by Wilde, Lori
“You’re referring to those people you reported to the Humane Society for leaving their dogs chained outside in the weather, aren’t you?” Edna asked.
“Yes,” July replied.
“So you’re not going to try and see Tucker again?”
“Of course not.” July dried the skillet with a towel then placed it back in the cupboard. “Why would I? You heard him. He said he’ll be leaving town soon.”
“Too bad.”
“What does that mean?”
“He is a fine-looking hunk.”
“Edna!”
“Hey, just because I’ve got great-grandchildren doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine-looking man.”
“I never said that.” July fought back a blush.
“You weren’t the only one tossing about lingering looks, you know.” Edna arched an eyebrow.
“Beg pardon?” The kindly old lady sent her a Mona Lisa smile. “Tucker was giving you the once-over whenever your head was turned.”
July lost her battle with the blush, and red-hot heat raced up her neck. “He was not.”
“My, yes, he was.”
“Really?” Goodness. Why was her heart fluttering?
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. As you say, he’s a little strange.”
“He seems lonely,” Edna mused.
“You think so?”
“Yes, indeed. You’d be good for Tucker, you know. Help him out of his shell.”
“I could do that.” July bobbed her head and closed the cabinet door.
Make a project of Tucker? The man had so much potential. All he needed was a nudge in the right direction.
Closing her eyes, she could easily imagine his transformation. If he shed his ratty jeans and worn-out coat, got a shave, cut his hair, and voilà—a new man. But he wasn’t going to be around for long, so why should she stick her neck out?
“Of course, you can. You turned that grouchy Mr. Keeton into a regular ray of sunshine,” Edna said, referring to their once-grumpy mailman. “And what about little Tommy Ledbetter? You found him a new home and family.”
“Ah,” July said, opening her eyes again. “That was nothing. I enjoy helping people.”
“I know you do, dear. Aren’t I one of your pet projects?”
“Edna, I don’t see you that way.”
“When you befriended me after my Henry passed on, I was one step away from poking my head in a gas oven.”
“Edna, you’re priceless.”
“So are you, July. Not many people are as selfless as you. You’re always thinking of someone else. Don’t let that incident with the SPCA make you stop helping folks in need.”
“It’s not just the SPCA.” July sighed. She’d had her share of failures, like her miserable fiasco with Dexter Blackwell. “My family says sometimes I’m just plain meddlesome.”
“Meddlesome, helpful, what’s the difference?” Edna shrugged. “It’s your motives that count. You’re always placing the needs of others before your own. An admirable quality in my book.”
Smiling, July reached over to hug her friend. “What would I do without you?”
“Make more friends.” Matter-of-factly, Edna patted July on the shoulder then turned to retrieve her breadbasket, now empty of sweet rolls. “I better be running along, sweetie.”
“Me, too.” July glanced at her watch. “Good heavens, I’ve got to be at work in twenty minutes.”
“Have a nice day, dear,” Edna called on her way to the door.
Dashing into the bedroom, July wriggled out of her jeans and into black slacks. She ran a brush through her hair and dabbed on a little makeup. As she dressed, thoughts of Tucker crept into her mind.
A hundred unanswered questions gnawed at her.
Who was he really? Why was he hanging around her apartment complex? What had happened to him? What were his interests? Did he have any family? And most importantly, was there a woman in his life?
“Now, July,” she scolded herself, “if you’re going to help Tucker, you cannot take a personal interest in him.” Shaking her head, she shrugged into a wool jacket, snatched up her purse, and headed out the door.
Edna was right. He did seem lonely. But her practical side, the side that didn’t want her to get hurt again, urged caution.
Yes, lately, July had been trying to curb her nosiness and her annoying habit of interfering in other people’s lives.
“You can’t change the whole world, July,” she muttered under her breath as she unlocked her ten-year-old compact and slid behind the wheel. “Tucker is none of your business. Forget about him.”
But could she?
* * *
Tucker should have thrown the panties into the trash.
End of story.
No second thoughts. But from the moment he’d tucked the thin scrap of black lace into his jacket pocket, Tucker had been acutely aware of them.
Those panties had fitted intimately over July’s sexy little hips.
Tucker closed his eyes against the heated rush thundering through his groin. Actually, her choice in underwear surprised him. July seemed the white, cotton panties type.
It had come as a shocker to discover she liked frilly, sexy things. Her secret lingerie obsession presented an intriguing contrast to her wholesome, girl-next-door image. An image that had Tucker thinking some very unwholesome thoughts.
“She’s not your type, Haynes,” Tucker growled under his breath. “What could you offer a woman like that?”
“Excuse me, sir, did you say something?” The coffee-house waitress stopped by his table and gave him an odd look. She raised the coffeepot in her hand.
Tucker shook his head and covered his cup with his palm. “I’m fine, thanks.”
The waitress gave him a halfhearted smile and moved on. Tucker sighed and checked his watch.
He was expecting the new sheriff of Presidio County, Matt Forrester, to join him for coffee in Marfa, twenty miles south of Rascal. He hadn’t wanted to take the chance of running into the Stravanos brothers.
Tucker and Matt had gone to the police academy together, and both worked for the El Paso PD as rookie cops.
A couple of years ago, Matt had left the EPPD to come home to Rascal to work as a deputy where he’d busted a cattle theft ring. The next year, upon the incumbent sheriff’s retirement, Matt had been elected the youngest sheriff in Presidio County history.
Even though Petruski hadn’t wanted to include the Presidio Sheriff’s Department or the Rascal PD in the sting, Tucker had reached out to Matt. Mainly because he needed a sounding board from someone he could trust.
After eavesdropping on the Stravanos brothers’ conversation that morning, he wanted an objective opinion of what he’d overheard.
Tucker didn’t yet have enough proof to take his suspicions to Petruski. He didn’t want to take that step until he had solid intel.
Glancing out the window, Tucker watched shoppers hustling by, bundling deep within their coats, chins tucked to their chests.
The Trans-Pecos weather was unseasonably cold for November. The meteorologists were predicting snow before Thanksgiving. A true rarity. Just his luck. Going undercover as a homeless man, and the skies picked this moment to turn vicious.
Tucker had lived in Texas long enough to see such predictions come to naught. He wasn’t going to worry about a storm until it happened.
His thoughts strayed again to July. It had been a long time since someone had affected him the way she did. Casting his mind back, he remembered his first love, Karen Talmadge. He’d been seventeen to her sixteen.
Karen had been a nice girl. Smart. Sweet. Loving. With a bouncy, optimistic smile. A lot like July.
He’d been a scrappy kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Everybody in his hometown of Kovena, Oklahoma, knew, and hated, the Haynes family.
It was no secret that on Saturday nights his daddy could be found in the drunk tank. Or that his older brother, Winston, was doing a ten
-year stint in the state prison for armed robbery. Or that his sister, Sadie Mae, was a one-woman red-light district unto herself.
Nobody in Kovena believed Tucker was any different. They painted him with the same dirty brush that they painted all the Haynes clan—worthless, thieving, no-account drunks and druggies.
When Karen’s father had discovered they were dating, he’d forbidden his daughter to see Tucker again.
Bravely, Tucker had gone to see the man, hoping to plead his case, but Mr. Talmadge met him on the porch with a shotgun and told him that over his dead body, no one from Tucker’s stagnant end of the gene pool would ever touch his daughter.
When Tucker tried to talk to Karen at school, she told him they were over.
In anger and pain, Tucker had foolishly stolen a car, downed a bottle of whiskey, and drove as if hell demons were on his tail. But no matter how fast he drove, how recklessly he maneuvered the curves, he’d been unable to escape his sorry heritage, his stark destiny.
Instead, he’d overturned the car in a ditch. He’d awoken in a hospital room, aching and alone, except for the police guard situated outside his door. Not a single member of his family had shown up to check on him.
Fifteen years later, the memory still hurt.
Tucker rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. It didn’t matter that he’d cleaned up his act, worked his way through college, and became a cop. He was still Tucker Haynes, spawned from a long line of crooks and thieves. A fate he could never live down, and he’d never be worthy of a woman like July.
“Hang on to that feeling, Haynes, and stay far away from her,” Tucker growled under his breath. He took a swallow of tepid coffee and winced.
Thought of July again.
Concentrate, dammit. Remember why you’re here. Staking out the Stravanos brothers and nabbing their boss. That was his top priority.
The front door opened, and Sheriff Matt Forrester walked in, wearing his badge and Stetson with honor. Matt reached the booth where he sat and took off his white felt cowboy hat to settle it down on the table beside Tucker’s black Stetson.
He reached out to clasp Tucker’s hand as he slid into the booth across from him. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, stranger?”
“You too.” Tucker smiled. He didn’t have a lot of close friends, but Matt was one of them. “How are Savannah and the kids?”
“Life couldn’t be better. You should look into getting a wife and kids of your own. Marriage really is all it’s cracked up to be if you find the right person.”
“Some of us are just born to be loners.”
“Come on out to the ranch when your assignment is over. We’ll show you a great time,” Matt invited.
“I’d like that,” Tucker said, more to be polite than anything else and motioned the server over for Matt.
“So…” Matt studied him. “What’s up?”
Tucker told Matt about the stakeout and why he was in Rascal.
Matt arched an eyebrow. “I’m just now getting a heads up?”
“It’s not an official heads up,” Tucker said. “Petruski wants the collar.”
“It’s out of his jurisdiction.”
“The Stravanos brothers jumped bail in El Paso. I’ve come after them.”
“But you’re not arresting them. You’re staking them out instead. And since when does Petruski send undercover detectives after bond jumpers?”
“Look, I shouldn’t be saying anything, but I need you to be my friend right now, not the sheriff.”
“Okay,” Matt said. “Let’s hear it.”
“My gut says the Stravanos brothers are ready to make a move. They’re restless and being cooped up in an apartment in Rascal isn’t their cuppa.” Tucker told Matt about the cryptic conversation he’d overheard in the courtyard.
The server brought coffee for Matt and topped off Tucker’s cup.
“You’ve got no idea who’s running the counterfeit ID ring?” Matt asked after the server had gone.
“Petruski suspects it’s Ramon Sanchez.”
Matt let out a low whistle. Sanchez had gotten rich off human smuggling over the border, but the man managed to keep his hands squeaky clean. “How come ICE or Homeland Security isn’t involved?”
“Petruski’s up for promotion.” Tucker shrugged. “The collar could go a long way in cinching his success. To his way of thinking, why turn the case over to ICE or Homeland?”
“Um, because it’s protocol.”
“Hey, I agree.” Tucker held up both palms. “But Petruski is hankering for this bust, and he figures it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.”
“And he’s roped you into his scheme. If you’re smart, you’ll just arrest them and drag them back to El Paso.”
“But if I stick, I might just bring down a pretty bad hombre.”
“You think they’re just waiting around for orders to move the forged passports and driver’s licenses?” Matt asked.
“That’s what I gathered from their conversation, but it could just be my confirmation bias. The brothers kept the conversation vague. They could have been talking about something else entirely. That’s why I wanted to bounce this off you. Do you think it’s time for me to update Petruski or just lay low until I have something more to go on?”
“Personally, I think you should call ICE or Homeland if you truly suspect Ramon Sanchez is involved.”
“It might not be Sanchez,” Tucker said. “That’s what’s keeping my hands tied. I don’t know who the big boss is. That’s why I’m here. To find out.”
“I suppose it won’t hurt to keep up the homeless act for a few more days and see what shakes out. Except the weather is turning bad for the next few days. If I were you, I’d find a place to hole up out of the elements until this storm blows over.”
Good advice but how could he hole up and still keep an eye on the Stravanos brothers? Unless…
An idea popped into his head.
July lived right across the courtyard from the brothers, and she seemed interested in him. It shouldn’t be too hard to strike up a friendship and use her place as a vantage point to keep an eye on the Stravanos brothers. While at the same time, not freezing his butt off.
Pensively, Tucker stuck his hand in his jacket pocket, and his fingers brushed against her black lace panties. Merely touching the delicate material sent erotic impulses ricocheting through his brain.
The panties were his ticket back to July’s apartment. He had a legitimate reason to return.
“I don’t like the situation Petruski has put you in,” Matt said. “If you ever want to leave El Paso, come work for me. You’ve got a job as long as I have one.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
“And if you find yourself tangled up in something sticky, text me. I’ll send back up. The El Paso PD is too far away if you get into trouble.”
“I appreciate it.”
Matt finished off his coffee and plunked his Stetson down on his head. “I mean it about you coming out to the ranch when this case is over. I can’t wait to show off our latest addition to the family.”
“What, you’ve had another baby?”
“Two actually.” Matt grinned. “We adopted twins. Six months old, a boy and a girl; now we have two of each.”
Matt and his wife shared a biological son, Cody, but Savannah had had health problems and couldn’t have more children. The previous year, they’d adopted a daughter and named her Marissa.
Tucker punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You sly dog, why didn’t you say so right off the bat?”
Matt beamed with pride and pulled out his cell phone. “Wanna see pictures? This is Ava and Aidan.”
All babies looked alike to Tucker, scary and helpless. He looked at the pictures and smiled and hoped he did a good job of looking interested. Matt sure seemed happy. He walked his buddy out to his vehicle, his mind still playing with his new plan.
The plot was simple. Gain July’s confidence, and the rest was easy. He could saf
ely spy on the brothers without arousing their suspicions. He could even pose as July’s new boyfriend, and she would never need to know that he’d be using her as a decoy.
Great plan. Great opportunity. So why did he feel like such a crud?
4
“Gotta go, Suzette, there’s someone at the door.” July hung up the phone and kicked off her shoes.
Since she’d walked in the door from work forty minutes earlier, she’d been talking her friend, Suzette, through a relationship crisis. Right now, it’d be pretty nice if she had a shoulder to cry on. Work had been vicious, and her feet were killing her.
Her stomach growled, but she didn’t feel like preparing a meal. There was cheese in the refrigerator and crackers in the cabinet. That would do.
A second knock.
July stalked across the floor. Without even stopping to check the peephole to see who was standing on her welcome mat, she turned the knob and flung open the door.
Tucker was the last person she expected to see standing there.
His Stetson was cocked back on his head, his eyes lively. He smelled delicious. Had Tucker found a place to shower? Or maybe the delicious scent was coming from the brown paper bag he clutched in one hand.
Or both?
“Hi.” He grinned, revealing a dimple high on his right cheek.
“Hi.” She smiled in return, unable to hide her pleasure at seeing him again.
His smoky-brown eyes nailed her to the spot. Did anyone else on the planet have such gorgeous eyes? “May I come in?”
“Oh.” Flustered, July stepped aside. “Sure.”
He moved over the threshold, and she shut the door against the chilly wind.
An awkward silence followed.
“I...uh...I’ve got something of yours,” Tucker stammered.
“Yes?”
Reaching into his jacket, he extracted her panties and dangled them from his index finger. July gulped at the unexpected heat racing through her body. What a sexy picture he painted, her tiny lace panties framed by his large hands.
“I accidentally ended up with these.”
“Thanks.” She snatched at the panties, anxious to get them out of sight. Her skin brushed against his, and her cheeks burned hot. Ducking her head, she stuffed the underwear into her skirt pocket.
