Page 4 of Handcuffed Hussy
2
Past - Bailey
Little did I know round two with my hottie detective would be another few weeks in the making. Frankly, he was hot, but there were a lot of fish in the sea, amiright? I went about my life, keeping my flirt-on with any potential males that crossed my path, but I kept Jack tucked into the back of my mind.
I was busy at work as a personal shopper at a high-end retail clothing store. I was tasked with beautifying the rich women of Orange County and I was damn good at my job. After breaking sales records in my first six months on the job, my managers quickly let me do my thing without a lot of supervision. The sales were steady and climbing, that's all they cared about.
And that was their first mistake.
I require supervision.
I know this about myself and I'm careful who I let know this vital piece of information. Sometimes I didn't want anyone looking over my shoulder so I could carry out my dastardly deeds.
I'm just kidding, I didn't do anything horrible. I just sometimes bent the rules a bit in order to help people out. Like a gorgeous, African American, female Robin Hood. The tights looked better on me anyway.
Remember that homeless shelter I'd volunteered at years ago with the Grants? It was now overrun with more homeless people than they could ever help. Southern California faced a huge homeless epidemic that didn't have any easy solutions.
I'd gone through all the legal routes to help them out. I organized clothing drives, stood outside at Christmas time and begged for used coats. I did canned good drives; I donated my time to the shelter; I used my own money to buy blankets.
I frequently bought two dinners and gave one to a particular homeless man that lived right on the beach strand. He'd been there for years and he never disturbed anyone. He had wild snow white hair and a big potbelly. He didn't talk much, but he never turned down my containers of food.
It was on a mundane Tuesday night after I'd gone to the beach to offer up one of my meals to this man, when I entered into round two of the Flirting War. I'd dropped off the bag of Pad Thai and an extra blanket I'd gotten off the clearance rack at work. It was late, the beach was quiet, and I always remained hyper vigilant as a young woman out by herself at night.
I was just coming around the corner of the public restrooms when a hand shot out and grabbed me, attempting to pull me back to the wall of the building.
This is the part where I need to tell you about the Jiu Jitsu lessons Esa had been dragging me to for several weeks now. Actually, she only had to drag me the first time. After that, I was hooked. I loved having a legit reason to kick the shit out of people. Esa wanted to protect herself from her stalker, and I found out I was good at it.
So when this person pulled on my arm, I reacted, drawing on the training I'd had drilled into my head by my instructor, Brinley. I leaned into him, bent my arm and then yanked up, causing him to lose his grip. Then I punched with my left hand, which held my car keys.
I was aiming for the dude's face, but it was freaking dark outside and I must have missed. I hit a solid wall of muscle. The grunt that followed made me happy, but I didn't waste any time to see what exactly I'd hit. I spun and ran.
I only made it three steps before the man grabbed me, his arms circling my chest, pinning my arms to my body. I was pressed up against his chest and I hesitated for only a split second when a whiff of cologne caught my attention. A well-groomed robber?
With a swift mental stifle of my hormones, I lifted my foot, clad in the latest brown leather, heeled boot from Stuart Weitzman, and jammed it down on the bastard's foot.
He yelped, releasing me instantly. "Dammit, Bailey!"
I spun around to face him, eyes bugging out of my head. My first thought was even more panic. The fucker knew my name! Then my brain finally processed what my eyes were seeing.
Jack.
Oh shit.
He was hunched over, his foot lifted in the air, hands already assessing the damage.
I'd just assaulted a police officer.
"Guess we're gonna need those handcuffs after all..." I murmured. In my defense, I was certain I'd just said that in my head, not out loud. I wouldn't have normally taunted nor flirted with a wounded bull.
His head whipped up and his glare was lethal. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
I folded my arms across my chest, tucking my shaking hands away from view. I tossed my hair and assumed a haughty stance. "What the fuck areyoudoing here?"
He took a few steps, limping, coming within inches of touching me where I stood. I'd admit, he was intimidating. But my sass was immune to most forms of intimidation, finely hewn over years of rough neighborhoods and pig-headed males.
"I. Asked. First," he grated out, teeth clenched. The low tone of his voice washed over me like a physical thing. It was cold out this late at night at the beach, but all he had to do was keep talking and I'd burn hot enough for all the homeless to gather round me like a camp fire doused with lighter fluid.
I rolled my eyes and smiled at him, like he was just a big, silly boy. "I just thought I'd hang at the beach. I lost track of time. I was walking back to my car when I was rudely stopped."
