Not Their First Rodeo

by Christy Jeffries

  “No, but I heard you were at the center of it. Mrs. Singh said you two broke up the fight in here.”

  “Who?” Violet craned her neck to see around his shoulder.

  Marcus pointed to the woman who’d helped Violet hold the judge back. She was using a napkin to blot orange soda off a letterman’s jacket embroidered with a beaker and the words TRHS Science Squad. “Mrs. Singh. The chemistry teacher.”

  “Oh, right.” The crowd was finally dispersing, and it sounded like the second half of the game was beginning. Violet squinted at the handful of people watching them, including the scowling parent from the rival high school who’d spilled the nachos on the judge. “What happened to Judge Calhoun?”

  “He should be in the back of a patrol car by now.”

  “No!” Violet’s head jerked back to face him. “Did you seriously arrest a judge, Marcus? The one presiding over your brother’s case?”

  Marcus rested his hands on his duty belt. “Did he throw the first punch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Violet, I told you that I do things by the book, and nobody in this town gets special treatment. It’ll be up to the prosecutor’s office to decide if they want to file charges.”

  What had been an almost comical situation had suddenly taken a very serious turn. A dull ache formed above Violet’s temple as she considered the possible ramifications of this. “But there are only two circuit judges for the entire county. And one already recused herself from the case. If Calhoun gets removed from the bench due to judicial misconduct, it could take months for the state to appoint someone else to hear MJ’s case.”

  Marcus rolled his shoulders dismissively. “Then it takes months.”

  She searched his eyes for some clue that he was hoping to delay the trial to get her to give up and return to Dallas. “I’m not leaving just because the trial date gets extended. Do you seriously think you can play nice and get along with me for that long?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted. “But it’s out of my hands. I have to do my job, Vi. Even if the end result means prolonging all this damn sexual tension between us.”

  A tingle went down the back of her neck. At least he was acknowledging that he was having the same reaction to her presence as she was having to his. Really, she should be relieved that, as the sheriff, he was acting impartially and beyond reproach. Judge Calhoun really should be held to the same standards as everyone else in town.

  Violet gave herself a little shake. “Fine. Do you need my witness statement?”

  “Actually, do you think you can come to the station and give it? We’re short staffed, and I don’t want our volunteer Rod processing Calhoun’s book and release all by himself.”

  Violet’s stomach fluttered in hunger. In her efforts to avoid him at the family meal, Violet had missed out on one of Freckles’s home-cooked dinners only to get herself caught up in the middle of some small-town basketball rivalry. Now she was starving, and she was going to end up spending the bulk of her evening with the very guy she’d been trying to dodge in the first place.

  “Sure,” she said before she could overthink it. “But I’m going to stop at Biscuit Betty’s on my way there. I haven’t had dinner yet, and suddenly nachos and hot dogs don’t sound all that appetizing.”

  “Perfect. Will you grab me a chicken biscuit while you’re there? Maybe a side of potato wedges?”

  She tilted her head, not sure if she was quite ready to play that nicely yet. “Will you stop pretending to ignore me whenever we’re in public?”

  “I’m not ignoring you.” His voice grew low and seductive as he stepped closer to her. “In fact, I’m very aware of your presence, and it takes every scrap of control I possess not to pull you into my arms and kiss you senseless every damn time I see you. But we both have opposing jobs to do, and people expect us to stay in our lanes and not get too chummy.”

  She stared at him in shock. “So all those times you start arguments with me, that’s just for show?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I like arguing with you.” He smiled. “I just like kissing you more.”

  Marcus winked at her before walking away to interview the remaining witnesses. Violet’s stomach went from rumbling to doing somersaults. If she were being honest with herself, she enjoyed kissing him more than arguing with him, as well.

  But since he’d pointed out that they were supposed to be at odds, she couldn’t very well bring him dinner without raising a few eyebrows. So when she stopped at Biscuit Betty’s on her way to the station, she ordered enough food to feed the dispatcher, the volunteer and all the deputies on duty. Then she thought about Judge Calhoun and anyone else the Ridgecrest County Sheriff’s Department might’ve arrested at the game and doubled her order.

  When the young server gave her the total amount due, Violet smiled and said, “Sheriff King wanted you to put it all on his tab.”

  Chapter Nine

  There was no kissing for Marcus last Friday night after the brawl at the high-school basketball game. Judge Calhoun had been booked at the station and then released, but instead of going home, the man had sat at the front desk with Rod discussing the difficulty of getting stains out of white leather sneakers. Of course, Calhoun was talking about cheese sauce, and Rod was talking about blood splatters. But at least there were no hard feelings from the judge regarding his arrest. In fact, he said he had been planning to retire soon anyway so he could fulfill his lifelong dream of attending a game at every NBA stadium in the country.

  Violet delivered the chicken biscuit as promised—as well as enough food to feed everyone who’d ever worked within a two block radius of the county buildings—and then gave her statement. But Marcus’s deputies had processed five other arrests from that night, a record for his small department, and he hadn’t been able to talk to her alone.

  He got his bill from Biscuit Betty’s the following day and nearly laughed at his ex-girlfriend’s audacity. No wonder two of the people they’d brought in had jokingly asked Violet to be their attorney. He had no idea if she’d agreed to represent them, but she was certainly busy doing something, because he’d seen her at least three times that week filing documents at the courthouse.

  It wasn’t until the following Friday that Marcus finally got a chance to talk to Violet alone. Or at least not in front of the entire town.

  His sister Tessa had been on the Junior Olympic diving team when an accident in high school had derailed her career. Agent Wyatt had secured the use of the heated indoor pool every day this week after the rec center closed to the public so that Tessa could practice diving again. Their mom and Aunt Freckles had insisted on turning this week’s family dinner into a pool party and picked up a dozen pizzas from the Pepperoni Stampede in town.

  “I thought you weren’t going to ignore me in public anymore,” Violet said to Marcus after the boys jumped into the water.

  “I’m not ignoring you,” he replied, still in his uniform. He’d stopped by the cabin after work to grab the boys’ swimsuits but didn’t want to make them wait while he changed. “I’m standing right here talking to you. In a public building.”

  “Technically. But you know that I’m referring to the four times you saw me at the courthouse this past week.”

  “I only saw you three times,” he corrected before realizing he’d walked right into her trap.

  One corner of her mouth turned up in a gotcha grin. “So then, why didn’t you speak to me?”

  “About what?” He lifted his eyebrow with a challenge of his own. “Did you want me to discuss the red lipstick you were wearing on Tuesday morning and how it’s my absolute favorite color on you? Or perhaps we could’ve talked about the high heels you were wearing on Wednesday afternoon and how they made your legs look a million inches long? Maybe I should’ve complimented your windblown hair yesterday? Told you that it reminded me of the time I pulled it out of all those bobby p
ins at your homecoming dance right before we—”

  She shoved a half-eaten slice of Hawaiian pizza into his mouth to keep him from saying anything else in front of the kids, who were splashing around in the shallow end. “Ew, I hate pineapple on pizza.”

  “I know.” She wiped her hands on a napkin as they stood shoulder to shoulder. “So the only thing you can think of talking to me about when you see me in town is my appearance?”

  Marcus finished chewing before replying, “It’s not the only thing. But it was either that or ask you whether you had agreed to represent the same people my deputies had just arrested the previous weekend. I figured the first topic would get you all heated and aroused, and the second would get you all heated and pissed off. As much as I like to see you all hot and bothered, I figured it was best to not say anything when there were so many people around.”

  “You were right about the second, but not about the first. Both topics would’ve been condescending with zero chance of arousal.”

  “Really?” he asked, trying to get her to make eye contact with him. When she wouldn’t, he smiled to himself. “Then why are you aroused right now?”

  Violet carefully studied something off in the distance, refusing to give him so much as a side-eye. “Who says I am?”

  “Your neck is all flushed, and your cheeks are getting rosy.”

  She swiped the back of her hand across her face, as though she could wipe away her telltale blush. “It’s just warm in here. There’s not much air circulation.”

  She’d shed her tailored suit jacket earlier, and he tilted his own head forward, purposely dropping his gaze to her breasts. Or more specifically, to her hardened nipples, which were perfectly outlined under the thin fabric of her silky white blouse. He waited for her to notice the subject of his gaze, then lowered his mouth closer to her ear and whispered, “That usually only happens when you’re cold. Or when you’re aroused.”

  She gasped and quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Hey, you asked.” He smiled innocently then took another bite of pizza. Dang. He forgot about the pineapple. He tossed the piece into a nearby trash.

  When he returned to where she was standing, she was the one smiling innocently. “For the record, I did agree to represent two of the people you guys arrested last week.”

  “So you’re staying in town longer?”

  “We’ll see. Judge Calhoun will likely plead guilty to a lesser charge because he’s anxious to avoid trial and start his retirement trip.”

  “Are you kidding me? You agreed to represent Calhoun?”

  “Yes. But I charged him a notably high retainer. The other client I’m representing pro bono.”

  “Who’s that?” Marcus asked, yet he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

  “Rose Roosevelt.”

  Marcus smacked his palm to his forehead. “The woman who accosted the ref in the locker room after the game?”

  “No, the concerned mom who followed the referee off the court to explain that his bad call was going to affect her son’s stats, which would in turn affect his chances of earning a much-needed college scholarship.”

  “Violet. Rose’s son plays second-string center and can’t block a shot without fouling someone. Jumping on the referee’s back and trying to put him in a choke hold isn’t going to get the kid a college scholarship.”

  “Marcus, she’s a single mom.”

  “Who committed an assault and battery.”

  “Allegedly,” Violet corrected him.

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “So are you taking the case because you feel sorry for her? Or are you doing it just to have something else to argue about with me?”

  “You know—” Violet made a tsking sound before shaking her head “—arguing with you really isn’t as enthralling for me as you seem to believe it is.”

  “Then why do you keep coming up with new ways to do it?” he asked.

  “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re just spoiling for a fight?” she replied. But before he could reply, Jack interrupted them.

  “Hey, Violet, watch this!” his son shouted before he did a cannonball into the water.

  “That was great.” She smiled and gave a little clap, which only encouraged Jack to want to show off more daring tricks. After each one, the boy would look to her for more applause.

  “Hey, Violet.” Jordan bounced up and down on his toes. “I’m trying to figure out how much lung capacity I got. Time me to see how long I can hold my breath.”

  Marcus and Violet stood side by side a foot away from the pool’s edge. There was a huge clock on the opposite wall, but Violet kept glancing at her wristwatch, giving Marcus the impression that she was counting down the seconds until she could politely leave.

  “Do you want to come swimming with us, Violet?” Jordan asked when he emerged from the water thirty seconds later. “I watched a video on how to do CPR so I can save you if you start drowning.”

  “Well, that’s very reassuring, Jordan, but I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  Jack lifted his goggles. “You could borrow one from Aunt Tessa or Aunt Finn.”

  Great. Marcus could barely take his eyes off Violet when she was wearing business attire. If she put on a bathing suit, everyone in this rec center would be watching him to see his reaction. In fact, his mom and aunt were all the way on the other side of the pool, making no secret of their interest in his and Violet’s current interaction. He knew she didn’t have the heart to tell either of his sons no, so he spoke up. “Hey, buddy, Violet would rather hang out up here on the deck and watch you guys play.”

  Both boys pouted, their little shoulders sagging in defeat. Violet, who clearly wasn’t used to telling children no, whipped her head in Marcus’s direction. “How do you know what I’d rather do?”

  He pivoted as he stepped in front of her, blocking his sons from witnessing yet another one of their disagreements. Facing her, he whispered, “Really, Vi? I’m trying to get you off the hook here.”

  “I don’t need you to get me off any hooks, Marcus. You don’t get to decide what I do, and you certainly don’t get to speak on my behalf.”

  “Oh, come on.” He put both of his hands on top of his head as he lifted his face to the ceiling in frustration. “This is a prime example of you once again finding some bogus reason to argue with me. If you had wanted to go swimming, then you clearly would’ve brought a bathing suit.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you’re right.” Violet took a step closer to him and slowly lifted her hands to his shoulders, letting her palms gently slide down to his chest. “And if you hadn’t wanted to go swimming, then clearly you wouldn’t have acted like such an overbearing ass.”

  The next thing Marcus knew, he was falling backward with too much force to regain his balance. He heard the powerful splash before feeling the heavily chlorinated water surround him and pull him below the surface. Luckily, he was in the shallow end and was able to quickly find his footing and stand up. Unluckily, he was still dressed in his full uniform, heavy boots and duty belt full of gear, including his semiautomatic handgun and full ammo cartridges.

  When he shook the water out of his ears, he could hear the twins and his niece Amelia shrieking with laughter. Or maybe that was Finn and Aunt Freckles. The acoustics of the tiled walls caused all the howling and cheering to echo around him.

  Violet remained at the edge of the pool, humor reflecting in her eyes as she stared down her nose at him, the upward tilt of her mouth smugly reassuring him that she wasn’t the least bit sorry that she’d shoved him into the pool. She must’ve seen him lift his hand to the surface because she quickly jumped back before he could send a retaliatory spray of water in her direction. She even had the nerve to giggle at her superior reflexes before taunting him. “You missed.”

  “You’re safe for now,” Marcus promised her. “Just remember
. Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

  Violet watched him intently, though, clearly not trusting him to not come after her for payback. He took advantage of her rapt attention by unzipping his soaked jacket and pitching it onto the deck. Next, he worked on the buttons of his uniform shirt, maintaining eye contact with Violet as he shrugged out of the waterlogged fabric and threw it on top of the jacket. He had to peel his white T-shirt off his torso and over his head before adding it to the pile, but his effort was rewarded when he saw Violet’s tongue dart out as she licked her lips.

  Good. Now she might understand why he’d been so reluctant to approach her in town when he already couldn’t take his eyes off her. Satisfaction, and maybe a touch of pride, caused his chest muscles to stand at attention. When she jerked her eyes up to meet his, he gave her a satisfied wink.

  Then, because he hadn’t gone swimming with his sons since summer break, he turned to the kids and asked, “Who wants to play rocket launcher?”

  * * *

  “So now that Tessa’s gone back to Washington, DC—” Freckles stood in front of Violet holding a small tray with a chicken-pesto sandwich, pasta salad and a slice of homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie “—Roper’s old study is available for use. It might be a little more comfortable than this.”

  Violet moved aside some papers on the wicker patio table so Marcus’s aunt could put down the tray. “Actually, I’m pretty comfortable out here in the pool house. But I’ll gladly move into the study if that makes it easier for you to bring me lunch. Your pie is still the best, Freckles.”

  Violet had long ago given up on trying to convince the older woman that she didn’t need to provide lunch every day, let alone bring it across the yard and to the pool house. It was clear that Freckles was missing her restaurant back in Idaho and truly enjoyed serving home-cooked meals to whoever she thought needed it.

  “Oh, you know me, darlin’. I like the chance to come outside and get away from Sherilee bugging me in the kitchen.”