Page 4 of Officer Anders

"Oh," Elaina nods knowingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she walks toward my truck parked outside, "so you're the one who's huffing and puffing as he desperately tries to gracefully haul his ass back home."

She's got jokes today, and I can’t help but chuckle. "Yup. That's me. You should have said hello. I could have used a cheering section."

Elaina clucks her tongue in playful disapproval and gracefully pulls herself into my truck, adjusting her seatbelt and getting herself situated. "You know, this whole situation is a little weird. I came to get my car washed, my daughter gave you my number, and now here we are, exchanging witty banter while you drive us to get pizza. It’s like something out of a romantic comedy."

I can't think of another way I'd want this to work out. "This seems perfectly fine to me," I say with a casual shrug, trying to convey my ease in the moment. "I've met a lot of women on dating apps, and that never seemed to play out the way I hoped. Do you know how many women try to use me to get rid of a speeding ticket? It’s like I’m some kind of good luck charm for their traffic woes."

"Yeah, that's really all I'm here for, too," Elaina replies with a deadpan voice, her lips curling into a teasing smile, "I've got three that need to be paid, and I'm hoping if I sleep with you, they'll be gone by morning. So, what do you say? A win-win situation?" Her playful tone leaves me chuckling, feeling the lightheartedness of our impromptu outing.

Though my cock pricks up at the idea of getting to sleep with a curvy beauty like Elaina, I know she's joking. I keep my eyes firmly on the road, the steady hum of the tires on asphalt grounding me as I remind myself that this is all part of the firstdate game. "I mean, they'd be gone by Sunday. That's when I go in next. I hope you can wait that long. But if you have any serious offenses, now's probably the time to tell me. And if you’ve got any warrants out for your arrest, I’m afraid I’ll have to take you in. Sorry."

Elaina stifles a giggle, the sound bubbling up from her lips as she reaches over to squeeze my arm—a playful gesture that sends a shiver of warmth through me. "You know me, Officer Hemingway, one half of the Bonnie and Clyde team."

I can't help but grin at her audacity. "If you're looking for the other half, I look great in high heels and pin curls. I've always wanted to channel my inner Bonnie." The image of us, a mischievous duo tearing through the night, brings an unexpected thrill to my chest, and I can’t shake the feeling that this ride is going to be anything but ordinary.

Dinner unfolds as a delicate interplay of jokes and half-truths, each exchange steeped in an easy familiarity that makes the air between us crackle with anticipation. Elaina shares more about her daughter, Mollie, a typical fifteen-year-old in many ways, yet somehow a bit more exceptional than the average teen. "What teenage girl sets their mom up with some guy she spotted talking to at a car wash?" Elaina chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. "I really thought I had instilled a sense of stranger danger in her that would stick."

I resist the urge to pry into the complexities of Mollie's father or the reasons behind Elaina's status as a single mom, but I make it clear with a nod and a gentle smile that I’d be open to hearing those stories if she chooses to share. Ever mindful of first-date etiquette, I casually mention my own background, revealing that I’m divorced from a lovely lady who chose to settle the age-old debate of police officer versus firefighter by embarking ona torrid love affair with a firefighter that somehow managed to span nearly the entirety of our three-year marriage. "At least we’ve managed to roundly defeat them in the football game every year, though," I reassure her with a light-hearted grin.

Everyone carries some baggage into a relationship—be it daddy issues, past romances, or intimacy challenges; it’s all part of the human experience. As we journey through life, we accumulate this baggage, each piece a lesson learned or a scar earned. The key is to learn from it instead of allowing it to weigh you down like a heavy anchor. Once you figure out how to navigate the complexities of your past, everything else falls into place, and the rest is just gravy, adding flavor to the rich tapestry of life.

5

ELAINA

The effervescent and charming Anders carries with him a past that he doesn’t often reveal, but he maintains a light-hearted view of it that is both refreshing and endearing. When he wipes away the facade of 'everything is perfect', he reveals a person I genuinely enjoy being around—a person with depth and nuance. When you factor in all his striking good looks, his quick wit and sense of humor, a personality that effortlessly draws me in, and the undeniable sex appeal that seems to radiate from him, you have the right combination for a man who feels utterly perfect for me.

It certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s willing to stroll through a plant nursery with me, casually pulling random facts out of his hat with an infectious enthusiasm. "Did you know that this spiky plant would look absolutely stunning in your living room?" he exclaims, gesturing dramatically towards a particularly menacing cactus.

I roll my eyes at his exuberance and continue walking past the prickly specimen. "You haven't even been in my living room, Anders. How would you know what would look good there?"

With a playful grin, he retorts, "It'll be a home defense cactus!" His excitement is palpable, lighting up his face in a way that makes it hard not to smile. "Or!" he continues, as another brilliant idea strikes him. "You can use it to fend off all the boys Mollie brings home! Wham, bam, thank you, cactus!" His laughter echoes through the nursery, filling the air with a buoyancy that makes everything feel just a little more vibrant.

He's absolutely ridiculous. One moment, we're delving into the intimate details of his cheating ex-spouse from when he was twenty-five, and the next he's enthusiastically brainstorming ways to fend off boys who might or might not be trying to get into my daughter's pants. "I like to think the lipstick taser I got her will work just fine, but I'll definitely keep this idea in my back pocket for future reference."

Anders kneels in front of a vibrant display of green, leafy plants, scrutinizing them as if they hold the secrets to the universe. "Lipstick taser, huh?" he muses, gently feeling the leaves as he begins to study the care instructions attached to one of the pots. "Have you ever actually been tased?"

"I can't say I've had the pleasure, but I’m going to bet you have. Something about you just screams 'I've accidentally tased myself somewhere private.'" He looks back at me, his eyes wide with mock horror. "Am I right?"

"Have you been reading my diary?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, half-amused and half-worried about what secrets he might be uncovering.

I don't know why our chemistry just flows so effortlessly, but it only heightens my attraction to him. The last few dates I've been on have been painfully awkward and filled with a palpable tension. Either the man couldn't figure out what tosay to me, leaving us fumbling through forced conversation, or our discussions were stilted by the glaring reality that we had absolutely nothing in common.

While Anders and I aren't exactly rolling in shared interests or backgrounds, that doesn't stop us from vibing in a way that feels almost magical. For some inexplicable reason, there's always something to discuss at every turn. Whether it’s a spiky cactus that reminds us both of a particularly prickly situation or a humorous recounting of someone's unfortunate tasing accident, the topics come up organically, as if the universe itself is guiding our dialogue without any effort on our part.

It suddenly dawns on me that this could turn into something more than just a pleasant evening. I don’t mean our relationship, but rather tonight itself. I'm so far out of the dating scene that I find myself questioning what’s expected on a first date these days. Am I supposed to lean in for a kiss? Is making love even on the table? What are the kids calling it these days, anyway?

The only thing I know for sure, amidst all this uncertainty, is that I like Anders—a lot. Whatever the social conventions are in this fast-evolving era, I’m sure we’ll navigate them just fine. The ebb and flow of what’s happening between us feels natural, as if it were meant to be, and I trust that it will blaze our trail in the right direction, wherever that may lead us.

"If you want me to teach you how to hold the stick, I can," Anders offers for the second time, his tone laced with an eagerness that makes me chuckle.

I've already sunk two balls on this turn and I'm scanning the table for my third, determined to keep my momentum. "All yourballs are still on the table," I remind him, a playful challenge in my voice.

"You know, it's no fun when the game is over in just two turns, Elaina." He taps his foot impatiently, mimicking the disappointed rhythm of a mother scolding her child for not trying hard enough. "New plan. You teach me how to hold my stick, if you know what I mean," Anders says with a cheeky waggle of his eyebrows, his grin widening as he leans in slightly, clearly enjoying the banter.

This is what throws me off my game. I hit the cue ball and it sails across the table like a dart, cutting through the air with a sharp precision. Though it strikes its intended target, it doesn’t sink into a pocket as expected, leaving me frustrated. "That was unfair."

Anders leisurely strolls around the table, his confidence palpable as he lines up for his own shot. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, feigning innocence with a playful tilt of his head that only adds to my annoyance.

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