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Wayhaught: Choose Your Own Story

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“I didn’t know Shorty’s had wet t-shirt competitions.”

If anyone had told Waverly, that that line would bring a smirk to her lips, even while she was drenched in cheap beer, she wouldn’t have believed them. She assumed her reaction would be to cringe, groan, kick that customer out of Shorty’s, or maybe just cut them off if she was feeling generous.

But here she was, no more than 5 minutes after those words were uttered from the newest deputy’s mouth, smirk still playing on her lips, as she ran her thumb over the name on the worn business card.

Was it weird that she liked the way ‘Officer Haught’ rolled off her tongue? Or was it odder that she had repeated it aloud three times, for all of the empty bar to hear?

Each time, the bartender’s mind filled with the image of the deputy, smiling over her shoulder with dimples on full display as she placed her Stetson on her red locks before leaving the saloon.

With a sigh, Waverly placed the business card in the back pocket of her jean shorts and shrugged into her Shorty’s shirt.

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Though Officer Haught’s business card stayed out of sight, in her pocket, until her mid-afternoon break, it certainly wasn’t out of mind.

The small piece of weighted paper burned through her pocket, not unlike the warm feeling of Nicole’s fingers as they brushed against her skin as the officer helped her out of her stuck shirt.

Goosebumps erupted across her skin each time her mind had wandered to that memory, just as they had the first time. A small blush crept into her cheeks as she recalled the contact again, hoping the new deputy hadn’t noticed.

Outside, leaning against the building, Waverly pulled the business card from her pocket, running a finger across the name again.

“Officer Nicole Haught,” she breathed, the first time vocalizing the redhead’s first name aloud.

The bartender remained captivated by the name and adding her first name only inflated the allure.

Eyes slipping closed, she shook her head, attempting to clear the redhead from her mind. Slowly counting, she only made it to 23 until the void in front of her eyes filled with Nicole. The uniformed officer standing within her space, shyly looking down before soft, brown eyes rose, honed in on her and only her, as if the rest of the world faded away and she was all that mattered. The reel in her mind continued until a small, adorable smile played on the deputy’s lips.

Waverly snapped her eyes opened. Adorable?

Shaking her head again, she couldn’t help but wonder why she was so enthralled by the newest member of Purgatory’s finest?

Her gaze fell back to the business card, still clasped between her fingers. As her eyes lingered on the taller woman’s name once again, Nicole’s voice echoed in her mind again: “When I see something I like, I don’t want to wait.”

Waverly’s cheeks flushed again as she recalled the attention. She bit the side of her lip as another thought crossed her mind: she definitely liked Nicole, if the time her mind spent on the officer was any indication, and she really didn’t want to wait to see her again.

But what did that mean?

Worrying her lip, her mind wandered through options of what to do next:

  1. Text Nicole that afternoon
  2. Take coffee to the station the next day for—ahem—all the officers, and not one in particular
  3. Follow the “three-days-rule” and wait three days before asking Nicole to coffee
  4. Chicken out of all of the above