Page 3 of Officer Anders

"Give it a rest, Dave," one of the other guys chimes in, delivering a firm slug to Dave's shoulder. "Just because you can't handle a real woman doesn't mean the rest of us can't. Hemingway packs a bigger cock than you anyway. This ain’t a dick-slinging competition just because you've got a tic-tac in your pants, buddy. So shut your mouth and help clean up." The camaraderie in his voice is palpable, a shared defiance against the casual disrespect that Dave has been dishing out.

My anger melts into laughter, blending seamlessly with the other guys in the crew who were fortunate enough to come out today. Dave thought he had one hell of a mouth on him, but as it turns out, he certainly wasn't the most foul-mouthed of the group. The banter flies around us like a well-choreographed dance, each quip sharper than the last, and it feels good to let the tension ease in such a comradely atmosphere.

This unexpected smackdown gives me a jolt of courage, encouraging me to call Elaina and see if she’d be interested in getting to know me any better. After all, I did save her from having to endure the likes of Dave, and maybe that counts for something.

I step away from the guys, their laughter trailing behind me, and pull out my phone, dialing the number that Mollie had so graciously provided. It rings three times, each tone amplifying my anticipation, before a curious "hello" breaks through the line. "Hey there. Is this Elaina Taylor? This is Officer AndersHemingway. I know you're probably wondering how I got your number, and, well, your daughter gave it to me. I was just wondering if you might want to go out with me this evening. Or tomorrow night, if you're busy tonight."

What I had intended as a simple hello, a friendly introduction to jog her memory about who I was, quickly transforms into a flood of words. Once I started talking, I found it hard to stop. But I guess all my cards are face-up on the table now. She can see my hand, and it’s up to her to decide if she wants to play this game with me.

3

ELAINA

As the smooth, dulcet tones of Anders' voice filter through the speaker of my phone, I find myself musing that my daughter is a true menace to society and frankly, she should be locked up for her antics. "Listen, Officer Hemingway," I remind myself that I should let him off easy. After all, he is an officer of the law, a figure of authority.

"You can call me Anders," he replies, his voice warm and inviting. "And before you turn me down, I want you to know that there would be no pressure at all. We’d probably just grab a slice of pizza, stroll around a couple of nurseries while our food settles, and then wrap up the evening with a nice game of pool."

The weight of my daughter's absence hangs heavy in my chest. I can't help but wonder how long she’s been secretly plotting to set me up with a man, observing my every move as if I were a character in one of her favorite stories. "Right." I hope he can't detect the suspicion that seeps into my tone, a thin veneer over my uncertainty.

"What kind of plants do you like, anyway?" he continues, his voice tinged with curiosity. "If I showed up with a bouquet of coleus or something, would you be impressed?"

I stifle the laughter that's threatening to bubble to the surface, a lightness that feels almost foreign in this moment. I have to admit that Anders Hemingway is not altogether uncharming. There’s a certain charisma about him that gets under your skin and makes you want to keep the conversation going, even when a part of you is tempted to reach up and pop him one for his audacity. "I'm impressed you even know what a coleus is, frankly," I reply, a hint of playful disbelief escaping my lips.

"Whoa now," he affects a mock indignation, raising an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise. "I'll have you know that I tend to the curb appeal of my front yard like everyone else. When a nice lady at Fairmyre told me that coleus was colorful and idiot-proof, I filled my cart with every different one that I could find and checked out like a kid in a candy store."

Anders pauses for just a moment, his enthusiasm palpable, before charging full speed ahead with the rest of his animated rant about garden care. "Unfortunately, I thought when she said idiot-proof, it meant I didn't have to water them at all," he continues, a sheepish grin creeping across his face. "So, some of my coleus plants are in desperate need of a little TLC. I really should have gone with those hardy ones that thrive in the desert and don’t need any water at all."

I lie down on the couch, sinking into the cushions as I take in the oddity of this conversation. "Cacti?" I offer, my voice tinged with curiosity, hoping to steer the chat into more familiar territory.

"Yeah, those ones!" He perks up, his enthusiasm evident even through the phone. In the background, I hear the muted soundsof chatter and laughter, a lively atmosphere that contrasts with our intimate exchange. His hand covers the receiver for a few seconds, likely to shoo away some distractions, before he comes back on the line, his tone suddenly serious. "Okay, I'll give it to you straight, Elaina. I think you're a knockout and I'd like to take you out."

I can’t help but reference our earlier conversation, the playful banter still fresh in my mind. "What about all the girls who were supposed to sweep you off your feet? Won't they be heartbroken?" I ask, teasing him gently, but a part of me wonders what this really means for us.

With a half-hearted laugh, he keeps going, as if my question is nothing more than a fleeting concern. Nothing phases this man. "They'll just have to get on with their lives, beautiful. I've only got eyes for you." His words hang in the air, bold and confident, igniting a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension within me.

How am I supposed to date a smooth-talking police officer? That sounds like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it? The thought sends a thrill down my spine, with an equal measure of dread.

"So what do you say, Elaina? Go out with me. Make my coworkers jealous and go out with me. I'll even splurge for two games of pool if it isn't past my bedtime. I'm getting old, you know." He winks, that playful glint in his eye making it hard to resist.

God, he's charismatic. I can feel my resolve melting away, like ice under the sun. "Fine," I agree, a smile breaking free and lighting up my face. "I'll text you my address. I have some stuff to do around the house since Mollie is gone for the weekend, but I suppose you can pick me up around 6:00." A part of me isalready looking forward to the evening, imagining the laughter and banter we might share.

Anders makes a questioning sound, as if he's weighing his options. "I was actually thinking 5:00 because I wanted to spend some more time with you, but it's okay. I'll make do with what I've got. Just means I'll keep you out until 10:00." His enthusiasm is infectious, and I can’t help but envision the fun we might have.

"Hey!" I contest into the receiver, my voice playful yet firm, but the rascal quickly says goodbye and hangs up on me before I can respond further.

I stare at the phone, a smile still tugging at my lips, mixed with a hint of mild irritation. This Anders character is going to drive me crazy with his good looks and great personality. He’s like a whirlwind, sweeping me off my feet while I cling to my sense of caution. And honestly, I just might let him.

4

ANDERS

Idon't know how many times I've driven past Elaina's house on my way home. The familiar sight of her maroon Honda CRV parked in the lot has become almost a fixture in my daily routine, yet I never paid it much mind. I may have even caught a glimpse of her or her daughter during those countless drives, but I simply kept moving, heading the three blocks to my own place.

"I'm surprised you came," I say with a genuine smile as Elaina swings the door open, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "I didn't expect you to show up."

She narrows her eyes at me playfully, a smirk creeping onto her lips as she responds, "Well, it's my house, Anders. I suppose I should have known better than to keep you waiting."

"Did you know that we're practically neighbors?" I ask, stepping inside as she gestures for me to enter. We go through the familiar rigmarole of introductions, where I reveal that I live on St. James, while she resides here on Monte Cristo. "You've probably seen me on my morning runs then. I'm the shirtless guy just doing my best to keep the neighbors entertained. You know, a little morning eye candy never hurt anyone."

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