In the background, I see Kai and Charlie hovering outside the kennel. My belly warms with the knowledge that they are still looking out for me. I may never win over this cop, but I’ll be thankful for the men I do have in my life. Jewel can’t scarethemaway.
My purse jostles. Karson continues poking around, and I try to imagine what he’s seeing. My wallet. Lip gloss. Tampons.
He pulls out a baggie of crushed white powder. “What’s this?”
I drop heavy arms to my sides. “That’s chalk. You can’t kick me out of class for chalk.”
He blinks slowly, and when his eyes meet mine again, they aren’t angry. They actually lack their usual spark, looking a little bored. As if he realizes he’s wasting his time on me when he could be out putting real criminals behind bars. After tonight, he might need one of those dog-training sessions he mentioned earlier. I picture him clawing his hair out and screaming, “Gemma is driving me insane,” while Blaze glances over with mild concern that the boss has lost it.
“Do you always carry chalk? Or is it just to get alone time with me like this?” His suggestion heats my cheeks with awareness in spite of how he probably meant it to mock.
I’m reminded of my sister’s assertion that I’m only interested in this man because he’s not interested in me. But I’m not trying to trick him into spending time together. I really do admire his passion for his job. Even if his intensity can be misplaced. “I don’t want to be alone with youlike this.”
He gives a little shake of his head. “Explain the chalk, please.”
I hook my purse back over my shoulder. “I took the chalk to my sister’s house to entertain my niece and nephew. I had a giant tub of colors, but it didn’t include a white piece of chalk, so I grabbed a stick out of my classroom supplies and put it in a baggie in case we needed white for something. I can show you pictures.” I reach inside my bag and pull out my phone.
“I saw pictures last week.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. He did? Oh, that’s right. “I showed you a picture of Daisy and Forrest. But I didn’t show you our chalk art.” I tap on my phone and open my favorite photo, turning the screen his way. “See? I made them look like they are superheroes flying over skyscrapers.”
His cheek twitches again as he studies my picture. His chest rises and falls with the sound of defeat. Finally his lids lift, allowing him to read my eyes and contemplate my plea with all the power of a judge and jury. “You were drawing pictures when your sister stuffed the steak in your purse?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip to keep from saying anything else incriminating. My heart swells, as if the blood inside is being dammed until it knows what verdict to disperse throughout my being.
He extends the aluminum foil package. “Take your dinner and go home.”
I reach for my steak, its cool wrapping a contrast from the warmth of my face. Am I being punished or paroled?
“I’m keeping the baggie. If it’s chalk as you say, you’ll be allowed back next week.”
My arms shoot overhead in victory.
“With the condition that you arrive on time and follow rules. You’ll be on probation.”
I’m twirling before I can stop myself. I’ll come early. I’ll bring my laptop and write. The police department ambiance might be just what I need to …
“On the other hand. If this baggie is not chalk, you’ll be arrested for lying to an officer of the law and obstructing justice, along with the drug charge.”
“Thank you so much.” I shove the steak inside my purse so I’m free to clasp my hands together. “Would it be totally inappropriate to kiss you on the cheek right now?”
He crosses his arms. “It would earn you a demonstration of my Taser.”
I’ve never been threatened with a Taser before. Hopefully Karson is only teasing, but I bounce a safe distance away.
“Go.” He unfolds his arms to point toward the parking lot. “Before I change my mind.”
I bounce once more, then jog backward. “I’ll go celebrate with a steak dinner.”
“Too soon,” he says, but one corner of his lips curves up.
Behind him, Kai gives me the shaka sign as Charlie shakes his head. I assume they can see I’ve avoided another jail sentence, but I wave goodbye anyway to make it clear I’m leaving.
However, I don’t leave right away. I sink into the two-toned leather of my copper Toyota Corolla and just breathe. It’s one of my favorite things to do. After a crazy day of teaching demanding high school students or pitching to even more demanding movie producers, I take time to decompress. I exhale the insanity and inhale the wonder of life.
My window is down to let the gentle breeze brush over my skin like the lapping of cool water. The setting sun washes the modern police station in a golden hue. It makes the building look clean and bright and not at all like a place where I just had my life threatened with dogs, Tasers, and prison. Such scenarios make the normal madness of teaching and writing seem mundane, and it’s no wonder I need time to breathe.
I bite my lip at the realization that all those things only happened to me. Nobody else in my class has been mistaken for a wanted criminal or carried anything in their purse resembling illegal drugs.
