Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Bronson raised his hand and knocked on the door. A quick glance at his boots confirmed he’d been able to remove most of the dirt. His eyes were still trained on his boots when the door opened.
He focused on the toes of the boots revealed by the open door. They were worn and broke-in, but clean. The blue jeans were crisply starched, and the hem of each leg sported a two-inch slice along the inside seam, allowing the jeans to ride low on the boots rather than bunch. That trend, known fondly as the Texas Crinkle, had gone by the wayside about a decade before.
His gaze followed the neat crease that led up the front of her jeans, over her silver belt buckle and green plaid button-up shirt to her smiling face. The blond locks she usually kept in a simple braid were loose and flowing. Large soft curls swayed around her face as she shifted from foot to foot. Her eyes sparkled, the dab of make-up only making them look brighter and more captivating. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him when the door opened. Sure, he’d seen Heather nearly every day since he’d accepted the position as sheriff, but this time it was different.
He swallowed hard, knowing if he made it through the evening without tripping over his tongue or saying something completely stupid, he might just stand a chance of getting another date.
“Do I look that bad?
“Not at all. Fact is, you look great.” So maybe not the most suave response he could have given, but it was better than the frantic headshake he might have done ten years ago. “You ready to head over?”
Heather smiled, nodded, and pulled the door closed behind her as she joined him on the small landing. “I’m actually pretty excited. I haven’t been to one of these dances in years.”
“Well, I’ve never been, so you’re doing better than me.” He backed up and allowed her room to step past him and make her way down the narrow staircase.
Once they reached the alley behind the café, they turned left and headed to the end of the block. Even with the row of buildings separating them from the festivities, the sassy country beat of the band could still be heard. When they reached the end of the alley, they made another left and crossed the street to the town square.
The park-like area in the center of town was teaming with activity. The band stood center stage in the gazebo, playing their music for the locals and visitors. Folks danced, neighbors laughed, everyone seemed to be having a grand time on the last night of the festival.
As they made their way through the crowd, both nodding and returning greetings as they went, Bronson felt Heather place her hand on his forearm. He glanced at her. She really was beautiful. Merriment danced across her face as she laughed at the children running by. At least a dozen residents stopped them as they made their way around the grounds, each one taking the time to exchange greetings and let her know how glad they were she’d come home.
Bronson smiled as she chatted with the girl who worked the counter at the drug store, then he took her hand and slipped it securely in the crook of his arm. He wanted everyone in town to know she was here with him. Especially all the single guys he’d caught checking her out as they strolled.
After what seemed like an hour of smiling and chatting with what had to have been nearly everyone in the county, they found an empty bench on the back side of the gazebo.
It was quieter behind the band’s speakers. Not silent but definitely quieter.
“I’m glad you asked me to come with you tonight.” Heather squeezed his arm as they sat side by side on the little park bench.
“I’m glad you agreed.” Bronson breathed a heavy sigh. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure I’d have the nerve to ever ask you out.”
She threw back her head and laughed. The tiny white lights suspended around the square cast a glow across her skin, making her look almost ethereal. A beauty that was almost too perfect to be real.
Bronson reached out with his left hand and trailed a finger across her flawless cheek. Her laughter died, and she locked gazes with him. “I’ve been wantin’ to ask you out since right after I came to town.”
She swallowed hard and turned her body slightly toward him, toward his caress. “Why’d it take you so long? I’ve been waitin’ for you to ask just about as long.”
“We sure make a pair, don’t we? Both of us waitin’ and neither one doin’.” He trailed his fingertips down her cheek and across the satiny skin of her neck. “Maybe we should just agree to make this a regular thing. That way neither of us’ll be stuck wonderin’ again.”
“I like that idea. Dinner at the café every evening. Maybe a movie once a week.” Her eyes sparkled with the reflections of the lights.
Did she just inch closer, or did he? “Only one date a week?” He tsked and slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck. “I think we can do better than that.”
She leaned closer. “I do, too.”
The moment their lips touched, Bronson knew he was in Heaven. She pulled her hand from the crook of his arm and slid it up his bicep and across his shoulder, threading her fingers in the hair at the base of his skull.
“I could get used to this, Sheriff,” she murmured against his lips as they shifted to get closer.
So could he. Their lips met again with tentative passion. His desire to ravage her mouth and the need to maintain at least some composure in a public place warred within him.
Never in his life had he been so consumed with such a fiery need to know everything about a woman. Not just physically, but to really know her. Bronson wanted to know everything about Heather. What brand of shampoo did she use to get her hair to smell so summery? Was it some flavored lip gloss or just the simple taste of her that seemed to remind him of apples? Did she wear perfume or was the mouthwatering smell of her just that… her? He needed to know.
“Sheriff?” Heather pulled back slightly and looked at him. Her eyes glazed with what he hoped was passion that rivaled his own. “I definitely think we’re gonna be spending a fair amount of time together for awhile.”
He leaned back and tilted his head to the side. “Think you’re gonna get tired of me?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna keep things interesting around here for a long time.”
“That’s certainly my plan.”
Tuesday
“I still can’t believe you two were suckin’ face right there on the town square.”
“Just to clarify, it’s not like we had our tongues down each other’s throat.” Heather laughed and carried two cups of coffee to the battered little table in her apartment kitchen. She set one down in front of Beth Ann and took a sip of hers as she sat in the chair opposite her friend. “Weren’t you the one who said I should lay a big wet one on him?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean right there in front of the whole town.” The redhead sipped her java and moaned. “That’s what I needed. So, how are things going between you two now?”
“To be honest, I haven’t seen him much since the farewell brunch on Sunday. He was on duty yesterday and had to skip dinner.” And she had missed him. Funny how used to his company she had gotten over the past few months. And now since the kiss, she wanted to spend even more time with him. She wanted to get to know everything about him.
“And the whole Gus situation?” Beth Ann raised a crimson brow and took another sip of her coffee.
Heather shrugged. “I haven’t been able to find a single place locally that I can afford. I need to get over to the station and talk to Bronson about that.” She glanced at the clock on the wall above her sink. Seven-thirty. Bronson should be at the department by now. “Maybe I can convince him to give me a bit more time.”
“I just bet you can.” Beth Ann gave her a sly wink and sipped her coffee. “Use those womanly wiles I know you have locked away, gal.”
“Speaking of wiles, what’s going on with you and Billy?”
A light flush crept up her friend’s neck and stained her cheeks. “Nothi
ng nearly as interesting as the drama in your life right now.”
“Who says I’ve got drama?”
“When are you gonna learn that everything in Big Creek comes with drama. Either starts with it or it comes close on its heels.” Beth Ann set down her empty mug and snatched her purse from the floor by her chair. “And speaking of, I need to get over to the shop.”
Without waiting for Heather’s reply, Beth Ann got up from the table, squeezed her friend’s shoulder, and let herself out of the small apartment, leaving Heather alone with a thousand thoughts running through her head.
Aside from the fact that she was itching to know all the juicy details about her best friend’s relationship with her high school sweetie, Heather had her own fish to fry. First up… talking to Bronson.
After checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Heather made the short walk up the alley behind The Pickle to the Police Department. Martin sat at his desk near the rear of the office, typing furiously on his keyboard, a teetering stack of paperwork looming near his left hand. “Be right with you,” he called.
“I’m just lookin’ for the sheriff.”
Martin turned and smiled. “He’s got the day off today.”
Heather’s heart sank. She rifled through her memory, trying to recall if he had told her about the day off or not. Surely she had simply forgotten. “Okay, I’ll just call him.” She walked toward the dispatcher’s desk. “Is it okay if I poke my head out back and see Gus while I’m here?”
Martin looked as if his hand had just gotten slammed in a car door. His eyes grew wide and his pallor took on a greenish tint. “Um… well.”
Certainly there shouldn’t be any issue in her paying a small visit to the department’s only resident. A sinking feeling started to roil in the pit of her stomach as she watched Martin begin to fidget. It seemed he was doing his level best to look anywhere but directly at her. “Martin? Is Gus okay?”
The dispatcher cleared his throat. “He was right as rain when I last saw him.”
“And when was that?” The ball of nerves continued to grow in her mid-section.
“About an hour ago.”
Something in the way the man made his last statement caused a shiver of dread to race down Heather’s spine. “Martin?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Where’s Gus right now?”
“I can’t say for sure.”
His evasiveness was really starting to irk Heather. The man knew something, but the information wasn’t something he appeared to be willing to turn loose of easily. “Unless you wanna start taking your meals at the gas station hot box, I think you might wanna part with what you do know.”
Martin swallowed audibly and sucked in a deep breath. “Sheriff met the county livestock officer here this morning. They loaded the old fella up and left. That’s all I know. Please don’t make me eat those hot box burritos.”
The heat drained from Heather’s face. Today was Tuesday. The county auction barn ran stock through on Tuesdays. “Where’s Bronson?”
“I don’t know. I think he said something about heading out to his new place just outsida town.”
Heather snatched a scrap of paper from a pile on his desk and handed it to him. “I want the address.”
****
Bronson pushed his hat back and swiped the back of his hand across his sweat-soaked brow. August in West Texas was brutal. Nearly every day the mercury soared into the triple digits, causing even the hearty acclimated wildlife to seek out cool spots and wait for dusk. Considering it was just past eight in the morning and the thermometer on the wall by the barn door already boasted a temperature in the low nineties, it was shaping up to be a hot one yet again.
He stepped into the doorway of the barn and gazed out at his new home. The small ranch-style house sat nestled in a small clump of scrubby oaks that looked as though they were only surviving by sheer willpower and determination, but the well was deep and the surrounding thirty acres were his. He had heard old-timers talk about the feeling a man got when he stood back and looked at the land that he owned, and he’d never really understood what they meant until now. Pride swelled in his chest. Home. It was a good feeling.
Now, if he could get the rest of the cards to play out like he hoped, he’d be the happiest man in the entire Lone Star State.
A cloud of dust billowing up in the distance caught his attention. Bronson stepped outside the barn and looked toward his front gate. An older model brown pickup bounced up the long drive toward him at a speed that clearly indicated the driver was in a hurry.
The truck slid to a halt in front of the house, a shower of fine dust surrounding it, temporarily obscuring the driver. Bronson tugged his hat back down and started for the vehicle, whispering a quick prayer that no one in town had been hurt.
“Where are you, Sheriff?”
Bronson recognized Heather’s voice instantly. The truck door slammed shut as the cloud of dust around the aging vehicle began to settle. “Hey.” His steps faltered as she whipped around, and he caught a good look at her face. A blush flushed her cheeks and her eyes sparkled… and it didn’t appear to be the good kind of sparkle.
She marched toward him, her index finger slicing through the air before her. “Who do you think you are? You waltz into town and think you know what’s best for everybody here.” She stopped short of running smack into him and poked him hard in the middle of the chest. “You must be thinkin’ just because you’ve got some job to do that the people ‘round here are just dumb hicks who don’t matter. That their feelin’s don’t matter. Well, I’ve got news for you, Sheriff,” she spat the last word like it left a bitter taste in her mouth, “we’ve got feelings and we don’t cotton to liars.”
“What in Sam Hill are you talkin’ about?” He reached out to cup her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she slapped his hand away.
“Don’t you dare touch me. How could you? You said I had a week, and I’ve been bustin’ my tail, callin’ everyone I can think of, but I haven’t been able to find a place for Gus yet.” Tears welled in her eyes as she continued. “Then, I go to the station this mornin’ to talk to you about maybe givin’ me some more time, and what do I hear? That the sheriff and the county livestock officer loaded him up first thing this morning and hauled him off. And the worst part is, here I was thinkin’ you actually wanted to help. That you really cared about this town… that you might really care about me. Boy, I bet you thought I was just some dumb hick who’d just kowtow to whatever the fuzz had to say when it came to the law. Well, I’ve got news for you, buster,” she poked him again in the chest, “I’m not gonna—”
A gravelly whinny echoed across the yard. Bronson eyed Heather as she peeked around him. He didn’t have to turn to know what she was looking at. Yesterday, he had spoken to Ben, the county livestock officer, and made arrangements for Ben to bring a trailer to the station and haul Gus to Bronson’s home. “I figured since you hadn’t mentioned finding anything for the old guy that nothing had turned up. I ran into Ben last night on a call, and he offered to bring his trailer over this morning and bring him out here.”
Bronson turned and watched the elderly gelding pick his way slowly across the drive toward the woman who’d spent her time over the last few months furiously working to keep him safe. Most folks would feel betrayed that Heather had jumped to conclusions when she discovered her beloved friend missing this morning, but Bronson’s heart swelled. It was clear that Heather fought for what she wanted. That she was willing to go to extremes to keep those she loved safe, even if it might mean losing something he hoped she wanted just as badly as him. “I figured he’d spent enough time in the pokey. Maybe he’d be comfortable here for awhile.” He shrugged and turned to find Heather gazing at him, a lone tear trailing down her cheek. “At least here, he’s safe. He’s got the run of the place, a barn all to himself, and all the scrub brush he can eat.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, Bronson held up his hand, stopping her. �
��I should’ve called you and told you, but it was late when Ben and I got it all worked up, and the only time he could do it was first thing this morning. I’d planned on calling earlier,” he waved a hand toward the barn, “but I kinda got caught up making him a nice spot in there and just plum lost track of time.” He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear, pleased when she didn’t sucker punch him. “I’m sorry you were worried.”
Heather’s shoulders sagged. “I’m such a jerk.”
Bronson laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Darlin’, if you fight half as hard for everything you believe in as you have for Gus, then jerk is the last thing in the world I’d ever call you.” His skin tingled as she slid her arms around his back and returned his embrace.
“I won’t get to see him very much with him being out here.” She rested her left cheek against his chest.
Bronson followed the direction of her gaze and smiled as Gus stopped a few short feet from them, blew out a deep breath, and shook his entire body. “Well, I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ about that, too. See, I just don’t know how two old bachelors like me and Gus are gonna fare out here on our own. So, I figured maybe in six months or so we might be lookin’ to get a housemate out here. You know anybody who can cook real good and might be interested in a long-term situation like that?”
“How long-term?”
Bronson chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, I’d say at least the next fifty years or so.”
She pulled back and gazed up at him, her brows drawn together.“Are you… Bronson, are you asking me to marry you?”
“Well, I figured we’d date for awhile, but yeah, I’d like to see us together for a lot longer. I mean, I know we just started dating but it’s not like we don’t know each other. We’ve had dinner together nearly every night since I came to town. You probably know more about me than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Fried Pickles and the Fuzz Page 6
