Loving a Lawman Page 5

  He sat behind his desk, sipping his own cup of coffee. All of last night’s food had been cleared away, only to be replaced with a new batch—a pan of brownies, a box of doughnuts, and a sticky caramel coffee cake that Jessie was certain was Heather Clemens’s grandmother’s recipe.

  “Can I go now?”

  He nodded once, and Jessie started for the door.

  “This isn’t over, you know.”

  “Yeah, Seth. It is.”

  In more ways than one.

  * * *

  Damn fool woman!

  Head bent over his notebook, Seth cut his gaze up and watched Jessie jerk open the station door. It took all his energy not to pop up from the chair like some crazed jack-in-the-box and go after her, demand that she tell the truth. Demand she forget her damned pride that kept her from defending herself against these charges in the first place.

  She was going to make this hard on him. Thank heaven above Chase was on his way to New Mexico. If Seth had to deal with both of them at the same time, he’d resign.

  No. He’d shoot them both, and then he’d resign.

  “Hey, Dusty.” Jessie brushed past his deputy and she was gone.

  “Hey back,” Dusty replied to her retreating form before the sandy-haired man turned his attention to Seth.

  “What was Jessie doing here?”

  “You already forget about Chase’s truck?”

  “No, but—”

  He didn’t even give the man a chance to answer, his voice sounding impatient and harsh even to his own ears. “But what?”

  “I just didn’t think you’d throw her in jail.”

  “I didn’t throw her anywhere.”

  “But she spent the night here.”

  “She admitted to the damage done to Chase’s truck,” Seth said through clenched teeth.

  “Well, now, somebody got up on the wrong side of the couch this morning.”

  Seth stood and slammed his hands down on his hips, his sleepless night making him as surly as that mare Jake insisted he’d keep, though no one—not even Chase—could stay on her. He still had a bad case of heartburn from Darly Jo’s casserole, and he hadn’t been able to do anything last night but lie awake and listen to the even rhythm of Jessie’s breathing. “If you got something to say, Dusty, why don’t you just come right on out and say it?”

  “All right.” He limped over to stand toe-to-toe with him. A couple of years younger, a few pounds heavier. Not quite as tall, but looking him square in the face and not backing down an inch. That was one of the things Seth admired most about his chief deputy.

  “Why don’t you stop pretending like you don’t love Jessie and go for the direct approach for a change?”

  Seth was so stunned he couldn’t reply.

  For a minute anyway.

  Then he scoffed. “I don’t love Jessie. Well, I mean I do . . . but more like a . . . a sister.”

  “Can it, Seth. I’m a cop too. Remember? Maybe I didn’t train at UT or get hired on at fancy-schmancy San Diego like some people, but ASU ain’t so bad. They taught me how to spot signs and clues. I know enough to see when a man’s got it bad, and you, my friend, have got it bad.”

  “Whatever.” Not quite the snappy comeback he would have liked, but Dusty had taken him by surprise. He thought he’d kept his feelings for Jessie well hidden. He’d never made an improper move toward her, never told another soul how much he wanted her for his own.

  As he mulled this over, Dusty clumped over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. He took a tentative sip, then grimaced. “As if loving your brother’s girl ain’t enough.”

  Seth exhaled heavily, felt his nostrils flare. “I never said I loved her.” And he didn’t. She was the one thing he couldn’t have, and for that reason and that reason alone he wanted her all the more.

  “You don’t have to. But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Now, how could he answer that? If he said thanks, he would be admitting he did indeed have a thing for his brother’s girl. And if he said he didn’t have a secret that needed to be kept safe, then Dusty—with his bulldog tenacity that made him such a damn fine deputy but right now was slowly driving Seth out of his cotton-pickin’ mind—would keep up the line of conversation until he found a chink in Seth’s mental armor.

  So he took the easy way out and just glared at him.

  “You’ve been drinking your own coffee this morning. That’s enough to make any man spoil for a fight. Whatcha say we go over to the Chuck Wagon and get us some decent joe?”

  “Jessie’s there.”

  Dusty slapped him on the shoulder like the old friend he was.

  “Good,” he said. “Then you can start working on that direct-approach thing I was telling you about.”

  “Direct approach? You mean flirting with anything in a skirt.”

  Dusty smiled. “Call it what you like, but keep this in mind: how’s a girl gonna know you’re interested unless you tell her?”

  Seth shook his head. “I have work to do.” He dropped back into his chair, his deputy’s gaze boring through him. He did have work to do. A lot of it. He was a busy man. He had to get Johnson Jones out of there, type up the witnesses’ statements from all three of last night’s big happenings, and go check on the kittens Chase had left in his apartment. Not to mention, he needed to feed Sadie and let the poor pooch know that despite his brother’s quest to fill Seth’s life with as many animals as possible, she was still number one in his heart. Yeah, he was a busy, busy man. Much too busy to walk all the way across the street for a cup of coffee. Much, much too busy. And his reasons for not going had nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with Jessie McAllen, despite what he had said. Not to mention the fact that she was mad enough to spit nails, and he didn’t want to be anywhere in range when she let loose.

  “Suit yourself,” Dusty replied, but instead of making his way to the door, he came up behind Seth and tapped one finger on the notebook he’d used last night when Jessie gave her statement.

  All the time she had been talking, Seth hadn’t been just writing, he’d been sketching too. Right smack dab in the middle of the page where the notes concerning her confession should have been was a perfect pencil drawing of Jessie’s sweet face.

  “Bad, my friend,” Dusty said, before turning toward the door. “You got it bad.”

  Chapter Three

  Seth slid into his favorite booth at the Chuck Wagon and tried to shake his bad mood. He had, in fact, been trying to shake his bad mood since . . . well, since yesterday. Specifically last night. Even more specifically, last night at Manny’s when Jessie had requested that he handcuff her and—damn it—it might be years before he got over that one.

  He was seven times a fool for coming in here. He had stuff to do. He needed to be at the station filing reports and the zillion other pieces of paper that marked the legal side of law enforcement. With Nancy on leave, the place had gone to pot. And on top of it all, he had been stuck drinking his own coffee—which was bad, but not nearly as bad as Dusty claimed it to be. And he needed to steer clear of Jessie.

  But even when Seth had been at the station steering clear of Jessie, he hadn’t been filing reports or the zillion other pieces of paper that marked the legal side of law enforcement. He had been brooding—plain and simple. Well, maybe not so plain and surely not so simple.

  Along with the brooding, he had been watching the clock over the door, waiting to see it display the time when Jessie left her job. When two o’clock hit and she was still inside the diner, he decided he’d go over anyway. A man had to eat sometime, didn’t he? Even if he was seven times a fool.

  He should have just grabbed a sandwich when he went home to let Sadie out and check on the kittens Chase had dumped off. But he hadn’t, because it was fried chicken day and—

  Movement caught his attention, and h
e looked up. Jessie approached, a forced smile smeared across her face. Purple smudges cast shadows under her clear gray eyes, and fatigue weighted her steps.

  Yet her chin was high and her back straight. And he couldn’t help wondering how her slim shoulders carried around all that pride, day in and day out.

  But one thing was certain, Seth had to be more careful where Jessie was concerned. It wouldn’t take long for the proverbial dust to clear. Holding a grudge would require too much effort on Chase’s part. He’d forgive Jessie in a day or two and things would go back to the way they’d always been: Seth loving Jessie, Jessie loving Chase, and Chase loving anything in Rocky Mountain jeans. Sure as the world, one day Chase would put an end to his wild streak and he would marry Jessie. Wouldn’t do for everyone in town to know that Seth had a thing for his brother’s wife.

  “You here for the chicken, Sheriff?”

  Her tone was falsely bright and held no clue as to what she was really thinking.

  “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  “Sheridan needed me to stay. She and Aaron had a meeting with someone at the college.”

  Seth nodded.

  “You want some coffee too?”

  “Now, why is everybody harping on my coffee?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Truth hurts.”

  “Just bring me a glass of iced tea,” he said, “with—”

  “Lots of lemon,” she finished for him, not even bothering to write his request in her order pad. Instead she plunked down his silverware and turned back toward the kitchen.

  “I got the estimates from the insurance adjuster.”

  That stopped her in her tracks.

  She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “That was quick.”

  Seth shrugged. “He’s a friend of mine.”

  That was all there was in Cattle Creek: friends and enemies and nothing in between. The lot of small-town life.

  She took a deep breath before asking, “Bad?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How bad?”

  “Real bad.”

  “Three thousand dollars bad?”

  He held her gaze steadily and pointed upward with one finger.

  “Thirty-five hundred bad?”

  Upward again.

  She scrunched up her face as if she didn’t want to actually say the numbers. “Four thousand?”

  “Forty-two,” he said.

  “American dollars?”

  “And change. A lot of change,” he added as her proud posture started to sag. Then her shoulders caught and straightened as if she had accepted her fate and was prepared to face it. “I’ll make the first payment as soon as I can.”

  He watched her walk to the kitchen to put in his order and had to bite his tongue to keep from calling her back.

  She returned a few minutes later and slid his blue plate special in front of him. The industrial white stoneware was piled high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans seasoned with lots of black pepper and a touch of bacon grease.

  He inhaled the delicious aroma, and his mouth started to water. She filled his tea glass as he grabbed his fork. Normally he didn’t eat such a big meal midday, but thanks to indigestion from his midnight snack and a certain redhead—who would remain nameless—he’d missed his breakfast. Now he was starving.

  He was just savoring the first bite of the potatoes when she set the pitcher on the table then dug into the pocket of her apron. She pulled out of wad of ones, several coins bouncing off the table as she plunked the money down. “There’s almost thirty dollars. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

  “Jessie.” Seth shook his head.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll settle this debt.”

  She turned to walk away, but Seth abandoned his fork and grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Put that money back in your pocket.”

  She shook her head again, looking very close to breaking down right there on the spot, her overabundant pride the only thing stopping her. “We have an agreement.”

  “Screw that. Chase is just being an ass. Give him a few days to calm down and—”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Quit being so damned stubborn, Jessie. You can’t afford to pay for Chase’s truck.”

  “You don’t know jack sh—”

  “I know that you can’t afford to be prideful right now.”

  He used his hold on her to pull her toward him. Ignoring how good she smelled despite the fact that she had spent the night in jail, he wadded up the bills and pushed them back into her pocket.

  “But—”

  “No buts. I’m not going to let you do this, Jess.”

  A moment stretched between them, and Seth was aware of every fiber of her being. The rise and fall of her breaths, the little cinnamon dusting of freckles across her nose and forehead, the pride that seemed to roll off her in waves.

  She opened her mouth and inhaled deeply, as if she was about to say something, but whatever was on her mind was lost in the shrill buzz of his phone.

  He hesitated for a moment before he let go of her arm, whipped the device from his belt, and read the text message. He was only dimly aware of Jessie retreating behind the counter. It was just as well; they would have to postpone this conversation until another time.

  Chester and Amos were at it again. He knew from experience that he was the only one who could calm them down enough to reach at least some facsimile of peace. At least until the next time.

  He slid from the booth and stared longingly at his chicken. “Jessie, can I get my check?” He asked even though Chuck had never charged him for a meal since he’d taken up the office across the street. “I gotta go.”

  “Take this.” She handed him a to-go cup filled to the brim with sweet tea. Through the milky plastic lid he could make out at least three pieces of lemon floating on the top. She loaded up his chicken and a biscuit into a foam box so he could eat it on the way.

  “This isn’t over, Jessie.”

  “Yes. It is.” With his hands full she seized the opportunity to stuff the thirty dollars into the front pocket of his jeans.

  He ignored the feel of her skin so close to his, separated only by the thin cotton of the inside of his pocket.

  “No, it’s not. But I have to go. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He balanced the to-go cup on the top of the container and put his hat back on his head with a small nod.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “At supper.”

  She still had that “what are you talking about?” look.

  “Wesley’s birthday,” he prodded.

  She shook her head. “I’m not going.”

  “Of course you’re going.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’ve got other plans.”

  Such a lie. He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of plans?”

  “Well, let’s see. Matthew called and he’s going to be in town—”

  “Matthew?”

  “McConaughey.”

  “Right.”

  “—and then there was the cocktail party at the governor’s mansion. I’m just not sure I can fit it all in.”

  “I’m sure Matt will understand.”

  “And the governor?”

  “Get a rain check.”

  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other suddenly serious. “I don’t know, Seth. Chase isn’t going to be there and—”

  “When has that stopped you from attending a family function?”

  She had to attend the party; she was practically one of the family. She was honor-bound, duty-bound. Jessie had to be there.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Chicken.”

  “I’m not being a chicken.
I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Well, I am. Mama will have my hide if you don’t show up tomorrow.”

  Jessie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the tender flesh in her agitation.

  Damn, he wished she wouldn’t do things like that. ’Cause it made him want to do things like that. Made him want to do more than that. Made him want to kiss that bottom lip. And the top lip and the divot at the base of her throat, and the spot where the V of her shirt cast a shadow across the sweetly freckled skin of her breasts and . . .

  “Jessie.” Desire had roughened his voice, and her name came out harsher than he had intended.

  She seemed to wilt ever so slightly, her backbone losing a little bit of its normal starch, before she recovered herself. She straightened and a look of determined resignation came over her sweet face. “All right.” She nodded.

  “I’ll pick you up at three.” He slapped the wad of tips back onto the table and headed out the door.

  * * *

  Just before three the following afternoon, Jessie dusted her cheeks with a bit of powder, then critically surveyed herself in the mirror. The magazine ad said the makeup would smooth out uneven skin tones, but from where she was standing, every one of her gabillion freckles shone like beacons.

  It wasn’t often that she wished she looked different—just every other week or so. She wasn’t ugly. That much she knew. It was just that she was every inch the girl-next-door kinda cute in the way of puppies and baby frogs. She wasn’t sexy, didn’t turn heads when she walked down the street. Some throwback recessive gene had left her redheaded, and some cruel twist of fate had made her as flat-chested as a boy. But she had good qualities that had nothing to do with her looks. She was loyal, dependable, and honest. The kind of girl men married but didn’t sweep off her feet. With a sigh, she smoothed some gloss over her lips and turned away from her reflection.

  Today would certainly prove itself to be a long day. Why couldn’t Wesley’s birthday be next week or even the week after that? Anytime other than today so that the talk could die down and she wouldn’t have to dodge so many accusing and inquisitive stares. But she knew she had to go.