Anywhere with You. Debbi Rawlins
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a couple times a year. All Ben had managed since leaving were phone calls at Christmas and sometimes on her birthday.
Distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t swerve in time to avoid a rut in the road. The two right tires hit the packed dirt and sent dust flying everywhere. Ben cursed a blue streak for all the good it did. He’d gone an hour out of his way to have the Porsche washed and waxed in Great Falls. Just so it would be nice and shiny when he pulled into the Sundance.
Half the population of Blackfoot Falls would be there for Rachel McAllister’s wedding, including a number of folks who thought Ben would never amount to anything. Let ’em see he’d done well for himself. Few things screamed success louder than a shiny red Porsche.
He peered at the road ahead, then glanced in the rearview mirror. The dust hadn’t settled. A brisk breeze sent the airborne dirt swirling across the highway and chasing behind him. He accelerated, hoping that once he drove past the clearing, the scrubby brush would block some of the wind.
Taking another look in the mirror, Ben saw a flashing red light through the dusty haze. A second later, he heard the distinct blare of a siren.
A cop? Way out here?
“You gotta be kidding,” he muttered, tempted to floor the accelerator.
The white truck had to be county-issue. Too old to keep up with his Porsche. Hell, his sports car had to be the only one around for miles. They’d catch him sooner or later. With his luck, a deputy would cuff him at the wedding.
Right. A deputy.
Not highway patrol. This was a county road.
Ben smiled as he pulled off to the side. Chances were damn good he’d gone to school with whoever was driving that truck. Kids from Blackfoot Falls rarely left after graduating. They normally stayed to work on the family ranch or found local jobs.
After turning off the engine, he stared into the rearview mirror and waited. The truck stopped several yards behind him. He couldn’t make out the driver. Only that he was wearing a blue ball cap, which was odd. The sheriff and deputies had always worn Stetsons.
The truck door opened.
Ben turned his gaze to the larger reflection in his side mirror. The deputy was a woman. Medium height, slim, her tan uniform shirt tucked into snug-fitting jeans that showed off a small waist and curvy hips.
She closed the door and slowly approached him. Her hair was pulled back, the color somewhere between brown and auburn. Sunglasses covered half her face, but he didn’t think he knew her. He would’ve recognized her walk. Few women carried off that easy sensual sway. In his experience, it worked only if a woman was unaware of it.
Now, the ticket book in her hand he recognized immediately. Man, he did not need another mark on his record. His insurance premium had shot through the roof with the last ticket. But all wasn’t lost. Lucky for him, he had a way with women.
“Good afternoon,” she said with a small nod. “License and registration, please.”
He removed his sunglasses, hoping she’d do the same. “Deputy Hendrix,” he said, glancing at the name tag fastened just above her left breast. Then he gave her a slow lazy smile. “Is there a problem?”
Her lips parted slightly. “Really?” One corner of her mouth quirked up. “You’re going to pretend you weren’t speeding?”
At the unexpected response, Ben’s smile faltered. “Not by much.”
Her brows rose over the dark lenses, and she smiled a little. Not necessarily in a good way. “License and registration.”
Jesus. Here they were in the middle of nowhere and she was going to push the issue? Ben dug out his wallet and then rifled through his glove box. He was getting to be a pro at this, he thought wryly, and handed over everything.
“Thank you,” she said, her politeness annoying as hell.
Trying to keep his cool, Ben watched her step back and study his license. A faint sprinkling of freckles across her nose made her look young, probably midtwenties. If she’d gone to school in Blackfoot Falls, she would’ve been quite a few grades behind him.
“I know you, don’t I?” he said.
The deputy looked up. “I doubt it.”
Blue. He’d bet that was the color of her eyes behind the dark glasses. “Blackfoot Falls High?” He tried out another smile. “Obviously, I was ahead of you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “So you’re from here and know better than to go racing around these curves. Deer could come out of the brush at any time.”
Irritated, Ben snorted. “You giving me a ticket or a lecture?”
“Both, if necessary.”
So much for laying on the charm. He knew for a fact she hadn’t been following him because he would’ve seen her. That meant she’d been parked off to the side. “You didn’t clock my speed.”
“And you know this how?”
“A hundred bucks says you don’t have radar in that piece of crap you’re driving.”
She flipped open her ticket book. “You want to add gambling and harassment to the traffic violation? Be my guest.”
“Come on...can’t you just give me a warning? I’m only going to be here a few days.” He noticed her slight hesitation, toying with her pen and angling her wrist to see her watch. Probably getting off shift soon. “I swear I’ll drive like a nun.”
That almost got a smile out of her. She held up his license for another look. “Mr. Wolf, you weren’t just speeding a few miles over— Do you even know how fast you were going?”
Deciding to plead the fifth, he kept his mouth shut.
“You’re lucky I don’t bump this up to reckless driving.”
His sigh came out low and desperate. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Please.”
It about killed him to get the word out. And she knew it. Which probably told her too much about his lousy driving record.
“Look,” she said, her voice softening. “I’m not trying to jam you up—”
The sound of a rough engine in need of a tune-up made them turn. A truck cruised down the highway toward them. White. Probably another sheriff’s department vehicle. Could be good news for Ben if he knew the driver. But something she’d said had distracted him. Jam you up? She wasn’t from around here.
He watched her mouth tighten and her shoulders go back. Nice high breasts. He couldn’t help noticing. Also, that Deputy Hendrix didn’t look happy.
“I won’t cite you for reckless driving,” she said, clicking her pen and opening her ticket book. “Just speeding.”
Shit. He’d thought he had her...
The truck slowed.
She kept her head bowed, ignoring the driver.
So did Ben. He was too busy watching her nibble her lower lip. She didn’t seem nervous so much as irritated.
Finally, she glanced over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a tight braid, all but a few wisps fluttering in the breeze. “Need something?” she asked.
“Nope.” It was a male voice.
Ben dragged his gaze away from her, but too late to see who was in the truck. All he caught was a glimpse of the driver’s tan uniform shirt as he drove off. Hell, it might’ve been someone Ben knew, and he could’ve saved himself this headache.
Deputy Hendrix resumed filling out the ticket. “I’m writing this for only ten miles over. Consider it a gift.”
“Right.”
She stopped and looked up, her eyes