Epilogue
Noli
“Comeon.Comeon.Come ON.” I slam my hand against the steering wheel and crane my neck to the side, trying to peer out the window of my car. What is the holdup?
The map on my phone says I’m only twenty minutes from Poppy and Rose’s house, but it may as well be twenty hours at the rate I’m going. I jiggle my knee in the confined space of my driver’s seat. I’ve been on the road for almost a day, making the long trek up from Florida, and I hit major traffic coming through Chicago, which soured my mood to no end.
Now I’m stuck behind a literal tractor, and I can’t even.
This is like every country song lyric there ever was. Except, it’s not the least bit romantic.
It’s pushing seven o’clock. It’s mostly dark outside. It’s raining. What sort of work could a tractor possibly be doing given the circumstances, anyway?
I swerve my car slightly over the center line to get a better view. There is nothing but open roads ahead. All I need to do is get around this guy.
I accelerate and fly past him, pushing eighty-five miles per hour until I’m sure I’m clear of him, and then I slow my speed.
“Thank goodness.” I set the cruise control and hope for no more issues on my way into Cashmere Cove.
I’ve heard nothing but happy things about this place from Poppy and Rose, and it better be the freaking oasis they’ve painted it to be after the trip I’ve made.
I try to relax my shoulders. It’s going to be great. This is the fresh start I need. A clean slate. I’m leaving Nelson—the jerkwad—and all his stupid games in my rearview mirror.
Hey, wait.
Speaking of rearview mirrors, red and blue lights start flashing behind me.
“No, no, no,” I chant, angling my car over to the side of the road. “Not now. I’m so close.”
I rest my head against my car’s headrest before chancing another look in my mirror. A hulking figure emerges from the front seat of the cop car that pulled up behind me. He strides with purpose toward my window, and I roll it down, greeting him with the best smile I can muster given my lack of sleep and complete annoyance at the fact that this dude pulled me over less than twenty miles from my destination.
“Officer,” I say respectfully. “Quite the weather we’re having.” I don’t know what compels me to talk like I’m a local, but a little small talk never hurt anyone, and I’d like to get this guy on my side.
“Yes, quite.”
He looks at me as rain rivulets trickle down the sides of his clean-shaven face. His jaw is square, and his green eyes are both glistening and unrelenting.
“Do you have any idea why I pulled you over?”
I hold up empty hands in a shrug.
“You were speeding.”
“Only to get around the tractor, and then I slowed—”
“And you passed in a no passing zone.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder to the left side of the road where a yellow, triangular sign is barely visible through the sheets of rain that are falling from the sky.
Well, shoot.
I paste on my best-looking innocent smile. “I am so sorry. I’m new to town, and I’m not familiar with the signage around here. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Your license and registration papers, please, ma’am.”
Oh, come on! He’s not going to give me a ticket, is he? I was literally endangering no one.
“Look, Officer. It is miserable out here, and I’m sure you don’t want to go through the hassle of jogging back and forth between my car and yours while you write up my citation. Can you let me off with a warning and call it good?”
He’s staring at me, nonplussed. I bat my eyelashes for good measure, but all he does is squint against the rain and hold out his hand.
