“Switch seats with me,” I repeat. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
“You’re kidding, right?” she hisses right back. “You’ve been driving this whole time without a license? We could have died, dude,” she says, shoving my head away.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Love. I know how to drive,obviously. But I’m not American, remember? Not human either. No point getting a license.”
Felicity spreads her hands and gestures widely, clearly miming thatthisis the exact reason why I should have a license, but I ignore her.
“Just scooch over me, okay?” She rolls her eyes. I pull out my trump card: “Do you want us to get stuck in a police station and possibly miss your conference…thing?” I grimace.
“Ugh, fine.” She pokes a sharp finger at me. “But you owe me.”
Felicity unbuckles her seat belt and, still stooped, climbs over my lap. Her warm, soft body presses to mine momentarily and—gods damn it—I hold my breath against the swoop of my stomach as I remember those sounds she was making just minutes ago, the trajectory of her hand between her legs. Was she dreaming of me, I wonder? That thought, I admit,isnarcissistic.
In a perfect world, Felicity wouldn’t notice the growing bulge behind the fly of my pants. But in the real world, her hand slips as she shuffles across the bench seat and lands rightthere. A sharp intake of breath, and she pulls her hand away as if burned.
“Sorry!” she whispers.
“Just move it along, Love,” I reply, trying not to notice that she smells like strawberries and vanilla ice cream. I’m certainly not taking mental inventory of the constellation of freckles across her nose. After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, Felicity pops up and positions herself behind the steering wheel.
I exhale and straighten in the passenger seat, buckle the seat belt, and try for all the world to play it cool. Just in time, too. When I look in the mirror, I see an officer walking towards us.
“Everything okay over here?” the man asks, eyeing us both suspiciously. “This isn’t the best parking place,” he adds wryly, and I give a weak laugh. Felicity cuts me a look, and I shut up immediately.
Then, as if sweet-talking cops comes second nature to her, Felicity lifts her chest, swishes her hair, and beams at the man looking down at us. He’s lucky to be wearing sunglasses. Otherwise, I suspect looking at her would be like looking directly into the sun at midday. Or maybe this cop is impervious to her charm—unlike me, who’s completely enamored.
“We’re just fine, Officer—” Felicity tilts her head and bites her lower lip, making obvious work of scanning the man’s chest and torso. “Pretty,” she concludes, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“It’s Purdy,” he says with a grin and a tap to his name tag. Icould throttle him, I think. Instead, I focus on not rolling my eyes or making any sudden movements whatsoever.
Felicity responds with a tinkling giggle. “Oh, my mistake,” she says, tossing her head back and baring her neck. “Looks to me like it’s both,” she purrs.
This time, I do roll my eyes. Okay, Love—it’s a bit heavy-handed now.
But Officer Purdy actually blushes at Felicity’s display, and on the one hand, I’m embarrassed for him that he’s so easily manipulated. On the other hand, I get it. And I hate him for it.
“Well…” Officer Purdy says, clearly flustered. “Just wanted to make sure you and your friend,” I notice an emphasis onfriend, “were all right. Looks like you’ve got it all handled…” He trails off, giving Felicity the opportunity to cut in.
“Oh, that wassokind of you! My friend here panicked when he thought he saw something in the road. Screamed so loud I almost jumped out of my skin.” She makes a fist, pointing at me with her thumb. “You know how passenger princesses can be.” She tilts her chin in my direction and raises a knowing eyebrow at the officer.
Officer Purdyhmms in acknowledgment of this slapstick account of events. Once again, I could shake him for being so taken in by Felicity. Why are men such spineless schmucks in the hands of a beautiful woman? And why am I no better?
“Well,” he says, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He clicks a pen and writes on it. “Here’s my info in case you do get into any trouble out here.” He hands Felicity the business card, taps the number he just wrote down, and adds: “My personal cell in case you need anything else.”
Felicity bats her eyelashes and giggles again before slipping the card through the neck of her shirt, tucking it under her bra strap.
Shameless. I’m thoroughly impressed.
“You’ve been so kind, Officer. I’ll definitely be in touch.”
He smiles broadly. I fantasize about punching him in his pearly white teeth. Then he walks away, slaps the hood of the trunk twice, gets into his vehicle, and drives off. We sit in silence for a minute or two.
“What the hell was that?”
“What?” she asks innocently.
“That whole…display,” I say, flipping my hand in the direction of Officer Purdy’s cruiser as it picks up speed.
“That,” she says primly, “was me saving your ass. You’re welcome.”
