Daddy in Cowboy Boots (Montana Daddies #9) - Laylah Roberts Page 0,3
that meant you had a whole ream of unpaid speeding fines.”
“Oh no, I always pay my speeding fines. I mean, I don’t get that many. At least, not in Montana. Those sorts of things don’t follow you from other states, do they?”
The policeman made a strangled noise and she finally dared to look up at him.
All right, he was tall. But then she was sitting down so it was kind of hard to tell for sure. Broad shoulders. Like Linc.
But this guy was a cop.
Easy, Marisol.
It’s not him. This isn’t the same. Not all cops are corrupt assholes with enormous egos who think they can threaten little girls.
She couldn’t tell much else about him considering it was dark and his headlights cast his features into shadow.
“License and registration please.”
“Huh?”
“License and registration.”
“Oh right. Should have thought of that. I’m just gonna get them from my glove box.”
“That would be good, thank you,” he said politely.
Okay, so far, he was blowing all her preconceptions about cops into pieces. Her hand still shook slightly as she passed over the bits of paper.
“Ma’am, are you okay? Have you been drinking tonight?”
“I had a few sips of a pink lemonade. Oh no, I never asked if it had alcohol in it. What if it had alcohol in it? No, I don’t think it did. I would have been able to tell, right?”
There was a beat of silence and she went back over what she’d just said. Right. He wouldn’t know if it had alcohol in it, because he wasn’t there. He didn’t have a pink lemonade.
“Jesus, Marisol. Get a grip,” she muttered.
“Pardon?” he asked as he shone his flashlight down onto her credentials.
“Nothing, sorry. I’m rambling. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
“Yes. But don’t take offense,” she said hastily. “All cops make me nervous.”
“Yeah? There a reason for that?”
“An over-active imagination,” she said meekly. No way was she telling him the truth. Cops stuck together. Even when they lived in different states.
“Okay. You need to stick to the speed limit while driving, young lady.”
Young lady?
“I’m sorry, sir.” He just had that kind of voice that commanded respect, even though he wasn’t being harsh. His tone was a mix of firm and kind.
Weird as that sounded.
She wondered again what he looked like. He had a nice voice. But he was likely old. Wrinkled. Maybe with a hairy nose and ears.
“Where have you been tonight?”
“At Sanctuary Ranch, I work for the spa in town. I was hired to do nails and facials for a bridal shower.”
“Ahh, Charlie’s bridal shower? Heard she’s been ill.”
“Um, yeah. That’s why I came out here. Because they couldn’t come in earlier. Charlie has really pretty nails now.”
“I’m sure she does,” he said warmly. “Right, Marisol. Here’s what’s going to happen—”
“I’m going to jail.”
“Okay, you need to stop thinking that I’m going to put you in jail. You’re giving me a complex.”
“But you’re a police officer. Isn’t that what you do?” she asked nervously.
“Funnily enough, there is more to my job than taking people to jail. It would be rather full if I did that to everyone I met.”
Right. Of course. Stop being a twit.
“So, what’s going to happen is that you, young lady, are going to drive home at the speed limit or less the entire way. From now on, there is to be no more speeding or the next time you’re caught I’m not going to be so lenient. Understand?” His voice was very stern now.
But strangely, it didn’t do things to her like Linc’s voice had. Maybe it was because she’d felt more at ease with Linc. He wasn’t a dirty cop, after all.
Jeez, Marisol, this guy likely isn’t a dirty cop either. He hasn’t done anything but be nice to you.
“Yes, sir, I understand. Sorry. It really won’t happen again.”
At least, she hoped if it did, that she didn’t get caught.
He handed the papers back through the window to her.
“You’re really not giving me a ticket?” she asked in a small voice.
“I’m really not.”
She let out a relieved sigh. That would save her from her aunt’s wrath.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asked. “Are you all right driving home alone?”
“Oh yes, I’m fine.”
“You’ve got a cell phone? It’s charged?”
These were weird questions for a cop to ask, right? Maybe it was a country thing. She’d only ever lived in cities before now.
“Ah, yes, I do.” Her aunt had given her one of her old cell phones. But it only had a small amount of credit on it.