Once it beeps, a voice sounds through the receiver.“Yes, boss.”
“Jennica,” he starts in that rich voice that might be straight from my midnight fantasies if not for his attitude, “could you please run a license and plate number for me.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
He repeats the digits from my driver’s license and my plates and releases the radio button.
“You’re far away from home, Ms. Monroe.” I can feel his stare through his glasses, and I bristle at his demeanor, taking offense.
“Is traveling a crime now?” I ask defensively, feeling my hackles rising out of nowhere. I’m cranky. I’m tired. And I need to pee. He really picked the wrong time.
“Traveling is not a crime,” he levels me with a stare, “but driving thirty miles over the speed limit is.”
Oh, crap.
“I wasn’t driving thirty miles over the limit. These roads aren’t even made for that. Neither is my car,” I argue before I can even think.
He lets out a loud sigh and looks up at the sky before speaking again. “Yes, you were.”
His radio chimes in, and the woman’s voice rings out,“The license and plates are clean. No tickets.No record.”
“Thanks, Jennica,” he says into the radio as he leans against my car. “Well, you’ll have one now.”
“A record?” My eyes widen—a great start for this new chapter. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“A ticket,” he explains. “You’re a hazard, Ms. Monroe. This is a dangerous road, and you can’t drive that much over the limit. The ticket will be a good lesson for you.”
“Who are you? My fuckin’ daddy to give me life lessons?” I understand what I just said too late because his jaw clamps shut, and his cheeks pinken, likely from anger. This isn’t the way to talk to a police officer, especially when I’m clearly in the wrong. But I’ve been apologizing for everything I’ve ever done all my life, so my fight or flight reaction prevails, pushing my common sense out of the way.
He takes off his glasses and sends me a heavy stare with his serious eyes. They’re pretty. Like oh-my-goodness-take-me-right-here pretty. Rich hazel, surrounded by thick lashes, with that heavy look—they’rethedefinition of bedroom eyes.
“That, Ms. Monroe, would never happen,” he says, totally ruining the moment for me.
I feel his jab in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I strike back. “That, Mr. Sheriff, would not be in the cards even if you asked,” then I level him with a glare of my own and add, “nicely.”
The muscles in his jaw pop from the pressure of squeezing his mouth shut, so I stretch my arm out with an open palm. “Give me my ticket, Sheriff. I’m running late.”
His nostrils flare, and I can see he wants to say something, but instead, he pulls a notebook from his back pocket, scribbles something, and shoves it into my hand.
“Have a good day, ma’am,” he says through gritted teeth as he walks away.
I glance at the side mirror, thinking about how that mouth of his just ruined such a fine ass, and notice that he walks kind of funny now. I even pop my head out the window to see what’s happening. And indeed, he tries to subtly shake his leg. Did he just fart? Disgusting.
But it doesn’t get any better. Looking around, he moves something at his front. I don’t want to think about what sort of STD is giving him an itch, but I spray hand sanitizer onto my driver’s license and hands before I put it back in my wallet. Yikes.
He sits in his car for a few minutes before driving away, not sparing me even one passing look.
I sigh, throw the ticket to the back of the car, and drive off too.
ChapterFive
KENNETH
As I climb into my cruiser, I curse myself with all my might at how I handled the situation. What am I? A fourteen-year-old boy who bit his tongue when he saw an attractive woman?
And damn, how fine that woman was.
I lean my head back and groan, remembering how her playful smile changed into an angry sneer the second I opened my damn mouth. Her eyes shot sharp daggers at me, aiming to kill, not wound. Her chest rose, stretching the thin material of her shirt, those tiny buttons threatening to pop every time she took a breath. At one point, I even caught a glimpse of her lacy red bra—a total misstep on my end, considering I shouldn’t have even been looking there in the first place.
