eXcessica publishing
On Cherry Hill © 2008 by Selena Kitt
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.
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Cover art © 2008 Selena Kitt
Cover Photo Credit: Casey Kelly, HimandHer
First Edition 2008
A Smashwords Edition
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On Cherry Hill
By Selena Kitt
My stomach lurched when I saw the red and blue flashing lights appear out of nowhere behind me. I pulled over onto the grass on the side of the dirt road. I hadn't seen one car since turning down this road, but that wasn't surprising—it was four in the morning and I'd been watching for a break in the farms and fields, looking for my next turn.
I rolled down my window, letting in the cool night air with just a hint of dampness. It was a relief after the heat of the day. I dug through my wallet for my license, hearing his boots crunching the gravel as he came up to my car, waving his flashlight in through my window. It was the only light out here—there were no streetlights at all.
"Ma'am." He bent down to look into my window. I glanced over at him, my heart leaping as it always did whenever I faced someone in authority. "License, registration and proof of insurance?"
I handed him my license, flipping my glove box open and digging through. The papers were buried under fast food napkins and packets of ketchup and taco sauce.
"Here you go." I managed to keep my voice from quivering, but was unable to stop the way my hands trembled. "Officer, I'm sorry, but I'm really in a hurry. I'm on my way to a birth."
He dipped his head back down, frowning. "A birth? Are you a doctor?"
"Midwife," I corrected, adding softly, "Apprentice midwife."
His gaze was level and cool, disbelieving. "There isn't a hospital around here for miles, ma'am."
"It's a home birth," I explained, pleading at him with my eyes. His face had that square, chiseled look I always associated with cops. "I have the address. I swear I'm telling you the truth. There's a woman in labor about half a mile from here who's waiting for me to deliver her baby.
He fixed his eyes on me for a moment, assessing. It was close to the truth, but not quite, and I swear he could tell. Without a word, he took my paperwork, turned around and went back to his cruiser.
I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse, ducking down a little in the seat, hoping he couldn't see me. Charlotte's number was three on my speed dial, after "home" and "Charlie's cell." I pushed the button and waited, but nothing happened.
"Fuck," I swore, looking at the "Searching for service" screen illuminated on my phone.
I was in the middle of nowhere. Of course there was no service. Charlotte had called me at three-fifteen to tell me Katie's water had broken and told me to meet her there. This was only the fifth birth we'd done together, and I couldn't believe I might miss it because of some cop!
I heard his boots kicking gravel again and shoved my phone back into my purse, looking up at him as he leaned over to talk to me. "Do you know why I pulled you over, ma'am?"
"No." I shook my head, seeing him raise his eyebrows at me under his hat.
"You have a headlight out." He pointed to the front of my husband's car. I always took his car when I went to a birth, because he had to take the kids to the sitter, and the car seats were in the minivan I usually drove.