Amy

As we are hauling food outside for our weekend cookout, a police car pulls in. My sister is out with her two kids, so Dakota was out with them. Dakota walks up to the car and talks to the officer, utterly oblivious to stranger danger. I rushed to the door, looking out, concerned about the situation, and noticed that the officer was Deputy Marshall. I wonder what he could want, perhaps some issue with animal abuse in the area.

"Dakota, why are you talking to a stranger?" I called out, carrying the covered dish outside.

"He's not a stranger, Mom. Hes' the police, and they are nice." Dakota replies, her hands on her hips. You would think she was thirty, not three.

"Yeah, Mom, the police are nice," Deputy Marshall said, getting out of his cruiser.

"You're not helping," I scowled at him.

Eliciting a chuckle from Deputy Marshall, but I still felt uneasy as to why he was there. Did some animal need my help?

"What brings you by, Deputy?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation to the reason for his visit.

"Just doing some routine patrols," he replied with a smile. " I saw you and your family and figured I stop in for a hello."

I'm unsure if I would be worried that this man knows my address, but I'm trying to think about that. He probably looked up my information since we work together. Professional needs only. I am the Humane Officer for his area, so that makes complete sense.

"Well, you got time to eat something other than donuts?" I ask, trying to hold in my laughter.

"Haha, very funny," he smirks.

But seriously, ladies, let's discuss this man and his muscles. I mean, does he even know what a donut is? His muscles are so fine. I want to lick them like a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Let's keep that tidbit in my head and daydream about a world where I can have some real, non-battery-powered action.

"But no, in all seriousness, we have plenty if you want to stay and ear. Cops get a lunch break, do they not? I say.

"Sure, I can spare a few for a home-cooked meal," He says, immediately surrounded by the kids.

The children are all eager to talk to him about his job. He answers their questions patiently, and they all seem fascinated by him. As we sit down to eat, I pass around the introductions, and tells us about his job.

"I've been on the force for about ten years now. It's tough, but I love it. Every day is different, and you never know what you'll get. Somedays, I deal with traffic accidents; I chase down suspects on others. But no matter what, I know I'm making a difference in people's lives." He says, and you can sense his passion for his job. It's the same passion I have for mine.

Dakota wastes no time monopolizing his conversation as we sit down for dinner. She sat beside him, swinging her legs back and forth excitedly, and asked him, "So your name is Deputy?"

He chuckled and replied, "My name is Creed, but your mommy likes to call me Deputy."

Dakota giggles and nods her head. "I like Creed better."

It's no surprise that she disagrees with her mother. She's already challenging me at three. I can only imagine the trouble I'll face when she becomes a teenager. I chuckle at the thought.

Creed shoots me a glance at the sound of my chuckles. I give him a shrug, and Dakota goes back to twenty questions. Poor guy has no idea what he got himself into.

I watched Creed interact with Dakota, helping her with her food, and I couldn't help but notice his incredible way with her. I am angry that her father refuses to be in her life. Well, it's his loss.

As I watched my daughter interact with Creed, I could help but feel she was being intrusive. I apologized to him for my daughter's incessant chatter, but he shrugged it off and continued the conversation. It was heartwarming to see Dakota soaking up the attention and enjoying herself. However, it also made me reflect on whether I was selfish and whether she needed a father figure.

As Creed got up to leave, he thanked everyone for having him, "Thank you for dinner. I have to eat and run, but duty calls," He said, making his way toward his cruiser. I walked with him, still trying to wrap my mind around calling him Creed.

Hey, for the record. You're killing it with Dakota. And her dad? Let's just say he's missing out on a fantastic girl. You and the little girl deserve the world." He speaks with a gin on his face. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if he's flirting.

I change the subject. "I guess you want me to call you Creed now?" I ask teasingly.

"I'd rather hear you scream my name in ecstasy," he whispered, leaning close to make sure no one else could hear.

I blushed furiously, not sure if I had heard him correctly. "W-what?" I stuttered.

Creed chuckled. "Never mind, I was just teasing. Thanks for the invite." He said and left me standing there trying to process what he said. However, my thought is interrupted by my sister yelling. Why is she yelling?

"What the Hell?' my sister yells. "Your friends with Creed Marshall. Like the for-real Creed Marshall."

"What are you yelling about?" I ask, confused by her sudden excitement.

"You have no idea who he is, do you?" She says excitedly. I mean, what is her problem?

"Hes' a Deputy Sheriff who found an injured cat one night, and I got called to go pick it up," I reply, still wondering what her deal is. I mean, how else would I know a cop?

"The Marshall family," she says, giving me a questioning glare like that explains her crazy.

It takes a moment to wrap my head around who she's referring to, and then it's like a lightbulb goes off. Suddenly it makes sense why she is acting crazy. Well, not entirely, but sort of. The Marshall family is stupidly wealthy and very influential. I never thought about his last name, but being friends with someone like that is fantastic. But now I know for sure he was not flirting with me. No, not someone like that. He's way out of my league.

"Oh. My. God." I exclaimed. "He can't be part of that family. He wouldn't need to work a day in his life. And a cop? Why a cop? He could be a big-shot executive. Why choose civil service?"

"Well, who cares? You are single, and so is he," she said with a shrug. She doesn't see the financial gap in this story. Wait, did she say hes' single?

"He's married," I replied. "He had a wedding band on the night of the injured cat call." Great, I just ratted myself out that I was checking for a ring. They have ammo. I should seek cover immediately.

"He did not, and I repeat," she says, taking my shoulders and getting in my face. "Now read my lips. Did. Not. Have. A. Ring. On. His. Finger."

Wait, what? No ring? Maybe he is not married, I mused briefly. But again. Someone like me wouldn't stand a chance with him. I'll keep things strictly professional.

"I doubt someone like Creed Marshall would give me a second glance." I shrugged nonchalantly. They haven't picked up on the I checked for a ring thing, so I'm denying, deny, deny.

Back in the day, I was never part of the "in" crowd of a stereotypical beauty queen. Nope, I was the unique and charming girl who adored horses. The only time I caught the boys' eyes was when my curves suddenly appeared, but let's be honest, there's more to a girl than just her curves.

"I'm not convinced. Even though he seemed to be socializing with everyone, it appeared that he only had eyes for you," my sister remarks with a smile and a wink.

"I have to agree with your sister. He kept glancing in your direction." My mom says with a laugh. "It wouldn't hurt to have a little romance in your life. It's been quite something since you've had a date. You haven't had one since that unfortunate incident with your ex-husband."

Seriously unfortunate incident! Getting a fist to the face from your ex is beyond unfortunate. Andy yet, my family is all about dodging the emotional wreckage and not dealing with the drama head-on. We're talking about keeping our crazy so hidden treasure hunters couldn't find it—the complete opposit of sitting it on the front porch with a lemonade.

"Let's not pressure her. She's doing just fine without a man in her life," my dad grumbled. "And for the record, she doesn't need any hanky panky."

As we chuckled I couldn't help but notice the sadness in my dad's eyes. He held me close and whispered. "I wish I would keep you here forever, kiddo."

I know what he meant that I wouldn't stay here forever and was thinking about a time when Dakota and I would be gone. "Dad, you understand eventually I will leave," I tried to explain to my Dad.

He grumbled at my response, clearly not satisfied with the idea of me leaving his side. "Look what happened last time you left the nest," he muttered.

I reassured him with a smile and a gentle pat on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." His laughter filled the area, but deep down, I know how much it will hurt him when my daughter and I leave for good.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in the company of my family, with the kids and me indulging in some fishing in our pond. I got to hand it to Dakota's Snoopy Fishing Pole. It came in handy as she managed to catch a sizable fish, which we all celebrated with pictures and praise, basking in the joy of the moment.

The day drew to a close, and Dakota was sound asleep. My mind began to wander. I couldn't stop thinking about what Creed said earlier and the conversation with my sister and mother. It wasn't lost on me that Creed was at least a decade older than me, and if he was getting divorced or was already divorced, he probably wasn't looking for something long-term. I, on the other hand, was not interested in a one-night stand or a casual fling.

Really? Why was I even entertaining the idea of something happening between Creed and me? He isn't interested. He only stopped by because he was on patrol in the area, not because he was interested in me, beyond a professional relationship. I shook my head, trying to clear my thought, and decided to focus on the happy memories of the day instead. Fishing with the kids and spending time with my family was a much more wholesome way to think.