by Lulu Pratt
“License and registration?” he asked Zoe, fiddling with his walkie all the while.
I butted in, glad to be of value to somebody, saying, “Got ‘em,” and passed the information over.
His eyes, shelved beneath bushy brows, quickly scanned the license. They hitched on something, and he paused.
“Miss Reynolds…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Miss Reynolds, do you know that your license is expired?”
“It’s what?”
Her pale, freckled cheeks went fire-hydrant red and the blush spread to around her pale green eyes, tracing a path across her smooth forehead.
“Expired,” I offered helpfully.
“It’s expired?” she repeated, totally ignoring me. Shit, it appeared I’d already screwed the pooch on this one.
“Yup,” Tom returned.
“Fuck,” she said, and the curse caused those cheeks to burn even brighter. “Sorry, I meant, uh. Y’know.”
“I have no objection to coarse language, Miss Zoe,” Tom replied. “I do, however, have an objection to expired licenses.”
“Yes, of course, I completely understand,” she said sadly. And here I was, ready to let her off easy after I was going to secure a promise of drinks from her. Why did Tom have to walk on over? I hated to admit it, but I probably would’ve never noticed.
This was going to be a bigger problem. To that end, Tom held up a hand in her direction, indicating that she was to give us a moment, and motioned for me to follow him a few feet away.
I obliged, shooting her an apologetic look over my shoulder. Her confidence of minutes ago had vanished, now replaced by a slightly trembling bottom lip. Its pink flesh quivered up and down, hinting at an impending breakdown. Great way to proposition a woman, Dylan. Arrest her and make her cry.
“You know we gotta book her, right?” Tom asked me, staring off at some unfixed point in the distance. I could tell he felt a bit bad about it, too. After all, if she’d had only one of the two problems, we would’ve let her off with a ticket. Maybe not even a ticket, just a warning. But now she’d have to go through the whole rigmarole of booking, setting court dates, on and on and on.
I nodded to Tom, regretfully understanding. “Yeah, a brake light on its own we could’ve let slip, but that plus a license… I get it. I feel like a dick, but I get it.”
The old man ran a tongue over his lips. “Plus, I figure it’ll give you two some time to talk in the car.”
My brows shot up, propelled by sheer surprise. Tom and I had discussed most everything under the sun, but my love life was off limits, for obvious reasons, professionalism being the least of them.
“Don’t give me that look,” he continued. “I saw the way you were gabbing. You haven’t stared at a woman like that since—”
“I know.”
“Well, our little expedition will give you lovebirds plenty of time to get acquainted.”
Guilt tightened my throat. I mean, she was gonna get arrested anyways, right? I was just making hay while the sun shone, or however the expression went. Plus, I tried to highlight for myself that this was a kind gesture on Tom’s part, and that he meant well. If I refused, I’d look ungrateful. Shortly, I’d convinced myself that the honorable thing to do was arrest Zoe and, ah, get to know her a bit better during the process.
Man, when had I become such a self-serving asshole?
“All right, let’s go break the news,” I said, caving.
He inclined his head, signaling an ‘okay,’ and we strode back to Zoe’s car, where she apparently had used that brief intermission to toughen up. There was a determined set to her brow, and an angry spark in her eye. Under any other circumstance, I might’ve been charmed, maybe even aroused, by her renewed feistiness.
“Well?” she asked, an edge to her voice.
“I’m sorry,” I replied earnestly. “We’re gonna have to take you into the station.”
She glared at me, a total reversal of position from our easy flirting. “Are you serious?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“But I thought,” she began accusingly, insinuating that the earlier flirting had not indicated this swift shift in winds. But Zoe’s tone changed, and she moved to pleading. “Please, I have groceries in the back, and a huge order in at the bakery, and if I don’t get it on time it’ll… I don’t know, I mean we might have to shut down. I need to make this order. Please, you must understand that, you’re both working men.”
“Sorry, Miss,” Tom interjected. “I understand the difficulty of keeping a small business afloat, but it’s the law. And I gotta address everyone operating under the law with the same level of severity. Many apologies for the inconvenience.”
She groaned, and let her head fall on the steering wheel. “Great. Just great. Seems about right for the kind of year I’m having.”
I resisted the urge to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, knowing that my reassurance was the last thing she wanted right now.
“You’re going to need to step out of the vehicle,” Tom said. Guess we knew who was playing bad cop today. Again, by taking on the less desirable role, Tom was giving me an opening with Zoe. If only she were in more of a mood to be wooed. As it were, I worried she’d bite my hand if I were to offer her help disembarking from the car.
With a little huff, she swung open the door and stepped out onto the curb. I reflected that it was a smart choice not to offer a hand.
And that was when I got a good look at her body. She was of average height, but with long legs and a small waist. Her form rounded gently, cascading into small, high breasts and beautifully dipping collarbones. She turned around to lock the car, and I got a look at her ass, which was pert, perilously stretching the denim back pockets.
Even in jeans and winter boots, with a newly formed scowl on her face, she was stunning. Adrenaline shot through me like a spark of lightning, touching on corners I’d forgotten existed. I could see her spread across my bed, beaming up at me and scrunching up her ski-slope nose, tossing her brunette curls this way and that. I shook my head, trying to clear out all my dirty thoughts. It didn’t work.
She held out her wrists, pressing them against one another, submissive. I shot her a questioning glance.
“Well?” she asked impatiently. “Don’t you have to cuff me?”
Tom and I broke out into a fit of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” she pressed, acutely embarrassed.
“It’s just that, we cuff dangerous people,” I responded. “You, Zoe, are not dangerous.”
She crooked an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”
Tom looked back and forth between us, watching the verbal sparring match with something between trepidation and delight.
“Do you want me to cuff you?” I asked in a low voice, just a touch too low to read as a joke.
A gulp traveled down the length of her neck and she seized, responding. Tom took the gap in conversation to get down to business, and cast a more professional, law-abiding hue over our back-and-forth.
“All right, Miss, follow me. Officer Robertson will escort you.” With that, he turned on his steel-toed boot and began ambling back to the car.
I put a hand on her upper arm, the classic position for maneuvering an arrestee, as it were, the one they taught in school. I never knew that a perp walk could be so hot. My fingers bit into the soft flesh of her arm, and as we jostled one another on the stroll back to the car, I controlled myself not to graze the edge of her breast.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “We’ll give you the nicest cell, the one we put all the celebrities in.” I thought an attempt at humor might return some of the earlier magic of our first moments.
She squirmed from my grasp and locked her eyes on mine. “I’m gonna have to sleep in a cell?”
“Nah, I was just kidding.”
“Some joke,” she muttered, and blew a piece of hair off her face.
At last I bundled her into the back of the vehicle, shut the door and slid i
nto the front alongside my partner. I turned around to check on Zoe, mostly to make sure she wasn’t going to try to wiggle out of this.
“How ya doin’ back there?” I asked.
“It’s my first time in a cop car,” she replied dryly. “I’m just taking it all in.”
“If you like the car, you’ll love the station.”
“I’m sure,” she said with an eye roll, leaning back with her arms crossed into the tough plastic of the seats. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
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