What’s that saying about history repeating itself?
Yeah, fuck history.
Mile marker 199 on Interstate-10 could kiss my ass.
Nearly a year ago today, I ended up with a flat tire stranding me on the side of a road for a bit. Now, I’m sitting in damn near the same place while blue lights flash behind me.
At least this time, I’m not alone. Zoey, Nora, and Katie are all in the car with me. And they’re laughing their asses off about the situation. These three girls are some of my closest friends, I’d be lost without them. But right now, I want to kill them.
“K- what if…” Katie giggles. “It’s Rhys? You know ‘Hot Cop.’” She keeps right on laughing, ignoring my death stare.
“Oh my gosh, how funny would that be?” Nora chimes in.
“Really, Nora, I thought you were on my side?” I cut her a sideways glance.
“I am KJ, but you have to admit it would be pretty damn funny.”
“Right. Hilarious.” I pretend not to care either way, but the truth is–there’s a small part of me that hopes it is Rhys. Because, if it is, maybe he’ll cut me some slack. I know I was speeding. I don’t want to know just how fast I was going through.
In my rearview, I see the door on the cruiser finally swing open. The officer climbs from the car and tugs on his shirt collar before walking my way. It takes exactly two seconds for my brain to recognize him. Fate would really be so cruel and put Rhys Mitchell in my path a full twenty-four hours before I actually planned to deal with his presence.
His dark brown hair is spiked perfectly. Day old stubble lines his chiseled face, just like it did then. With each step he takes in our direction, the memories come flooding back. Hell, I still remember the way his five o’clock shadow felt between my thighs as he did things to my body that no one else ever could.
Even if we hadn’t hooked up, it’s hard to forget a pretty face when it’s plastered all over Facebook and popping up on book covers left and right.
Yep, Rhys is the next big thing in the book world right now. Cooper, one of my all-time favorite photographers, finally convinced him that he needed to get in front of the camera after the photo of him and his colleagues helping hurricane victims went viral. I saw the proofs from Cooper’s photo shoot afterward when he tried to convince me to put Rhys on one of my one book covers, but I refused, out of spite.
I wanted no part of Rhys Mitchell.
Anymore.
Katie notices him before the rest of the girls. They’re too busy Facebooking this shit, and laughing it up when Katie lets out a squeal. “YES! It’s him. This is fucking awesome. One of you should go Live right now and document this.”
Oh, no she didn’t. “Katie!” I bark. This chick has lost her damn mind. Katie is also the only one who doesn’t know the extent of my history with Rhys Mitchell. “Your ass is going to walk home. All of you, shut the fuck up and play it cool.”
Yeah, good luck with that, I think to myself. These three are going to embarrass the hell out of me, I know it. That is if I don’t embarrass myself.
Even though I’ve tried convincing myself that I hate the guy, I can’t seem to let him go. I might have done a little stalking on social media to keep up to date. Watched a few of his Live feeds. An Instagram video or fifteen. You know – for research purposes.
After all, every good author needs a muse.
Right?
No shame. I gladly claim the excuse that I will follow any guy who can remotely provide inspiration for a character in a book. My own Instagram account is proof of this. And believe me when I tell you – Rhys provides a whole lot.
If you knew the whole situation, you would probably think I’m crazy for keeping tabs on him, but I have my reasons. Reasons outside of his overwhelming personality and our weekend fling.
Rhys stops at the driver’s side window and looks right at me. “License and registration please.”
The three girls snicker, and I can’t help it, I almost lose my cool and start laughing too. He’s so serious right now like he doesn’t remember who I am. He’s all business, and for a split second, I’m offended, but I brush it off.
I knew what was coming – sadly, it was not the first time I’ve been pulled over. Plus, it took Rhys long enough to step out of his car, so I’ve already got everything out. Handing it over, I watch him cautiously. Waiting for that moment when things click into place. Surely by now, he’s got to be piecing things together.
For just a second, recognition flashed in his expression, causing my heart to stutter, but in the next second, it was gone. And that hurt more than it should. I know I’ve gained a little weight and my hair is currently piled on top my head, but I can’t possibly look that different that he wouldn’t know me.
Clearly, I’d been nothing but a fling to him. Asshole.
“Do you know why I pulled you over today, Ma’am?”
So, we’re playing it like this? Calling me ma’am? I’m twenty-six years old, far from ‘ma’am,’ yet. Fuck him, trying to be all business.
Bastard.
While I’m waging war within myself and plotting Officer Mitchell’s demise, Zoey cracks first, letting out a gasp followed by a full-on giggle and a snort.
Rhys clears his throat and cocks a brow, only making me want to kill him more. “Something funny, ladies?”
Cue the hyenas. I’ve lost all three of them. Katie, Nora, and Zoey are all laughing their heads off. Meanwhile, I’m trying really hard to be the adult.
Part of me wants to cuss him out, read him the riot act for what he did a year ago. For treating me like a piece of scum. For reminding me that I am forgettable among a sea of new and beautiful faces. Like the ones that comment on every single post, he makes on social media.
The other part of me feels relieved that he doesn’t remember me because I’m ashamed that I let myself be swayed by everything that is Rhys Mitchell.
“Have you ladies been drinking?” He asks very seriously.
Is he kidding right now? Is he really insinuating that I would drive while intoxicated or have an open container in the car and let these three loons party without me? Hell, to the no.
“Listen, Rhys.” Shock registers on his face as I use his first name. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you pulled me over for speeding. No, I haven’t been drinking, nor have the golden girls. We’re simply in a hurry to get to our destination. And according to my intel – you’ll be joining us tomorrow night at the latest, so if you don’t mind, can we speed this process up a little bit here? How about you give me a warning, let me go, and we’ll call it a day.”
If I were a betting woman, I’d wager that Rhys is not amused. I may have even caught his face flush red momentarily. That’s right buddy. I know all too well that you’re attending Forever Valentine’s annual book signing this weekend.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to pull your shirt back up please.” He lets out a sigh and steps back for a moment. “And I’ll need the four of you to step out of the vehicle.”
What the fuck is he talking about, pull my shirt up? I look down and remember that I’m wearing a hoodie. He’s not talking to me. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I realize he's talking to Katie. Sweet, innocent, big boob, Katie. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she’s just flashed the cop.
“Out of the vehicle, ladies,” he orders again.
I’m going to fucking kill all three of these bitches when I get to the hotel. Or maybe I’ll just leave their asses here.
“Are there any open containers or drug paraphernalia in the vehicle that I need to be aware of?”
“Whoa, buddy. What the fuck?” Nora has officially snapped, she’s the feisty one in the group, and she’s fiercely protective too. She’s also not swayed, much, by Rhys’ good looks. “Do you not realize who she is?” she points at me.
“Ma’am, please watch your language. I don’t care if she’s the President of the United States right now. I pulled her over for a routine traffic stop and have reason to believe that one, if not all of you, are under the influence.”
Seriously? Backup?
Another officer steps from the cruiser and approaches. As if Rhys is in some kind of danger.
Unless he’s bringing two more friends so that we can all be paired off and live out our wildest cop fantasies, I’m going to need good ol’ Officer Mitchell to get his shit together and man up.
Like he couldn’t handle the four of us...hmpf.
Asshole.
It takes every ounce of restraint I have left in me not to keel over with laughter when I see who it is though.
“Yo! Officer Jerk Face! What’s up?” Zoey yells out.
“Zoey, are you fucking kidding me right now?” She’s hell-bent on torturing me. I’ll never live it down. Yes, I once met Officer Mitchell’s partner and called him Officer Jerk Face.
In my defense, he deserved it.
Jerk Face smirks and looks to Rhys, “What’s going on, Rhys?”
“Suspect they’re under the influence. I want to search the car for anything illegal, especially given the current situations going on down here.”
“You’re joking, right?” Officer Jerk Face, erm, I mean, Officer Smith asks.
“Unless someone wants to let me in on what’s going on here? I’m dead serious. That one,”—Rhys nods to Katie—“tried to flash me.”
“You know what, go ahead and search the car,” I move quickly and pull open the back hatch.
Bad idea.
In a matter of seconds, Rhys grabs me and has me restrained against his body as if I’m some kind of threat. It’s wildly erotic though and reminds me of one of the many times our bodies met that night.
The man has a little bit of a dominant streak, one that I enjoyed all too well. More than once.
“Seriously, Rhys, chill the fuck out. Do you not recognize them?” Smith questions. “It’s KJ and Zoey. Blondie wants me to pose for one of her covers. I’ve been talking to her ever since she sent me a friend request on Facebook.”
Either Officer Smith’s or Zoey’s proclamation must take Rhys by surprise because he releases me from his grasp and he backs away as if he’s been burned by fire.
And I was just about to shamelessly wiggle my ass against him for good measure. His loss.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Rhys asks.
“Dude, remember the chick with the flat tire, the one who had the box of squishy dicks that exploded all over the highway? That’s KJ, she’s an author. As is her friend, Zoey.”
“You’re telling me someone wants to put you on a cover?” Rhys eyes his friend skeptically, focusing in on that minor detail and totally missing the revelation about me.
“Technically, the both of us. Something about some sort of hot cop ménage she’s writing. She told me not to bring it up yet. Apparently, you were not the only one who caught a girl’s eye at that signing last year.”
“Thanks, Jerk Face. You’re a great secret keeper.” Zoey pouts.
I can’t wrap my head around any of this. Surely there has to be a hidden camera somewhere because this can’t be real life. There’s no way. Rhys is busy acting like a giant douche bag on a power trip. While I’m trying to comprehend that my very best friend has been talking to one of these boneheaded fools all this time. She never even hinted at it and we share everything.
Zoey Daniels better pray like hell that this is a recent development.
“Anytime, sweet cheeks.”
Wait, is Officer Smith flirting with my best friend right now?
“You’ve been talking to him?” I finally ask.
Zoey shrugs and tries to act nonchalant, but I’m not buying it.
“Zoey Daniels!”
“Can we talk about this later? In the meantime,” – she looks at Rhys –“I think you’ve wasted enough of our time. You can let us go now. And you owe my best friend an apology too, you jerk.”
“I give up.” Rhys shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here right now, but I don’t have time to figure it out. Give me a minute to write up this ticket then you can leave. All four of you.”
“Ticket?!” We all chime in at once.
Office Smith chuckles and claps his partner on the back. “Oh, you’ve got balls of steel, Rhys.”
I am so damn mad right now I’m tempted to get in the car and floor it. My luck, Rhys would chase me, and I’d end up on the news. That’s my only saving grace right now. I don’t look presentable enough to be seen on TV, or nearly anywhere else for that matter.
I’m pacing back and forth along the guardrail when Rhys comes back and hands me the ticket. My fingers twitch as I fight the urge not to tear it up into a thousand tiny pieces and sprinkle it over his perfectly spiked hair.
Twat waffle.
I snatch the ticket from his hand, none too gently, and stomp back to my side of the car.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, I close my eyes and begin counting while focusing on my breathing. I’m desperate to calm the anger, hurt, and sexual frustration swirling inside of me.
Katie, Nora, and Zoey are fuming when they climb back inside the car. One of them had enough sense to close the trunk because in my haste to get away, I did not. There’s a good chance that I probably shouldn’t be driving right now either because I am literally that pissed off. The stupid dickhead wrote me a ticket for $200 after attempting to restrain me.
Okay, let’s be honest, I didn’t mind his hands on me. But I’ll never admit that out loud. Still. A $200 fine. And he wasted a half hour of my day with his stupidity.
Fuck him.
He could have at least taken me to dinner first, bought me a drink before he got handsy.
And fuck Zoey too for not telling me she’s been talking to the enemy.