A Match Made in Texas (10 page)

He dropped the Windex and his hands closed around her waist like two bands of very warm steel as her cheek bumped against the star on his chest. She caught a quick whiff of laundry detergent and spicy soap before she was set back on her feet.

“You’re sure a clumsy little thing,” he said.

She glanced up to find mirrored lenses looking back at her from beneath the brim of his tan hat, and she had to wonder how he could see in the dimly lit room. Maybe he was like a bat and had some kind of internal tracking beam. A tracking beam that not only located prey but drew prey to him.

Bri felt drawn. Drawn to the muscular curves of his body and the seductive slant of his mouth. Gliding her hands up his chest, she rose to her toes and tipped her head to the side. But before she could get a taste of those unsmiling lips, his radio crackled and Cora Lee’s voice rang out.

“We’ve got problems, Dusty.”

It took a moment for the sheriff to step back and unclip the radio from his belt. He lifted it to his mouth, the same mouth Bri still wanted to kiss, and pushed the button on the side. “What’s up?”

“It seems that the sheriff of Haskins County has just shot himself in the foot.”

“Sam Winslow?” The sheriff moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. But instead of drinking it, he pushed up his hat and rubbed the cold bottle over his forehead. “Some kids must be playing a trick on you, Cora. We both know that Sam doesn’t carry a loaded gun.”

The radio crackled again as Cora answered. “I would’ve thought the same thing if it hadn’t been Doc Mathers who called me. They were loading Sheriff Winslow into the ambulance as we spoke.”

The sheriff placed the bottle on the counter. “Well, damn. What hospital are they taking him to?”

“The one in Odessa, but I think you should wait on the hospital visit until you’ve checked out things in Bramble. According to Doc Mathers, the entire town has gone crazy.” Cora Lee paused. “Or crazier than usual.”

The sheriff released his breath in an exasperated sigh. “I’ll check it out.” He started to hook the radio back on his belt when Cora spoke again.

“Did you drop Bri off at your house? You aren’t working her too hard, are you, Dusty? I mean, she isn’t exactly used to that kind of work—or probably any kind of work, for that matter. But she’s sure a sweet little thing. It just about broke my heart leaving her in that jail cell last night with only grumpy ol’ you for company—”

“I’ll talk with you later, Cora,” the sheriff said, cutting her off. Before Cora could utter another word, he turned down the volume and headed for the door, issuing orders as he went. “Once you finish with the windows, you can clean the bathroom. The cleaning supplies are under the sink—”

“You stayed at the jail with me last night?” Bri asked.

He stopped and slowly turned. “We don’t usually leave our prisoners alone. Especially ones who try to escape out the windows.”

“I didn’t fit.”

“I noticed.”

She stared into the mirrored lenses. “So why didn’t you let me know you were there?”

He stared down at the floor for a moment. “I think it’s best, Miz Cates, if we stay as far away from each other as possible.”

“And how do you figure we do that when I’m going to be working for you for the next two weeks?”

“Very easily. You arrive after I go to work and leave before I get home. I’ll have a list of things I want done waiting for you every morning.” He turned and reached for the door handle.

“Wait!” She grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t just leave me clear out here without a car or a phone. What if you get delayed?”

He took the cell phone out of his front pocket and handed it to her. “I’ll be back to take you to Miss Hattie’s after I check on things in Bramble.”

Before Bri could argue, the door squeaked closed behind him. She thought about calling Miss Hattie’s and balling Minnie out for getting her into this predicament, but then decided to wait until her temper cooled. With nothing else to do, she pocketed the phone and picked up the Windex and the roll of paper towels. Although within thirty minutes, she realized that Cora Lee was right. She didn’t know squat about housekeeping.

The front window looked almost as bad as before she’d started. Once she got one streak rubbed out, another would appear. She had just finished working on a streak by the huge crack when the cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

Since it was Dusty’s, she probably should’ve ignored it. But what if it was an emergency? Something that needed to be handled right away? Without another thought, she pulled it from her pocket and answered. There was a long pause before a child’s voice came on.

“Oops, I think I gots the wrong number. I’m lookin’ for my pa.”

“Does your pa have a name?”

“Dustin James Hicks,” the little girl said as if reciting something wonderful. “But everyone calls him Dusty. Except for my mommy, who calls him Dustin. I just calls him Pa. Who are you?”

It took a moment for Bri to digest the information that the mean sheriff was a “pa” to a cute-sounding little girl. No doubt, the same little girl who had been in the photographs in his office. Bri glanced around the house, looking for any evidence that a child had been there. Or a wife. Of course, the sheriff couldn’t be married. Not when half of Culver’s female population was bringing him baked goods in hopes of a marriage proposal.

“I’m your pa’s housekeeper.” Bri moved into the hallway and glanced in the first room. It was obvious that this was Dusty’s room. His wrinkled sheriff shirts spilled out of a clothes hamper. And an identical pair of cowboy boots to the ones he wore sat just inside the open closet.

“Like Cinderella?” the little girl asked.

Bri laughed as she moved on to the next room. “Sorta.”

“Does you have yellow hair and a tiara?”

“Black hair and no tiara.”

“Like Snow White at the dwarfs’ house,” the little girl stated.

Bri glanced in the small bathroom with the tiny sink and mirror. “Yeah, pretty much. So you’re Dusty’s daughter?”

“Uh-huh. Emma James Hicks. Emma for my grandma who dieded and James for my pa’s between name. But I don’t really like James ’cause it’s a boy’s name. You gots a between name?”

The child had an infectious personality that had Bri smiling.

“Yes,” she said. “And it’s a boy’s name just like yours. Brianne William Cates. And William is a lot worse than James. Especially when you have a brother who likes to call you Willie.”

Emma giggled. “Willie is a silly name. But I like Brianne. It sounds like a princess name.”

“Thank you. I’ve always loved the name Emma.”

“Pa calls me Emmie,” she continued. “And Nugget because I looked like a little tiny nugget when I was in my mommy’s belly.”

“Do you live with your mother?”

“Uh-huh, but soon I get to come see my pa.”

Bri opened the last door in the hallway. This room had no furniture in it and looked to be in the early stages of remodeling. A plastic tarp covered the tile floor, and paint cans, brushes, and rolls of wallpaper sat just inside the door. In the center of the room, some kind of a workbench had been set up with chisels, sandpaper, an electric saw, and a drill. But Bri didn’t pay attention to the tools as much as the tall wooden structure that sat in the middle. Since the wood was unfinished, it took her a moment to figure out what she was looking at. The front had tall towers and parapets and the back was open with three shelves that would be perfect for dolls to play in.

“It’s a castle.” Bri didn’t realize that she had said the words until Emma chimed in.

“My pa’s house?” she said in an excited voice. “My pa lives in a castle? ’Cause I knew he would. And when he gets my room all ready for me, I gets to come and visit him at his castle. And we gets to stay up late and watch
Beauty and the Beast
and eat—”

“Emma James!” A woman’s voice came through the receiver. “Where are you?”

“Gots to go, Brianne,” Emma whispered. “But take good care of Pa’s castle.”

The phone went dead.

Slowly, Bri took the cell phone from her ear, but her gaze remained on the partially finished dollhouse. It was obvious that a lot of time and effort had gone into building it. The wood was smooth from multiple sandings, and all the screw heads had been covered with wood putty.

Bri’s own father had built her a dollhouse and surprised her with it one Christmas, but Bri hadn’t even thought of all the time and love that had gone into the house until now. And if her daddy had been there, she would’ve given him a big hug and kiss to show her gratitude.

Thinking about her daddy had a good dose of guilt settling in Bri’s stomach. She hadn’t thought of the sheriff as a father. She’d just thought of him as another arrogant male she was forced to deal with. Now she realized that he might be arrogant, but he was only doing his job. She was the one at fault. The one who ran him off the road, pepper-sprayed him, and acted like a spoiled child who wasn’t willing to take responsibility for her actions.

Glancing once more at the castle, she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. In the living room, she picked up the window cleaner. She couldn’t make up for what she’d done, but she could certainly do a little housekeeping.

Not for the arrogant sheriff, but for the pa who was building a castle for his little princess.

Chapter Ten

N
OTHING LOOKED OUT OF THE ORDINARY
when Dusty pulled into Bramble. All the shops that lined Main Street were open for business, and folks seemed to be going about their weekday routine as usual. He thought about stopping by Doc Mathers’s but decided the best place to find out what was going on in the town was at Josephine’s Diner.

Besides, after spending the night at his office, he could use a cup of Josephine’s strong coffee. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Not because the couch in the reception area was uncomfortable—it had been comfortable enough the other nights he’d slept at the jail so he could keep an eye on a prisoner. No, his sleepless night had more to do with the prisoner.

Brianne Cates not only screwed with his mind, she screwed with his body. Ever since meeting her, he’d been in a constant state of arousal. And the kiss in the jail cell had only added to his horniness. Throughout the night, his mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped kissing her. And when he finally did doze off, his dreams were filled with prisoner and prison guard fantasies that had Dusty waking with a hard-on that could jack up a semi.

Hell, his desire hadn’t even dwindled when the judge arrived to issue his ridiculous verdict. Of course, just the thought of Bri being his slave was a turn-on. Which was why he had no business going along with the judge. Even if he didn’t see Bri during the day, the thought of her being in his house—touching the sheets he slept on and the clothes he wore—was enough to make him crazy. So the sooner he released her from her community service the better. And he intended to do just that as soon as he dealt with whatever was going on in Bramble.

Dusty was only a few feet from the front door of Josephine’s when he realized something was very wrong. People weren’t sitting in the booths or at the tables gossiping over their morning coffee. Instead, they were all crowded around the counter. When he pulled open the door, a wall of angry grumbling welled out, and he had to raise his voice to be heard over the din.

“Hey, now. What’s going on here?”

The grumbling stopped, and everyone turned. Having spent his fair share of time in Bramble, Dusty recognized a number of faces. It was Rye Pickett who answered him. Rye was a gentle giant who never had a bad word to say about anyone. Although now he had more than a few.

He held up his cup. “Is it too much for a man to ask for a hot cup of coffee, Sheriff? This is as cold as the water in Sutter Springs in late February.”

“If you think your coffee is cold, you should try my eggs,” Darla said. Darla was a sweet, middle-aged woman who was always working on one craft or the other. Today was the exception. Her fingers moved like she was knitting, but there were no needles or yarn in sight. “As cold as my eggs were,” she continued, “you’d think that Josephine was keepin’ her hens in the deep freeze.”

“At least you got coffee and eggs,” Rossie Owens chimed in. Rossie owned Bootlegger’s Bar and had given Dusty a free beer on more than one occasion. “I’ve been here over an hour and haven’t even been waited on.”

That started the grumbling again.

“Now, folks,” Dusty said, “I’m sure Rachel Dean will be more than happy to take care of your concerns without you getting all riled up.”

“Of course she would,” Rye said, “if she was here. But that’s the problem, Sheriff. Rachel Dean quit yesterday, leavin’ us at the mercy of her.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

The crowd parted to reveal a woman Dusty never would’ve placed behind a diner counter. To his knowledge, Cindy Lynn had never worked a day in her life. As Bramble’s resident snob and president of the Ladies’ Club, she preferred to gossip, plan parties, and flirt with anyone who wore pants. Now, here she stood with her normally curled and teased bleach-blond hair shooting in all directions and her thickly mascaraed eyes leaking down her cheeks.