Page 8 of The Fall Back Plan
“You ran a stop sign about a quarter mile back,” he says.
“What stop sign?” There’s no stop sign back there.
“I will never understand why people who run signs and signals think admitting they didn’t see it is some kind of defense.”
I turn and stare back down the road, visualizing that stretch in my head. Did I really run a stop sign? “I’ve only driven this stretch twice before. It’s possible I missed it. These roads aren’t exactly well lit.”
“Even better reason not to cruise over the speed limit on the way home from a bar. I’m going to perform a field sobriety test on you, Jolie. Please stand on one leg and count to ten using Carolinas.”
“Are you freaking kidding me, Lucas? Is this because I didn’t ask you to turn around so I could kiss your butt when you interfered, uninvited, on Monday night?”
He sighs. “I explained why I’m doing this already. Are you refusing?”
I glare at him again. “I’ll even keep my heels on for this.” I lift a foot behind me and stay rock solid on the one still planted. “One Carolina, two Carolina, three . . .” I keep going until he stops me at five.
“That’s enough,” he says. “One more quick check. Walk a straight line, heel-to-toe, ten steps ahead, then the same thing backward.”
“Legally, I don’t have to do that.”
He dips his chin in acknowledgment. “You do not.”
I would like to punch that chin. Hard. Just knock the smug off his face. But I’m not a violent woman, and I don’t actually know how to throw a punch. “I’m glad you realize that, because I’m not going to do it. Here’s what Iamgoing to do for you: recite every theorem you couldn’t understand when I tried to tutor you through geometry until you get bored and leave me alone. Reflexive property: a quantity is congruent to itself.” I use the hand motions I’d once tried to come up with to help Lucas remember them, making them as precise and energetic as a Bobcat Kitten’s cheer routine.
Yes, our cheerleaders are called the Kittens. I hate it, but I wasn’t one, so it’s none of my business. “Substitution postulate”—hand motion—“if equal quantities are—”
He holds up his palm. “All right, Jolie. You can stop.”
“I’m not under the influence. Give me back my license and go catch some real bad guys.”
“Not under the influence of alcohol,” he concedes. “But we don’t write DUIs here anyway. We write DWIs, and while you’re in the clear on that too, you probably need a DWA.”
A what? “Driving while . . .”
“Angry,” he says. “Not good for you either.”
You know who the last person I want lecturing me about anger management is? Lucas Cole. This is definitely a pot and kettle situation.
“Lucky I wasn’t driving angry until you pulled me over,Sheriff,” and I curl the title in my mouth in a way that makes it nearly a profanity. “Now give me my license, and I’ll drive exactly forty-five all the way to my house.”
If it surprises him to hear I’ve got a house out this way instead of living in town, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he nods and hands back my license. “You’re clearly not drunk. And if ever someone deserved a break on running a stop sign, it’s you. I owe you after what I put you through in high school. Just watch for it in the daylight tomorrow so you don’t make that mistake in the future.”
He nods and heads for his cruiser, and I stare after him until he’s climbing into his seat, and then I snap into action.
“Lucas, wait!” I call.
He pauses. “You need something?”
I walk toward him, stopping a few feet from his open door so I don’t have to shout. “I’m sorry for the attitude. I know you were doing your job. It’s what I’d want you to do for anyone you thought was driving drunk.”
It’s too dark to make out his expression, but after a couple of seconds, he nods. “Appreciate that. Night, Jolie.”
He shuts his door but doesn’t pull out until I’m safely back in my truck. Then he gets on the road headed in the direction I’m going, and I watch his taillights until they disappear, my own engine idling.
I’ve seen Lucas Cole twice now, and he hasn’t sneered either time. If Lucas Cole doesn’t sneer, is it even really Lucas Cole?
Because the Lucas Cole who showed up at my bar to calmly deal with the bad apples last night and the Lucas Cole who courteously did his job tonight even when I gave him attitude both times?
That isnotthe Lucas Cole I remember.
