

I stop writing to glance up at her in confusion. "What?"

"Like, if you were gonna go for one–"

I can feel that slant across my brow and I offer her a slow shake of my head. "I think we've spent too much time in a car together. And they're cartoon characters, Eddie."

"It's hypothetical, Jamie."

I cough out a laugh. "Pass."

She scoffs in response and her lashes flit in annoyance as she rolls her eyes. "You're no fun," she mutters.

My cheek pulls up with a hint of amusement and I glance down to return to my report. We work amid the typical surrounding chatter of the precinct until eventually, I lift my gaze from my paperwork to glance at Eddie once more.

"What about you?" I wonder. "Which Disney prince?"

She peers up, digging her teeth into her bottom lip and I know she's excited that I returned her question. She taps her pen on her desk a few times while she glances off in thought.

"Robin Hood."

Cocking my head back, I make a face, feeling my forehead crease, puzzled. "He's not even a real person, he's a fox."

Eddie tips her head back and groans up toward the ceiling. "You're so literal, Reagan. God!"

"Plus he's a criminal. You would."

She giggles and leans back in her chair, rocking a few times. "Is he?"

"Yes."

"We're talking about conflicting perceptions of good, then."

"Alright, ethics professor. I'm talking about grand larceny."

She laughs again and I shake my head to return to my report but I sneak one more good-humored glance at her.

"And in the original movie, he's a real person, by the way," she informs me.

Teasing her with a narrowed gaze, I nod my head. "Robin Hood, though?"

She spreads her hands and looks at me like how dare I not understand. "He's clever," she lists. "He's handy with a bow and arrow. And his heart's in the right place."

I have to laugh at her reasoning, even though it endears her to me just the slightest.

"It's a no-brainer." She shrugs and returns to her computer.

"Eddie," I sigh her name, clicking my pen as I peruse my forms. "You somehow manage to never surprise me, and yet still surprise me."

When I glance up, I notice the soft smirk that curves on her lips as she types. "I light up your life, Reagan, admit it."

With a chuckle, I shake my head. Really what she brings to my life, I can't quite define. It's funny when someone else has such an influence on your actual livelihood, when their decisions can be the difference between life and death for you, it becomes your whole perception of them. But I catch myself sometimes noticing details about her I wouldn't care about with any other partner. We've become intertwined this way. And for a while I tried to resist it, not to notice when a flash of her blue eyes would resonate in my chest, when a rush of heat would inexplicably rise up my back if someone from the precinct, someone on the street, someone in a bar would linger close to her too long. But now I just accept these possessive reactions I have as normal considering how much time we spend together. I've beat myself up over those feelings for too long.

Reaching over, I pick up a paper clip, turn it around in my fingers a few times before I toss it over and it lands on her desk in front of her.

Slowly, she lifts her gaze to me.

I shrug and make a face like I'm in thoughtful contemplation. "Princess Jasmine," I tell her. "From Aladdin."

She opens her mouth, a grin lighting up her face before she sputters a surprised laugh. "Jamie Reagan!"

"What?"

She laughs harder, tipping back in her chair. "Oh, I love it. And honestly, not who I would have guessed for you."

I hold out my hand as if to name the qualities on my fingers. "Rich girl," I start, arching a serious eyebrow. "Nice ass. Daddy issues–"

Eddie snatches the paper clip and immediately chucks it back at me. "Get out of here."

"My three weaknesses," I laugh and pelt her with another one.

"You're sick."

Again, I shrug innocently and look down to scratch my name across the report. "Hey, it was your question. And you're the one who would have sex with a fox. A felon!" I teasingly scold her as I straighten the stack of papers and push back from my desk. I swat her shoulder with my report. "Done," I tell her. "I'm going to change."

"I'm right behind you," she murmurs.

After submitting my reports, I duck into the locker room and make quick work of swapping my uniform for my usual off-duty attire of jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. I linger in the hallway for Eddie and it isn't long before she joins me, always unintentionally quickening my pulse for a moment when she rounds the corner looking the way she does out of uniform. Her blonde hair falls in charming waves over her shoulders as she flips it out of the jacket she wears over a simple t-shirt.

"Ready?" She asks in a breath.

"Yep."

"Because you owe me two drinks–"

"No, no," I groan with a shake of my head as we make our way down the precinct hallway, push open the door and jog down the steps.

"Yes! The agreement was loser buys the next round, and you lost twice in a row–"

"I've never lost," I insist. "We weren't keeping score that night, and something was wrong with those darts."

"Oh, excuses! Something was wrong with my darts, he says," she scoffs. "Face it, I have better aim than you."

"Oh!" I shout. "What?"

"It's okay to admit it."

"Never."

"And you owe me two margaritas tonight."

"No, no, no, no," I rattle off. "I won't concede to that."

"You wanna go again?" She asks. "Make it three drinks."

"Maybe." I smile. "You get pretty handsy after three drinks." That comment earns me a quick jab from her elbow.

"You wish," she teases.

"Let's raise the stakes," I suggest as we cross the street together. Lately, we've forgone our usual pub, a pretty heavy cop spot, in favor of a bar a few blocks uptown. It was louder and darker, and nobody there knew us. It's nice not to feel so many people looking at us, questioning and making assumptions about our relationship.

"A real bet?" She muses. "I don't want your money."

"Not money."

"Sexual favors?"

"Ha. No, that's not fair," I tell her as I grasp the door and pull it open for her. "Because you see," I stop her, lightly taking hold of the open zipper of her jacket at her waist. "Once you tap this…"

She sets her jaw and teases me with an annoyed glare as I echo the same threat she gave me not too long ago. "Shut up," she exhales and smacks her palm on my shoulder.

I feel the grin on my face before I nudge her inside the bar with a hand on her low back. "You'd be spoiled for life," I finish.

"Yeah, yeah," she groans. "You're all talk, Reagan."

It felt good once we finally acknowledged these fleeting urges we held – that yeah, we've made out a couple of times. There's definitely something there. If we weren't partners, if we didn't have a professional relationship to screw up, would we give in and act on it? Hell yeah. And for a while, I denied it and it made me crazy. Teasing each other with the possibilities, knowing it was off the table, was much more gratifying than trying to deny that I didn't want to go there.

"So name the stakes then, partner," she tells me as we wait at the bar to start a tab.

"I'm thinking." Then I nod at the bartender and call out, "You can put her drink on mine."

"Aw, sport." Eddie smiles beside me and leans into the bar. "Is this you admitting that you lost and you owe me one?"

"Never. This is me feeling generous."

"Mm-hm."

"And it's a consolation drink. Because I'm about to school you so hard."

"Yap, yap, yap," she complains, making a talking gesture with her hand. "Let's see some action."

"Alright, if I win–"

"If I win," she cuts in and I humor her with an expectant look. "Your ass is going up there to sing karaoke." She nods to the corner stage at the front of the room where an old man is really committed to serenading the tables in front of him with ZZ Top's Sharp Dressed Man.

"Oh hell no," I insist.

"Yes!" Her eyes flash with excitement.

"Never gonna happen."

She shrugs and eyes the cocktail glass that's set in front of her. She picks it up, swirling her straw with her fingers a few times. "Better bring your A-game, then."

"Mm-kay. And if I win," I start, resting my palm on my chest.

"Yes?"

I pick up my pint glass from the bar and take the darts that the bartender set beside it. "I get to drive your Porsche." I leave her with a meaningful arch of my brow and head past her toward the dart board in the back.

She gapes in shock as I pass and I have to chuckle to myself. She's quick to trail behind me. "Oh, in your dreams!"

I turn and hold out my hands. "Is it a bet?"

"The way you drive? No way!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She sets her glass on our usual high top table across from the dart board and steps closer. Her lashes lower over glittering blue eyes as she peers up at me. "You couldn't handle that car."

My voice shifts lower when I tell her, "Oh, I could handle it."

We exchange a wordless look for a moment before she lets out a measured exhale. "Fine," she chirps as she holds out her hand for a handshake.

"It's a bet," I say as I grasp it firmly, then present her with the set of darts. "Ladies first."

"By the way, you'll be singing A Whole New World from the Aladdin soundtrack, final, no exceptions."

A loud laugh booms out of me and with a playful push, I turn her toward the dart board. "I'll be singing it from behind the wheel of your sweet Porsche Boxter down the West Side Highway."

She shoots me an amusing side-eye and then lines up to take her turn.

Over the course of the cricket game, we keep the pace with one another. Admittedly, her aim was on point tonight which has me slightly nervous. I can feel the absence of cockiness from my tone once she catches up, landing her dart in the 18, leaving the Bull's Eye the remaining game point for both of us.

"How's that voice, Reagan?" She taunts, plucking her darts off the board. She turns to approach me and I appreciate her languid pace, the sway of her hips, the way she looks at me right now. "You need a sound check?" She steps up to me until her hip bumps my own. I don't waver, just glance down at her as she looks up and baits me with that curved smirk of hers.

"I make this last shot and it's over," I tell her, briefly averting my gaze to her mouth. When she looks at me like that, I crave the taste of it all over again.

She shakes her head and offers me the set of darts. "Should I go put your name down on the karaoke list?"

"I will never," I say and I feel my eyes narrow. "In my lifetime sing karaoke."

She smiles. "And you will never drive my car."

I grasp the three darts and take a step back from her before taking my place behind the mark on the floor.

"You know who else is clever–" I start. I look down and pick one dart from my palm, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger as I glance back at her. "Handy with a bow and arrow, and whose heart's in the right place?"

A beat passes as I take a moment to center my aim, training my focus on the middle of the board. When I hear Eddie humor me with her reply: "Who?" She asks, I let the dart fly and it lands precisely inside the Bull's Eye.

"Me."

Her head falls back as soon as the dart sticks and she wails up toward the ceiling. "No!" She cries dramatically. "Ugghh!"

"That felt pretty good, I must say."

She slumps over, folding her arms on the table and drops her head there. I watch her in amusement as she carries on a little longer, then eventually she stands up straight, downs the rest of her drink, and exhales a heavy breath.

"You will not be driving my car."

"Hey, a bet's a bet."

"A bet is one thing, but that's a Porsche. So think again."

I set the remaining two darts on the table and step closer to her, sliding my hands into my front pockets. "I can't decide if I want to take an early morning drive. Maybe the Brooklyn Bridge," I ponder. "Or do a drive down to Atlantic City…" I mention the last one just to irritate her and it amuses me to see that temper heat up her eyes.

"You will drive my car to the Jersey Shore over my dead body."

I offer a wry smile. "So you're not honoring our bet, is that what you're saying?"

She looks at me like she might give in for a moment, then glances away with an airy sigh. "My car's at my parents' in Chappaqua anyway. So too bad."

"Hey, we can go visit your mom." I shrug as I raise my pint glass to my mouth. "Your mom likes me."

"Gee. Shocker," she deadpans. "My mom's easily duped by your Boy Scout manners and your decent face."

I have to laugh at the way she's pouting and I take another step toward her. "Well, at least someone appreciates them."

Frowning, she folds her arms over her chest. "Not me. I can't stand your face."

I close in on her, the barrier of her arms the only thing separating us. "You're such a sore loser," I tease and I peer down at her, nudging her forehead with my own until she looks up at me.

Her lips twist, fighting off a smile as she attempts to look away. When I thread fingers through the belt loops on her jeans, she breaks, flinching with a giggle. "Don't be cute. You're just trying to seduce me out of my car."

"How can I seduce you when you can't stand my face?" My hands skim her sides where I hold her around her back. Eventually she drops her folded arms and her hands land on my chest.

"Exactly. You can't," she maintains, with a coy quirk of her lips as she lifts her gaze to me.

I want to kiss her. It seems completely natural the way she feels in my grasp, the way her hips tilt into mine. That urge tugs at me all the time, and for the most part, I find ways to resist acting on it.

As if she can read my mind, that smile curves along her face and she warns, "Don't kiss me." With a light tap of her fist, she jabs me right above my heart.

"I won't," I edge out, barely above a whisper, then I manage a heavy swallow and ease myself back. I clear my throat and gesture to the empty rocks glass on the table. "You want one more?"

"Yes." She pushes herself off the wall, then slides her jacket off her shoulders and slips out of it. It makes me glance back to look at her, I'm shameless. If I thought I was wound up over her already, this just made it worse. She runs a hand through her hair and knows what she's doing before adding, "And a rematch."

The next day, I enjoy my morning off, not having to go into work until the late shift. I get a run in, I shower, I clean up around my apartment a little, and then head out. It's a beautiful day in Brooklyn Heights and the sun feels good on my face. I need a day like this. Work, my brother, my dad have all had me so damn tense. A day for clarity can't be underestimated.

After dropping off some dry-cleaning, I stop at my usual spot for a cup of strong coffee and make my way home.

When I round the corner, I feel myself squint as I near my apartment. Confusion dips across my brow and I hold a breath as if to tell myself this can't be right when I see the silver sports car parked outside my place. I'd easily doubt it if it weren't for Eddie perched against the hood while she waits.

She looks like a damn dream and I want every bit of it. The sun hits her hair that lazily blows with the quiet breeze and glows on her skin. She tilts her head behind dark aviator shades and rests her hands back on the hood as I approach.

I sip from my coffee cup while I take my time appreciating the view. I slant a smile at her and reach up to pull off my sunglasses. "Morning."

"Good morning, sport."

"Somebody made the trip out to the suburbs."

"Yeah, you know," she sighs the words. "A bet's a bet, right?"

"You tell your mom I said hi?" I tease.

"Shut up," she laughs softly.

I pace the length of the Porsche, its sleek metallic curves, and nod thoughtfully as I round the car and stop right in front of her. "This is a sexy car, hot shot."

Proudly, she shrugs one shoulder. "Sexy car, sexy girl."

"I won't argue with that."

"Would you care to spend the morning with both?" She offers and I can't imagine anything I'd want more right now. Out of her pocket, she pulls the black leather key fob and dangles a single key between us.

I eye the invitation and then quirk a curious brow at her. "You trust me?"

With a tilt of her head she gives me a smile that punches me in the gut a little bit. Sometimes my feelings for her sneak up on me. "More than anyone," she says.

I slip the key from her finger and already the thrill heats me up from the inside. "Let's do it, then."

"No coffee in the Porsche," she points before she heads to the passenger side.

I scoff, but step over to toss the cup in a nearby trashcan, then hold up my hands as if to prove my innocence.

We settle into the vehicle and I adjust the seat, appreciating the soft black leather interior. I slide the key in the ignition, turn it and the engine rumbles to life. I can feel the bass of it in my chest.

Close beside me, Eddie leans her head back on the headrest and turns to look at me. "It's really fast, Reagan."

I laugh softly, slip my sunglasses back on and tighten my grip on the arch of the steering wheel. "Well then buckle up, Princess."

Quickly, her fist squeezes the shoulder of my t-shirt. "Call me Princess again," she warns playfully through clenched teeth and then lets go to tug on her seatbelt.

Amused, I adjust the mirrors, shift, and glance behind me to assess the oncoming traffic. While I do, I tease her, mumbling over my shoulder in a quiet sing-song, "I can show you the world…"

She cracks up and when she does, it makes me smile. I flick the gear shift, release the clutch, and steal one more glance at her, knowing that this one has my heart for good.