Skinny Dipping Season by Cynthia Tennent Page A

Miss Lively.” I felt the heat of his body as he moved closer and I turned back to him, once again faced with my own reflection mocking me in his sunglasses. “Lots of people think they can come here and lose themselves in the north woods. They think there’s no such thing as the law and rules up here. I know the type. The north woods are full of hicks who don’t care how they behave, right? Maybe that is what you think?”
    That stung.
    â€œYou don’t know anything about me,” I said, ignoring the wobble in my voice.
    I could almost feel the heat of his stare behind his Polaroids as he tilted his chin from the tip of my scuffed boots to my messy head. “After two encounters with you, there isn’t a whole lot left to the imagination.”
    His words hit hard. “It isn’t—I don’t always drink like I did last night,” I said, feeling my veneer slide a notch. The men in the corner had stopped their discussion and were staring at us. The waitress reappeared.
    â€œDrink?” interrupted the woman. She moved toward us, pointing a finger at Officer Hardy. “Did you hear that, J. D.? This woman wants a drink. Our first fresh face in a dozen weeks and I can’t give her one!”
    Her words temporarily broke the tension. Officer Hardy held up his hands and tilted his head to the grease-stained ceiling. “Don’t start with that liquor-license talk, Corinne. She is a perfect example of why we won’t recommend the diner, for one. What kind of woman wants a drink before noon on a Monday morning?”
    The slime. He was letting the waitress assume the worst. I was tired of being the fall guy. For a brief moment I was back in Toledo again, in the impossible position of having to explain the unexplainable. Officer Hardy’s arrogant face merged with the titillated faces of reporters who loved slinging accusations.
    Fine. Let this man believe what he wanted. If I was going to be judged no matter what I did—no matter how well-intentioned, albeit stupid, my motives were—then why bother? I was an addict, a self-centered rich girl, and a lawbreaker.
    I stood up and pushed my hand against his rock-hard chest, wishing I could spear the most irritating man in the Midwest with only a finger. “What kind of girl wants a drink at eleven in the morning, Officer? You’re so smart. You’ve already decided everything about me. So go ahead and figure it out.” I reached for my purse, ready to leave before I did something I would regret, like dump the nearby creamer over Officer Hardy’s head. But I accidentally knocked my purse over and the contents spilled everywhere.
    I dropped to my knees and scrambled to pick everything up, trying not to think of the dirty shoes that had touched the floor. I was almost finished when a hand holding my pack of cigarettes appeared in front of my face. “Don’t forget your smokes.”
    He said it loud enough that everyone in the diner heard.
    God, I hated him right now. But I wasn’t going to let him know.
    â€œWouldn’t want to forget those,” I said with a little laugh of bravado. I angled my head toward the men in the booth. I placed a cigarette in the corner of my mouth like I saw people do in old movies and held the pack out to anyone who might be interested.
    â€œAnyone want one?” The cigarette almost fell out when I spoke. The lady behind the counter put a hand over her mouth and snorted.
    Officer Hardy moved closer. He was so near I could smell the same faint musk I remembered from his coat last night.
    â€œActually, smoking in a public restaurant is against the law these days.” He removed the cigarette from my mouth and threw it in the trash can behind the counter. “Welcome to the new millennium.”
    Of course. I had forgotten about that.
    Then, leaning down until his face was inches away, he said, “I suppose you think rules don’t apply to