Be Mine Read online

  “Good Morning, Deputy Hendricks!” she said brightly, as if she weren’t easing her foot from a tempted hover above the gas pedal.

  He didn’t return her greeting. He didn’t say anything at all. He just...loomed, his sharp cheekbones and hard-edged jaw a warning of danger. His lean body a threat of strength. The mountains looked small behind him.

  Jenny made a valiant attempt not to squirm. “I thought I had a few more days on my tags.”

  His hands were loose by his sides in a pose she recognized from the other five times he’d pulled her over. One hand near his gun. One near his baton. He’d never reached for either, thank God, but this time, both his hands spasmed into brief fists before relaxing into readiness again.

  “End of the month, right?” she squeaked. She’d found him pretty cute on previous stops. Now she only felt nervous.

  His hands closed one more time, and then he eased them open with deliberate slowness. “Ms. Stone,” he said, grinding out her name.

  She aimed a big smile up at him, though her lips felt stiff. “That’s me.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m well aware of that.”

  “I—”

  “Just as I assume you’re well aware of why I’ve stopped you today.”

  “Is it—?”

  “And no,” he barked. “It has nothing to do with your damn tags.”

  She flinched at the way his voice filled her car.

  In response, he cleared his throat and rolled his neck. “Excuse me,” he said in a much quieter tone, though the ends of the words were clipped enough to sound razor-sharp. “While I run your information to see if you’ve acquired any warrants for your arrest since the last time I stopped you.”

  His heel scraped against the asphalt. Jenny leaned out. “Don’t you need my license and—?”

  He threw a hand up to stop her words and muttered something she didn’t quite catch. Apparently he had no trouble recalling her name and birth date.

  “Shit,” she groaned as she ducked back into her seat. He’d been lenient in the past, but last time he’d clocked her going eighty in a fifty-five, he’d been clear that his tolerance had worn thin.

  One more ticket, Ms. Stone, and you’ll be called before a judge. You’ll lose your license for thirty days, at best. At worst, you’ll be charged with reckless endangerment.

  “Of what?” she muttered to her steering wheel. “Chipmunks?” It had been November. Too cold for Yellowstone tourists and not snowy enough for skiers. She rolled her eyes as she heard the door of his truck open, but immediately after he slammed it, his footsteps sounded again. She watched him approach in her mirror, just as he had a few minutes before, but this time, she sank down a little in defense.

  “Do you know how dangerous this is?” he growled before he even reached her window. “It’s the middle of winter, damn it! You could hit a patch of ice! You could—”

  “It hasn’t snowed in two weeks,” she argued. “The roads have been bone-dry for days!”

  “Are you kidding me? There’s snowmelt streaming across the road everywhere! And what if you’d suddenly come up on an elk? Or some stupid tourist stopped in the road to take a picture of a stupid elk? Are you...just...are you...?”

  “Stupid?” she volunteered, hunching farther down in her seat. If she lost her license, she’d go mad. She couldn’t live without her car. Or rather, she couldn’t live without driving. It felt like flying to her. It felt like freedom. And it had been, three times now.

  “Yes!” Deputy Hendricks yelled. “Stupid!”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He’d never, ever lost his temper before.

  He was silent for a long moment. A gas tanker drove past them, sucking the air through her open window, then hurling it back in.

  Jenny shook her head. “I’m really sorry.” She meant it. He’d been kind to her and she’d promised not to speed again. And now here she was.

  He took a deep breath. His clenched teeth looked very white against his tan skin. “Jenny,” he said, the only time he’d used her first name since she’d invited him to three tickets ago. She glanced up but couldn’t puzzle out his expression behind his sunglasses. She’d never seen him with his glasses off. She worked at the saloon at night, so all her joyrides occurred during daylight hours. All she knew of him was his dark skin and sculpted jaw and wide mouth. Under his hat, his hair looked deep brown. The wide shoulders beneath his uniform jacket eased the insult of the tickets, and the cheekbones didn’t hurt, either, but for all she knew he had bug eyes that wandered in different directions and brows like a twitchy mad scientist.

  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...”