How Much I Feel - Marie Force Page 0,5
would serve me well to remember that and keep my focus on repairing the damage I’ve done to my fledgling career in one calamitous morning.
I do what I can with my hair, which is basically nothing, and leave the room with a brisk, determined stride—barreling straight into the unyielding chest of Dr. Jason Northrup. Damn, of course he smells as good as his car. Better, if I’m being honest. Releasing a choppy sigh, I take comfort in the knowledge that this day has to end at some point.
“Feel better?” That teasing grin sends shivers down my spine—and probably the spine of every red-blooded woman in the universe.
I step back from him, forcing him to drop the hold he has on my arms. “Much better. Am I allowed to leave?”
“You have to pay the ticket and sign some stuff.”
“I’m getting a ticket?” My driving record is impeccable—or it was until now.
“’Fraid so. Driving without a license.”
“But I have a license. I just didn’t have it with me.”
“And therein lies the problem.” Nodding to the window where a stone-faced cop waits for me, Northrup withdraws my purse from under his arm and hands it to me.
“How did you, um, get here?”
“Took an Uber.”
“And your car?”
“Impound lot. We’ll go there next.”
I do some fast mental math and figure that after the recent apartment deposit and wardrobe spending spree, I have about four hundred dollars available on my credit card. Beyond that, I’m in deep trouble. “How much will it cost to get it out?”
“No idea. I guess we’ll find out.”
Swallowing hard, I step up to the window, hoping Northrup isn’t zeroing in on the tear in my hose. Almost as if I gave him the idea, I can feel the heat of his gaze on me and wonder if he is having the same puzzling reaction to me. Then I decide I do not want to know the answer to that question.
“Sign here,” the cop says gruffly.
My signature is as wobbly as the rest of me after my hour in jail.
“That’s three hundred twenty dollars.”
I gasp. “For driving without a license?”
“And swerving out of your lane.”
“But I swerved to avoid hitting another car that swerved into my lane!”
The cop looks up at me, his mouth falling open. “Carmen?”
My eyes dart to his name badge. PAULSON. Oh dear God. He was Tony’s sergeant during his first year on the job.
“What the heck are you doing here? Hey, you guys, it’s D’Alessandro’s wife, Carmen.”
A couple of other officers I don’t recognize come over to the window to say hello, each of them asking me how I am and what I’m doing here.
Before I can respond to the barrage of questions, Paulson rips up the paperwork. “You should’ve said something. You’re free to go, sweetheart.”
“Oh, um, thank you.” The gesture and the reason for it bring tears to my eyes that I can’t deal with right now. I force myself to hold it together, to not let the grief overtake me. Not when I have too many other things to contend with, such as the doctor standing behind me who turns me on just by breathing.
“Your friend, Dr. Northrup, assured us it was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Did he, now?”
“I did,” Jason says from behind me. “She had permission to use my car.”
“I can’t do anything for you at the impound lot, though,” the sergeant says. “That’s out of my hands.”
“Not to worry,” Jason tells the kind sergeant. “We’ll take care of it. Come on, Carmen. Let’s get going.”
“It’s real good to see you, Carmen. I think about you and . . . Well, I think of you often. I hope you’re doing all right.”
“Thank you. I’m doing okay. Today being a notable exception.”
“Glad to hear it.” The sergeant gives me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”
“Well, I hope I don’t see you again in this capacity.”
Paulson laughs. “If you ever get arrested again, tell us who you are. We take care of our own.”
“Good to know.” I was so freaked out by being arrested, it never occurred to me to tell them who I am. Tony and I weren’t married long enough for me to get around to changing my name, which was why the intake officers didn’t recognize me. That and the fact they were probably in high school when Tony died. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. Impound lot is two blocks that way.” He points to the left.
“We’ll find it.”
Once again, Jason takes hold of my elbow to guide me out of the