Note: I had a great deal of help with this post. I left blanks in my story and asked friends on Facebook to come up with content. When I had more than one friend respond I drew names from a hat. The darned story went in a totally unforeseen direction. I like it.
My helpful friends are listed at the bottom. Underlined phrases indicate where I received help.
“Flirting with the Law”
Sitting astride her motorcycle in front of a small jewelry store in Panama City Beach, Beth smelled the stranger before she saw him. He smelled like sheets hanging on the line, dried by the summer sun, and she lifted her head to catch his scent on the breeze.
The scent transported her back to her childhood when hanging laundry on the line out back was a chore, but the results well worth the work. There were few things in life better than sleeping on sun-dried sheets.
Lost in her reverie, Beth startled when she realized the police officer standing beside her motorcycle was attached to the nostalgic scent. He was tall, dark, and oh so handsome.
“Excuse me, miss,” This perfect vision of manhood began, “Did you know that your license plate is missing?”
“Huh?” Beth replied in her most articulate manner. “I mean of course it’s not missing. It was there when I left Tallahassee this morning.”
But even as she spoke Beth swung a leg over the back of her bike and walked back to check. Sure enough, the plate was missing.
“Well that’s just weird,” she said. “Now what?”
The nice smelling stranger said, “Could cost you a ticket, you know,” and without looking at her he ran his leather gloved hand along the curvy contour of her tank, stopping at the crest of her saddle seat.
Beth gulped audibly and felt a slow blush creep over her face. “Honest, Officer, ummm…”
“Greg. Just Greg,” he said. “And here’s your plate. I saw some kids messing around with your bike and caught them red handed with your tag.”
Beth exhaled. “Greg, you just saved me a huge headache.”
“Well, I’m not letting you off the hook just yet,” the officer said. “Did you realize that I just finished my shift and I’m starving?”
“I guess I should let you go then, though, I don’t suppose you have a screwdriver on you….” Beth said indicating her detached license plate.
Greg grinned from ear to ear. “Come, let me buy you some lunch, and I’ll find a screwdriver for you.”
For one brief moment Beth considered turning him down. After all, he was a cop, and she did have a bag of stolen diamonds in her saddlebag.
“Why, I’ll take you up on that,”she smiled demurely, looping her arm through his. She was running well ahead of schedule.
Many thanks to
Janie Christie Heniford
along with everyone else who submitted suggestions.