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"You...okay, Frank?" Dad asks.
"Yeah, I'm good," he says, shaking off his visible visceral reaction to my adult body.
"Let's get together and talk tomorrow," he says. "It's getting late."
"We can talk now," I offer seductively. "I can come now...or depending on the circumstances, not at all."
Frank damn near swallows his tongue, letting me know my little practiced tart phrases and behaviors are going over just as well as I'd hoped. But what happens when he finds out I only talk a big game, that I've never actually done...that?
Will my lack of experience discourage him or will his relationship with my dad and how the two work together with law enforcement be enough for him to pump his breaks if he does decide to pursue me?
I'm walking a fine line here, and the finest has yet to be addressed...until now.
"Tomorrow is better," he says. "I'm working on a case right now. Matter of fact...the suspect is about your same height, and your same...body type," he swallows, "although I'd say what you're working with is more...unique, unlike anything I've seen before. In a police sketch that is."
"You already have a sketch?" I ask, calling his bluff knowing there's no way they've got one yet. Not this quickly.
"Sure do," he says, leaning back and putting his hands on his hips. "It will be circulating by the time the morning papers go to print."
"Newspapers? You mean once the story is posted on your website." I narrow my glance. "I thought you were my dad's age, but now I have to ask. Just how old are you?"
"Old enough, little one."
I nod. "Still in good shape, it seems," I confirm, using the opportunity to rake my eyes over his pressed and crisp uniform. The navy blue fabric is smooth, the stitching holding the buttons in place not yet frayed. The black boots and pants are polished to a shine and the badge is facing forward, ready to be noticed and acknowledged by all.
His sturdy belt holds the weight of his gun holster with ease, in addition to cutting his body in half, showing the absurd definition between his tidy waist and both his hulking upper and lower body.
His uniform, all his gear, must be beyond heavy, but his broad shoulders are sure to be stiff as stone, his form, as tight and crisp as his posture.
Frank's pants are tight and have creases, crisp like his posture. His handcuffs are shiny and iron, promising a world of trouble. This man was a peace officer, but clearly, there's trouble ahead...the kind I'll welcome and invite with a smile.
There's a light scent of starch mixed with gun oil and sweat, but the heavier undertones are from the man beneath it, who smells of musk, his natural scent, causing the tickle in my chest to become a fluttering.
He's handsome, in a rugged sort of way. His features are strong, his eyes piercing blue. His dark hair is short and neatly styled. He has a friendly smile, probably because he's around someone he's familiar with...my dad. But there's a seriousness in his eyes that lets me know he's not one to be messed with, which is exactly what I'm doing.
"But how's your cardio?" I taunt, wondering why he didn't chase me down, cuff me, and take me to the station when he had the chance.
"I don't think I'm going to need it," he says. "I think I can handle things just fine as is."
"I'm sure you can," I remark, my eyes giving him a look he can't really decipher. "But we'll see." I lower my voice. "You're going to be coming after me sooner than you think."
"I know."
"So, tomorrow?" Dad asks.
"Sure," Frank confirms, looking at me. "You think you can find your way down to the station?"
"Oh, I know exactly how to do that."
"Good," he says. "In the meantime, I'm going to see what I can do about getting that sketch for you, Larry," he adds, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and squeezing his long, crooked fingers into his flesh.
"Good," Dad says, grinning at me. "And I'll start making connections, see if anybody knows who this girl is," he adds nonchalantly.
Frank nods, and turns to go, but not before looking at me one last time, holding my gaze.
Then he turns, the rubber soles of his boots allowing for a quiet tread as he moves back to his police car and disappears into the night.
"Well, that was an unexpected visit," Dad says. "How random."
If only he knew.
