"Don't get pulled over by the hot cop again," your coworker had teased, laughing as the two of you locked up before leaving work. You'd rolled your eyes, promising that you wouldn't as you laughed your way to your parking spot.

And yet there you were, pulled over on the side of the road by who you could assume was the hot cop. Again.

Damn it.

It was a warm, summery night as you sat in the front seat, your lips pressed into a line as you waited for the police officer to approach your rolled up window. Your hands were still gripping the steering wheel, spacing out as you tried to think about what you'd done this time. You hadn't been speeding (not more than just a hair), hadn't made any questionable driving errors (not since you accidentally scraped a curb pulling out of the parking lot at work like twenty minutes ago), and you definitely had your headlights on (they were automatic and currently shining on the trees lining the street you'd pulled over on when you saw his lights flashing you down).

So annoying.

You sigh, shoulders and grip relaxing from the wheel before promptly retightening when there was a gentle knock at your window that startled you anyway. Fuck. You glanced up, probably looking like a deer in headlights as you realize it was, indeed, the fucking hot cop. Garrick, his chest pocket read, and you wanted to melt down into your seat. Shit.

Garrick smiled and bent to look at you, perfect teeth and kind eyes, and motioned for you to roll down your window. Your heart sped up, because he really was beautiful and also because this was honestly just getting embarrassing now. Your cheeks heated as you pressed the button and he nearly leaned into your window smelling like cinnamon gum and argan oil, and your chest seized.

"Hey," he said, too casual for a police officer. "I'm not gonna check your license and registration, I know you're a good girl and have them in your purse, yeah?"

*Oh, why did he have to say it like that? You fumbled for words, stammering before he huffed a little laugh, eyes absolutely sparkling.

"Sorry," he apologized, chin dipping down to his chest to hide his smile. "Feels like I've been pulling you over every time I've been assigned to this road, miss. I think I see you more than I see my LT."

You blinked, surprised that he'd remembered you, but then again, you'd been pulled over a lot recently.

The cop cleared his throat, glancing down at his ticket book before pocketing it and looking away, toward where a bullfrog croaked in the night beyond your headlights.

"So, your registration stickers are expired. I know you have them, since we've already been over this. I'm not going to give you a ticket, but..." he shrugged, puffing air from his lips before his eyes darted back to you. "I'll put your stickers on for you right now if you take my phone number. We could grab a coffee sometime?"

You froze, mouth slightly open as you tried to process what he was saying. His offer was... unexpected, to say the least. His eyes twinkled as he held your gaze, clearly amused at the confusion on your face.

“No need to panic,” he laughed, and his cheeks were dark with blush. Oh, you thought, the sight making you absolutely weak. "You can say no."