Page 32 of Hesi-Dating
"Henry, fetch my pants." The dog didn't move from where he remained curled into a ball on the far side of the room. I lowered my tone. "You did a great job, bud. I need you to get my pants."
It was a lost cause. The dog wasn't a retriever. I'd tried to teach him to go after a tennis ball. He might run for it once, but he was far more interested in the smells outside than the ball.
I tugged and yanked against the bed frame, arching up to put all my weight into it. No give.
“Damn it.”
Over the years I'd seen plenty of sexy handcuff time gone wrong. I'd rescued more than a few mortified naked people who had lost the keys. Some of those incidents were chuckled about at work barbecues when the beer got flowing.
This was a nightmare.
As sheriff, I was responsible for over 4,000 employees who provided law enforcement for nearly a million residents and thousands of incarcerated inmates. I didn't have the luxury of a scandal like this.
If I broke my hand, I could get free. I tugged but…nope, I couldn't force myself to break my dominant shooting hand.
I still had my cell phone in a death grip. I scrolled my contacts list. I could call one of my deputies. Caleb, a good guy, was on night duty at the main station, but his nickname was Tele-Caleb. Tell him a secret and everyone in southern California knew within twelve hours.
I'd never live this down. He'd probably take pictures and post them all over social media. Then there would be an internal investigation. I could potentially lose my job if things spun poorly. The pictures would appear during the campaign next year. People remembered the time you got caught naked doing something stupid, but not the hundreds of cases resolved, or people saved, or active shooter events averted, or natural disaster rescues.
Dylan might work. I was his best man for the wedding in forty-eight hours. I'd seen him do shit at his bachelor party such as a lap dance and some other things that I guarantee he hoped would never surface. On the third ring Dylan answered. Making my tone light I asked, "What're you up to tonight?"
"I'm in hell. Everyone's at my apartment. My in-laws, my parents, that cousin from Philadelphia I told you about who has a CBD store and smokes way too much, and my uncle who lost a hell of a lot more than a leg in Afghanistan." He lowered his voice. "He thinks every bag is a bomb and yells at us to jump for cover at loud noises. Everyone's in town for the wedding. We're standing around the dining table arguing about the color of the tablecloth. This debate has been going on for an hour. A fucking hour! Who gives a shit? It's teal, not blue."
Dylan was a no-go. "Sounds like you have your hands full. I was going to see if you needed to grab a drink."
"I do. I really do, but they'd skewer me if I left. I'll see you at the rehearsal tomorrow."
Damn it."See you then."
I tried phoning Walt, not that I wanted this anywhere on his gossip radar, but what choice did I have? He'd want to know who left me like this. He wouldn't let it rest until he knew. His phone sent me straight to voicemail. I recalled him mentioning a date tonight.
My scrolling paused on Joley.
Maybe I could get a little advice from her?
No. I didn't want her to know I'd gotten myself into this.
I banged my head against the headboard. "Fuck."
I pushed the call button.
When she answered I said, "I'm in a bit of a situation." I cleared my throat and worked through in my head what to say. "I might need to prioritize that favor you owe me to be now and not the wedding."
Not what I'd intended saying.
"What's wrong? Is Henry okay?"
"He's fine, I think." I leaned over the bed to peek at him. "I, um…" I banged my head against the headboard again.
"What's wrong, Seth?"
"I've got myself stuck in a tight spot."
"More than your wedding date dumping you?"
"Way more." I dropped my chin. "I'm trapped in a hookup gone wrong."
"Are you wanting me to phone and rescue you? Or do you need me to show up and get you out of the date?"
