going to get out of it?”
“I don’t know,” he stepped away from the door, “that’s why I let go.”
Both women laughed at his uneasy expression.
Josie opened the door and walked out, “You can come if you want, but you’d better not tell people you’re a cop.”
Tag followed her down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.
“So, who are we going to meet?”
“A parkour group. It was recently made illegal in Battery Park, so the members are a little anti-cop right now.”
“They won’t expect me to do those jumps or flips, will they?”
Josie glanced up at him to see if he was serious, “You afraid of hurting yourself?”
“Absolutely,” he fell easily into step next to her. “I’m pretty cautious.”
She blew a noise between her lips, “So you became a cop?”
“It isn’t even on the list anymore.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, “What list?”
“Of the top ten dangerous jobs. There’s a list, and being a cop isn’t on it.”
“What’s the most dangerous job?”
“Being a fisherman.”
She angled her head toward him, “No way. Really?”
“Yep,” he nodded, “steel workers, loggers, pilots – all more dangerous than being a cop.”
“Huh.”
“Even taxi drivers have a greater chance of being killed or injured than cops now.”
She had to ask, “So, I suppose you’re considering changing professions now?”
Tag threw back his head and laughed at that, “Only on the bad days.”
She saw the group ahead of them, “There they are.”
Tag nodded.
“And if anyone asks, tell them you’re a fisherman.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tag enjoyed watching the group practice their art. They seemed respectful of the bystanders, so he had no problem with keeping his mouth shut about it.
Josie convinced him to try some of the more simple moves. He fell a few times, but by the end, he had mastered one of the jumps.
They waved goodbye to the group and began walking away from the park.
He wished he dared take her hand, but he was pretty sure she’d either deck him or throw him neatly to the ground.
He settled for starting a conversation, “That was fun.”
“I thought so too. You were a good sport about those guys teaching you.”
“You know, it would probably be a useful thing for the department to learn some of those moves.”
Josie looked up at him, and he got the feeling she wasn’t really thinking about parkour.
“What?” he hoped he wasn’t going to hate what she said.
“Are you really a player?”
That was a surprise, “A player?”
“A flirt, philanderer, a womanizer.”
He sighed.
“It’s true, huh?”
He didn’t know what to say. He liked the company of women, but he had never dated anyone seriously.
“It’s okay, you know,” she walked toward her building. “I don’t think it means you have an underlying hatred for women.”
He followed her, “That’s good to know.”
“It sounds lonely,” she surprised him again.
“Lonely?”
“Don’t you crave connection? You can’t get that with someone you just met.”
“You aren’t dating anyone either,” he pointed out the obvious.
“But I have a better connection than any earthly one.”
“I guess I didn’t realize you shared the same religious beliefs as your sister.”
“Religion has nothing to do with it. It’s a relationship.”
He shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets, “Are you saying that you would give up your religion if you had a romantic attachment?”
“No,” she seemed comfortable with the conversation. “I’m not even saying that an earthly connection can come close to the communion that a Christian can have with Jesus, but I would think that someone who doesn’t have a relationship with Christ would be looking for a substitute.”
He shook his head, “I have plenty of meaningful relationships. They just aren’t romantic.”
“Which is probably for the best,” she grinned at him as they reached the point where
“I don’t know,” he stepped away from the door, “that’s why I let go.”
Both women laughed at his uneasy expression.
Josie opened the door and walked out, “You can come if you want, but you’d better not tell people you’re a cop.”
Tag followed her down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.
“So, who are we going to meet?”
“A parkour group. It was recently made illegal in Battery Park, so the members are a little anti-cop right now.”
“They won’t expect me to do those jumps or flips, will they?”
Josie glanced up at him to see if he was serious, “You afraid of hurting yourself?”
“Absolutely,” he fell easily into step next to her. “I’m pretty cautious.”
She blew a noise between her lips, “So you became a cop?”
“It isn’t even on the list anymore.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, “What list?”
“Of the top ten dangerous jobs. There’s a list, and being a cop isn’t on it.”
“What’s the most dangerous job?”
“Being a fisherman.”
She angled her head toward him, “No way. Really?”
“Yep,” he nodded, “steel workers, loggers, pilots – all more dangerous than being a cop.”
“Huh.”
“Even taxi drivers have a greater chance of being killed or injured than cops now.”
She had to ask, “So, I suppose you’re considering changing professions now?”
Tag threw back his head and laughed at that, “Only on the bad days.”
She saw the group ahead of them, “There they are.”
Tag nodded.
“And if anyone asks, tell them you’re a fisherman.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tag enjoyed watching the group practice their art. They seemed respectful of the bystanders, so he had no problem with keeping his mouth shut about it.
Josie convinced him to try some of the more simple moves. He fell a few times, but by the end, he had mastered one of the jumps.
They waved goodbye to the group and began walking away from the park.
He wished he dared take her hand, but he was pretty sure she’d either deck him or throw him neatly to the ground.
He settled for starting a conversation, “That was fun.”
“I thought so too. You were a good sport about those guys teaching you.”
“You know, it would probably be a useful thing for the department to learn some of those moves.”
Josie looked up at him, and he got the feeling she wasn’t really thinking about parkour.
“What?” he hoped he wasn’t going to hate what she said.
“Are you really a player?”
That was a surprise, “A player?”
“A flirt, philanderer, a womanizer.”
He sighed.
“It’s true, huh?”
He didn’t know what to say. He liked the company of women, but he had never dated anyone seriously.
“It’s okay, you know,” she walked toward her building. “I don’t think it means you have an underlying hatred for women.”
He followed her, “That’s good to know.”
“It sounds lonely,” she surprised him again.
“Lonely?”
“Don’t you crave connection? You can’t get that with someone you just met.”
“You aren’t dating anyone either,” he pointed out the obvious.
“But I have a better connection than any earthly one.”
“I guess I didn’t realize you shared the same religious beliefs as your sister.”
“Religion has nothing to do with it. It’s a relationship.”
He shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets, “Are you saying that you would give up your religion if you had a romantic attachment?”
“No,” she seemed comfortable with the conversation. “I’m not even saying that an earthly connection can come close to the communion that a Christian can have with Jesus, but I would think that someone who doesn’t have a relationship with Christ would be looking for a substitute.”
He shook his head, “I have plenty of meaningful relationships. They just aren’t romantic.”
“Which is probably for the best,” she grinned at him as they reached the point where
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