Handsome Lawman (Handsome Devils Book 3)

by Lori Wilde

  Erin thought so, too, but Trent turned his head and glared at his sister. “Not in my book, it isn’t,” he said. When Leigh snorted again, he added defensively, “It’s a male thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Oh, let it go,” Leigh said. “We’re talking about the dog, not you. And you have to save this poor dog’s life. If he goes back to the shelter, he may be put to sleep.”

  Erin took a step closer to Trent. He turned and looked at her. Wow. His eyes were so incredibly blue. Amazingly blue.

  For a second, she just stood there looking at Trent. Then Leigh nudged her. Hard.

  “Isn’t that true, Erin? Couldn’t poor, unfortunate Brutus end up being put to sleep if no brave person steps forward and adopts him?”

  Erin nodded. “Yes. But Trent, if you really don’t want to adopt Brutus, then you shouldn’t. You should adopt a pet because you want to love them, not because you’re forced into it.”

  Leigh dismissed her comment with the wave of one hand. “Trent, don’t listen to Erin. She’s trying to be nice. But I’m telling you right now, it’s your moral duty to adopt this puppy.”

  Trent raised one eyebrow. “My moral duty? I don’t think so.”

  “Sure it is. If you don’t save him from the puppy gallows, how will you sleep?”

  Now that was laying it on a bit thick. Erin figured Leigh had pushed her brother about as far as a person could be pushed. She wasn’t surprised when Trent made a sound that was almost a growl. “Stop talking, Leigh.”

  Leigh held Brutus out in front of Trent. “Look at his face. Look at his sweet puppy eyes. Can’t you see he’s begging you to adopt him?” When Trent continued to frown at her, Leigh said in a high, squeaky voice, “Please, Mr. Trent, please adopt me and give me a home. I’ll be a good puppy. Every morning, I’ll fetch your paper—”

  “I don’t subscribe to the paper,” Trent said flatly.

  “Then I’ll bring you your slippers—”

  “I don’t wear slippers.”

  Now Leigh was frowning right back at Trent. “Fine. Then I’ll answer your phone.”

  Trent sighed.

  “Leigh, if he doesn’t want to—” Erin said at the same time that Trent said, “Okay.”

  Erin froze and looked at him. “What did you say?”

  Trent reached out and patted Brutus. “I said okay. I’ve been convinced. I’ll adopt the furball.”

  With a loud, “Wahoo,” Leigh danced around with Brutus, singing him an off-tune song and making up words to rhyme with his name. “Brutus is the Cutest” was okay. “Brutus is the Rootest” didn’t make much sense. And “Brutus is the Dooest” sounded totally bizarre.

  Trent looked at Leigh, then glanced at Erin. “You don’t by any chance know someone who wants to adopt a sister, do you? She’s almost housebroken.”

  With another snort, Leigh leaned over and gave Trent a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Har-de-har-har. You’re so funny. I can’t stop laughing.”

  “I’m serious,” he told her, but even Erin didn’t believe him for one second. For starters, he was smiling at his sister. And then there was the fact that he took Brutus from Leigh and carefully cradled the dog as he walked over to the pet food section of the store.

  “What does the furball eat?”

  Erin studied the man before her. Trent Barrett might be a world-class flirt, but he was also one heck of a nice guy. The flirt part was easy to resist. The nice guy part made her nervous. Very, very nervous. A nice guy who loved his sister and was sweet enough to adopt an admittedly rowdy puppy could prove tempting, especially to a woman who’d been on her own for a very long time.

  “So what does he eat?” Trent repeated, turning to look at Erin.

  She cleared her suddenly tight throat, and a slow, lazy grin crossed Trent’s face. He knew she’d been thinking nice things about him. She frowned, and he laughed.

  “Come on over here, Erin. I won’t bite,” he said in a deep, beguiling voice.

  “Don’t count on it.” Leigh walked over and rapped her brother on the arm. “I wouldn’t put much past this yahoo.”

  Rather than appearing offended, Trent continued to grin at Erin. “Maybe the lady would like to find out for herself what I’m capable of doing.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no. The lady was most definitely not interested in anything this handsome devil had in mind. Erin mentally erased every single nice thing she’d thought about Trent. He wasn’t a sweet guy. He was a flirt.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said coolly.

  A nice guy might have tempted her, but a flirt she could resist.

  Trent eyed his new puppy, who was happily chasing his own tail on the floor of the family room. He’d brought the dog home yesterday, and he still couldn’t get Brutus to do a single thing he told him to do.

  “That’s one dumb dog,” Trent said. “What does he think is going to happen when he catches his tail?”

  “He’s not dumb,” Leigh maintained, nudging the pup so he’d leave his tail alone. “First off, he’s only a puppy. Second off, he’s your puppy, so a little pity wouldn’t be out of place.”

  “Real cute,” Trent said, settling back in his chair. “It’s your fault he’s my puppy.”

  “You always said you wanted a dog.” Leigh patted Brutus.

  “A dog, Leigh. I wanted a dog. Not something that looks like it should be vacuumed up.”

  Leigh laughed and looked at Brutus. “Mean old Trent. He’s saying bad things about you. But you ignore him. He’s just grumpy because Erin didn’t like it when he flirted with her.”

  Trent groaned. “I didn’t flirt with her. I was only being nice.”

  “Ha! No, you weren’t. You flirted with her, and she didn’t melt like butter on a hot sidewalk, and you’re not used to that, so now you’re in a bad mood. I took Intro to Psychology. I know how people work.”

  Trent would give anything to tell Leigh she was wrong, but dang it, she was right. At least sort of right. He was annoyed that Erin had blown him off. And the lady had. Big time. After his remark about not biting, she’d treated him like he had some highly contagious disease.

  Not that he was vain, but ladies usually liked him. A lot. But even though he could tell Erin was attracted to him, he could also tell she didn’t like him. And that bothered the hell out of him.

  “Knock, knock,” called a feminine voice from the front hall. Trent groaned. Great. Now his brother Chase and his new wife, Megan, were here. He could just imagine what Leigh was going to tell them.

  “You won’t guess what’s been happening,” Leigh said the second Megan and Chase entered the family room.

  Chase grinned. “I’ll take a shot in the dark. One of you got a dog.”

  “How did you ever guess?” Trent asked dryly.

  “I’m psychic about some things,” Chase said. When Brutus scurried over and flopped on one of his boots, he leaned down and scratched the puppy behind the ears. “This sure is a bitty thing.” He tipped his head and looked at Trent. “Can’t be your dog because it’s way too delicate.”

  “Hey.” Leigh came over and picked Brutus up. “Brutus is not a delicate dog. He weighs almost five pounds. He’ll be over ten when he’s fully grown.”

  Chase leaned down and eyed the dog cuddled in his sister’s arms. “Oh, yeah? Then I take back what I said. He’s a terrifying monster.”

  Megan moved over and patted Brutus. “I think he’s adorable. Is he yours, Leigh?”

  “Nope. Trent adopted him.”

  “Had he seen the dog before he adopted it?” Chase asked.

  When Leigh bobbed her head, he laughed. “Now why do I get the feeling an attractive lady appears somewhere in this story.”

  “Stop teasing poor Trent,” Megan said kindly. Trent knew he liked his brother’s wife. She was nothing like the members of his family.

  Chase kissed his wife and told her, “Not possible, sweetheart. Teasing him is my job as his big brother.”

  Trent decided he’d ha
d enough. He walked over to Leigh, taking Brutus out of her arms. “I think I’ll let the furball run in the backyard.”

  “Make sure the Wharton’s cat isn’t out. Fluffy could make a meal out of Brutus,” Chase said with a chuckle.

  “Funny. You and Leigh are such comedians.” Trent opened the back door and let Brutus scamper out. Then he followed him. He might as well go play with the furball since his family was more aggravating than a rash. They weren’t going to stop teasing until they left to go home. “For your information, I adopted Brutus because I like him.”

  Chase and Megan followed him outside. Chase dropped his arm around Trent’s shoulders. “I’ve been to the pet shop. I’ve met Erin Weber. She’s very nice and very pretty. And you, well, you are you.”

  Trent shoved away from his brother, not wanting to talk about this. “I adopted Brutus because I like him,” he repeated.

  Megan walked over to stand next to him. “Of course, you do. Brutus is a very...” Her voice drifted off, and Trent followed the direction of her gaze. As he watched, Brutus attacked a blade of grass. The annoying part was that in this battle of brains and brawn, the grass seemed to be winning.

  After a couple of seconds watching the dog and the grass, Megan said, “Brutus is a very interesting puppy. I can see why you adopted him.”

  “It had nothing to do with Erin,” Trent maintained, wishing there were even a sliver of truth in that statement.

  “Of course, it didn’t,” Megan said sweetly, but Trent was fairly sure even she didn’t believe him. “I think it was a wonderful thing you did. Especially since you threatened to arrest the poor woman.”

  “What?” How in the world did the truth get so twisted? “I didn’t threaten to arrest her. I went to her store to ask her some questions.”

  Chase hooted a laugh. “I can imagine what sort of questions.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Trent said. “Erin’s a nice woman, but she’s not my type.”

  “I thought your type was breathing,” Chase said.

  Trent sighed. His family was wrong. Dead wrong. He hadn’t adopted Brutus because he found Erin attractive. She had nothing to do with this decision. He’d adopted Brutus because he liked dogs. Dogs offered you companionship. Dogs offered you affection. Dogs offered you protection.

  A loud commotion by the fence drew his attention.

  “Dang it, Fluffy. Put Brutus down.”

  Jeez, what kind of dog couldn’t hold his own against a skinny, eighteen-year-old cat?

  Trent looked at the wooden birdhouse sitting next to the back door of Precious Pets.

  “It looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa,” he said.

  “When I saw it, I couldn’t believe someone would leave it out in plain sight,” said Joe Rafton, one of his newer officers. “You’d think the thief would have more sense. When Delia reported it stolen, I figured we’d never find it. But there it is. Big as life.”

  Trent nodded. Yeah, he’d figured they’d never find the birdhouse. But here it was. Outside Erin’s shop. Just like Pookie had been. Only this time, the stolen article was outside the back door rather than the front. Still, it was in plain sight for anyone to see.

  Of course, he didn’t for a second believe that Erin was responsible for this. He couldn’t say why, but he trusted her. Not to mention, a person would have to be phenomenally stupid to leave a purloined article sitting outside in plain view.

  No, someone was up to something.

  “You want me to question the owner of the pet shop?” Joe asked.

  Trent should. He definitely should let Joe talk to Erin. But Joe’s wife was going to deliver their first child any day now, and his shift was almost over.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Trent said.

  Joe didn’t even try to cover his surprise. “Gee, Chief, isn’t this kind of below you?”

  “Course not. Besides, Delia Haverhill got me started on this case when she insisted I arres—question Erin when the first stolen item appeared outside the pet store.”

  Joe scratched his jaw, obviously hiding a smile. “Do you think Erin knows who is doing this?”

  Trent ignored the bait. “No. She’d tell me if she did.” He was positive about that.

  “What I can’t figure out is, who in Honey would do such a thing? We’ve never had this kind of trouble before.”

  Joe was right. Something this strange had never happened in Honey. But it sure was happening now, and Trent needed to let Erin know what was going on.

  He knocked loudly on the back door of the shop and waited for her to answer. As soon as she opened the door, she frowned.

  “You have that chief-of-police look on your face. Are you here to arrest me again?”

  Boy, that really fried his bacon. What had he ever done to this woman that would make her think so badly of him? After all, he hadn’t actually arrested her. Didn’t that count for something?

  He took a great deal of pleasure in explaining, “Of course I’m not here to arrest you.”

  Her expression brightened. “Good. So why are you here? Is it about Brutus?”

  “No. I need to ask you a couple of questions about this birdhouse.” He nodded to the lopsided structure next to the door.

  Erin came outside and looked at the birdhouse. “I don’t believe it. That birdhouse belongs to Delia.”

  He hadn’t been expecting her to know who the owner was. “How do you know that?”

  She maintained eye contact as she said, “Delia told us about it the last time you were here in an official capacity. She said it looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, so that has to be hers. How many people in town have one shaped like that?”

  Hopefully only one. “I haven’t spoken to Delia yet, so I don’t know for a fact that it’s hers,” he said. “But it sounds like the item she reported stolen this morning. Let me get her over here to take a look at it.”

  Erin sighed loudly. “Fine. But I’m sure it’s hers. What I can’t figure out is why someone is doing this.”

  “The things people do often don’t make sense,” Joe tossed out. “Look at Pet Rocks. No one ever understood them.”

  Trent let Joe’s example slide. “Don’t worry about it, Erin. We’ll figure out who’s doing this and why.”

  “This really bothers me,” she said. “Everyone in town is going to hate me.”

  “Naw,” said Joe. “Honey is a nice town. We rarely hate anyone. We sometimes dislike a few. Like if they consistently litter. Or maybe don’t mow their lawn very often. Or take up too many parking spaces at the grocery store. But other than things like that, we’re nice to everyone.”

  Erin didn’t seem a bit comforted by Joe’s assurance. She looked at Trent. “Will you figure it out before an angry mob shows up on my doorstep?”

  “We don’t have a lot of torch-bearing villagers around here,” Trent told her.

  Joe rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Too bad we can’t get a mob together. They could watch your store and find out who’s responsible.”

  In his own way, Joe was onto something. Maybe they could set up a video camera. In the meantime, Trent planned on keeping a close watch on Erin’s store. Sooner or later, he’d catch the culprit.

  “I only hope Delia doesn’t go back to wanting me arrested,” Erin said, her tone and posture dejected.

  “She won’t,” Trent assured her. “You’re still getting a lot of mileage out of the lunch box story. There’s nothing like a good Scooby-Doo story to get a town into your cheering section. So don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you.”

  Erin fixed him with an unwavering gaze. “No. You take care of whoever is stealing these things. I’ll take care of myself.”

  3

  “I want to thank everyone for coming to tonight’s Dog Behavior Class. I hope you’re enjoying your new family members,” Erin said.

  Trent glanced down at Brutus. Mostly he’d been cleaning up after the furball. Brutus might be tiny, but he had the disposition of a torna
do. He’d gnawed on every shoe he’d managed to find, done a terrific job taking bites out of the living room drapes, and chewed the end of the leather sofa until it was mush. Trent had bought him an impressive assortment of chew toys, but the boy ignored them.

  All in all, Brutus had made himself a little too much at home.

  Glancing at the other members of the class, though, Trent hoped his pet wouldn’t be the worst one there. Delia had come to the class, bringing along a sister of Brutus’ that seemed pretty calm and respectful. Trent was glad the older woman had come. Her presence proved to everyone in town that she didn’t believe Erin had stolen her birdhouse. She, like Trent and his officers, had no idea what was going on. But Delia firmly maintained Erin wasn’t at fault. And now that Trent had set up video cameras outside the store, it probably wouldn’t be long before they caught the thief.

  Besides Delia, there were three more people in the class. The other two women both had puppies that looked like they might be frisky. Karla Ashmore had a spaniel that seemed full of spunk, and Lynn Claude had a boxer who seemed pretty spry as well. No way would Brutus be the worst dog there.

  Best of all, the other guy in the class had a German shepherd puppy—a male German shepherd puppy. Trent was positive that bad boy had more than a few behavior problems to iron out. He kept giving the other dogs a nasty look that Brutus apparently took to mean he was about to become an appetizer. One look from the German shepherd, and Brutus hid behind Trent’s legs.

  “Calm down, furball,” Trent said as Brutus continued to hide. Not that he could really blame the puppy. The German shepherd was a big dog. A tough dog.

  Trent looked at Brutus, who yipped and sounded like a perfect little princess. Great. Now the mutt even sounded like a delicate princess dog.

  “How is everyone doing with housebreaking? Any problems?” Erin smiled at Delia. “Is Muffin getting the hang of it?”

  Delia patted her puppy. “Oh, yes. She caught on right away. I followed the instructions in that brochure you gave me, and I didn’t have a single problem.”