Be Mine(20)

But probably not.

He stared steadily down at her. Jenny’s heart fell. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Just write the ticket. It’s my own fault, and I know you’ve tried to help.”

He watched her for a long moment, then cleared his throat and shifted. “Ms. Stone, you’re not some eighteen-year-old punk with too much testosterone and too little intelligence. Why can’t you just go the speed limit and save us both some pain? Why is that so hard? Even five miles per hour over and I’d be able to shrug it off. Just...why?”

She couldn’t tell him, because she had no idea. Driving made her happy. The feel of the power at her fingertips. The rush of the wind past her open window when the weather cooperated. And the faster she drove, the freer she felt. Fifty-five miles per hour wasn’t happiness. It was just more constriction. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But it makes me feel better that giving me tickets is painful for you. After all this time, we’re practically friends now, aren’t we?”

His flat mouth didn’t budge in the slightest. “I meant that writing another ticket will be painful for me because I’ll lose a whole morning in court testifying against you.”

Her heart sank and bleated an ugly curse on its way down. She was mad at herself, and terrified about the consequences, and just a tiny bit hurt that Deputy Hendricks didn’t feel some small affection for her. She’d always been polite to him. Cheerful, even as he wrote her a ticket. She wasn’t a bad person.

“I warned you last time.”

“I know.” She felt tears prick her eyes, and blinked them furiously away. If he was going to be mean, she didn’t want him to see her cry. “It’s okay,” she said again.

He walked away, thank God, because a tear had managed to escape and slip down her cheek. She swiped at her jaw and sniffed hard. She wouldn’t cry. It was her own fault, and even if Deputy Hendricks was being particularly hard-nosed, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She deserved this, and he’d cut her enough slack. She sniffed again and scrubbed at her eyes.

The deputy cleared his throat from right beside her.

She froze in horror. He’d walked away to write her a ticket. What was he doing back so quickly?

When she snuck a glance out the window, she saw him holding out a business card instead of the thin paper of a ticket. “What’s that?” she asked, thinking it was a card for the attorney she was going to need.

“Take it,” he said gruffly.

She took it gingerly, barely touching the edges of the card.

“It’s information about a local driving class. I want you to promise to sign up. One, you need it. And two, it’ll help your case the next time I pull you over. Because I will give you a ticket next time, Ms. Stone. No questions. No leniency.”

“What?” she breathed.

“I’m serious. This is getting ridiculous. You’re too old for this crap, and you make a fool out of me every time I let you off.”

“I don’t mean to! I’m sorry! It’s not like I drive away thinking, ‘Yeah! I fooled the Man!’ I mean...Um...” She felt her face flame. His sunglasses stared down at her in unwavering judgment. Her attempt at a smile felt like a grimace as she held up the card. “I’ll take the class. I really appreciate this. I do every time.”

“Every time,” he muttered. “Right.”

“Each time,” she tried. “Both times. Well, this is maybe the third...”

“Yes,” he said. “It is the third. The third warning. The sixth stop.”

“I just get lost in thought. I don’t realize I’m going so fast. It’s kind of hard to keep her under sixty.”

His head turned slightly toward the hood of the car. “Maybe it’s time to buy a nice sedan.”

A tiny, horrified whimper escaped from her mouth.

“I bet you’d save a hell of a lot of money on gas. And it would have airbags.”

“I’ll slow down,” she croaked.

“You’d better. Or you’ll find out how easy it is to keep her under sixty when you’re not allowed out of the garage.”

“Yes, sir.”

His face tipped toward her again at her hoarse whisper. He stared for a moment. She could see her own tiny face looking pitiful and pale in the black lenses.

“Go on,” he finally said. “I’m not giving you an official warning because I don’t want any record of this. It’s an embarrassment. Drive safely, Ms. Stone. And slowly. Please? For the love of whatever it is you value?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered again.

He stepped back. She waited, but he finally shook his head. “Just go before I change my mind.”

Jenny started the car, wincing at the roar of the engine. Normally, she loved that sound, but right now it seemed a little much. “Thank you,” she said again. “Really. Come in for a free beer sometime, okay?”

Maybe not the right thing to say to a deputy who seemed obsessed with road safety. Shoot. Jenny released the brake and pulled away. In her nervousness, she hit the gas too hard and as she pulled off the shoulder, the tires squealed. Just a little. Just enough to make her wish she was dead.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, eyes flashing to the rearview mirror as she left Deputy Hendricks behind in an unfortunate cloud of dust. Well, not a cloud. More like a tiny, harmless puff.

Heart pounding hard, Jenny drove back to town safely. And very slowly, keeping her eye on the speedometer the whole way. It didn’t feel very much like flying, but it was better than being grounded.

It might be time to make a run for it, after all.

* * *

NATE PULLED INTO THE lot of the Crooked R Saloon, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro parked in the far corner. He felt his left eye twitch at the sight. That woman and her damned menace of a car.

He should’ve given her the ticket. He’d sworn to himself that he would. After issuing that last warning, he’d ordered himself to have a steel will the next time she flew past him.

In fact, each time he stopped her, each time she drove away, he told himself that was it. He wouldn’t be lenient again. If she deserved jail time, the judge would give it to her. It wasn’t Nate’s responsibility to decide. She was a repeat offender. She deserved whatever she got, even if she was always cheerful and sweet and apologetic.

But yesterday he’d seen her flying by again, a bright flash of yellow that shot adrenaline straight into his heart, and despite his rage and frustration and impatience, his resolve had been as weak as paper. She’d flashed that slightly crooked smile and called him “Deputy Hendricks” as if it were a private joke they shared, and...

“Fuck,” he growled as he made himself turn away from her car and walk toward the front porch of the saloon.

What the hell was he doing here?

His brain had snuck up on him to issue a reminder that whatever excuse he had to be at the Crooked R, it was flimsy as hell. But he did have an excuse. His cousin had needed to meet with him, so why not here? It had been thirty-two hours since Nate had pulled Jenny Stone over, so it was time for a reminder about that driving class.

Sure, she’d promised. She’d even shed grateful tears. But he didn’t think for one minute that she’d called about the class yet. Why would she, when she had yet another chance to push him toward insanity? Instead of doing what he’d ordered, she’d probably attach floating neon lights to the undercarriage of her car and get her windows tinted before adding a sticker about pigs to taunt him the next time she flashed her bumper.

He was just another cop fooled by a pretty face. Hardly a rare breed. And now here he was, at her workplace like a hormone-addled fool.

Nate slid off his sunglasses and walked into the saloon, cursing himself every step of the way.

The place was packed. Five-dollar pitcher night, he realized belatedly. Not the ideal place to have a serious talk with his cousin. Then again, considering how worried Luis had sounded, maybe he’d appreciate the roar of background noise. Whatever it was, he’d made it clear that he couldn’t invite Nate over to his own house.

Nate glanced around, meaning to look for his cousin, but somehow searching out a blond ponytail at the same time. And there she was, out from behind the bar, delivering a tray of pitchers. He’d never seen her outside her car. He’d never made her walk the shoulder to check for any telltale signs of inebriation. Reckless as her speeds were, her car always followed every curve of the road perfectly. Even when she spotted his lights, she eased into the stop, edging just far enough over to be safe, and never far enough to veer too deeply into the soft slope next to the highway. Jenny Stone was dangerous, but not in that way.

No, her danger lay in an entirely different set of curves.

“Damn,” he cursed as his eyes roamed down her body. He’d gotten several nice glimpses of cleavage before, and had even wondered whether she’d purposefully set free a button or two as he approached. But he’d had no idea she’d been hiding a perfect ass the whole time. He almost cringed at the sight of it. Beautiful and plump and not at all good for his tenuous hold on sanity when it came to her.