Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the steering wheel and wait for the officer to run my plates. I’ve never had a ticket before, but I’ve been pulled over, and I remember the cop explaining that he had to call in the license plate before he even came to speak with me.
After a few minutes, my heart finally begins to slow, and I realize that this was just an honest mistake. Besides, getting a ticket isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a girl like me. By the time the officer gets out of his car and walks toward mine, I’ve convinced myself that I’ll handle this like an adult.
I definitely will not cry in front of this stranger. Maybe I’ve been through a lot, but crying in front of strangers is definitely a hard limit for me. Unfortunately, as I begin to roll my window down – yes, my car is so old that I have to roll the window down – I catch a glimpse of the cop and he’s no tubby police officer.
No, this guy is tall, cut, and fit to be tied.
Dammit.
My mouth goes dry when he approaches and I’m very aware of the fact that I’ve been in a car all day and probably smell like stale French fries.
“Hello, ma’am,” the officer greets me, standing outside my window. He places one hand on top of my car and peers in the window at me. I swallow loudly as I stare at his aviators.
He’s so tall he almost has to bend in half to peek into my car. Suddenly, I wish I was wearing a low-cut shirt to give him a show. He smiles brightly, his perfectly white teeth shining in the evening sunset. And oh, is he filling out that uniform in all the right places.
“Fuck me,” I say out loud, and I immediately cover my mouth with my hand and start shaking my head. Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. I did not mean to say that out loud. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, and look away, completely embarrassed. I can’t believe I just said that to a stranger.
To my surprise, the police officer doesn’t get upset, though. He just chuckles.
“New to the area?” He says, and I nod, but don’t say anything. “Well, do you know why I pulled you over?”
This is the part where I feign innocence. This is the part where I cry damsel, where I say that I just got out of a bad relationship and I’m trying to get a fresh start. This is the part where I say I didn’t know any better, where I missed the sign.
Only when he lowers his glasses and I see his deep brown eyes, I know I can’t lie to this cop.
Something tells me he’ll know whether I’m telling the truth or not.
Something tells me he doesn’t do lies.
“I was speeding,” I blurt out, and again, cover my mouth. What is with my bluntness around this guy?
He nods, and asks for my registration and driver’s license. I hand both over to him, cringing the entire time. He flips over my license and eyes my registration, then he asks me the question I’ve been dreading.
“And where are you headed, ma’am?”
I point to the exit that’s just up ahead, number 234.
“Honeypot,” I say. “I have a job interview tomorrow.”
“Is that so, miss?” He looks surprised, and I wonder why. I’m guessing not too many new people come to Honeypot. It’s basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense forests. The last exit was about ten miles back, so I’d say it’s pretty isolated.
“It’s not full of murderers, is it?” I ask him on a whim, wondering what secrets I’ll discover in the tiny town. “Because if you say it is, I’ll turn right on back around.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No murderers. No need to worry about that. Now, you just hold tight.” He heads back to his car and does something. I sit still, not bothering to play with my phone or pretend to listen to music. I don’t have anyone to text and I doubt I get cell service out here, anyway.
Lucky for me, dating Jacob really ruined my friendships, so I don’t have anyone to care that I’m gone. There’s no one to miss me, no one to call. Everyone hated him and when I was with him, I became this unrecognizable bitch. It was my own fault, but the truth still hurts.
Finally, the officer returns and gives me a ticket. He looks at me, all business, and tells me to slow down.
“Yeah,” I say, taking it glumly. I shove it in my glove compartment, along with my registration. My license goes back in my wallet. “I’ll do that.”
“Best of luck in Honeypot,” he says, trying to be friendly. I can tell he’s the kind of cop who takes pride in his work, who doesn’t give out tickets just to be mean. Still, it’s annoying he chose me to target for his ticket-writing today.
“Yeah. Thanks. I hear the Blair Ranch is beautiful,” I say, trying my best to stay calm. Don’t cry, Hope. Don’t think about how much this ticket is going to cost you, Hope. “Hopefully it’ll be everything it’s rumored to be.”
“The Blair Ranch?” He cocks his head, suddenly interested. His body is turned, like he’s going to walk back to his car, but he pauses, waiting to hear more.
“Yeah, I have an interview there tomorrow,” I say. I try not to meet his eyes. Those dark brown, beautiful, gorgeous, could-get-lost-in-them eyes are just too much. This guy must be drowning in pussy because he’s seriously hot. “I’m hoping I’ll get it,” I add, motioning toward the back of my car. “Obviously.”