ทะลุมิติไปเป็นสาวใช้ผู้มั่งคั่งในยุค 90

I stared down at my phone like it had just slapped me across the face. The screen lit up again, and there it was—Jake’s name. I didn’t even bother reading the rest of the notification. I already knew what it would say. Probably something pathetic like “I’m sorry” or “Let me explain” or some other garbage he thought would magically fix the fact that I just caught him with another girl.

My jaw clenched, and I hit the red decline button harder than I needed to. I should’ve thrown the phone out the window, honestly. I didn’t want to see his name again, or hear his voice. Not after everything. I had given him my heart, trusted him, defended him to everyone who warned me... and for what? To walk in on him kissing some blonde with fake lashes and zero shame?

Another call came in.

Jake. Again.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I hissed, gripping the steering wheel so tight I felt my fingers cramp. “You cheat and still have the nerve to blow up my phone?”

I slammed the phone down on the passenger seat like that would make the buzzing stop. It didn’t. But I refused to look at it again.

The road ahead was a blur, mostly because I was blinking away angry tears. I didn’t even realize I was speeding. I just wanted to get home—away from this day, away from my thoughts, away from him.

That’s when I heard it.

The high-pitched wail of a police siren sliced through the silence of my car like a knife.

I sucked in a breath and checked my rearview mirror.

Flashing red and blue lights danced behind me, way too close for comfort.

No. No, no, no.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath. My heart started pounding, and not the good kind of pounding. This was the oh-no-I’m-about-to-get-a-ticket kind of pounding. I glanced at the speedometer and winced. Definitely over the limit.

Of course. Just my luck. First, I find out my boyfriend’s been lying to me, and now I’m about to get pulled over by the police. Perfect. Just freaking perfect.

I signaled and slowly pulled over to the side of the road. The area was pretty deserted—no other cars, no buildings, just trees and cracked pavement stretching out for miles. I couldn’t even see any streetlights. It was the kind of road you’d avoid after dark… unless you were too mad to care, like me.

I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle with shaky fingers. My palms were sweaty, and my chest felt tight. If this officer gave me a ticket, I’d scream. Or cry. Probably both.

I stepped out of the car, already rehearsing my apology in my head. Maybe if I told him I had a bad day, he’d go easy on me. Maybe if I looked really, really sad, he’d feel sorry for me. Or maybe I’d just break down and start sobbing right there on the side of the road.

The police car door opened slowly.

And then I saw him.

And I forgot how to breathe.

The officer stepped out, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Like, actually dreaming. Because there was no way a man this gorgeous was real.

He was tall—like, towering tall—and broad in a way that made his dark uniform look just a little too tight around his chest and shoulders. His dark hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and there was a slight scruff on his jaw that made him look both rugged and dangerous.

But it was his arms that really got me. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled up just enough to show the thick, tattooed muscles of his forearms. Black ink twisted across his tan skin, the designs sharp and beautiful. I couldn’t even tell what they were, but I didn’t care. My mouth literally watered.

He looked like he belonged on the cover of one of those romance novels I read in secret—except better. Realer. And nothing like Jake.

Nothing at all like that cheating loser.

This man looked like he didn’t need to lie to get a woman. He probably didn’t even have to speak—he could just stare, and girls would melt. Kind of like what I was doing right now. Melting.

He walked toward me slowly, his eyes locked on mine. They were a deep hazel, intense and unreadable. His face was hard, unreadable too, like he wasn’t in the mood for games.

He stopped just a few feet in front of me, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Evening,” he said, voice deep and smooth like melted chocolate—or maybe whiskey, the strong kind that burned a little. It rolled through me, thick and slow, vibrating right through my chest and settling somewhere lower, way lower, where it had no business being.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, eyes not leaving mine.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My lips parted, my tongue moved, but my brain? Blank. Completely useless. I was too busy staring at him like an idiot, thinking stupid thoughts like—God, he’s hot. Why does a man like that even exist?

He raised an eyebrow when I didn’t answer right away, and then he said, “Ma’am,” in that rich, polite tone that somehow made me feel both small and noticed at the same time. Like he was trying to be professional, but even that felt... intense.

I blinked, shaking my head a little, as if that would knock some sense back into me.

“I… um…” I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal, but my voice came out a little wobbly. “I—I think I was going over the speed limit.”

My cheeks burned as I said it. I sounded like a guilty teenager, not a grown woman. But he didn’t laugh or smile. He just nodded slowly and stepped a little closer.

My breath hitched.

He wasn’t even doing anything—just walking—but the way he moved was so calm and confident, like he knew people stared when he entered a room. Or in this case, walked up to their car window in the middle of nowhere.

As he got closer, I caught the faint scent of his cologne.

Oh. My. God.

It wasn’t the kind of strong, choking cologne some guys wore to try too hard. This was subtle, masculine, and clean—like leather and cedar and something slightly spicy I couldn’t even name. It hit my nose and made my head go light. I felt like I’d just inhaled something I wasn’t supposed to. Something addictive.

I swallowed hard, trying not to look at his chest. Or his arms. Or the way his shirt hugged his body in all the right places.

He stopped just in front of me now, towering over me slightly, and my heart was going wild in my chest like it couldn’t decide between running away or throwing itself at him.

“You were,” he said, looking down at me. “Almost fifteen miles over.”

I winced. “I… I didn’t realize. I was just… distracted.”

He tilted his head again, eyes narrowing just a little. “Distracted?”