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Yes, I realized it happened twelve years ago, but it still got me angry.
And here he was, further ruining my Monday morning. Why was I even remotely surprised?
I slammed on my brakes as a slew of Beauville High cheerleaders ran toward the crowded parking lot of the new supermarket in front of my car.Was that Heather Doucet?She better not be late for my homeroom because I wasn’t going to excuse her for attending the newest Broussard store ribbon-cutting.
So aggravating. Bennett’s family already owned half the town. Now, he needed to add a bougie supermarket to the list?
The cheerleaders did a cutesy little routine in front of the giant ribbon, where they’d ended on their knees, shaking their pom-poms at Bennett. The crowd cheered and clapped as he waved to his ravenous fans.
Gah!
Wanting to escape the scene as fast as possible, I sped around the corner and hauled ass to BHS. Five seconds after I barreled through a red light, I saw the blue lights flash in my rearview mirror.
This cannot be happening to me.
I checked my speed as I braked, realizing I was going twelve miles over the speed limit. Then I swerved over to the shoulder.
The officer who stepped out of the patrol car was tall, lean, and fit as one might expect—or hope for—while getting a speeding ticket. His mirrored sunglasses were in place, a serious expression completing the hot cop look.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, I rummaged for my driver’s license from my purse and registration out of the glove compartment, then rolled the window down right as he appeared.
He took the documents and removed his sunglasses, looking at my driver’s license first. “In a hurry, Ms. Mouton?”
I glanced at his nametag and offered a bright smile. “Sorry, Officer Dugas. I’m a teacher at BHS and running super late because of this traffic jam back at the grand opening.”
He grunted assent. “The Broussard grocery.”
He didn’t ask a question, just sort of confirmed the cause of my speeding like a maniac this morning.
“Yep.” I exhaled a quick breath as he checked my registration. “Look, I’m very sorry. It’s just been a really bad morning. Is thereanyway you can cut me some slack? I did tell you I was a teacher, right? We aren’t exactly rolling in dough.”
He made another grunt-like sound and looked at me. “I’m a cop.”
Wowza. Nice baby blues, officer.
“Exactly! Public servants and all that. So you get it. If you gave me a ticket, it would be like breaking the public servant code, right?”
His wide mouth ticked up a smidgeon on one side. I was a little afraid of what a full-blown smile could do on a hot and serious and seriously hot man like him.
After another five seconds, he handed my documents back to me. “Watch the speed limit, Ms. Mouton. Have a nice day.”
What? That actually worked?
“Have a nice day, Officer Dugas!”
Making sure to use my blinker and not take off from the shoulder like a bat out of hell, I made the last few miles to BHS.
Only Ms. Wellman was in the parking lot when I pulled up, tottering slowly to the faculty entrance.
She should’ve retired a hundred years ago, but who was I to tell anyone what was best for them. She also hated help of any kind, so I had stopped asking if she wanted me to carry her art bag.
Live and let live.That was my motto.
After parking, I shouldered my lunch and laptop bags and checked my watch as I took off.
“Morning, Ms. Wellman,” I called as I speed-walked past her.
“Morning, Betsy.”
