pants were always cut to—
Nope, that was enough of that one.
I stepped on the gas, darting my gaze from the speedometer to the time and back again, then flipped on my signal to swerve down a side street to miss some of the holiday overflow traffic from Main Street. I’d gone half a block when flashing lights behind me and an abbreviated siren made me groan.
He did not dare pull me over. If he could sleep with some random chick and then commission me to be his nanny on short notice without thinking I even deserved to be called Samantha’s aunt, he could look the other damn way when I went a scant thirteen miles over the speed limit.
That was not Jared getting out of the car, but Christian, his deputy. He wasn’t driving the sheriff’s vehicle either, so obviously, he couldn’t have been the cop-who-shall-not-be-named, but I just always expected his presence.
Because I was foolish in all ways.
But Christian pulling me over wasn’t great. In general, he was more easygoing than Jared, but not when it involved me. I wasn’t sure if he thought I was collecting special favors because I was close—ahem, used to be close—with the sheriff or what.
I rolled down my window as Christian lumbered closer. He was Murphy Masterson’s older brother, and like all the Masterson men, they could block out the sun when they stood at their full height. “Hi. Happy Thanksgiving.”
He tipped his hat to me. “Ma’am, do you know how fast you were driving?”
“Ma’am? Did I age overnight? I didn’t sleep much, but c’mon.”
I flipped down the visor to check myself out in the mirror. As far as I could tell, I looked the same as I always did, with the addition of kill-the-sheriff sexy makeup.
If he even noticed, the lout.
“Ma’am, you were exceeding the speed limit.”
I put up the visor. “I’m late for Thanksgiving dinner. You know how it is.”
“Ma’am, that’s no reason not to follow the rules of the law. On a holiday, no less. Innocent children walk the streets of Crescent Cove, and you run the risk of not being able to stop in time if one of them does something erratic.”
“Hey, weirdo, why aren’t you calling me Gina?”
He pushed his hat back farther on his head. “No shit. It is you. I didn’t recognize your car, and when I walked up here, all I saw was skin, long dark hair, and red lipstick.”
I couldn’t tell if I was flattered or annoyed. “It’s not that much skin,” I mumbled as I tugged my top back up over my cleavage.
I was wearing my best strapless push-up bra, and it worked really well with this shirt. The average man might even think I had decent-sized breasts.
A total optical illusion, but I’d take the wins where I could get them.
“I ran out of the house without my jacket,” I added. “It wasn’t intentional.”
“Did you do something to your hair? Curl it?”
“My hair is always curly.”
He whistled. “You look different out of your diner uniform.” Almost immediately, he sobered. He’d probably remembered the riot act the sheriff read to any man of breeding age in the Cove when it came to me. “I hate to do this, Gina. Especially on turkey day.”
I flashed him my most law-abiding smile. “I won’t do it again. Promise.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He tilted down his sunglasses. “Your, ah, personal association with the sheriff doesn’t negate a ticket. I hope you understand that.”
I did, more or less. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been going so fast. Just write it up and let me get going. My mother is going to flay me to the bone if dinner is late on the table because of me.”
Plus, I didn’t have the pie everyone loved. My watery, deflated pudding-looking thing probably would not save my ass.
“Can I see your license, please? It’s procedure,” he added as I rolled my eyes hard enough to sprain something.
I yanked it out of the wallet in my purse and handed it over. “How’d you pull this duty? You have the big family deal today.”
“I usually work the holiday, but I have a double today because the sheriff took some unexpected personal time.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, shouldn’t you know that? Doesn’t he always come to your place for the holidays?”
I pressed my lips together, my mind racing. He’d taken personal time, which he hated to do. But I hadn’t been there to watch the baby, and he was still in deep denial mode, so what else could he