Gun Shy

by Diane Saxon

  More than capable, he assumed, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He held up his hands, palms outward. “It’s okay, ma’am, really, I am the sheriff.”

  “That’s close enough, pal, unless you want me to carve your eye out for you.” She gave a quick glance around, and if he’d wanted, he could have taken her down in a split second. But she wasn’t his enemy, and he couldn’t help the stir of admiration at her guts.

  Nice and slow, he brought his hand toward his body with every intention of showing her his identification.

  “Hold it.” The cold voice halted him. For a little woman, she sure had an air of authority.

  He dropped his gaze to her breasts and then flashed it back up again. That was the kind of thought that had gotten him into this shit in the first place.

  “Don’t move.” She backed up another step toward the brighter lights of the store. If the kitten heel had been a gun, he may well have a bullet through his heart right now.

  “I was only going to show you my badge.”

  “I don’t want to see anything of yours.”

  “Ma’am.” It was comical. No one was going to believe this. He hauled in a long, slow breath. “I’m Sheriff Jack T. Swann, you probably saw my name on the plaque on the door. Why don’t you let me reach for my badge?”

  “Why aren’t you in uniform?” she shot back, taking him by surprise.

  He glanced down at the clothes he’d been wearing to renovate his house when he’d received a call from the station asking him to come in. That’d been six hours earlier, and it was supposed to be his day off. No wonder the woman studied him like he was a vagrant. Possibly also the fact he’d made lewd suggestions to her. He closed his eyes, and a vision of pink pasties made him pop them open again.

  All the same, she needed his help, and he was going to give it to her, whether she wanted it or not.

  “I’m not officially on duty. Please let me just…”

  He pinched his thumb and forefinger together and made a slow, obvious move in his jacket pocket to extract his badge. He held it out to her. It would be too easy to grab her wrist. She really had no awareness of the dangers of a pervert whatsoever. Not that he was one, but if he had been.

  She jerked her wrist up, her eyes narrowed, and she never dropped her guard for a moment. Perhaps not so unaware of the dangers. He couldn’t help the warm slide of admiration as he studied her. She may just have the ability to take him on with her kitten heel. From the look in her eye, she could probably cause him some damage.

  “Okay, I see that. It doesn’t make you any less of a pervert, talking about…” For the first time, she fluttered to a halt, a wash of pink staining her skin.

  “Pasties, ma’am. It was an unfortunate accident. A case of mistaken identity.” He blew out a breath while he tucked his badge back in his pocket. “I guess however I word this, it’s going to sound wrong, but I was accosted by an eighteen-year-old a few nights ago, wearing nothing but…” He rotated his hand to indicate her breasts, realized his mistake as the woman’s eyes widened, and dropped it by his side so fast he slapped himself on the thigh. Upside the head would have been better.

  Normally he was far better at handling people, but they’d gotten off to a bad start and something about this woman made him want to stutter.

  “Anyhow, I assumed you were another one.” He raised his arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you were a kiss-a-gram.” He knew it wouldn’t come out right, but the delicate wings of her eyebrows shot high as she stared down the straight length of her nose at him.

  “Okay.” She took a slow step back, evidently not yet convinced.

  He flicked a quick glance over the top of her head as several teenagers approached the glass exit of the store behind her. The door slid open, and their loud chatter had her turning her head in their direction.

  “Hi, Sheriff,” the kids chirped in unison.

  A tall, skinny, dark-haired youth scuffed his feet and stared down at the floor. “Hi, Uncle Jack. Grandma said if I saw you to remind you to come around for lunch on Sunday. She says she hasn’t seen you in a while.” It was about as much as Jack had ever heard come out of his nephew’s mouth in one go since he’d hit his teenage years. He must be maturing.

  Jack inclined his head. “I saw her today, but thanks, Luke.” Tempted to swipe the thick hair on Luke’s head, he restrained himself. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager, and the last thing the boy wanted was his uncle showing any kind of affection in front of his friends.

  Slow and cautious, the gorgeous doctor lowered her weapon and straightened as much as her one-shoed stance allowed, while relief flickered over her features. At last he managed a quick scan of her. Where the skirt finished at knee height, the rest of her legs were slender and shapely, the one with the shoe on was bent enticingly at the knee, but a thin drizzle of blood spoiled the effect.

  He pulled his gaze away. Her head tilted to one side as the sound of the kids’ excited chatter faded while they walked out of sight. He pointed at the line of blood striped down her leg.

  “You’ve cut yourself.”

  Surprise flickered through her tired features as she angled her head and stared for a moment at the injured leg. It was nothing, and it would soon heal, but pity nudged him on. “You want a cup of tea?” The Brits always had tea in a crisis. Right?

  Her forehead still wrinkled. “Coffee, I drink coffee.”

  “Just here.” He indicated behind her, a little way down the sidewalk.

  She never so much as looked. She just gave a wary nod. Once. “Okay”.

  A wise woman, she obviously thought it was a good idea to get off the dark sidewalk and into a busy, lit up area. He may be the sheriff, but she had no reason yet to trust him. His respect notched a little higher in the face of her calmness. She hadn’t panicked, she hadn’t run off down a dark alley. She’d remained in control.

  Apart from the fact that he was actually in control, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

  He leaned forward to hook up her case at the same time she did, startling her into jumping away, almost out of her other shoe. She took three cautious steps back, chanced a quick peek behind, and then turned and made a dash for the diner.

  ∙•∙

  It was everything Kate had ever thought of as a good old-fashioned American cliché. She’d seen it on Happy Days repeats. The far wall had a long banquette bench where customers with shakes and fries were seated on tall, red bar stools.

  Taste buds popping with the savory assault of food, Kate’s stomach grumbled in sympathy. Dear God, he’d offered her coffee, for which she could kiss him, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Something limp and pathetic on the plane, hours earlier. She might just have to mug the sheriff so he’d buy her a plate of food.

  She gave him a swift assessment under the bright lights while he turned his back on her to park her sick-looking case in a corner and slip his jacket off. His plaid shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders, treating her to a hint of strong muscles. As he turned to face her, the spit in her mouth dried so her tongue stuck to the roof of it. He was huge. Not necessarily the tallest man, but the width of his shoulders filled her vision, his biceps flexed to make her wonder if his shirt was strong enough to contain them.

  The bad boy from the sheriff’s office appealed even more.

  She slid into a booth. Hell, she needed to reconsider the whole idea of her ability to mug him. She’d be better off giving him a flash of her breasts to earn her a meal. The thought of being mistaken for a kiss-a-gram kindled a little flutter of amusement. She dipped her head to hide her smile. Pink pasties might work.

  As he slipped into the seat opposite, his knees jiggled hers before he settled, a leg either side of hers, not touching, but effectively trapping her in. His warmth seeped through, tapered its fingers across her skin. Aware it may not be his physical temperature which caused the spreading heat, but his masculine proximity, Kate deliberately turned h
er attention away from him.

  A short-order cook wielded his knife behind the black-topped bench. His pristine white hat topped off a bush of gray hair, and his black-and-white-striped apron stretched across his rounded belly. She let her attention wander, fascinated by the place. There were booths down both sides of the restaurant, with aged red leather seating and black-topped tables. Modern music pumped out of the speakers while the strong savory smells of meat and grease gave her stomach another painful hitch.

  “Coffee?”

  Kate whipped her attention back to find a gnarled old woman next to her. With a shock of white hair and skin thin enough to show the blue of her veins down her skinny arms, the waitress held a large coffee pot in one hand while she placed two white mugs on the table.

  “Please.”

  It may give her the strength she required to go on, but it would probably keep her awake all night too from the look of the thick, black liquid the woman splashed into the mugs.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sheriff?” The old lady didn’t wait for him to reply, she just filled his mug for him.

  “Thank you. How’s it going, Martha?”

  “Ah, you know.” The woman leaned her gnarled hand on the table, Kate imagined to stop herself from keeling over. “My bones ache, my eyesight’s going, my hearing ain’t so good these days, and I can’t remember anything worth shit.” She barked out a raucous laugh. “Mustn’t grumble.”

  Kate’s stomach rebelled and gurgled loud enough to fill the silence between the tracks changing on the old-fashioned jukebox.

  The sheriff’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Maybe you’d like something to eat, too?”

  “Yes, please, I would.” She cast a quick glance around the table. “Could I have a menu, please?”

  The old lady stared down at her, the wrinkles around her lips deepening as she gave a condescending smile. “You’re a Brit, aren’t you?”

  Not quite sure what relevance it had to the request for a menu, Kate gave a quick nod. “Yes, I am.”

  “I guessed.” The old dear sucked her teeth and ran her tongue over the top of them wedging them back into place. False teeth had never been a favorite of Kate’s. She’d witnessed too many people choking on them when they were sick, or drunk. She tried not to look away, but Jack’s movement caught her attention. He rubbed his hand across his mouth to hide the smile that threatened and then picked up his mug to take a swift gulp.

  The steaming liquid had to be hot, but he never flinched as he swallowed it.

  Kate’s stomach protested again, and she grabbed her own mug to mirror his move, taking a quick swig and almost burning her trachea. As tears threatened, she caught his wide smile and deliberately turned her attention back to Martha, who held her fist up level with her face. Her crooked thumb pointed at something behind her. Kate followed the direction to a sign which announced RIBS & FRIES, CHICKEN & FRIES. MAKE YOUR CHOICE.

  “Oh, well. Wow. I guess I’ll go with the chicken and fries. And can I have a salad to go with it?”

  Martha’s fluffy gray eyebrows pulled low over faded eyes as she stared at Kate. “Nope.”

  She turned on her heel and marched over to the counter to slap a small piece of white paper down. “Two chicken and fries.”

  Kate met Jack’s amused stare and blinked. “Did I upset her?”

  “No. They don’t do anything but ribs or chicken, and fries. If you’re lucky, you might get a heap of slaw on the side.”

  “Okay. She never asked you if you wanted anything, but she ordered it anyway. How did she know what you’d want?”

  “Because I had ribs last time.” Jack took another long slug of his coffee then cradled his mug while he narrowed his gaze at her. “I understand you were mugged and you can’t get hold of the administrator at the hospital, so you’re homeless too.”

  She gave a brief nod. “That sums it up. I reported the theft to the airport police, but I’m afraid I have no way to pay for anything and nowhere to go.”

  Martha placed their plates before them with a sharp click and not a word in response to their thank-you’s as she wandered away.

  Savory-filled steam blitzed Kate’s senses and without another thought, she picked up her knife and fork and started to eat. “Oh, God.” She closed her eyes and held the hot chicken in her mouth. The best chicken she’d ever tasted. Ever. Even better than her mother’s. She chewed and swallowed and then opened her eyes to find Jack’s gaze on her, his fork, laden with chicken, poised in front of his parted lips. From the look on his face, she’d evidently shocked him with her desperate attack on her food. She ducked her head and concentrated on cutting up her chicken to slow herself down. When she glanced up again, he was chewing, his attention distracted by the three young women who bounced through the doorway, chatter in full flow.

  “Hi, Sheriff,” they chorused in their cute little girl voices. They had to be all of fourteen years old.

  “Hey, ladies, you been somewhere nice?” He inclined his head toward them.

  Sweet little giggles accompanied delicate hand flutters, but only the tallest was brave enough to answer. “We went to see Sugar Sweet at the movies.” At his blank stare, the girl stepped closer while Kate took advantage and took another bite of food, savoring the tenderness of the chicken and the salt laden chips. “It’s the newest action with Uncle Mac.” The girl grinned wide to show a slash of florescent green braces.

  “Excellent.” His dark eyes closely resembled the girl’s. Was there anyone he wasn’t related to?

  He glanced outside as the black curtain of night closed in. “You’re going to catch hell off your mamas if you don’t get yourselves off home now. It’s dark out.”

  One of the other’s stepped forward, petite and blonde, the pretty girl huffed out a dramatic sigh. “We’re only getting some fries to go.”

  If the sheriff hadn’t been there, Kate suspected the fries would probably not have been “to go.” From the way they eyed the tall youth who’d folded himself into one of the side booths, they were in no rush to move. The woman with him, who could potentially have been his mother, but for the fact she rubbed her naked foot up the young man’s calf, never spared them a glance. But the young man did. His features were vaguely familiar, similar to the other young man who’d come out of the store next door, and the tall girl in front of them.

  The man seated opposite her may well be his father. From the furtive looks the boy kept sending his way, he quite possibly was. Although the sheriff had ignored him so far.

  Jack leaned back in his seat and blew out a gusty sigh as the girls giggled and chirped, hiding their mouths behind their hands and making their teenage crushes on the tall boy uncomfortably obvious.

  Kate continued to fork food into her mouth, taking advantage of Jack’s attention on the three loitering girls. He pushed another fry into his mouth, his deep voice a husky mumble. “I know this is going to come back and bite me in the ass.”

  She had no idea what he meant until she glanced over at the young man just as the woman’s bare foot cruised up past his knee.

  Jack slapped his fork down, making it bounce on the smooth table top, and barked out the boy’s name. “Kyle!”

  Kyle shot upright in his seat, guilt washing a deep pink over his cheekbones. “Yes, sir?”

  Jack breathed deep through his nose and on the exhale picked up his fork again. “Would you see Kerry, Alaina, and Charmaine home?” As Kyle opened his mouth to protest, Jack pinned him with a hard stare. “Thank you, Kyle, I appreciate your assistance.” The smooth smile that accompanied it took the edge off the command, but it didn’t stop the boy from flouncing from his seat and grumbling his disgust under his breath as he slung his jacket on and headed for the door.

  “I’m telling Grandma on you.”

  Kate smothered the smile and speared another fry. Obviously Jack’s son.

  “And I’m going to tell your daddy.” Jack squinted across the room at the woman in the booth. “Cathy’s husband
might get there first.” He twisted around to watch to boy fling open the door.

  Slam.

  The silence lasted only a moment before the woman slithered out of the booth and headed their way. Hard green eyes glared at him, and her thin mouth tightened. Lines of bitterness made her appear older than she probably was. “Why don’t you keep your nose out of other people’s business, Jack?”

  Jack shrugged his wide shoulders, unperturbed by the woman’s fury, the edges of his mouth dimpled. “Because I’m paid not to.”

  She leaned her hand on the table, wedding ring glinting in the bright lighting. “You’re just jealous because you can’t have me.”

  With a slow, precise move, Jack placed his fork on the table once more. “Cathy, it’s not my place to trade insults with you. You’re a married woman, and I would never even consider looking at someone else’s wife.” He glanced up at her. “I will, however, remind you Kyle is fifteen.”

  Fifteen. Kate almost swallowed her tongue. Dear Lord they grew them quick in the States. Jack’s soft cough and quiet voice had Kate straining to hear above the loud music. “I imagine what you’re proposing to do with that boy is entirely illegal. I can’t arrest you for your thoughts, but I will ensure my nephew is kept out of your way. If you have a problem, perhaps I’ll send Bill around to discuss it with you further.”

  Slam.

  Jack picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. “One of these days I’m going to manage to eat my meal when it’s still hot.”

  Finished with her own food, Kate pushed the plate away and cupped her chin in her hand while she leaned on the table. “Is everyone related to you?”

  He smiled and continued to eat for a moment, his jaw muscles flexing as he chewed. “Not everyone, but the Swann’s are a big family. We’ve been here for generations, and I have a lot of cousins.”

  “A lot of brothers too. Both the boys called you uncle.”

  “No. I only have one brother, but my father, he had seven. So I have one hell of a lot of cousins. It’s just easier for all their kids to call me uncle, otherwise it ends up a whole heap of a mess trying to untangle the relationship lines.”