“Sir, step outta the vehicle,” he demands.
I groan. “My contact lens fell out while I was driving, and if I don’t get it now?—”
“And I told you to get outta the damned truck, boy. Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Okay, okay. I’m coming out,” I say as placatingly as possible and force my eyes open.
The deputy takes a step back when I open the door, his palm resting on the gun at his hip. Although I’m not sure how easy it would be for him to pull it out with the holster tucked under his gut that way. “Keep your hands up where I can see ‘em, just like that.”
I follow orders until he shines a flashlight directly into my already sensitive eyes, after which I stumble backward, bumping into the driver’s side door and earning myself another warning. Pain pulses through my head when he scolds me again.
“You just don’t listen, do ya?”
“I’m sorry. You’re killing me with the lights,” I retort angrily to my own surprise. While I’d normally pride myself on remaining compliant and respectful in a situation like this, this guy is catching me on a bad night. Or maybe I’m simply too tired, and my give a care is broken.
“Put ya hands back up,” he scolds me, and I cringe as I obey. “You ain’t from Camellia, are you, boy?”
“No, sir. I only came for my sister’s wedding,” I explain as calmly as I can.
“Wedding, huh? You kin to Coach Reed’s people?”
“I am now.”
He raises an eyebrow and spits on the ground at the hint of sarcasm in my reply. “Don’t get sassy with me.”
I let out a long exhale. “My sister, Daisy, married his son, Landry. In fact, I was trying to make my way to Coach Reed’s house to stay for the night. I’m sure if I could call?—”
“His boy, Landry, he’s a doctor now, ain’t he?” the deputy interrupts, still regarding me suspiciously.
“Yes, sir. We went to medical school together.”
He stares at my pickup before he continues. “Well, Doc, whatcha doin’ in that ol’ Toyota with all that money you oughta have?”
I swallow hard. “My truck might be old, but it runs just fine. And I don’t care much for fancy things.”
As soon as I say the words, Claire pops into my head again. I bite my lip as I think about tracing the outline of her tattoos and wrapping her silky hair around my fingers. Then I clear my throat and shake my head, reminding myself that this isn’t the time to fantasize about a woman I can’t have. Not that there’s ever a good time forthat.
“Hmm. You been drinkin’ tonight, son?” the officer asks.
“No, sir,” I reply too quickly. “Well, technically, I had a small sip of champagne at the end of the wedding toast, but that’s all. I don’t really drink.”
He narrows his eyes at me and steps in closer. “How ‘bout a little sobriety test, then? Just to make sure you’re fit to drive.”
Is this thing on?
I blink at him. “But I’mnotfit to drive. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“So you’re admitting to driving under the influence?”
“No, but I am currently blind in one eye, since I won’t be able to unstick my contact lens from the floor mat by now,” I say, unable to keep my annoyance from leaking into my tone again.
“Now, you listen here?—”
“What’s going on? Mr. Godchaux, is that you out there?” a female voice calls out.
“Who’s dat?” the deputy asks, turning the beam of his flashlight to reveal the outline of a dark-haired woman a few yards away.
“Claire Bergeron, the ag teacher.” I tilt my head back and let out another loud groan. “I welded that front grill onto your patrol car the other day, remember?” Claire adds when the deputy doesn’t respond right away, I’m guessing because of the name change.
