Page 29 of Finding Silence
Brant
* * *
I must’ve lost my damn mind.
The last time I made out with a girl in my truck, I was probably in my teens, trying to get to second base without getting my ears rung. Aside from the fact I should know better and am risking physical injury at my age by engaging in any kind of physical activity in the confines of my truck, I bypassed second base and was already sliding into third with my hand shoved down her pants and my fingers digging into the lush globe of her ass cheek.
Which is how the state trooper finds me.
Jesus Murphy.
I try to retrieve my hand as discreetly as is possible, under the circumstances, as Phil giggles softly in my neck.
I fail to see anything amusing about our predicament, especially when I lower the passenger side window and recognize Trooper Maynard peering into the cab of my truck.
“Sheriff Colter. Well…color me surprised.” He pushes his hat back on his head and scratches his scalp. “We’ve had some issues with illegal overnight camping here since the park closed and have been doing regular checks. I recognized your pickup and was frankly worried you might be in medical distress. I didn’t think….”
Thankfully, he doesn’t finish his sentence.
The situation is embarrassing enough as it is, and Phil isn’t helping. Her muffled giggles graduate into loud snickers when I remove my hand from the back of her head. But when she tries to get off my lap, I firmly grab on to her hips, holding her in place.
I’m dealing with a raging hard-on I’d prefer not to flash around for the world to see.
The eyes she flashes at me are sparkling with humor. Then she turns that smile on Trooper Maynard.
“I’m afraid there wasn’t much thinking involved, Officer,” she jokes, before quickly adding, “And it was all my fault.”
“Yes, ma’am, I could see how that might happen,” Maynard returns with a suggestive grin I’d like to smack off his face. “But perhaps it might be more advisable to find a less public venue for…uh…certain activities.”
“Yes, of course.”
I groan as Phil suddenly shifts to lean over to the passenger side, holding out a hand to the trooper.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners. My name is Phyllis Woods, I’m new to town,” she introduces herself as if we bumped into him at some social gathering.
Pained, I close my eyes. It’s not going to take long to travel through the law enforcement grapevine I was found in my truck in a compromising position with the latest arrival to town. I estimate the story will land on my daughter’s desk at the sheriff’s office within the next two hours.
Wonderful.
I listen with half an ear as Maynard exchanges pleasantries with Phil before suggesting we move it along.
“Glad to see you back on your feet, so to speak, Sheriff,” he adds, rapping his knuckles on the roof of my truck before he turns his back and returns to his cruiser.
I let go of Phil’s hip and lean my head back, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers as she clambers off my lap.
“Well…” she starts talking next to me, patting my knee with her hand. “That may have been more excitement than even I bargained for.”
I glance sideways at her, but she has her eyes out the side window, watching Maynard’s cruiser drive out of the parking lot.
Then she adds, as casual as can be, “I built up an appetite too. Fancy grabbing a bite of lunch before we hit the stores?”
I shake my head and start the truck.
Looks like life will be anything but boring with Phil around, but I’m still on the fence whether I am up for the kind of excitement she brings.
It turns out, I’m definitely up for her brand of excitement when she leads me into her house much later.
This is after spending the afternoon semi-exasperated but secretly enjoying myself, as I followed her around Spokane while she shopped like a woman possessed. Also, after a surprising dinner at the Hogwash Whiskey Den where I discovered, aside from an obvious love of shopping, Phil has a taste for good whiskey as well. Something new we appear to have in common, although I don’t indulge in drinking it that often anymore.
