Pumpkins, Cowboys & Guitars

by Patti Ann Colt

  “Hi, Sheriff. What can I get you?” Nita Banks, Tiny’s petite, curvy girlfriend slid around the big man, patted him on his backside, and came to the counter.

  “My usual large coffee, Nita.”

  She pressed the keys on the cash register. “Don’t know why you buy it here when I know for a fact that Blanche makes you coffee at the station.”

  Zach grimaced. He never drank Blanche’s coffee. The entire sheriff’s office had a pact. The first one in dumped her coffee and made a new pot and God help the person who forgot. Blanche’s coffee tasted like muddy, bitter poison.

  His first day on the job he’d ended up at Doc Jude’s office seeking a prescription for industrial strength stomach medicine after drinking a half a cup of her noxious substance.

  He rubbed his stomach and forced himself to smile. “Just supporting the town, Nita.”

  “Well, we appreciate your business, Sheriff.” Nita poured his coffee and put a lid on the cup. Tiny hung up and turned around.

  “You couldn’t have brought her here to meet us? Again?” Tiny marched to the counter, the man as blustery as he’d ever seen him.

  “Who?” Zach took his coffee from Nita, dread threading down his spine.

  “Who? Who?” The big man blew out a breath. “Leia Shae. For crying out loud, Zach, that’s twice she’s been here in town and you’ve kept her to yourself.”

  Zach paused for a moment, keeping his face blank. Of course word would have gotten out all ready. You didn’t live in a town the size of Parson Corners—all twenty-six hundred God-fearing, nosy, concerned citizens—and expect word not to travel.

  “She did a quick in and out to pick up a couple of items she left here four months ago,” he fibbed deliberately.

  “Uh huh. That’s why her rental car was parked by your house all afternoon yesterday. I hear she didn’t leave until after supper.”

  He debated lying again, but it wouldn’t do any good. He sighed. “Who told?”

  “Blanche. Grannie Dunn. Beau.”

  His dispatcher/receptionist. His next door neighbor. His damn brother.

  “Bet Fiona isn’t going to be happy with you either.” Tiny’s expression changed from irritated to gleeful.

  “She’s in Denver with Ryder at Wyatt’s. Not much I could do about that.” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed at the flavorful concoction. “Good coffee, Tiny.”

  “Saves your behind.” Nita commented, then walked away to wipe off the glass display cases. He wasn’t sure whether she meant his coffee comment to Tiny or the fact that Aunt Fiona had been gone. Probably both.

  “Doesn’t save his behind. Dammit. I love that woman’s music.” Tiny pointed his finger at him. “Next time you bring her right here or no more coffee for you.”

  Zach’s stomach jumped, anticipation roiling with disappointment before he replied. “There isn’t going to be a next time, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Man,” Tiny whined. He stomped back to the kitchen and began pounding on a pile of dough.

  Zach took that as his cue to leave. He waved at Nita—who stood grinning at Tiny’s mini temper tantrum. He ignored the smirks on the faces of three other customers and made for the door.

  His coffee was almost gone by the time he parked in his designated spot by the sheriff’s office. He went inside by the back door and made his way to the squad room. Part of the morning crew was in the office. The one man and one woman stared at him.

  “What?”

  “No autographed pictures?” Laurie Conway, his rookie deputy asked. “I’ve got kids who love her, you know.”

  Zach swore under his breath and handed off the manila envelope under his arm. Leia had searched her briefcase last night and come up with a stack of autographed pictures, anticipating this.

  “Here” He set them down in front of her. “I’m not that moronic.”

  “You were last time,” she accused, but began counting out the eight-by- ten glossies, one for each of her four kids.

  “Save a couple for me, Conway,” Drew Tysdale complained, hanging up the phone, and shooting his rolling chair to her side like he was in a roller derby and was going to toss her over the railing. “I got two teenage sons. They’ll want a piece of this. I didn’t hear the end of it last time.”

  Zach sighed and retreated to his office, his good morning slowly disintegrating around him. He stared at the budget requests on his desk and willed himself to the mundane.

  Goth was back. Apparently two weeks of normal was all Carlee could handle. To top it off, she wasn’t speaking to him for reasons that were unfathomable. The fifteen minute ride to Aunt Fiona’s farm was filled with her silent attitude. But he was ignoring it if it killed him.

  He’d switch on the radio, but they’d argue about what to listen to unless he put in Leia Shae’s latest CD and he couldn’t stand to listen to it again—not because he was tired of it, but because of what it did to him physically to listen to her lush voice. His dreams of late had become too hot to handle.

  The country road followed a dry creek bed and Zach paid particular attention to the twists in the road and the fall colors and the deer on the hill, forcing his willpower over a juvenile attraction that had no business in a father and sheriff’s life. The long white rail fence line came into view and he turned down the lane to the farmhouse.

  Fiona Liesel Devlin was his mother’s sister. After the plane crash, she’d struggled to support them until she’d made a name for herself in cooking, house-decorating, and gardening—her books now always on the New York Times Bestsellers list.

  She’d been offered many opportunities to host a cooking show, but she’d refused, never allowing the demands of her profession to come before her family. She was funny, sassy, and eccentric as hell. Zach swore it was the Irish leprechaun in her, topped with a temper that sparked out of her vivid red hair. He loved her even when she drove him mad. Much like Carlee.

  He followed the long curve of the driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the three story monstrosity Fiona called home. The house was all angles and windows with no definitive style. It had been built at the beginning of the “big” war by Daniel Jacob Parson the Third. He was a descendent of the town’s forefather, the first Daniel Jacob Parson, a miner and entrepreneur.

  When number three got killed in the Pacific with no heir, the house was sold and made a trek through the years of good owners and bad owners and multiple remodelings. Soon after the boys had come to Parson Corners to live, Fiona had seen the five-bedroom, two-bath structure and had deemed it necessary to their existence.

  By that point it had been in the hands of several back-to-back “bad” owners and had needed a lot of work—most of which Fiona had done herself. The grand house was a showcase now, comfortable and homey, indicative of Fiona’s spark, wit, and talent. His and Carlee’s house in town was where they lived, but this place was still home.

  Wyatt’s Porsche was parked in the driveway and he was glad to see he’d made it for a family gathering this time. It had been months since he’d actually made an appearance in Parson Corners, avoiding the small town in favor of the bigger lights of Denver and New York.

  Ryder’s Cadillac was closest to the back door and backed into the spot, as if he intended to make a run for it as soon as dinner was over, so Zach pulled in behind Ryder, blocking the exit. Beau’s Jeep wasn’t here yet, either.

  Carlee jumped out as soon as he turned off the engine and he watched her race to the back door. He followed her. The noise of an engine made him turn to the long driveway and watch Beau pull in, a gleeful grin on his face as he boxed Wyatt into his parking slot. He jumped out of the vehicle.

  “These city boys never learn,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands in anticipation of the scuffling for keys that would follow.

  Zach studied his face for a moment, the glee mixed with something else. “What did you do? You’re not bailing on Aunt Fiona’s flower beds, are you?” They’d agreed to meet tomorrow afternoon and prep them for
winter.

  Beau tried to pull an innocent look out of his back pocket, but it didn’t work. He could read his brother like yesterday’s newspaper. Finally, Beau grinned and drew a finger over his lips to zip them. “I have a big surprise. And it’s not Fiona’s flower beds. Yes, I will be here to dig and haul, although I still have blisters from the last two work sessions.”

  Zach sighed in relief and waited. Usually his silence accompanied with his Sheriff stare could prick Beau’s impatience and have him blathering like a cornered juvenile delinquent. Not this time.

  “I’ll tell everyone at dinner.” Beau brushed past him. “Carlee’s mad at you again.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he muttered and followed his brother into the kitchen. “What for?”

  “You washed her favorite jeans.” Beau held the door open.

  Zach stopped on the bottom step. “Huh? They were dirty.”

  “According to her, they fit perfectly and showed off her butt. You washed them, now they’ve shrunk and she can’t zip them. There is no way you’re going to give her another eighty bucks to get a new pair.”

  “She’s right on that. I wasn’t keen on her buying them in the first place, but it was birthday money from her mother. Why does a twelve-year-old need to show off her butt?” Zach growled, resisting his baby’s maturing steps.

  Beau didn’t answer him, just stepped into the house and left no choice but for him to follow. The back door led into Fiona’s large country kitchen. Everything that appeared in Fiona’s cookbook was tried first in this kitchen.

  When she’d first remodeled it, it had seemed like there were miles of maple cabinets and white granite counters. It still seemed that way. In fact, Fiona’s kitchen had been featured in magazines. Zach had never really been able to figure out what the fuss was about. It was a kitchen, larger than most with more appliances and more room, but still a damn kitchen.

  The smell of onions, garlic, and roasting beef teased his nostrils and his stomach growled. Wyatt graduated from a culinary school in New York eight years ago. After spending four years in New York learning the ropes, he owned his own restaurant in Denver, thanks to partner Fiona.

  When they both cooked, Wyatt’s talent coupled with Fiona’s extensive cooking experience. That usually meant food around this kitchen was a question of who could top who—gourmet no doubt, looked like nothing Zach ate on a regular basis, and usually had him ordering a pizza with the works from Big Sam’s on the way home.

  By the smell of today’s menu, maybe he’d get lucky and it would be something to please his meat and potatoes appetite—usually Fiona’s doing, not Wyatt’s.

  In the kitchen, Beau had grabbed his aunt to hug her, his good mood infectious. Wyatt smiled at their affection and stirred something on the stove, giving Zach a wave and a nod.

  Carlee was perched on Ryder’s knee at the table in the breakfast nook and the two were whispering back and forth like co-conspirators.

  Zach hung his coat up by the door and walked to the counter, his eyes checking to see if he could believe what his nose smelled. A large beef roast cooled on the counter. It had some kind of gunk on it, but at least there was meat involved this time. He might be able to make do.

  “It’s edible, don’t worry.” Wyatt grinned at him, and that fast all the barriers of the time apart slipped away and they were four rambunctious boys challenging Aunt Fiona again.

  Zach raised a brow. “No tofu involved this time?”

  Wyatt laughed. “I almost brought some just to see your face turn green, but I decided to be nice.”

  “Thanks.” Zach would have laughed, but he hated tofu and so did his stomach.

  “Come here, Mr. Sheriff man,” Fiona demanded. “Kiss this cheek and hug an old woman.”

  Zach moved around Beau and did as requested, picking the tiny woman off her feet in a tight hug.

  Beau took that opportunity to greet Ryder and get in on the secret confab at the table.

  “I haven’t seen you in weeks,” the woman groused, drawing his attention.

  “I waved at you in town two days ago.” Zach grinned, knowing what she’d say.

  “Pshaw. That’s not talking to you and you know it.” She swatted him on the backside, shooing him out of the traffic pattern for the food preparation. “Why’s Carlee mad at you?”

  Zach sighed. “Apparently I washed her favorite jeans.”

  “Now there’s a hanging offense. Did you enjoy your visitor?”

  He didn’t have to question who she was talking about. He could have, but she would have just given him the eye. “I’m sure Carlee told you.”

  “I wanted your perspective.” She gave him the eye anyway.

  “She was generous with her time and made Carlee happy, so I enjoyed that. Yes.”

  Fiona snorted. “Get out of my kitchen if you’re just going to evade my questions. Go check the table and make sure we’re ready.”

  Zach was sure they were, but he went anyway. Fiona never had anyone to dinner where her dining room table wasn’t set to perfection before anyone stepped into the house, even if she’d had to set it on Wednesday before Saturday dinner.

  Sure enough, the dining room table was set with her Fiesta ware in bright yellow, red, and orange plates. Napkins were artistically folded, the tablecloth pressed, and the centerpiece something appropriately artsy and compelling.

  He paused for a moment and wondered if it was time to let Fiona have a crack at their house. Maybe Carlee was getting tired of his basic, simple tastes. He’d have to talk to both of them about that. Back in the kitchen, he assured Fiona all was ready and then went to the table to greet Ryder.

  He slapped him on the back and then pulled out a chair across from Carlee. “I haven’t seen you around town.” Ryder had a house in town and an apartment in Denver. Fiona used his lawyering services to manage the interests of Devlin, Inc. from copyrights to product management. He had a practice in Denver as well, with more clients that he knew what to do with.

  “Haven’t been around. I’ve been in Denver. Although, almost ski season. I’ll be around more. Carlee, you going to ski this year?”

  Zach looked at his daughter. Her enthusiasm clashed against her Gothness. “Yeah! I can hardly wait. I’ve been ready since last season ended.”

  Ryder chuckled. “Me too, kid. You get us passes, Beau?”

  “How many?” Not only did Beau sell real estate, he owned half interest in the Owl Creek Ski Resort among other businesses in town. He looked over at Fiona and Wyatt for confirmation.

  “Count me in,” Fiona said, shifting the food on the counter.

  “Me, too.” Wyatt dropped an arm around their aunt’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ll have time to use it this year.”

  Beau laughed. “I’ll get everyone a yearly pass. Carlee need new boots?”

  Zach cut off Carlee’s response. “Yes. And no Carlee, I’m not buying those designer ones with the price tag to match.” Carlee rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t argue, thank God.

  “You know, Zach, she was good enough last year to ski competitively.” Beau turned an eye to Carlee. “She should enroll for some coaching, join a team.”

  Carlee looked tentative and unsure, yet her eyes sparkled.

  Zach hesitated on permission. “Is it something you want to do, Carlee?”

  She shrugged, the mad returning to her eyes. “Maybe,” she muttered.

  “How about we talk about this later, you and me?”

  She shrugged again and he took that for a yes. “We’ll let you know, Beau.”

  “Good enough for me.” Beau gave Carlee a smile like they’d been co-conspirators on the subject, but Zach let it go.

  Conversation went on around him and Zach wondered if Leia skied. Which was an utterly ridiculous question to wonder about, but it morphed to a night in one of the lodges, making love in front of the fireplace, and exploring to his satisfaction that talented mouth. He’d been having girl fantasies since he was thirteen, but the vivi
dness of his daydreams about Leia was getting ridiculous.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Fiona called.

  Beau squirmed in his chair. “Good. I have an announcement to make at dinner.”

  Zach was impressed with how long he held out.

  “Let’s get the food dished up first, then you can tell us whatever news has the twinkle in your eyes and the ants in your pants,” his aunt said.

  They moved in almost choreographed fashion to the dinner table, plates were dished up, and Zach was happy to see meat and potatoes on his plate, along with some vegetable he’d never seen before and a salad that looked like it had raspberry jam poured over the top.

  Good thing he’d succumbed to Doc’s advice and gotten on a prescription for his stomach. He was so hungry, he didn’t particularly care about the consequences of eating some of this. He planned to clean his plate.

  After taking a few bites and assuring himself that the food was actually really good, Zach put down his fork and took a sip of water. “All right. Spill it.”

  Beau had just shoveled in a bite and the table got quiet while he chewed to empty his mouth. “I sold the Jensen house.”

  “Praise be.” Aunt Fiona clasped her hands together. “That will help the Jensen’s.”

  Zach speared a piece of roast beef. “That’s your big news?”

  “No. Actually, it’s who I sold it to.” Beau’s grin was secret wide and he let silence descend again.

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense.” Ryder reached for a roll.

  Wyatt cleared his throat. “Spill it or I’ll knock the theatrics out of you, little brother.”

  “My feelings precisely.” Zach put the bite in his mouth and savored the flavor.

  “Is it anyone we know?” Carlee twirled her fork through her potatoes.

  Beau smiled like he had when he discovered a bit of gold in the stream in the back forty when he was nine. “Yes, I sold it to Leia Shae.”

  Zach choked on his roast beef.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Are you serious?” Carlee was the first one to get her wits about her.