Page 5 of Cuffing His Bride

Officer Hunter regards me for a moment, but I can’t read his gaze.

“We’ll have to settle this at the station,” he finally says, reaching for my hand to help me up from the curb. I feel goosebumps rise on my arms at his touch.

“Okay,” I say. There’s no use fighting it now.

Hunter helps me into the back of the squad car, which proves taxing with my dress, but he manages to lump me in the back with all the fluff by the time the baby-faced cop comes out of the church. The drive back to the precinct’s headquarters is spent in silence. Hunter’s partner, who looks way too young to be working in law enforcement, keeps shooting sympathetic glances over his shoulder. Where Hunter had made me feel just a little bit better, he’s only making me feel worse.

It’s not nearly as bad as having to walk into the precinct, looking like I just walked off the set of a horror film. Without Hunter’s comforting presence, the whole ordeal feels awkward and embarrassing.

Soon, I find out that the church has agreed to refrain from filing a lawsuit as long as Charles and I cover all the damage we did. I get slapped with a fine for disorderly conduct, but I don’t know what happened with Charles at all. Frankly, I never want to see that prick ever again. Instead, I find myself on the constant look out for Hunter. Instead, it’s like he never existed. Maybe his shift ended and he went home. What was I expecting? That he’d wait around to take bride-zilla back to her apartment?

I need to get my priorities straight. I have thousands of dollars I need to come up with for the fine and the damage, and I have the wedding expenses and other bills on the way, with no means to pay them. Instead, here I am, thinking about the attractive cop that arrested me.

“Good job, Amelia,” I whisper in a resigned tone as I leave the building. I drop to the curb right in front of the station, waiting for a taxi to miraculously appear and ferry me back home.

Suddenly, a pair of boots appears before me, and I glance up to see Hunter standing before me. He’s no longer in his police uniform. Looks like he really did finish his shift. That’s why I didn’t see him inside after he left me at the booking desk.

“Hunter,” I whisper. “W-what are you doing here?”

He raises an eyebrow at me, accompanied by a smirk. Good lord, he’s breathtaking.

“Sorry, you work here. Duh. That was a silly question.”

He smiles, before asking, “Do you need a ride home, Amelia?”

“A-a ride?”

“Yes, a ride.” He offers a hand to me, and I take it, glad for the help to stand. This dress is driving me nuts.

“Okay. Yeah, that would be great,” I whisper shyly.

There’s so much on my mind right now. I shouldn’t be worried about how Hunter sees me after everything that’s happened today. As we walk to his car, however, all of my worries seem trivial. All I can think about is how warm he feels walking next to me. How good he smells. How low his voice is.

For just a few perfect moments, I let myself imagine what it would be like to stand at the altar again. But instead of someone I’ll never feel anything for, I imagine it’s Hunter instead.

Chapter Four

Hunter

This is wrong. It’s wrong to want her the way I do, but I can’t help it. This woman just went through hell; it makes sense for her to be subdued after all of the shit she’s been through today. Even so, I can’t help thinking about the way she felt in my arms earlier. I want to know what’s going on in her head, but she doesn’t say anything outside of giving me directions to her home.

“Take the next turn,” she says. Her soft voice is making me wonder what other sounds it can make.

I take the turn as she instructs, already dreading the moment I’ll have to part from her. It’s obvious that making a move when she’s so vulnerable would be wrong. The more dominant part of me wants to say “fuck it” if it means that I get to taste her.

When I pull up in front of an apartment building, I consider asking whether or not she has family or friends that could stay for the night for her security.She’s not your problem, admonishes a small voice.

“Um, Officer …” her voice snaps me out of my stupor. “Could you maybe—”

I turn to see her struggling to open the door because her enormous, poofy dress is hiding the latch.

“Of course, give me a second,” I say before climbing out of the car. Once the door is open, I help her out of the passenger seat. It takes everything I have to let go of her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, peering up at me shyly from under her lashes. I can feel blood rushing south as cock stirs in my pants.

“No problem,” I respond. “I’m off duty now, so you can call me Hunter.”

“Hunter,” she murmurs to herself. “I sort of like ‘officer’ better. Reminds me not to get into trouble.”

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