Page 10 of My Totally Unfair Deal

“Wait a minute…” He shines a flashlight directly in my face. “It’s Eliza again, Sheriff!”

“I’m coming,” the sheriff calls from the second patrol car. He walks up to my window with a groan. “Eliza, how many times do we have to tell you the speed limit signs aren’t suggestions?”

“My speedometer’s broken,” I lie.

“You say that every time.” He sighs. “Just call her brother. That’ll hurt more than any ticket.”

“Yes, sir.” The officer nods. He shines a light over at Harrison. “Speaking of your brother… does he know about your boyfriend here?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Who is he, then?”

“Yeah,” the sheriff adds. “Should I warn him that dating you comes with a life insurance requirement?”

Oh my God...

The sheriff doesn’t wait for an answer. He marches over to the passenger side.

Harrison rolls down the window casually, like he’s used to this kind of drama.

“Who the hell are you?” the sheriff asks.

“Harrison Jones. OrtheHarrison Jones—fromThe Dating Experience,if you were into podcasts a few years back before I sold it.”

“That wasyourpodcast?”

“Very much so.”

The second he says it, both officers lose their minds.

Suddenly, I’m invisible.

They’re tripping over each other for autographs, selfies, and new podcast recommendations.

I manage to escape without a ticket—or a lecture from Jackson.

But from the way Harrison looks at me as we pull back onto the road, I can tell he thinks he’s owed a thank you.

I hand him the aux cord instead.

FIVE

HARRISON

Miss Country Time speeds down a winding stretch of road framed by tall, blooming magnolia trees.

A pristine white picket fence borders acres of pink and white flowers, with elegant wooden signs pointing the way to a garden-inspired spa, farm-to-table restaurant, hot springs pool, and hot tub villas.

In the distance, a massive white estate with cream shutters and a bold red front door comes into view.

Okay, maybe Jackson wasn’t exaggerating about the luxury.

“We’re here,” she says abruptly, slamming the brakes once we’re in front of the main house. “My brother’s on the porch.”

“Can you at least tell me your name?” I ask. “So I can properly thank you for the ride?”

The sheriff and his deputy had called her Eliza, Lizzie, and Liza, so at this point I’m playing guessing games.

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