Flirting with a Ticket

The Bookmark & Bean's grandfather clock chimed three, its mellow ding echoing off the shop's cozy walls. I glanced up, blowing a loose strand of hair from my face as I shelved the last of the new arrivals. That box of vintage mysteries from yesterday could wait until tomorrow.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the bay windows, casting golden rectangles across the worn hardwood floors. I loved this place. After years of chasing half-formed dreams, I finally had work that felt like home.

"Laney!" Emily burst through the door, the little bell jingling wildly in her wake. "He's back!"

I didn't need to ask who he was. Sheriff Beckett Hall had been gone for nearly two weeks. Not that I was counting—except maybe to my cousin.

"And?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant as I ran a finger along the spine of a romance novel.

Emily flopped into the armchair by the window with theatrical flair. "And he's set up the speed trap on County Road 16 again. Morgan said he's been there all morning. Apparently, he's in a mood."

My heart skipped. County Road 16—the twisting stretch of asphalt connecting Bayou Oaks to the highway—was infamous for speeders. And Beckett's favorite place to remind locals that speed limits weren't suggestions. It was also the perfect excuse for something I'd never quite worked up the nerve to do.

Get the man's attention. Really get it.

"What time do you close today?" Emily asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Four." I smoothed down my floral dress, suddenly aware of every wrinkle. "Why?"

"Because," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "you're going to drive down County Road 16 at exactly 4:15. And you're going to go at least fifteen over."

I stared at her. "That's… ridiculous."

"Is it though?" She arched an eyebrow. "You've been pretending you don't have a thing for him since he moved back five years ago. Griffin's deployed, so he can't play the big brother card. When are you going to stop hiding behind books and do something?"

My cheeks warmed. Beckett had been in my heart since high school. Then he'd left for the military, I'd gone to college, and life had gone on. But when he returned as sheriff, all those feelings came roaring back. He was also my brother's best friend, and even if Griffin hadn't declared him off-limits, I knew him well enough to read between the lines.

Not that it mattered. Beckett barely seemed to notice me—except as Griffin's little sister.

"He'd just give me a ticket," I muttered.

"Maybe." Emily grinned. "Or maybe he'd finally see you. Not as the bookstore girl. Not as Griffin's sister. Just… you."

Butterflies rioted in my stomach.

"I'm not doing it," I said firmly, turning back to my shelving cart.

Emily just laughed. "Sure you're not."

At 4:17 PM, I was behind the wheel of my faded blue Jeep, heart hammering against my ribs as I sped down County Road 16.

What was I doing?

This was insane. Childish. Desperate.

I'd changed into my favorite sundress—the one with the tiny sunflowers that made my hazel eyes pop. I'd let my hair down from its usual messy bun and even swiped on a bit of lipstick.

All for a speeding ticket.

"This is pathetic," I muttered, tightening my grip on the wheel. The air conditioning battled the sticky Louisiana heat seeping in through the doors. I pressed the gas. Fifty-five in a forty. Definitely ticket-worthy.

I glanced in the rearview mirror—both hoping and dreading the sight of flashing lights.

Nothing. Just the winding road, flanked by cypress trees draped in Spanish moss, their shadows flickering over the asphalt.

Maybe he'd packed up for the day. Maybe this entire ridiculous plan—

Blue lights flared behind me.

My pulse spiked.

It had worked.

I pulled onto the shoulder, gravel crunching beneath the tires as a puff of dust rose around the Jeep. Hands trembling slightly, I shifted into park.

In the side mirror, I saw him approaching—tall, broad-shouldered, with that confident stride I'd recognize anywhere.

Beckett.

Unfairly handsome, as always. Dark, perpetually tousled hair. Blue-gray eyes that had a way of making me feel like he knew exactly what I was thinking. A five o'clock shadow hugged his jaw, even though it wasn't even evening.

He walked up to my window, his expression a deep scowl—one that would have most people scrambling for their license before he even said a word. I rolled it down and gave him my best casual smile, the scent of sun-warmed pavement and his cologne hanging in the air between us.

"Afternoon, Sheriff."

The scowl deepened as recognition flickered across his face. "Laney? Do you know how fast you were going?"

He never was one for small talk.

"I might've been a little over," I admitted, praying he couldn't hear my heart thudding.

"Fifteen over is not 'a little,' Laney." He sounded genuinely annoyed. "License and registration."

Well, this wasn't how I pictured it.

In my fantasy, he'd smile. Maybe flirt. At the very least, not scold me like a teenager.

I fumbled in the glove compartment and handed him my documents, trying not to flinch when his fingers brushed mine.

"Where's the fire?" he asked, studying my license.

"No fire," I said breezily. "Just running late."

"Late for what?"

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

"A... thing," I stammered. "With the girls."

"A thing," he repeated, clearly unimpressed. "Worth risking your safety?"

His tone hit a nerve. "I'm a perfectly safe driver, Beckett."

"It's Sheriff Hall," he corrected, jaw tightening. "And no one doing fifteen over on these curves is being safe. These roads are dangerous. You should know better."

The disappointment in his voice hurt more than any ticket could.

I stared out the windshield as he walked back to his cruiser. The heat crept into my cheeks as embarrassment settled like a weight in my chest.

This had been a stupid idea.

What was I expecting? That he'd suddenly see me as something more?

Apparently not.

He returned a few minutes later, face unreadable.

"I'm giving you a warning," he said, handing back my documents along with a yellow slip. "Slow down. Your brother would have my hide if anything happened to you."

There it was. Griffin.

Always Griffin.

"Thanks," I muttered, not meeting his gaze.

"Everything okay with you?" he asked, softer now. "This isn't like you."

The concern in his voice made me glance up. And for a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—something more.

But it vanished too quickly.

"I'm fine," I said with a forced smile. "Just a momentary lapse in judgment."

He studied me a moment longer, gaze flicking from my hair to the dress to the lipstick. But his expression stayed neutral.

"Drive safe, Miss Cross," he said finally, stepping away. "And obey the speed limits."

Then he turned and walked off, leaving me gripping the steering wheel, humiliated.

Emily had been wrong.

He didn't see me.

I waited until he'd pulled away before exhaling. Blinking back the sting in my eyes—I refused to cry over Sheriff Broody—I eased back onto the road, this time staying exactly at the speed limit.

At the intersection where County Road 16 met Main Street, I checked the rearview mirror one last time.

No patrol car. Just the empty road behind me.

Just like my foolish heart.

And the worst part?

I didn't even get a real ticket.

Just a warning.

Just enough to remind me he saw me—but not the way I wanted him to.

Beckett

I watched her faded blue Jeep vanish around the bend, my hands clenched tight on the steering wheel.

Seeing her speeding down one of the most dangerous roads in the county nearly stopped my heart.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She wasn't reckless. She wasn't careless. Sure, she'd forget to renew her driver's license or show up late to brunch, but speeding? That wasn't her.

And she definitely didn't usually show up looking like that—hair loose, sundress hugging every curve, hazel eyes burning into mine.

I scrubbed a hand over my face.

Two weeks away at a damn conference, and the first person I see back in Bayou Oaks is the one woman I've spent five years trying not to want.

And failing. Miserably.

Griffin made me promise to look out for her while he was deployed. Protect her like she was your own sister, he said.

But Laney Cross had never felt like a sister. Not even close.

And the way she'd looked at me today hadn't helped.

She was up to something.

I knew it. And yet, some part of me hoped it was exactly what I thought it was.

I shifted into drive and pulled away from the shoulder, deliberately turning away from town.

I had a job to do. A town to protect.

And keeping Laney safe—even from me—was part of that job.

No matter how hard it was.