Page 85 of The Worst Possible Plan

Silence settled over the cell again. Even Dottie stopped fidgeting. Somewhere down the hallway a phone rang. A copier hummed. A door opened and closed. Life carried on outside these bars with infuriating normalcy while mine had taken a sharp detour.

I stared at the concrete floor. Where were they? Where was Bandit now? And Theo? And Daisy. And the little donkey who deserved a name too, but I was too wired to think of one right now. Poor thing. I’d spent days assigning personalities to livestock yet somehow failed to give the donkey an actual name. That felt like a personal failure. If we all survived this, I was absolutely naming him, assuming he didn’t already have one. Which he almost certainly did. Details.

Had the handler simply driven away after we were hauled off? Or had Dr. Keller somehow stepped in? Maybe he’d convinced the owner to wait. Maybe he’d called someone. Maybe I was doing what I always did, inventing happy endings before reality had a chance to disappoint me. My imagination was annoyingly optimistic in moments like this, like having an internal Disney screenwriter constantly pitching alternative endings while reality replied, “That’s adorable. Anyway…”

I rubbed both hands over my face. The worst part wasn’t even being arrested. Okay… it was definitely in the top three. But the worst-worst part was Captain Competent. My mugshot would eventually become a funny family story. Possibly. Assuming Sarah didn’t frame it in the lobby.

Yesterday the sheriff held me while we danced. He’d smiled and even kissed me back. He’d admitted he’d wanted to kiss me. Today, well, he’d handcuffed me without so much as looking me in the eye. Not once. Not during the drive. Not during processing. Not even when Deputy Jenna locked us in here. Somewhere between the dance floor and the squad car, he’d built a wall so high I couldn’t even see over it. Which was fair. Professional. Entirely appropriate. Unfortunately, my feelings had neglected to become equally professional.

He’d been all sheriff. All badge. All duty. Captain Competent had disappeared somewhere between the vet clinic parking lot and the holding cell. The man who’d laughed at my terrible jokes, told me I was stronger than I thought, and kissed me like he’d meant it had been replaced by someone who spoke in short legal sentences and avoided eye contact like it carried a prison sentence of its own.

I understood it. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. The kiss suddenly felt like it had happened six months ago instead of last night. Amazing how quickly one pair of handcuffs could reclassify an almost-romance into what felt suspiciously like a cautionary tale. If anyone ever wrote a self-help book based on my life, chapter one would simply read: “Maybe Don’t Kiss the Person Who Might Eventually Arrest You.”

“Well…” A familiar voice drifted through the bars. “Now this is a surprisingly attractive setting.” Even before I looked up, I knew exactly who it was. Nobody else I knew could make county jail sound like the opening line to a cocktail party.

I looked up.

Lola.

She stood on the other side of the bars wearing oversized sunglasses, white linen pants, and a coral silk blouse tied dramatically at the waist like she’d wandered onto a yacht instead of the county jail. One hand rested on her designer handbag while the other slowly wrapped around one of the metal bars. She looked less like someone visiting inmates and more like she’d accidentally taken a wrong turn on the way to a wine tasting, decided the décor was charming, and planned to leave a five-star review.

She gave it an experimental little shake. “Hmm.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’ve always wondered whether bars like these were as sexy in real life as they are in certain fantasies.” She peered through them at me as though evaluating the ambiance. “The lighting could use work. Very institutional. But with the right outfit…” She nodded to herself. “There’s potential.”

I groaned. “Please don’t.” I was already having the worst morning of my adult life. I didn’t need Lola mentally redecorating the county jail into a themed honeymoon suite.

“Oh, come on.” She smiled. “Handcuffs. Jail bars. Authority figures.” Her gaze drifted toward the booking desk where two deputies were filling out paperwork. “I’m beginning to understand why so many people role-play this.” She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail against the bar. “Although I do think the fluorescent lighting kills the mood. Candlelight would’ve been a stronger choice.”

“I’m really not in the mood, Lola.” I sighed dramatically. “Can we maybe postpone your erotic jail redesign until after I’m no longer technically an inmate?” There had to be a more appropriate time for this conversation. Then again… this was Lola. She’d probably consider my arraignment an icebreaker.

Dottie blinked innocently. “People do that?” She genuinely sounded fascinated, like Lola had just revealed a surprising fact about migrating geese instead of humanity’s collective bedroom habits.

Lola looked at her. “Dottie.”

“Yes?” She leaned forward with complete sincerity.

Lola flashed her a smile. “They absolutely do.” She said it with the quiet confidence of a woman who had conducted extensive… field research. Frankly, I did not want to know how extensive.

Dottie frowned. “I’m not sure I wanted to know that.”

Lola laughed. “But now you do.”

I buried my face in my hands. There really weren’t enough hands available for the amount of embarrassment I was currently experiencing. Ideally, I’d have liked another two. Perhaps four. One set for my face and the others for my ears.

Lola leaned closer to the bars. Close enough that her sunglasses slipped slightly down her nose. “I have to admit, though…” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You move fast.” Her grin widened. “Even by my standards.”

“I do not.” I pointed at myself. “I had one brief emotional lapse. One. Let’s not turn this into a personality trait.”

“You kissed the sheriff.” She counted on one finger like she was presenting evidence to a jury that already knew the verdict. “You stole a truck.” A second finger.

“I know.” The list was developing an uncomfortable momentum.

“You kidnapped livestock.” Third finger. “Technically an entire mobile petting zoo.”

“I know.” Every time she said it out loud, it somehow sounded more criminal.

“And now you’re behind bars.”

“I know that too.” I sighed so deeply I was fairly certain it came from a previous lifetime. “When you say it all in order like that, it really does sound as though I’ve completely lost my mind.” I paused. “The worrying part is… I still think rescuing the animals was the right decision.”