“So you perfect the recipe and sell it, and you’re set.”
“That, and I bake my fingers to the bone. Then I’m set.”
He grinned. “Some things never change.”
The comment should have made her feel good, but for some reason regret whispered through her.
“What about you?” She eyed him. “I hear you’re doing pretty good on the circuit.”
“Good enough.” His gaze met hers. “So far. I’ve got to be in Cheyenne as soon as I settle things here. If I hold my own there, then I’ll be on my way.”
“So when are you leaving?”
“I’m supposed to be in Cheyenne in a few days to start training for the rodeo in three weeks. I’ve got a buddy up there who’s got a top-notch facility. Cooper has to be at A and M at about the same time. I’ll find him and get him to College Station, and then I’ll head for Wyoming.”
“What if you don’t find him in time?”
“Oh, I will.” Determination carved his broad jaw. “I’ll sit here all night if I have to.”
Right here. Right next to her.
So close all she had to do was reach out.
Uh, oh.
“There’s really no need for both of us to be here,” she blurted. “We could take shifts. I mean, really. Neither of us knows when Kenny Roy will be back. What if he’s taking a vacation? I mean, I hope he’s not, but my mash still has several more days to ferment, so it’s not like I have to talk to him right now. Just sometime before it’s ready to go.”
“Kenny Roy runs a weekly football pot. He’ll be back before Friday, so I doubt he’s on vacation.”
“Still, he might not be here tonight, so we should prepare ourselves for the possibility that it might take a day or two.”
He stared at her a long moment as if trying to decide something. “I don’t think shifts are a good idea.”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
“Because I don’t trust Kenny Roy. He’s a bad guy, Brandy.”
“I’m not exactly all that good, myself,” she murmured.
“Oh, I know just how bad you can be.” His aqua-blue eyes fired in the center and heat fluttered from the soles of her feet, working its way up and igniting every major erogenous zone along the way. “But this is different. Kenny Roy is a two-bit criminal and the company he keeps isn’t much better. You don’t need to get mixed up with him.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Is that so?” He eyed her. “Then tell me, sugar. What do you need?”
“I don’t think this is the right place,” she started, but then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, and the protest was lost in a sudden rush of heat.
CHAPTER 11
He didn’t mean to kiss her.
He’d always let her make the first move and come to him. But there was just something about being so close and not touching her that was eating him up from the inside out.
That, and she just had the most tempting mouth. Full on the bottom with a slight pout that made him think of all the nasty things he wanted to do to her.
Things they’d already done, he reminded himself. Which meant his curiosity shouldn’t be getting the better of him. He knew, but damned if that didn’t make him want to kiss her that much more.
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His mouth ate at hers, tasting and exploring and—
The flash of headlights cut through the haze of lust and snapped him back to reality. To the black Ford Explorer that swerved into the driveway and the fact that they were sitting there for all the world to see.
Gravel crunched and brakes screeched. A door slammed, boots crunched gravel. Kenny Roy waltzed up just as they both scrambled from the car.
“Well, well, if this ain’t a Ripley’s Believe It or Not moment.” Kenny stopped a few feet away and took a drag on the cigarette in his hand. “Never thought I’d see the day when a Tucker and a Sawyer got up close and personal right in front of my place. Or anybody’s place for that matter. There’s a feud goin’ on, in case you didn’t know.”
“We weren’t—” Brandy started, but Tyler cut her off.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m afraid I’m clear out of smoke.” He winked and took another drag of his cigarette. “The good kind, that is. But I do have a little hooch left over to really get the party started.”
“I’m not here to buy.”
The man shrugged. “I’m not running a new football pot until next week. If you come back Monday, I can get you in on next week’s game. It’s a pre-season biggee. Texas Tech versus LSU. My money’s on Tech. They’ve got one helluva quarterback this year.”
“We’re not here to bet.”
“So what are you doing here? Don’t tell me, the cops chased you away from Rebel Creek and this is the best you could do for a make-out spot.”
“I’m looking for my brother,” Tyler told him.
Kenny Roy’s eyes widened for a split second before he shook his head. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him.”
“I don’t believe you. An entire barful of customers saw you two together last week,” Tyler reminded him.
“That’s true enough, but I ain’t seen him this week.”
Tyler stepped forward until barely a hand span separated them. “You’re full of shit.”
“It’s true,” Kenny Roy said, clearing his throat as if searching for his voice. “I ain’t seen him since last weekend.”
“Why not? Where did he go?”
“I think you ought to ask him.” He shrugged again. “I ain’t gettin’ in the middle of somebody else’s family business.”
“You’re already in the middle because you gave him a job that paid more than the crappy Dairy Freeze. He’s been selling for you, hasn’t he?”
“Maybe. But that was weeks ago. He’s moved on since then.”
“On to what?”
“Something that pays a damn sight better.” When Tyler’s gaze narrowed enough to be dangerous, Kenny Roy rushed on, “It’s no big deal. He’s just doing a little bootlegging with Gator Hallsey. Not cooking or anything like that. Gator don’t cook. He’s strictly into transport, and he’s damn good at it. The best on account of he used to do all that dirt track driving. He knows every back road within a five-hundred-mile perimeter. Saw your brother driving that old Mustang of his and thought he might be halfway decent at transport. They left day before yesterday with a truck full of hooch for a high-end buyer up around Dallas. The guy’s got money coming out his ass.”
“So why doesn’t he just hit up a liquor store?” Brandy voiced the one question that most people came up with when they thought of modern-day moonshining. It was a crime not worth the risk and easily preventable.
At the same time, old habits died hard in a small town.
“Because that would be too easy,” Kenny Roy chimed in. “This guy’s got money, and when you got money it’s always fun to see just what you can do with it.”
“How much you can get away with,” Tyler added.
“Exactly. It’s always fun outsmarting the cops. That, and it is some pretty damn good hooch thanks to your girlfriend, here. Speaking of which.” His gaze slid past Tyler. “You gonna help us out with another batch there, sugar?”
“That depends.” She stepped forward, her shoulder brushing Tyler’s as she came up next to him.
“On what?”
“On whether or not I get to see the process through from beginning to end.”
Kenny Roy smiled. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. My mash. My hooch. I should be there.”
He shook his head. “Not no, but hell no. My boy don’t run anything with an audience.”
She shrugged. “Then you and your boy can mix up your own mash.”
Silence settled for a long moment before he arched an eyebrow. “You really got another batch ready to go?”
“It’s fermenting right now. You can either let me watch the proces
s and give me the first good jar while you keep all the rest for yourself, or you can lose out on the opportunity to make some easy money. There’s no shine out there as good as mine.”
Tyler had to give her props. She stood her ground as she faced off with Kenny Roy. While the guy was little more than a small-time criminal, he still came off as intimidating with his beady black eyes and stout body. But Brandy wasn’t the least bit put off. Determination gleamed in her eyes and he knew then she wasn’t giving up on her recipe any more than he was giving up on his brother.
“I guess I could talk to him.” She nodded and Kenny Roy hooked his fingers in his belt loops. “Is that it? ’Cause I’d really like to get inside. I just won the big enchilada.”
“You play the Lotto?” Brandy asked.
“I ain’t talking Lotto. I won a free dinner at Maria’s House of Enchiladas. She’s got chili cheese tonight and I aim to get there before the doors close.” He moved to walk past them, but Tyler caught him by the collar.
“Not so fast. When is Hallsey getting back to town?”
Kenny Roy didn’t look as if he wanted to give an answer, but Tyler wasn’t leaving without one. He tightened his grip and the material pulled tight around the man’s neck. “You can tell me now, or you can get used to seeing my truck parked in your driveway because I’m not leaving.” He glanced past Kenny’s Ford to another car idling at the end of the drive. The old burgundy Cutlass had just pulled up, the driver little more than a shadow. “I bet that would put a cramp in your business.” He let loose a whistle and motioned to the car. “He’s closed. Get out of here.”
“Hey—” Kenny Roy started, but the grip on his collar went tighter and the words snagged in his throat.
The Cutlass stalled for a second before shifting into gear and hauling ass down the road.
“Either tell me something or I can promise that won’t be the first customer you lose,” Tyler vowed.
“Next week,” Kenny Roy rasped. “They ought to be back by Monday.” When Tyler narrowed his gaze, Kenny Roy added, “Tuesday at the latest. At least that’s what Gator said before he left.”
“It doesn’t take three days to drive to and from Dallas.”
“It does if you’re stopping off to make some drops along the way. Most of Gator’s customers aren’t too keen on taking deliveries during the day, which means he has to hit ’em up at night. He’s got several, so it’ll be a few days. Three. Maybe four days.” He shrugged. “How the hell do I know? I just know he’s gone until I hear that he’s back.”
“And as soon as you do, you’ll call me, right?” Tyler’s fingers tightened. The material grew taut. Kenny Roy’s gaze went wide. “Otherwise, I’ll be telling the sheriff about those plants you’ve got growing in the bathroom.”
“How do you know—”
“I just know,” Tyler cut in. “Call me, understand?” Kenny Roy nodded and Tyler motioned to the Explorer, “Now back that thing up so we can get the hell out of here.” He thrust the man forward and Kenny Roy stumbled a few feet before catching himself.
He stood, tugging at his collar before pulling a cigarette from his pocket and flicking the flame on his lighter. The tip flared and smoke curled.
“A Tucker and a Sawyer,” Kenny Roy said after a long drag. He stepped toward his vehicle, the smoke following him. “Who woulda thought?”
CHAPTER 12
She wasn’t going to follow him.
That’s what Brandy told herself after they’d left Kenny Roy’s house. They ambled over the railroad tracks before hitting Main Street. A few more blocks and she watched Tyler’s truck turn off the main road and head for the outskirts of town.
It was still early. Just shy of ten o’clock on a Saturday night. There was no guarantee he was even going back to the rodeo arena. He could be hitting up a nearby bar and picking up some local girl for all Brandy knew.
Her lips vibrated from the feel of his kiss.
Just a kiss, which meant it shouldn’t bother her. Not when they’d done so much more so many times before.
But this one kiss had felt different.
More potent. Intense. Meaningful, even.
And the last thing she wanted—needed—was meaningful when it came to Tyler McCall.
She was all about hot, fiery, intense, do-me-now passion. Nothing more. No sitting next to him with the crickets buzzing in the background. No music playing softly while they talked about … everything. Anything.
Talking, of all things.
She turned in the opposite direction and headed to the main turnoff leading to the Tucker spread. Pavement gave way to gravel and dirt as the car bumped along the last half mile leading to the house. Brandy rounded a cluster of trees, the foliage growing more sparse until she spotted the peeling two-story house that she’d lived in for most of her life.
Ever since her dad had moved the family from Austin to help take care of his ailing father. At least that had been the story her parents had told their three daughters. Grandpa needed them, and it had been true. But they’d also needed Grandpa since her dad had lost yet another job and had been hard-pressed to keep a roof over their heads.
They’d had little more than a few suitcases and the clothes on their backs when they’d walked into James Harlin Tucker’s home, but that fact had never bothered her parents. They’d had each other and as long as they’d been together, they’d been happy.
For the most part.
But Brandy hadn’t missed the look of longing in her mother’s eyes whenever she’d whipped up a few pies to bring in some extra money at Thanksgiving, or baked a dozen loaves of cranberry walnut bread to sell at the Christmas Bazaar.
Her baking hadn’t just been a means to an end. It had been something she’d loved. Something she’d been proud of. Something she might have had an opportunity to actually pursue if she hadn’t married so young and given up everything for her husband and children.
Brandy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled to a stop in front of the house. The place was dark except for the bare yellow bulb that flickered on the front porch, the driveway empty.
But then Brandy hadn’t expected anything different. It was Saturday night, which meant Callie was with Brett, and Jenna … well, she was, hopefully, setting the record straight with Jase.
And Brandy was, as usual, alone.
She licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to ignore the hum that vibrated along her nerve endings as she remembered the press of Tyler’s mouth. She stiffened and pulled a box of leftover bread rolls from the backseat, along with a box of thumbprint cookies, before making her way to the steps. She was one shy of the front porch when she heard the echo of an engine. She set the bakery boxes on the porch and turned just as twin beams sliced through the darkness and bathed her in stark white light.
Her own gaze narrowed, her vision going blurry as she fought to see past the sudden plunge of headlights. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and excitement gunned through her as gravel crunched and brakes growled. The lights died and anticipation wound tight in her belly.
She blinked once, twice until her eyes adjusted and she could make out the silhouette of a man climbing down from the driver’s side of a beige SUV.
Beige, not black. A beaten-up Suburban rather than a brand-spanking new, sleek diesel pickup.
The realization sliced through her and her anticipation took a nosedive while her unease snapped to attention.
“Hey there, Brandy.” Sheriff Hunter DeMassi’s voice carried through the darkness a few moments before he stepped into the dim halo of porch light that pushed out into the yard. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
“Not at all. I’m just getting home from work.” She waited while he stepped up onto the porch, the light turning him from a shadow to an actual man. “What can I do for you?”
Another search. That’s what she expected. The sheriff had been out numerous times over the past few months to walk the path to the site of her granddad’s old stil
l. The place where he’d finally blown himself to smithereens after decades of making his own shine.
But then everybody makes mistakes, and while James Harlin had been every bit as good as his daddy and his granddaddy before him, he hadn’t been the legend himself—the Elijah G. Sawyer—and so the odds had finally caught up to him. That, and his failing eyesight and withering liver had contributed to the tragedy. Both had made him slower and more susceptible to errors, and so he’d finally made one.
His last one.
She eyed the sheriff. He was just a few years older than she was. Tyler’s age, to be more exact. Like Tyler, he was well over six feet, too. But that’s where the similarities ended. His dark hair was cut much shorter than Tyler’s, his face clean-shaven. He had golden eyes that caught the porch light and gleamed with an intensity that told her he hadn’t shown up just to see how she was doing. There was something else driving him. Something far more serious.
“You can have another look out back if you want,” Brandy offered.
“No need.” He shook his head. “I’m here because there have been new facts that have come to light. See, we made a few arrests last month. Caught some moonshiners that were poaching on Sawyer land.”
She nodded. “I heard about that. You guys arrested Big Jimmy, didn’t you?”
“Him and a few others working with him.” The sheriff nodded. “Since moonshining is a federal offense, Austin sent a crew out to go over the still site, and they found a few interesting pieces of evidence.”
“Such as?”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, as if picking and choosing just how much to tell her. “Your grandfather’s DNA was found at the site,” he finally murmured.
“My grandfather had his own still. Why would he be nosing around at Big Jimmy’s place?”
“You tell me. There’s no denying the evidence. Some way, somehow, he was with Big Jimmy at his still at some point prior to his death. And we’re not talking years. The weather would have washed away any old evidence. This was fresh. He paid a visit to that still not a week or two before he died.”
Red-Hot Texas Nights Page 7
