Page 35 of The Love Ambush (The Sullivans #1)

Levi

I face the officer as calmly as I can and offer him my most charming smile, but inside, my heart is racing and sweat is breaking out at my temples. This is a disaster I didn’t foresee, and there is no controlling this situation.

All I can do is try to keep the officer distracted while Gentry gets dressed, which she is frantically trying to do. My t-shirt hits me in the face and, thankfully, falls onto my lap, as I continue to smile at the police officer currently staring me down.

“Sir, sex in a vehicle on a public street is illegal.” His gaze is hard, and his mouth is a severe slash of a frown. He looks like he’s in his fifties and clearly spends way more time in the gym than I do. His name tag says only Jackson, which I have to assume is his last name.

I am aware that having sex in a car in a public place is illegal. With the family I have, I take the laws in this country very seriously, and I also know that the penalty for sex in a car in a public place is a fine and possible jail time.

“We’re very sorry, Officer,” Gentry says from the floorboards. “We just got carried away.”

“We really did,” I say. “It’s a new relationship. Do you have a girlfriend?”

His glare narrows. “Husband. And we have never gotten so carried away that we have had sex in a car. Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to sit and stop digging around under the floorboards.”

Gentry pops up and sits next to me. She’s managed to pull on her shirt and leggings. “Sorry. I was just trying to find my bra.”

“I’m going to need to see your license and registration.”

My phone rings from somewhere in the vehicle, but I don’t dare try to find it. “I’d love to show you both of those things, but my wallet is in my jeans, which are—”

Gentry drops them into my lap. I pull out the wallet and slip out my license. The officer takes it with a grim expression. “I’m assuming the registration is in the glove box?”

“Yes,” I say, my hands shaking. “But you should know this isn’t my car. It’s my—”

“It’s my brother’s car,” Gentry says. “I can call him right now, and he can tell you—”

“I’m going to need you both to step out of the car,” Officer Jackson says. Then he speaks into the radio at his shoulder. Probably calling for backup.

“Um, can I get dressed first?” I ask.

“Make it quick,” Officer Jackson says, hand on his duty belt. He points past me at Gentry. “You dressed?”

“I’m getting out now.” She hops out of the other side of the SUV and walks over to stand in front of Officer Jackson. “Did we mention we’re sorry? I’m the guardian of two—” She slaps a hand over her mouth and looks at me wide-eyed, clearly worried about what this could mean for her guardianship.

“Of two poodles,” I say. “She’s a very good dog-mother.”

The officer looks back and forth between us, clearly caught somewhere between not believing us and not caring. “Uh-huh. You dressed yet, sir?”

I step out of the SUV, fully clothed, just as another police car pulls up. A second officer joins the first, this one a woman with red hair that’s up in a tight bun. She’s a good half a foot shorter than Officer Jackson, but is somehow even more intimidating.

“I’ll watch this one,” she says, pointing at Gentry. “You do what you need to do.”

“Let’s get that registration,” Officer Jackson says.

I walk around to the passenger side of the vehicle and open the door. The female officer asks Gentry for her ID and I can tell, just from the strain in her voice, that Gentry is close to tears.

“This is all on me,” I say, turning to Officer Jackson. “Gentry’s innocent.”

“So you had sex in the car by yourself while she just sat there naked?” He asks with a straight face, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

I clear my throat, my cheeks hot. “Um, I’ll just get that registration.”

Thankfully, Brodie’s glove compartment is neat and organized, and I find the registration with no trouble.

I hand it over, and the officer checks it against my ID.

“This isn’t your car. I’m going to have to contact the owner of the vehicle and, in the meantime, we’re going to have to take you both to the station. ”

Jail? I’ve never been in a cell before. I’ve never been arrested before. I don’t want to experience either. But more than that, I don’t want Gentry to have to experience it. “My phone’s in the car. I can call him right now, and he can explain everything.”

“Great idea,” Officer Jackson says, suddenly cheerful.

My heart leaps with hope but promptly crashes back down to earth when he frowns and glares at me.

“But I think I’ll follow protocol and make the call myself.

Can’t have you calling one of your buddies to pretend to be the owner of this vehicle. ”

“He’s Gentry’s brother. We’re all in town for his wedding. He’ll explain everything.”

His brows rise. “You the folks staying at the resort or over at Josephine’s?”

I relax the tiniest fraction. “We’re at Josephine’s. She can vouch for us.”

He nods. “Still going to need you both to come back to the station.”

They make us ride in separate cop cars and, by the time I see her again, Gentry’s got tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t be arrested,” she says as they lead us into the station.

I want to put an arm around her shoulders, but my hands are cuffed behind my back. I’m fuming as they put me in a small cell, remove my cuffs, and lock me in. Gentry is put in the one next to mine.

“This is all my fault.” I sit on the bench next to her cell and she sits on the bench that mirrors mine. “I’m so sorry, Gentry.”

“I was there, too,” she says. “I should have known better. Now, I’m going to have a record, and CPS is going to get involved, and I’m going to lose the kids.”

Shit, I hadn’t even thought of that, and I’m the guy who sees every potential catastrophe before it happens. I’m the guy who stops other people from doing dumb shit. Gentry’s got me so twisted up with wanting her, I’m not thinking straight.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Gentry. I swear, I never do this kind of thing.

I’ve never been arrested before. I’ve never even broken the law before.

” Because I know she’ll use this as an excuse to push me away.

She’ll convince herself I’m the dangerous thing she can’t have if she wants to do right by her sisters.

“Obviously, we’re not good influences on each other.”

She says it in a light tone, but there’s real feeling underneath the words.

“We got carried away and made one mistake. It doesn’t mean we’re bad for each other.

Seriously, Gentry, my brothers give me shit for worrying about the rules and always being prepared.

They call me a boy scout like it’s a bad word. ”

She sits up, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t believe you. Every wild story my brother tells involves you.”

I smile. “Your brother likes to exaggerate, and his wild stories are nothing compared to what my brothers get up to.”

“He told me once that you went skinny dipping with a big group in the part of the Pascale River that runs right through downtown Catalpa Creek.”

“We were nowhere near downtown, and I knew the area where we were swimming. I knew what to expect. Plus, I made sure no one too drunk went anywhere near the water, and I kept a head count of everyone in the river so we didn’t lose anyone.”

She frowns, that adorable little crinkle forming between her brows. “He didn’t tell me that part.”

“He probably didn’t even notice. I can never turn off the part of my brain worried about someone getting hurt or something bad happening.”

“Except when you’re making out with me,” she says sadly. Her eyes go wide. “Wait, if Brodie’s not that wild, what do your brothers do?”

“Competitions to see who can get the highest in a tree with no concern for safety. Sneaking into the quarry to ride dirt bikes and nearly eating gravel multiple times. Daring each other to sneak into the abandoned house on the outskirts of town even though there are fences and no trespassing signs.”

“What made you so concerned about rules and safety?” she asks. “Did something happen?”

I lean my head against the bars and think about it.

“No one thing in particular. Mostly, I was probably just born this way. I’m the youngest, and I hate seeing my big brothers hurt.

I also figured out pretty quickly that if I remembered bandages or snacks or napkins, they were more likely to let me tag along, to see me as useful.

” I chuckle, remembering. “Deacon’s like a year and a half older than me, and he’d get so mad when our brothers took me along and left him behind.

He learned to be the best prankster and to make them all laugh. That’s how he got in.”

“I never understood why you spent so much time at our house when you had such a fun, tight-knit family.”

“Sometimes, the constant competitiveness can be too much,” I say. “Quiet is a nice change.”

“Right,” she says. “Because our house was so quiet with two babies, and our parents constantly fighting.”

“I didn’t feel so lost in the crowd at your house,” I say, thinking back, trying to remember. “Your parents fought?”

She sighs. “I guess they were quiet about it, honestly. Mom would use the silent treatment like a weapon, and my dad would just bail when things got tense. He never deserved her.”

My stomach twists. I haven’t had a chance to really look into Gentry’s father, and the kind of hacking I need to do would require more secure Wi-Fi than I’ve been able to find around here. “Why do you say that?”