He was a sucker for green-eyed blondes.
“Well, hello, nurse,” he murmured.
“I told you she was lovely.”
Wade clamped Maljib on the shoulder as he eased past. “Maljib, lovely is a rose or sunset. That”—he pointed at Tag’s companion—“is perfection.”
Maljib rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that line, Mr. Merritt. I’ll send Catherine over to take your order.”
Wade grinned as he approached the table. The blonde saw him first and her eyes widened then flicked along his body. He shivered at the unexpected connection. He faltered then regained his stride. He offered her a smile as he pulled back a chair and sat next to Tag.
“Afternoon, Tag. Ma’am.” He didn’t look at his friend. He couldn’t. The green-eyed vixen held him in complete rapture.
“Wade.”
“Hello.” The woman looked inquiringly at Tag. Her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed at his silence. She reached a hand over the table. “I’m Rebecca Lyons.”
Wade took the proffered hand in his. Her skin was soft and delicate, but there was strength in her grip that pleased him. He thought there was nothing worse than a wimpy handshake.
“Wade Merritt,” he said. He cocked his head in Tag’s direction. “Is this guy giving you any trouble?”
Tag snorted.
Rebecca’s glance bounced between them and Wade saw the wheels turning.
“From what I have learned about him, trouble is Sheriff Cain’s forte.”
Wade’s grin widened and he looked at Tag. “She’s got you pegged.”
Tag’s only retort was a sour glare. “Don’t you have something else to be doing?”
“Nope. I’m running the blood drive this afternoon from six to eight.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got about forty-five minutes. Plenty of time to eat.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Catherine appeared.
“Wade. What can I get you? The usual?” She cocked her slender hip out and peered at Rebecca with an interested expression. “You decide yet, Miss Lyons?”
Rebecca flushed and her gaze dropped back to the menu. “Uh, not really.”
Wade thought the blush on her cheeks was adorable. The pink accentuated the stunning porcelain of her skin and made her green eyes all the more beautiful.
God, I love green-eyed blondes.
“You should try the chicken-fried steak,” he told her. “It’s my favorite thing on the menu.”
Her eyes lifted and a small smile tipped up her luscious mouth. His train of thought suddenly derailed.
A man could get into a lot of trouble fantasizing about her mouth. He could imagine her full bottom lip dragging softly along his cock. He had a feeling her lips could wrap around the head of his dick and suck the life right out of him and he’d die a happy, contented man.
“What is that?”
Her soft question shook him back to reality. Wade casually leaned back in his chair and jammed his hands in his pockets to adjust his erection.
“What’s what?” He shot a quick look down at his fly.
“What’s chicken-fried steak? Is it chicken or is it steak?”
Wade’s mouth dropped open and he swiveled his head to stare at Tag, who shrugged, then back at Rebecca. “Are you serious?”
She laughed as she rolled her eyes. “No. I’m from Boston, not outer space.” She closed her menu and handed it to Catherine. “I’ll have the sliced turkey plate with a side of steamed green beans.”
Catherine nodded. “Good choice. Maljib’s turkey is very succulent. You get one more side.”
Rebecca’s lips wiggled. “Hmmm.”
“Get the potato salad,” a graveled voice commented from a nearby table. “Hello, Wade. I already gave, see?”
Wade leaned past Tag and studied the woman’s upheld arm. A cartoon duck bandage covered part of her inner arm. “Hello, Miss Sadie. Thank you. How are you today?”
She waved and stood. “Fantastic. You make sure that young lady gets some of Maljib’s potato salad.” Sadie placed her hand on Tag’s shoulder. The low chatter of the room seemed to hush then fade. “Sheriff. Tag. You hang in there, you hear me? We believe in you and there’s not a damn soul in this place who’ll say otherwise.” Sadie lifted her ink black, curly-haired head and stared around the restaurant. The overhead lights glinted off her thick glasses. “Isn’t that right, folks?”
A murmuring roar met the question and noise exploded all over again.
A young man half rose from his seat but Tag glared him back down.
“Who’s that?” Wade asked.
“Donald Alcott. He’s a reporter from Bastrop. Said he wants to cover the Fischer story. Can’t imagine why he’s not thrilled I’m not letting him anywhere near the place. Not to mention he’s a speed demon. He’s racked up two tickets already. One more and he’ll be visiting the inside of my jail cell but nowhere else.”
Wade chuckled at the fierce look Tag gave the young man. He looked to be in his midtwenties and obviously had a love affair with the gym. The man’s biceps bulged from the black knit shirt he wore and he had bigger boobs than half the women in town. Being fit was one thing but Wade sure didn’t understand getting Hulked up like this Alcott guy.
“We believe in you, Sheriff,” Hank said.
Wade tipped his chair to look around Tag’s back. He waved at Hank. She was sitting with a stout-looking blond fellow. It was the same guy he’d seen opening the door to the Tin Star for them a few days earlier.
Another stranger. The town was awash with them right now. Wade knew the Hitching Post did a booming business with its summer weddings and venues. He studied the man again and noted the ripple of muscles on his chest. It appeared the guy was another gym rat. He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned one too many in his opinion. Girls should show cleavage, not guys. The man lifted his glass of tea in the direction of the table.
“I have but just met you, Sheriff, but Miss Sadie and my lovely Hank tell me you are wunderbar. I do not doubt their wisdom. For what it is worth, you have my support as well.”
Sadie beamed at the stranger. Twin flags of color emphasized the blush she’d laid down with a heavy hand. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds.” She turned back to them. “He’s an ancestor of Alfons Huber. Isn’t that exciting? He’s in town to do some research for Herr Huber’s one-hundred-and-fiftieth birthday.”
Rebecca nodded and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Whitcombe mentioned he was in town for that. Tracing lineage is very interesting.”
Sadie’s eyes lit up. “You’re into genealogy?”
“Oh hell,” Wade muttered. “That’s Sadie’s current passion. She’s working her way back through all the founding fathers of Freedom. God only knows what sorts of scandals she’s going to uncover.”
Sadie frowned. “Hush, Wade Merritt.”
He grinned. “Why on earth would I do that? Baiting you is so much fun.”
She glowered then returned her attention to Tag. “Anyway, Sheriff. We just want you to know we’re behind you one hundred percent. We know the truth and we’ll testify to that in court if need be. Won’t we?”
A few people yelled and clapped.
“Enough,” Tag said firmly.
Silence descended again. He lifted Sadie’s hand and patted it gently. “Thanks, Sadie.” He nodded at Rebecca. “Miss Lyons here is the best in the business. I know you’ve heard of her reputation by now.”
Sadie gave a sharp nod. “I have. I also did some investigating. You have an excellent reputation for toughness, Miss Lyons. An interesting history as well.”
Rebecca cleared her throat before inclining her head. “Being tough helps when you’re a defense lawyer.”
Wade heard the thread of steel in her voice. He liked that. What kind of interesting history?
Sadie tapped the tabletop with one wrinkled fingertip. “I know about your sixth sense, too. I’m glad you’re sitting down to lunch with the sheriff here. Not that I needed any proof of his innocence, b
ut your reputation doesn’t hurt.”
“What reputation?” Wade asked.
A new flush brushed along Rebecca’s cheeks and she squirmed in her chair.
“She can tell if you’re guilty or innocent just by looking at you,” Catherine chimed in.
“Really, it’s not like that.” Rebecca lifted a palm. “Please.”
“No need to be modest, Miss Lyons,” Sadie said. She smiled. “We love Sheriff Tag even though he is a rascal.”
Wade laughed. “Rascal, huh?”
She frowned at him and waggled her finger like an elementary school teacher. “You’re no better, Wade Merritt. You get him into as much trouble as he gets himself into.”
Wade widened his eyes and flattened his hand over his chest. “I’m crushed by your low opinion of me, Miss Sadie.”
She snorted then winked at Rebecca. “Get the potato salad. It’s divine. Bye, Sheriff.”
“See you later, Sadie,” Tag said.
Wade watched as the Reynolds guy leaped to his feet and pulled out Sadie’s chair when she returned to the table. The guy was fawning all over her like she was the last bowl of banana pudding. The middle of his shoulders burned and he rolled them to ease the tension.
“Okay with the salad?” Catherine asked.
“Uh, sure. Sounds good.”
“Okay. Sheriff?”
“Give me the chicken-fried steak. Mashed potatoes, fried okra, and white gravy on the side.”
She scribbled on her pad and looked at Wade with one brow raised.
“The same,” he said and handed over his menu. He watched her sleek butt as she sashayed away, but it didn’t hold his attention as it normally did. He speared Rebecca with an inquisitive look. “You’re a psychic lawyer?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Tag muttered. “Knock it off. She’s here just in case. I haven’t been charged with anything yet.”
Rebecca sipped her tea but her eloquent eyes were snapping with curiosity and a lingering embarrassment. Wade fought the urge to pat her arm and assure her the folks in the restaurant were just concerned about Tag.
He grew serious and scooted his chair a little closer to the table. He crossed his arms on the red-checked cloth and leaned forward. “Have you been able to see any of the evidence they’ve collected?”
“I can’t discuss that.”
“It’s all right,” Tag said. “Wade’s my best friend. I figure if I end up in jail, he’ll be the one you’ll need to help you out.”
A contemplative look crossed her fine, patrician features. Her nose was perfectly straight but dipped down just enough to ruin the look of stuck-up witch. She had a smattering of freckles just below her eyes, too. He liked them.
Rebecca sighed. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, Tag.”
“You and me both.”
“So, the evidence?”
She shook her head. “No. I have to make my own case and do my own investigations. Because of my past relationship with Boone, I have to tread all the more carefully to avoid any potential hint of impropriety.”
Wade whistled. “You and Boone? Wow. Color me shocked. I would not have pegged that.”
Her pretty mouth dropped open then closed with an audible click. “We were friends in college,” she said. “Nothing more.”
This time Wade felt the heat burn his face. He cleared his throat then took a sip of water and looked around the restaurant. The reporter perused a newspaper as he ate, but a notebook lay open beside him. A blue pen sat on top of the crisp pages. Hank, Sadie, and Reynolds lingered over cups of coffee and apple pie.
Next to them, a couple of other strangers sat huddled over a small velvet box. He remembered seeing them in the grocery store the night before, looking for wine. He suspected they were part of the wild wedding party Tag had to put the smack down on so often. He shook his head. They looked to be about twenty or so. Much too young to be getting married.
He should know. He’d just turned twenty when he and Grace had Riley. Not that he regretted his son. He’d move heaven and hell for the little scamp. But he hadn’t been ready for the massive responsibility of raising a child. He sure as shit hadn’t been ready to marry. Thankfully Grace felt the same way. They’d worked out an agreement for joint custody and responsibility and fourteen years later they were still good friends. He shuddered to think what kind of trauma would have been done to his relationship with Riley if they’d married then divorced.
He snuck a peek at Rebecca, who was still shaking her head. Her pretty lips pursed tightly.
Wade cleared his throat. “So, blood drive. You ready to give, Tag?”
“I’m assuming you won’t leave me alone until I do?”
“Got it in one.”
Tag sighed. “Fine. As soon as we eat, I’ll go out to the bus and give, okay?”
“Perfect.”
Catherine arrived with a tray laden with the artery-hardening delicacy that was Maljib’s chicken-fried steak and Rebecca’s much healthier turkey platter. She passed out the plates and refilled their drinks.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Nope,” Tag answered.
Wade cut into his steak then pointed his knife at Rebecca. “Try the potato salad.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said.
“Try it,” he insisted. “It’s awesome.”
“You sound like one of your kids,” Tag muttered.
Rebecca dipped her fork into the salad and brought it to her lips. “You have kids?” she asked Wade then slipped the fork into her mouth.
His dick grew hard again when her tongue came out to lick at a stray bit of creamy mayonnaise on her lip. Then her eyes widened and she looked down at the plate.
“That’s incredible,” she said.
They laughed.
Wade threaded a steak morsel onto his fork then dredged it through the fluffy mashed potatoes.
Just as he lifted the fork, a fracas erupted from the hallway. Then Benjamin Whitcombe burst around the corner. His usually shellacked-into-place white hair was tufted and his bow-tie was askew. He looked wildly around the room before his gaze found their table and he rushed forward.
“Incoming,” Wade said softly.
“Sheriff!” Whitcombe yelled as he wound through the tables. “Sheriff! That, that man stayed at my hotel.”
The other diners turned their attention to Whitcombe. Wade saw Sadie yank Hank back into her seat then wave down Mr. Reynolds. Both the reporter and the wedding couple looked up with equally confused expressions.
Arte Kushing sat in a far corner, doodling as always. He pushed his black horn rimmed glasses up his nose and watched the commotion wide-eyed.
Wade knew living in a small town meant everyone knew everyone else’s business, but some days a bit of privacy would be welcome.
Too bad it’ll never happen in Freedom.
Tag rose. “Calm down, Whitty. What are you talking about?”
Whitty’s normally pale face flushed with indignation and fury streamed from his eyes. “That man who was killed in your jail cell, Sheriff. That’s who I’m talking about. He stayed right there in room 120.”
Rebecca inhaled sharply.
“You said he didn’t stay at the Queen. We didn’t find one of your keys on him either.”
“He used an assumed name,” Whitcombe said with a huff. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, raising more tufts. This time he added a couple of deep furrows which revealed his pink scalp.
The man really needs to get out into the sun more.
“What name?” Tag asked. He pulled out his notepad and flipped through it.
Wade saw Donald Alcott surreptitiously pick up his pen.
“Jackson Michaels.”
Tag stilled then snorted. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t question that?”
Whitcombe drew himself up into a stiff pole of quivering pique. “He had the proper identification. Everything went through just fine.”
Tag nodded. “All right,
settle down, Whitty. Just asking a question. How did you discover Mr. Michaels and Fischer were the same man?”
“Excuse me.” The young reporter from Bastrop interrupted the tȇte-à-tȇte. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you saying the murdered man was a client of yours?”
“No questions, Junior. Sit back down.”
“But Sheriff, we’d like to know, too,” Sadie protested. She and Hank were hovering at the fringe of an expanding group of people.
Wade caught the rising annoyance on Tag’s face. If he didn’t do something quick, the sheriff would likely blow all his chances at reelection because he pissed off half the county in one fell insult.
“Sadie, Miss Hank, why don’t we go outside and head on over to the donation bus?”
Sadie glared at him. “I told you I already gave, Wade.”
He looked at Hank. “What about you?” He looked at the empty seat. “And your friend Mr. Reynolds? Where did he go? Surely he’ll be happy to donate to the town his great-great-relative helped found.”
“He’s in the bathroom,” Hank said. She took Sadie’s arm. “Let’s go outside and wait, honey. We’ll find out what’s going on later.”
Wade stifled a grin at the true words. The entire town had the news covered from edge to edge between Betty’s Barbershop, Maljib’s diner, and the Chrome Barrel. Nothing escaped the Freedom grapevine.
The older woman hesitated just a moment longer then nodded. She turned her attention to the four surrounding tables and clapped her hands sharply. “Okay, people move along. Let’s give the sheriff some privacy here.”
“But Sadie, I’m not done with my food,” one diner protested.
“Then move to another table. That means you, too,” she said to the wedding party and reporter. “Everyone skedaddle.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the reporter muttered.
The expression Tag gave him was as black and ominous as a Texas thunderstorm. The young cub gulped and flipped his notebook closed. He snatched up his bill and stalked away. “I’ll be in touch, Sheriff,” he said. “The right to information and all that.”
Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6
