The Sheriff's Secret Wife

by Christyne Butler

  "I saw Billy Joe the other day." Dev took another swallow of his drink. "I'm guessing from your reaction you know he and Justin are back in town. Billy Joe is doing repair work at Mason's Service Station, and my brother Ric said Justin is working in the kitchen at The Blue Creek."

  Gage had learned about Billy Joe working for Racy's former father-in-law a few days ago. He wasn't surprised. Billy Joe and Racy's first husband had been friends and old man Mason was getting too far along in years to do much more than pump gas.

  He also knew about Justin working with his sister from one of his deputy's daily reports. And no, he wasn't happy about it.

  "Yeah, I know they're back." He tried to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth with a long swallow. "They got out early on good behavior."

  "Wonder how long that's gonna last. Are they staying with Racy?"

  Gage shrugged. He hadn't seen either of them Wednesday when he'd returned Jack. "As long as they stay out of trouble, I don't care where they live."

  Yeah, he almost sounded believable.

  Dev raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but the jukebox in the corner came to life with a country song about cheating wives and love gone wrong. It mixed with the clanking of pool balls as a chorus of male groans filled the air.

  "Dadgum! Who picked this song?" Willie called out. "Surely not the groom."

  Gage saw Landon pretending to toss a dart at the aged cowboy and grinned.

  "Good thing you got this thing rigged to play without coins, Sheriff," Willie continued as he pressed the reset button and punched in a new selection. "Can't have music disrespectin' the bride, not with the funeral—er, wedding just a week away."

  "Is that any way to talk to a man who's about to walk the wedding plank?" Chase asked.

  Willie grinned as he made his way to the bar. "Miss Maggie hog-tied your brother fair and square."

  "That she did, but don't sentence me to the gallows before my time." Landon waved his left hand in the air. "There's no ring on this finger…yet."

  The men laughed. Gage thought about the matching set of rings upstairs in his dresser drawer next to the invalid annulment papers.

  "Hell's bells, you're a goner, Cartwright." Willie rapped a bony knuckle on the bar, signaling for a beer. "Our bachelor ranks are getting smaller every day. Other than Landon's fancy lawyer friend and Hank, the rest of us are members of the Not-Me, No-Way Club. Of course, I suspect those two other youngins at the pool table will fall for a pretty filly one day, too."

  Gage's hand stilled on the icy bottle. He wasn't a member of that particular club. Not anymore, not since last summer.

  To say he'd been shocked when Racy had stepped from a Vegas jewelry store and popped open the small velvet box would've put it mildly. In his wildest dream he'd never thought it possible—okay, maybe in his wildest. But he'd been speechless when Racy had slipped the smaller of the two diamond-studded bands on her ring finger and asked if he was interested in making things permanent. He'd managed to find his voice long enough to croak out a "sure," before she'd hauled his butt into a taxi headed for the Las Vegas licensing bureau.

  Of course, no one here knew any of that. The question was how long he would stay married.

  Whoa, is that what he wanted? To stay married?

  "Oh, I don't know about that." Chase finished the dart game and reached for a pool cue. "It only takes the right lady to make a man change his mind about blessed bachelorhood."

  "Come on, Gage. It's you and Dev against the Cartwright brothers." Landon joined his brother at the pool table. He picked up on Chase's previous comment. "You got someone in mind, little brother?"

  "At my age?" Chase grinned. "I'm much too young to think about settling down."

  "You mean too busy." Landon moved out of the way as Dev and Gage got their pool cues. "I'm surprised you haven't found any female companionship in Destiny in the week you've been here."

  "Who says I haven't?"

  "Miss Racy handpicked ya last weekend," Willie called from the bar, where he was now playing bartender. "If you ask me you were a fool to let that sweet gal slip through your fingers."

  Gage's hand tightened on his pool stick. Chase's too handsome face lit up with a grin as he sent the triangle of balls scattering over the green felt.

  "You might want to relax a bit." A deep voice flowed over Gage's shoulder. "You've got a while before you get in a shot. Chase is quite the pool shark."

  He turned to find Bryce Powers, Landon's lawyer friend, standing behind him. When the man stepped away from the table to the windows, Gage followed. "He's quite the lady shark, too."

  "Nah, Chase is just too pretty for his own good. Been that way since we were kids." Bryce drank from his glass. "For some reason, the ladies find him sweet and charming. The one thing I've never seen him do is poach another man's woman."

  "What makes you think I care about his dating habits?" Gage leaned against the window frame, trying to shut out the conversation at the pool table.

  "I notice things. Drives my wife nuts. Anyway, you're doing a good job of looking casual, but every time a certain lady's name is mentioned…"

  The man's voice trailed off and his gaze dropped to where Gage still clutched the pool cue. He forced his fingers to relax without flexing them.

  Were his feelings for Racy so obvious?

  "Maggie told Maryann and me about the wedding arrangements. She said it felt strange to match you with your deputy, Leeann, I think her name was," Bryce continued, "but the only choice would be matching you and Miss Dillon."

  "So?"

  "So, Maggie seemed conflicted as to whether that would be a bad thing or not." Bryce smiled. "She's worried about you two sitting together at the reception, dancing together."

  "And you paid attention during all this wedding talk?"

  "What can I say? I'm a lawyer."

  A damn good one if Landon's stories were to be believed. "You've been in this town less than twenty-four hours and you've got my love life figured out?"

  "I didn't mention anyone's love life."

  That's right, he hadn't.

  Gage straightened and reached for his ice water on a nearby table. "Things between me and Racy are complicated. Been that way since we were teenagers."

  "Please, no mention of teenagers." Dev interrupted as he joined them. "My older brother moved back to the family homestead with his three hoodlums and they're driving me nuts."

  Silence reigned.

  Dev's gaze shot between the two men. "Ah, did I interrupt something?"

  "No." Gage quickly recovered. "Is it my shot?"

  "Sorry, bud. Pool was never my game." Dev gestured over his shoulder. "Landon's shooting."

  "I was just about to ask about the guitars." Bryce pointed at the wall. "Are those just for show or do you play?"

  Gage looked at Bryce. Despite the smooth switch in topics, he did seem interested. "I play a little. The one on the far left is a vintage 1937 Gibson Century Hawaiian. It belonged to my grandfather. The middle one is a 1960 Gibson Hummingbird that was my dad's. The last one is mine."

  "Let me guess. A Gibson?"

  Gage smiled. "A '68 SJ Sunburst. My dad gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday."

  Dev grinned. "We had a garage band in high school. Oh, man, we were bad. Gage was the only one with any musical talent."

  "And yet you ended up in law enforcement?" Bryce asked.

  "Music was just something to fool around with."

  "Have you played lately?" Dev looked over at Bryce. "This guy used to have every Johnny Cash and Beatles song memorized."

  "What? No Elvis?"

  Dev barked out a gruff laugh. "Gage sing Elvis? No way!"

  "Actually I sang an Elvis tune a few months ago." The words left Gage's mouth before he could stop them.

  "You did?" Dev asked. "Why?"

  Because Racy had asked him to.

  After they'd returned from the licensing bureau, Racy got sidetracked by a high-stakes poker game. She'd won secon
d place and was gloating over her winnings. Insisting she didn't want to be loved for her money, she'd threatened, in front of a gathering crowd, to call off their wedding until he'd proven he still wanted to marry her.

  Kind of ironic since she'd been the one who'd proposed, but he hadn't considered that at the time. He'd only seen the challenge in her eyes, and had been determined to knock her right out of those sexy high heels.

  Then three Elvises had walked by. A young rockabilly version, one clad in black leather from head to toe and the last decked out in one of those famous white jumpsuits. He'd borrowed a guitar from the leather-clad one, and right there on the casino floor, surrounded by slot machines and poker tables, he'd sung a song about wise men, fools and falling in love.

  She was in his arms, her mouth fused to his, before the last note had faded.

  "What did you sing?"

  A scratching sound behind him saved Gage from answering Dev's question. He turned and saw Jack, Racy's golden retriever, his panting fogging the glass on the patio door.

  "What the—" He let the dog inside. "Did the vet put a homing chip under your skin with the wrong address?" He dropped to one knee and scratched the dog's wet head. His reward was a sloppy kiss and full-body shakes that sent melting snow flying. "What are you doing here again?"

  "Again?"

  Gage turned to his guests. All wore a variety of quizzical looks on their faces. Except for Bryce, whose mouth rose into a knowing grin.

  "Sheriff." Dev's voice held a hint of laughter. "You want to explain why you and Miss Racy Dillon's beloved dog seem to be on such friendly terms?"

  * * *

  Racy stomped her feet in the ankle-deep snow, trying to return feeling to her cold toes. "Whose dumb idea was this?"

  "The bride's."

  "Hey, this is my day." Maggie laced her arm through Racy's and set off again trudging through the snow. "I'm allowed."

  "To do what? Get our asses frozen off?" Racy sidestepped a fallen tree. "And your day isn't until Friday. What time is it?"

  "It's almost twelve-thirty," Maryann said as she followed them. "Say, is this something you Northern girls do often?"

  "Don't ask me." Leeann giggled from the back of the pack. "I was all for staying huddled around the margarita machine."

  Racy groaned. It sucked being the only sober one.

  Thanks to the notice she'd received this afternoon, she had to be at the town hall tomorrow—this morning, actually—in less than ten hours. Damn that Donna Pearson and everyone on her betterment committee. "Tell me again why we're doing this?"

  "Because I want to know if they got strippers."

  "Oh, please," Racy snorted. "They're probably drinking beer, playing cards and watching SportsCenter."

  "Or pornos," Leeann quipped.

  "See?" Maggie huffed. "That's why we're checking."

  "And we had to park on the highway and trudge through the woods?" Racy asked, thankful for the full moon and clear skies. "Can't we just walk up to the front door like normal people?"

  "Name one normal woman in this bunch," Maggie said. "Sorry, Maryann."

  "Don't apologize. I haven't had this much fun since my college days."

  "Jeez, look at this place." Leeann's voice was filled with awe. "What does a single guy need all these rooms for?"

  "Maybe he's not looking to remain single," Maggie said. "What do you think, Racy?"

  "I think you've had one too many." Racy shoved her icy fingers into the deep pockets of her jacket.

  "Hey, I was trying to keep up with Leeann. She drinks like a fish!"

  "A little fish in an enormous, crowded pond…that sucks—whoops!"

  Racy turned around in time to see Leeann save herself from falling into a snowbank by grabbing on to the closest tree.

  "…sucks the life right out of you," she continued. "Trust me, ladies. It's better to be a little fishy in a little bowl. Better yet, a single fishy in one of those glass globes with the pretty rocks and a fake castle."

  Racy leaned in to Maggie. "What is she talking about?"

  "I don't know. She's been this way all night."

  "I think this is the first time I've seen her drink since she's been back in town. And that's been—what? Over two years now?" Racy asked. "Do you really think we should take her to her boss's house like this?"

  "Do you want to tell me why you have such an aversion to being at Castle Steele?" Maggie rounded the corner of the two-story log home with Racy on her heels. "You certainly made yourself at home here last weekend."

  Racy pulled up short. "Wow, Lee's not the only one feeling no pain tonight."

  The teasing glint left Maggie's eyes. "Racy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. And I know you believe otherwise, but I don't think Gage had anything to do with that complaint against the Belles."

  Racy refused to accept that.

  Or that she'd been crazy enough to blurt out her troubles with the town's betterment committee when Maggie had stopped by a few days ago to check on her. She'd blamed her lack of self-control on the cold medicine and Justin's amazing chicken soup, both of which helped her recover from a nasty bug. Not that she was back one hundred percent, but she was a long way from the pathetic soul she'd been during the week.

  "I don't want to talk about Steele or the betterment committee."

  "I know, but we're about to knock on his door."

  The four of them now stood on a flagstone patio, cleared of snow and ice. Bright lights poured from the windows and muffled country rock came from the house.

  "Don't you mean peer into his windows?" She resisted the urge to stomp her feet again, knowing the sound would echo in the night air. "Besides, he's on the committee. Enough said."

  "Hey, lights!" Leeann staggered forward. "Let's sneak a peek!"

  Racy grabbed an arm and held her back. "Oh, I think the bride should do the honors."

  Maggie hesitated.

  "Go on, future Mrs. Cartwright," Racy waved at the patio door. She couldn't see inside, but muted male laughter filled her ears. "We know your cowboys aren't in there, since Willie and the boys pulled in before we left the ranch. The only ones left should be your intended, his brother and Maryann's husband."

  And their host.

  Before Maggie took a step, the door opened.

  "Okay, you crazy mutt, here you go." Gage's voice rang out as he stepped outside. "No rolling in the snow now that you're dry. And don't take off. Your mama will blame me if anything—"

  "Jack!"

  The golden retriever bounded across the patio, heading straight for Racy. She managed to keep Leeann and herself upright as her pup barked excited hellos that brought the rest of the men out of the house.

  "What the—"

  "What are you girls doing here?"

  "Well, now the party's started!"

  Landon wrapped Maggie in his arms and Bryce did the same to Maryann, leaving Racy to deal with a tipsy Leeann and a happy Jack.

  "Hey, let me help."

  Racy looked up to find Chase Cartwright next to her.

  "Who do you want me to take?" He offered a smile. "The cop or the dog?"

  "How did you know Leeann's a cop?"

  Chase leaned closer and winked. "I have my sources."

  "Well, I guess that depends," Racy quipped, "on which one you think you can handle."

  Chase grabbed Jack's collar. "Jack and I have been watching the Celtics destroy my beloved Mavericks. We're buds now."

  Racy released her hold on the dog's collar. "I don't know what he's doing here."

  "He showed up about an hour ago."

  The sharpness in Gage's voice caught Racy's attention. He stood at the doorway. Backlit, his face remained in shadows, but his stance—stiff shoulders and arms crossed over his chest—spoke volumes.

  "Again? Why?"

  "Yes, again and I don't know why. Perhaps you need a lock on your doggy door."

  Abrupt and a smart-ass. Was he pissed because Jack seemed to have adopted his over
size Lincoln Log Cabin as his new doghouse?

  "Why don't we take the party inside?" Gage stepped to one side and waved at the still open patio door. "You ladies look like you could use something to warm you up."

  Leeann tugged free from Racy and followed the crowd inside, with wobbly steps. Racy moved in behind Chase and Jack, but a hand on her arm held her back.