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The cabbie winked and pulled out into traffic.
Hank couldn't even hold it against the driver; his mind had fallen into the same gutter. Cars cruised slowly down the street, their shiny exteriors reflecting the neon signs and gigantic billboards featuring the latest shows.
The hotel was at the other end of the strip. Hopefully, that would give them both a few minutes to pull themselves together. And he’d thought it would be a boring night. He'd stopped into the club for a quick beer while Chris and Sam were locked in a high-stakes poker game. When he'd spotted Beth weaving in her seat, he'd been pulled in her direction.
Hank twisted in his seat to face Beth. Normally she never had a hair out of place, but her long brown strands were mussed. He wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. Damn. That was not the road he needed to travel down. “Okay, how many drinks did you really have?”
“Not a liar. Juss one.” She held up a single finger. Her middle finger.
Then, in a blink, the annoyed look on her face melted away and she scooted closer. Beth slapped her hand down on his left thigh.
The action stung, but not enough to overpower the desire hardening his cock. Off limits. She'd had too much to drink. His body refused to listen to reason as her long fingers massaged his inner thigh, sending jolts of electricity right to his eager cock.
“I don't like you.” Her words came out slow and deliberate. “Jus' because you're all muscled and cute does mean I want you… Wait… Don't want you.” Her eyes met his and she sucked on her bottom lip for a moment. “Not much.”
Her soft words and deft fingers were undoing him. In a last-ditch effort to distract himself from Beth's fingers and the heat threatening to devour him, he looked up into the cab's rearview mirror.
A set of headlights gleamed in the mirror. The cabbie switched lanes. The pair of headlights did the same. When the cab driver moved back into the center lane, so did the car behind them.
Sure, it could be the natural flow of traffic down the strip, but Hank's cop sense went on high alert. He'd only been Dry Creek County Sheriff for six months, but he'd been in law enforcement, military and civilian, since shortly after he blew out his knee playing football his senior year in college. He had almost fifteen years under his belt and he knew to listen to that sixth sense warning him something was wrong.
Leaning forward in his seat, he scanned the glittering surroundings. The blazing lights of the Little Elvis Wedding Chapel loomed up ahead on a side street. “Can you pull over here?”
The cabbie nodded and swung the car across two lanes of traffic, rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of the chapel.
The chapel stood separated from the street by a wide sidewalk littered with broken bottles and trash but no people. Monday night must not be the day for quickie marriages. A neon profile of Elvis flickered in the window above an open sign. It would do. They'd wait in the lobby to see if anyone stopped.
Hank handed the driver a wad of bills and helped Beth slide out of the car. “Slight detour, then we'll get you to your hotel.”
Beth sighed, the dazed look in her eyes obliterating the inquisitive look he normally saw there. “I just want a bed.”
The cab driver laughed. “Mazel tov.”
He flung the car door shut and tugged Beth into the chapel. The sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks. Standing side by side, holding hands, they gaped at the shrine they'd entered.
Inside, the lobby was a temple to the king. Huge glossy photos featuring everything from young Elvis wearing a black leather jacket with his hair slicked back to fat Elvis in his white jumpsuit plastered the gold walls. There was just one glaring error in the photographic shrine to the hunka-hunka burning love. The Elvis smiling out from each of the poster-sized pictures couldn't have been more than four feet tall.
“That would explain the ‘little’ in the Little Elvis Chapel,” Hank muttered.
Beth's hand cupped his cock through his pants. “Doesn't feel small.” She nipped at his earlobe. “Mmmm, I've been thinking ’bout what it would be like since that summer. You won't stop this time, right?”
That night was never far from his thoughts. He'd done the right thing and still regretted it to this day.
Light streamed in the windows as a car slammed to a stop in front of the chapel. Looks like it hadn't been only in his head.
Checking the area for exits, he saw only one door. The chapel. He strode over, Beth following along, and pressed his ear to the thin hollow wood.
Hearing muffled laughter, Hank cracked the door open and peeked in. Little Elvis stood at the velvet altar in a spangled jumpsuit officiating the nuptials of a couple, each of whom carried a beer bottle. The exit sign flickered behind Elvis. A way out.
Glancing out the window behind him, he spied two men getting out of a late-model sedan and looking around. No time to wait.
“Come on, we have to go into the wedding chapel.” He opened the door wider and pulled her inside.
“Oh, I thought you'd never ask. Did you ask? I don't remember you getting down on one knee.” Six feet tall in heels, Beth almost looked him straight in the eye.
“Come on, we've got to get out that door behind Elvis.”
The diminutive minister sent a dirty look their way as they snuck up the side of the aisle, but continued with the ceremony.
