Free Can't Bear To Run (Kendal Creek Bears, #1) by Lynn Red

That was a lie, but it made more sense than the truth.
    “No drugs in the vehicle?”
    I shook my head.
    “Have you been drinking?”
    “No, sir,” I said. “Little early for that, I think.”
    The little joke made him curl his bushy mustache into a smile. “Suppose so. Well look, I should give you a ticket, but let’s be real. You live across the country, and I doubt you’re the bad sort. You watch out at that concert though. From what I hear, it’s going to be a wild time. Not that I’d know.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said, smiling back. “I’m not planning on having any wild times. I’m a little too old for all that.”
    “I know how that is,” he said. “You hang out here for a second, I’ll go run this and if you’re clear I’ll be back in a minute. Hang tight.”
    Every shred of anxiety flooded my mind when he walked off. A rush of adrenaline gave me a few seconds of that awful hyper-awareness that it does when you crest the hill on a rollercoaster and feel your heart jump into your throat. My hands were so soaked with sweat that when I clenched the wheel, it squeaked. Before I knew it, he was back.
    “Right, Mrs. Dodson, I’m sure this is no surprise, but you’re clean. You’d be surprised how many people speed when they’ve got warrants out on them. I can’t imagine anything dumber, but... what do I know?” He hitched his thumb on his belt again.
    “Yeah, I’m not much for getting out,” I said. If only you knew .
    “Anyway, here you go. Warning for the speeding. If you’re tired, you should stop off and get some rest. Long drives are the most dangerous, you know.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said, “I will.”
    He gave a tired sigh and tapped twice on the hood of my Jeep. “This thing still running,” he remarked, almost to himself. “That’s a good thing. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. This an ’84?”
    I knew he was just being friendly, and was probably bored, but every second the kindly cop was near my car, my stomach kept getting closer and closer to my throat. “’85,” I said. “First car I ever bought.”
    He arched an eyebrow, nodding as he did. “Well anyways, you have a good day. Have fun at that concert, and be careful. Those things can get out of hand quickly.”
    I swallowed hard. “Will do.”
    As soon as he was gone, I let out what might be a world record sigh.
    “ In one quarter mile, take exit 102 toward Denver, Colorado ,” the slightly British voice from my GPS yammered. “ Recalculating. Recalculating. ”
    “Recalculating,” I repeated her plea. “Sounds good. Let’s recalculate.”
    I swung Booger around in a wide circle and was back on my way. Somehow, my heart managed to stay in my chest. For that, at least, I was glad.
    *
    W ith my ticket in hand, a tent slung across my back, head full of caffeine and belly full of convenience store hot dogs, I climbed out of my car in a field packed with cars parked every which way. A sudden need to pee struck me, so I set out in search of the wall of a green, plastic toilet I figured I’d find.
    What I didn’t figure on finding was the guy I saw standing in front of them.
    He had long brown hair, hanging in shaggy curls around his huge shoulders. His eyes were flashing in the sun, an almost golden color, and he was big . I don’t mean big like ‘oh he must lift weights’ either. I mean big like ‘oh he probably works for a circus.’ As I devoured every single detail of his impressive countenance, a slow realization crept over me – it was him .
    “Get outta the way!” he bellowed, and grabbed an irritated looking guy with a sideways cap and a really thick, gold necklace around his pencil neck. “Can’t you see she needs in here?”
    All of a sudden, it hit me right in the stomach. Holy Shit . It couldn’t be him, could it? I mean him -him. My stranger? My... God, I realized that while I was staring at him, he was fixed right on me, too.
    “Hey man,” the little guy said. “Calm down, I was in