by Jodi Thomas
Maybe she wanted, if only for a few minutes, for all those who were sober enough to listen, to forget about their problems and just enjoy. She wanted them to step into the music and dance on the sawdust floor or in their minds. That’s what she did. For a few hours, if her songs were just right, she forgot all about the cavernous hole in her heart and swayed to the music. Her thoughts would slow to match the beat those nights, and for a short time she’d drift. She’d breathe deeply and almost believe life was worth living.
“Brandi!” Hank, the owner, yelled. “Sheriff’s got something for you.”
The tall man in a tan uniform moved toward her, and for a moment she considered running. But he was between her and the door, and the guy’s face, framed in the shadows of his hat, looked like he operated strictly by the book.
She had no outstanding bills or fines or tickets. She hadn’t committed a crime. There was no reason the law wanted her, so the sheriff must have questions about the bar, or maybe her old van parked outside...
Brandi stood and waited as the sheriff neared. She was stronger than she’d been months ago. She didn’t have to run from questions.
When she’d first hit the road, she hated strangers asking where she was from or anything about her family. She didn’t want to talk about anything but her music. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
Only, when this stranger in a uniform raised his eyes to look up at her standing on the small stage, he smiled as if he was happy to see her. “Morning, ma’am,” he said.
She didn’t miss that the lawman’s eyes ran the length of her body before he reached her face. Could he have been checking her out? Surely not. Not if he called her ma’am.
“Morning,” she managed to say. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem.”
He smiled again, and she had the feeling that he was a man who didn’t smile often. Brandi relaxed slightly. He had honest blue eyes.
“This wouldn’t happen to be yours?” he asked as he lifted a boot. “It kind of looks like something you might wear.”
Brandi exploded. “Yes! Someone stole them out of my van two weeks ago. In their hurry, they dropped the left one in the parking lot.” She bounced down from the two-foot-high stage. “I loved those boots. I thought I’d lost this one forever, but I couldn’t bring myself to toss the other one away.”
The sheriff stood as stiff as a mannequin while she hugged him.
“Thank you. Thank you.” She reached for the boot.
He pulled it away. “Now wait a minute. I have to have proof.” He was smiling again, obviously enjoying himself. “Maybe you need to try it on. The slipper needs to fit. I think it’s the law, or maybe just a rule.”
She looked down at the tennis shoes she was wearing. “I have to have that boot. I own the match. One boot’s no good without its mate.”
“I’ll need to see the left one first before I hand this one over.”
“Follow me.” She shifted and straightened as if planning to march, playing along with his game.
Her long legs made it easy to make the step onto the stage. She rushed behind a black curtain and opened an almost invisible door. She hoped the sheriff carrying her boot was following her. Guessing that he was watching her every twist, she slipped quickly into a narrow hallway, then left toward her dressing room.
He was right behind her.
The sheriff was in his forties, maybe five or six years older than her, and definitely interesting. She’d always liked talking to men with honest eyes. They were rare.
Brandi grinned as she tried to guess what the sheriff might be like out of uniform. He was that kind of handsome most women didn’t notice. There was something so solid about him he seemed hard, except maybe for his mouth. The man had kissable lips, she decided, but she’d bet he’d never had an irresponsible thought.
And he wasn’t for her. Forget that “attracted at first sight” thing. She no longer acted on impulses. Brandi had not only sworn off men, she’d sworn off family and friends, as well. For months she had simply drifted in the emptiness and the music, telling herself there was no future or past, just now. If she worked hard on just getting through one day at a time, she could survive and almost forget that her reason for living had gone.
Fourteen months and counting. Now wasn’t the time to break her streak even to make one friend or take a lover. The very thought of having a lover after all these years made her smile. If she ever did take another lover, he would have blue eyes like the sheriff’s. True blue.
She opened the door to a small room that doubled as her dressing room and the paper storage for the bar and bathrooms.
The sheriff followed her in.
“Leave the door open,” she ordered.
“Of course,” he answered, as if it were a rule he already knew.
He seemed to take up half the space in her small quarters as she tossed clothes around looking for the other boot.
“I’m not very organized,” she admitted.
“I’ve seen squirrels better at it.” He crossed his arms and waited.
“The boot is here somewhere.” She was loaded down with clothes and still saw no sign of it. “Maybe it would be easier to try on the one you have.” She plopped down on the room’s only chair and tugged off her tennis shoe. The leggings she wore were warm and fit like second skin. “If it fits, I get to keep it, right?”
To her shock, he knelt on one knee and helped her with the boot. His hand slid along her calf as he pushed her foot gently into the leather.
Brandi couldn’t move. His hand glided ahead of the boot until his fingers rested just above her knee. She could feel the warmth of him through the material as he pressed gently into her flesh as if he was testing to see if she were real.
“It fits perfect,” he said. “I guess I’ve found Cinderella.”
“Thanks for bringing it back. I’m really grateful, Sheriff.”
“You’re more than welcome. Just part of the job.” He stood and offered his hand. “Dan Brigman.”
She took his hand and stood, noticing he was only a few inches taller than her as she balanced on the one boot. “Can I buy you a drink, Sheriff, to say thank you?”
“No, thanks.”
He hadn’t turned loose of her fingers, and she wondered if she should ask for her hand back. When she looked down, she spotted the blue toe of her other blue cowboy boot and squealed as she jerked her hand away from him. She dropped to the floor so she could crawl under the card table that served as her dressing table.
He tried to step out of the way, but her bottom bumped into him several times before she backed out from under the flimsy table. Then she hopped around trying to tug on the second boot while accidentally bumping into him again.
He gripped her waist and steadied her as she finally got the boot on.
When she straightened, he let go of her, but one hand rose to brush her hair from her face.
“You have a mass of long hair, pretty lady. It seems to fly around you like a midnight cloud. I’ve got a daughter who has hair as long as yours, but hers is straight and the color of sunshine.”
“Sorry.” She shook her head back. “My hair’s always had a mind of its own. I not only kicked you while I was trying to pull on the boot, you probably got a mouthful of curls.”
“I’ll survive.” He laughed.
“Sure you won’t take that drink? I feel like I owe you one, Sheriff.”
“No, but I might let you buy me lunch. The best Mexican food place for a hundred miles around is right across the street.”
Brandi wasn’t looking to be picked up, and she couldn’t tell if the sheriff was trying to start something. If so, he was so far out of practice with this switch from a drink to lunch thing. She needed to cut this off quick. “Wouldn’t you rather go home and
have lunch with your family?” The last thing she needed was to get involved with a married man.
He hesitated but didn’t back away like a man who’d been trying to flirt might. “My wife left me twenty years ago, and my daughter is grown and now lives in Dallas. If you don’t want to come along, I’m still planning on eating Mexican food. Pearly, my secretary, told me to eat lunch before I came back, and she’s not an easy woman to cross.”
Brandi felt like a fool. The sheriff wasn’t using a line on her. If he thought he was, it came pretty close to the worst one she’d ever heard. He’d given her the facts of his life as small-town people did. As people who have nothing to hide did.
“My name’s Brandi Malone.”
“I guessed that. Saw it on the board out front.” He backed a few steps to the door. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Malone. Maybe I’ll come hear you sing sometime.”
“Do that,” she said, noticing neither bothered with goodbye.
After he disappeared, she decided that the sheriff was shy. She’d embarrassed him by insinuating that he was trying to flirt, or maybe he felt like he’d dumped too much information on a total stranger.
She dug through her pile of clothes and pulled on her leather jacket with fringe. It wasn’t warm enough for today’s weather, but she didn’t have time to find another coat.
Five minutes later she stepped out of the Nowhere and walked across the street. One car, the sheriff’s cruiser, was in the café’s parking lot. The lunch run was long past being over. She wasn’t surprised he’d kept to his word.
Brandi was shivering when she made it to the table in the back where he sat alone. “This place still open?” she asked.
He looked up from his cell phone. She caught the surprise in his eyes before he glanced away.
“I’m buying your lunch, Sheriff. You have a problem with that?”
“No.” He stood and moved his hat off the empty chair. “You think you could call me Dan? I don’t think of myself as on duty while I’m eating.”
She slowly slipped into the place across from him and stared at the menu. Most men, including her father, were liars or manipulators. But this one had something about him that said he could be trusted, at least as long as lunch, anyway. All she had to figure out was if Sheriff Dan Brigman was what he seemed. Not that she planned to stay around long, but at least if those honest eyes were true, she might start to believe in people again.
It might be fun to eat a meal with someone for a change. She could pretend to be happy, and interested and normal.
She glanced at the menu for a few seconds more, then ordered the lunch special when the waitress appeared. The girl looked tired, or maybe bored, and wasn’t overly concerned with the last two customers in the place.
When the waitress went back through the kitchen door before it stopped swinging from her arrival, Brandi was suddenly aware that she was alone with the sheriff.
“You look exactly like the woman I pictured would be wearing that boot,” he said, as if trying to start a conversation.
“How’s that?”
“Wild and free. Beautiful.” He glanced down, twirling a chip in the tiny bowl of hot sauce.
There was that shy smile again, she thought. Another hint that the sheriff might be one of the real people in this world of marionettes. “You don’t mind if I’m wild, do you? I’d think a thing like that might make a sheriff nervous.”
“Nope. I don’t mind. You’re the kind of beautiful that could haunt a man’s dreams, Brandi Malone. Being wild just adds spice to perfection.”
No one had said such a nice thing to her in years. He seemed to be seeing her as she wanted to be. Wild and free, she almost whispered aloud.
To prove him right, Brandi leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
When she pulled away she whispered, “You taste like salsa, Sheriff.”
He just stared, and she swore she could be hypnotized by those steel-blue eyes.
Brandi ate one of his chips dipped in the hot sauce, then took a drink of his iced tea. He just kept watching her. No one had accused her of being wild and free for years, and she loved it. She loved the version of herself she saw in his eyes.
She glanced around the empty café. The lone waitress was probably in the back warming up the last two specials. “Aren’t you going to say something about me kissing you?”
He leaned back and spoke so low even if people had been at the next table they wouldn’t have heard. “I wouldn’t mind if you decided to do that again.”
Before she could decide, the waitress swung through the kitchen door with two plates of enchiladas.
“Maybe later.” She grinned like the wild woman he thought she was. “If I’m still around and you’re still available.” After all, how much harm could one more kiss do?
As they ate, the sheriff asked her where she was from and how she ended up at the Nowhere Club.
She avoided answering and asked him how long it had been since he’d been kissed.
Unlike her, Dan answered directly. “Three years ago on New Year’s Eve.”
Brandi nodded. “The midnight kiss. Openmouthed or closed?”
When he didn’t answer, she knew. Closed, she decided. She would have sworn the handsome sheriff was blushing.
“You’re right about me, Sheriff. But I’m drifting more than free. I live out of a suitcase and travel whenever and wherever I like. I’m not looking for a man to tame me or tie me down or tell me he loves me. I make no promises, but if you’d like to share a meal or something now and then, I might be interested.” Brandi couldn’t believe she was stepping out of her comfort zone to even think of getting together with him. But one kiss with him was like one taste of salsa on a salty chip. She wanted another.
Dan took a long drink of his iced tea.
She knew she’d shocked him, but if she was going to spend a while with a man for the first time in years, she wanted all the cards on the table. And, she decided, she wanted to be remembered as being someone’s unforgettable encounter, no matter how brief. She’d like to be the one woman, the one memory that would always make Dan Brigman smile.
He ate, and she picked at her food.
Finally, he broke the silence. “What time is your last set over tonight?”
“Eleven. Why?”
“I’ll pick you up for a late supper.”
“If you can find a place around here still open, I’ll be hungry.”
He left a twenty on the table and stood.
“I...” She’d told him she’d pick up the check, and she planned to.
“It’s not happening,” he answered, as if he knew what she was about to say.
She followed, already wondering if she’d done the right thing to join him here. She hated bossy men, but then maybe there was some kind of rule that sheriffs can’t accept gifts, even a lunch.
She’d been just fine staying away from men. She liked being alone. She hated strings and planned to live the rest of her life without getting attached to anyone. So why had she hinted at another promise? Another meeting? Why had she offered to spend time with him before she knew what kind of man he really was? Maybe honest blue eyes lied? She hadn’t been around enough to know.
Brandi mentally slapped herself. She was overthinking this. Just go with it. She was wild, remember.
Maybe it was enough that he had kissable lips and he made her feel young like she had ten years ago when she’d first been on the road. She’d been twenty-five then and loving the gypsy life of a singer.
When they stepped out of the restaurant into the little tin windbreaker foyer, the sheriff turned and helped her with her coat. The plastic window in the entryway door looked like it was shivering as wind howled over the cloudy day.
He lifted part of her curly hair, caught under her collar. “B
efore we step out I want to give you something back.”
Before she had time to say a word, he pushed her against the rattling, icy tin wall and kissed her full out. Openmouthed.
Her sheriff might be quiet, but he definitely wasn’t shy.
Brandi forgot all about being cold. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt alive. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back like this one kiss might be the last in her lifetime.
His arms tightened around her. She leaned into him. This wasn’t a first-time, hesitant kiss. She could feel him breathing, his heart pounding next to hers. A tiny spark came alive inside her where only dead embers had lain for so long.
When he broke the kiss, he didn’t say a word; he just circled his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly as they faced the wind and rushed back across the street.
Just inside the club, the whole world lost all sound. No one around. No music. He held her for a moment as though unable to let her go. Though he hadn’t moved, she could feel him pulling away, turning back into the in-control sheriff. His lips pressed against her forehead in a quick peck. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You, too,” she whispered, swearing she could see passion sparkle in his blue eyes.
Then, with a very formal nod, he turned and walked away without a word.
Brandi grinned as she watched him climb into his cruiser and thought she’d add that Toby Keith song “A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action” to her last set tonight. If the sheriff wanted someone wild and free, she could make it happen.
In a few weeks she’d drive away from this place. Maybe she’d take a memory of her own with her. But that was all she had room to pack.
A memory. Nothing more.
CHAPTER THREE
RAINY NIGHTS IN DALLAS were never as beautiful as they had been when she was a kid growing up at the lake house just outside Crossroads. There, the old cottonwoods whispered when the wind blew, and the rain tap-dancing on the water twenty feet from her window often lulled her to sleep.
Her hometown seemed a million miles away tonight. She stared out her apartment windows at the solid brick wall of the condo next door. No view.
