Page 2 of Puppy Kisses

Zeke didn’t look over. He was too busy gripping the wheel with both hands, the fields a blur around them. “There aren’t any cliffs around here, but there’s a good chance we’ll end up turned over in a ditch before this is over. Are you wearing your seat belt?”

“Yep.”

“Airbag is on?”

“Check.”

“You’ve made peace with your maker?”

“Um.” Dawn was forced into a laugh. “That depends on who you ask. I mean,I’mokay with most of my life choices. If you were to ask my mother, however…”

“Uh-oh. Hold that thought, D. We’ve got more company.”

Since both her arms were wrapped around the puppy, there wasn’t much for her to hold on to. Not that it would have been of any use to cling to the dashboard or those weird handles that people used to carry their dry cleaning. Just when the frenetic, wheezing pickup was becoming nothing more than a blip in the rearview mirror, their tail was replaced by a sleek green-and-white car with a whir of colorful lights up top. Unlike the truck, this new car managed to keep pace with them just fine.

“Oh dear. Is that—?” Dawn began.

Zeke finished for her. “Sheriff Jenkins? Yes.Fuck.I was going at least ninety. He’s not going to like this. I hate to say it, but I think we’d have been better off with No-Pants Shotgun back there.”

Dawn disagreed. She’d had enough encounters with the legal system to feel wary where they were concerned, but she’d take her chances with a backwoods officer of the law over an irate man without pants any day.

“Don’t worry about the sheriff,” Dawn said with a toss of her head. She bit down on her lips to bring the blood to them and gave her T-shirt a not-so-discreet tug. She’d dressed for the day’s heist in functional jean shorts and a ratty shirt, but the top had been worn so many times that it was practically sheer. The deep plunge of the V-neck didn’t hurt matters, either. Her boobs were far and away her best feature—too big for everyday comfort, but ideal when trying to bend people to her will. Whenever she got annoyed with the former, she tried very hard to focus on the latter. “I’m sure I can convince him to let us go with a warning.”

Zeke snorted as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. “You obviously haven’t met Harold Jenkins. The only thing he hates more than people who speed arewomenwho speed.”

“But I’m not the one driving,” Dawn pointed out. She dropped a kiss on the golden retriever’s dusty head. “Besides, who would give a ticket to anyone holding such a sweet little love as this?”

The answer, as it turned out, was Sheriff Harold Jenkins.

“That makes the third time this month, Mr. Dearborn.” The sheriff—a short, balding man with a swagger in his step and nothing but disdain for Dawn’s cleavage—was every bit as disagreeable as Zeke had promised. He examined the driver’s license in his hand as if inspecting the edges for lines of cocaine. “I told you last time that I’d suspend this if I caught you speeding again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I clocked you at eighty-nine. That’s an eight and a nine. Together. In one number.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Last I checked, we hadn’t made any changes to the speed limit around here.”

“No, sir.”

It was almost more than Dawn could take. Meekly accepting one’s fate was a thing she never could and never would understand—especially in a world as flawed as this one. They’d just saved this poor animal’s life, for crying out loud, and her white knight was quaking more in fear over a traffic violation than over the man who’d been chasing them with a gun.

Since she appeared to be on her own in this fight, she leaned across the driver’s seat and plastered on her brightest smile. “I’m so sorry about this, Officer. But it wasn’t Zeke’s fault—honest, it wasn’t. This one was all me.”

“Sheriff.”

She blinked, somewhat taken aback by the gruff note in his voice. She also noted her error at once. “Yes, um. Of course. That’s what I meant,Sheriff.” She batted her eyelashes for good measure. “Zeke was only going so fast because it’s an emergency.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed as they ran over the car’s interior. “Doesn’t look like much of an emergency to me. Is there a reason you have the dog up front like that?”

“Yes.” Dawn saw her chance and latched onto it. She was nothing if not opportunistic. “This puppy is in desperate need of medical attention. Look how frail and underweight she is—and at these sores on her stomach. She’s in a lot of pain.”

She thought both she and the puppy sold it pretty well. Not only did the animal give an appropriately pitiful blink of her sleepy brown eyes, but Dawn followed up with one of her own. No man would be able to stand up to the pair of them. She was sure of it.

At least, she was until the sheriff chuffed out a breath and handed Zeke a ticket. The ID he kept firmly in hand. “Then you’re going in the wrong direction, young lady. Marcia Peterson is the best veterinarian in twelve counties—a thing Zeke Dearborn has known since his cradle. She’s also located a good fifteen miles the other way.”

Dawn’s heart sank. That had been some of her best work.