by Sandra Owens
Sarah and Tommy got the two men wrestling each other on the ground apart. Dylan still did nothing more than maintain crowd control with brute strength and words I couldn’t hear. I’d expected him to jump in and, if nothing else, help Sarah because she was a female, but he didn’t. It reminded me of how he’d stayed out of my confrontation the other night, yet had stood behind me, letting me know with the touch of his hand on my back that he was there if I needed him.
Was the man for real? As I munched on my powdered sugar–coated cake, I ran a critical eye over him. Tall—at least six feet—whiskey-brown eyes that I’d noticed had gold flecks in them, and muscled—but not overly so—in appearance, he was a man who would catch the eye of any red-blooded woman.
Of course, I thought he was hot, but it was his personality that intrigued me. No one was perfect, and I knew me. I’d be obsessed now with finding his flaws. I also thought there had to be a story behind him leaving a big city like Chicago for a small mountain town like Blue Ridge Valley. Maybe he’d been married and there had been a nasty divorce. Or had there been some kind of on-the-job scandal?
The crowd had dispersed, leaving him standing with the two men who’d been fighting and his two cops. It figured that it was the Emery brothers. Those two practically had a cell at the jail with their names on it. Now that the yelling had stopped, I could hear their conversation. Apparently Dick had knocked over Ted’s beer. Good grief, just go get another one, guys.
Dylan glanced over at me and winked, sending my stomach into a somersault. Don’t you dare go and fall for the man, Jenn. No, I wouldn’t do that because I had a world to see and a promise to keep. So what if he made my heart flutter when he looked at me with that crooked smile? It was lust I was feeling, nothing more.
12
~ Dylan ~
I left the Emery brothers for Sarah and Tommy to deal with now that we’d managed to separate them. According to my officers, this was typical behavior for Dick and Ted, and I could expect to see them in my jail on occasion. Tommy told me they were always fighting each other for the slightest offense, but if you messed with one, you’d have them both trying to take you down.
I walked back to Jenny. “You save me some of that, Red?”
She peered down at the paper plate, empty except for one small bite left. “Oops.” She held out the plate.
“Yum,” I said, munching on the sugary concoction.
“We can get another one.”
I laughed at the hopeful look on her face. “You eat any more of that and you’ll be so high on sugar your feet won’t touch the ground.” It was funny how she kept making me laugh. She’d already taught me two things. I still had a libido, and I could still laugh. Hadn’t been sure either of those things would happen again.
“Oh, I see someone I want you to meet.”
She took my hand, pulling me toward the stage. As we passed a trash can, I dropped the paper plate into it. The man she led me to sat on a metal folding chair next to the stairs that led up to the stage. He wore coveralls, had a scraggly gray beard that reached halfway down his chest, and hair as white as snow. Even sitting down, I could see that he was rail thin. At his feet were a violin case and a filthy white canvas tote.
“There’s my honeypot,” he said, breaking into a wide, toothless smile at seeing Jenny.
Honeypot? Oh boy, I couldn’t wait to call Jenny honeypot.
“Hamburger, I’d like you to meet Dylan Conrad. He’s the new police chief. Dylan, this is Hamburger Harry.”
I’ll be dammed, the infamous moonshiner in person. Rheumy pale blue eyes gave me the once-over. I wasn’t sure what to call him. Hamburger? Just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“I heared we got us a new sheriff in town.”
Well, I wasn’t a sheriff, but I let it go.
“You like bluegrass, boy?”
Truthfully I preferred my grass the usual green. “Haven’t given it much thought.” That seemed a safe enough answer. From the amusement in Jenny’s eyes, I figured I was missing something in this conversation.
“Hamburger plays a mean fiddle. We’ll stick around, let you hear some honest-to-God bluegrass music.” She grinned back at Hamburger Harry when he gave her another one of those gummy smiles. “You up first as usual?”
“Sure am. Got sumpin’ for ya.” He reached into the ratty tote, then narrowed his eyes at me. “Turn around, lawman.”
Oh hell. He had a bagful of moonshine. “Ah…” I scratched my head. “I think I’ll get a beer.” I was going to have to have a talk with the old coot about bringing moonshine into public places, but today wasn’t the time. I’d probably have a riot on my hands if I tried to arrest him, especially since there was a crowd gathering in front of the stage, obviously waiting to hear him since he was first up.
“Get me one, too,” Jenny said.
I waved a hand in acknowledgment as I headed for the beer stand. It wasn’t that I had anything against alcohol of any kind, but moonshine was deemed illegal, and I was duty bound to uphold the law. As I headed back with our beers, I couldn’t help but laugh, remembering my wish that the worst thing I had to do in my new job was arrest moonshiners. That qualified as a “be careful what you ask for.”
By the time I made it back to Jenny, Hamburger Harry, his violin case, and his tote were gone, thank God. I handed Jenny one of the bottles. “Please tell me you don’t have a jar of moonshine in your purse.”
She smirked. “I think this would be a good time to adopt the don’t ask, don’t tell policy.”
I groaned. “You do know I could arrest your pretty ass on the spot, right?”
“Will you handcuff me?”
A picture flashed in my mind of Jenny handcuffed to my bed, and my first groan was nothing compared to this one. I leaned my mouth close to her ear. “Wicked girl.”
“You have no idea.” She stepped in front of me, leaning her head against my chest. “Now pay attention.”
“Yes, honeypot.” She kicked me, making me laugh. I wrapped my arm around her chest, holding her to me.
Hamburger Harry came out onstage, and the crowd went wild. Obviously they’d heard him play before. The moonshiner lifted his fiddle, tucking the end under his chin, and began to play. For an old man he had a lot of energy. The music was fast and twangy, like folk music on steroids.
My attention was drawn to his feet. He wore a pair of scuffed, high-top boots that tied, and he was doing some kind of shuffling fast step. I’d never seen anything like it. Although it wasn’t music I’d want to listen to on a constant basis—the fast pace would wear me out—it was definitely interesting.
Hamburger Harry played for an hour, the crowd growing larger with each passing minute. Pretty impressive for an eighty-three-year-old man.
“Oh, there’s Granny, Hamburger’s mother.” Jenny pointed to an old woman now sitting in the chair Hamburger Harry had occupied earlier.
I blinked at seeing a woman with the craggiest face ever, a corncob pipe stuck between her lips. She had on a print dress that came down to the top of her black, high-top boots. “If Hamburger’s eighty-three, how old is she?”
“Ninety-eight. She was fifteen when he was born. She had six husbands and fourteen more children, but outlived them all except for Hamburger so far. According to her, she’s lived this long from drinking her son’s moonshine.”
Christ, if I arrested Hamburger and put a stop to his moonshining, Granny would die. “I think I’ve had enough of the small-town experience for one day. What say we go to the Cheery Cherry and have an ice cream cone?”
“Yes!” She handed me her unfinished beer. “A Cheerwine float for me… No, a hot fudge sundae. Or maybe a banana split without the bananas.”
From the light in her eyes at the mention of ice cream, I was beginning to realize Jenny Girl had a sweet tooth. I dumped our beer bottles in the recycling can, then took Jenny’s hand.
“A banana split without bananas, Red? That’s just not right.” She peered up at me with th
ose green eyes that sparkled with so much life—as if she wasn’t going to waste a minute not enjoying the world around her—and in the middle of a crowded festival grounds on a warm fall day, I had an epiphany. I wanted to see that kind of light back in my own eyes when I looked in a mirror. There had been a time when I’d thought the world was fun, and I wanted that me back.
“I hate bananas. Can’t stand the smell of them. Can’t stand to watch someone eat them.” She shuddered.
“I happen to like them, but I promise I’ll never make you watch me eat one.”
“You’re my hero,” she said.
Her comment was meant to be flirty and fun, but my dead wife’s last words to me flashed through my mind, mocking me. “You stopped wanting to be my hero, Dylan.”
That had enraged me. My team had been working a case for several months, putting in long hours to bust up a gambling ring that had preyed on elderly men and women who hadn’t had the money to lose in the first place. She knew that because I always talked about my cases with her, unlike some of my cop friends who shut their wives out of what was happening on the job.
“I’m your husband, not some caped hero who never does a damn thing wrong,” I’d snarled. “I’m tired, frustrated with this case, and… You know what? I’m not talking about this anymore.” She wasn’t the one who came home early and found me in bed with another woman, yet there she sat like a wounded little bird, curled up on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, tears streaming down her cheeks because I couldn’t forgive her for fucking my best friend.
“Where are you going?” she’d asked when I put on my winter coat.
“Out.” It was Christmas Eve, and I spent it drinking myself into a stupor in my favorite neighborhood bar. When I got kicked out at closing, I dragged myself home, only to find a three-ring circus happening in our apartment. My neighbors were crowded around the entry, and when they saw me, silence fell as they parted like the Red Sea, making a path that led to the door. Standing just inside watching me was my precinct captain, pity shining in his eyes. Through the opening, I could see other cops, EMTs, and a gurney, a white sheet draped over it. No one had to tell me what had happened.
Guilt ripped my legs right out from under me, and I fell to my knees. I’d walked out on her when she’d needed me the most. She had tried to talk to me, and I had refused to listen. Because she’d had bouts of depression throughout our marriage, I should have recognized that she was capable of such a dramatic act. I also knew her intention had been to punish me. Well, it sure as hell worked.
“You okay?”
Jenny’s voice penetrated the movie reel playing in my head, and I blinked Christine’s face away. “Sure, why?”
“You kind of spaced out there for a minute.”
“A little too much sun today. Let’s go get that banana-less banana split.” I could tell she wasn’t sure she believed me, but she smiled and squeezed my hand. It was the best hand squeeze I’d ever had because I knew she was telling me that she wouldn’t pry, but she was there for me.
As we approached my car, I spied Captain Moody several rows back in what appeared to be a terse conversation with Mayor Jim John Jenkins. I was trained to recognize body language, and there was no doubt in my mind that my police captain intimidated the mayor.
“What do you know about those two?” I asked Jenny.
She wrinkled her nose. “Moody’s an ass, and our mayor couldn’t find his balls if they were dangling in front of his face.”
I burst into laughter. Couldn’t help it. Miss Jenny Nance was a treasure. Someday, when she finished seeing the world and decided to settle down, some man was going to be damn lucky. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I like you, Red.”
“I like you, too, Chief.”
My laughter had caught the attention of the mayor and my officer, and both glanced over at us. Moody smirked, as if he didn’t give a shit that I’d caught him towering over the town’s mayor. Mayor Jenkins slinked down until the cars hid him from view. Maybe he was looking for his lost balls.
Moody tried to engage me in a stare down, but I rolled my eyes, letting him know that I thought he was an idiot. He might very well be one, but that little episode between him and the mayor confirmed what I’d thought from the beginning. Moody had something on Blue Ridge Valley’s mayor, and I was going to find out what.
13
~ Jenny ~
The day had been perfect. I didn’t want it to end, and when Dylan pulled up in front of my apartment, I invited him in. “You can’t stay long. I have to get ready for work.”
He gave me that lopsided smile that I was coming to adore. “Kick me out when you need to.”
I had the unsettling thought that I wouldn’t ever want to kick him out. I blinked away any notion of Dylan permanently in my life and headed to the kitchen.
“Taste this,” I said, returning with a shot glass filled with golden liquid. Dylan eyed the glass with suspicion, which I found amusing. I hadn’t missed his dilemma when Hamburger had reached his hand into his legendary canvas bag, the one every person born in the valley knew held moonshine.
The thing about Hamburger, he rarely sold the mason jars filled to the brim with some of the best ’shine this side of the Mississippi. He used to, but after his last arrest and a stern warning by Judge Padgett, Hamburger had started giving the stuff away. It was beside the point that every one of us lucky enough to get a jar of Hamburger’s liquid gold never charged him for whatever he bought or consumed when in one of our establishments. Mountain bartering at its best.
“I’m not stupid, you know,” Dylan said, taking the shot glass from me. “I’m aware of what this is.” He drank it anyway, tossing the contents down his throat.
I waited for his reaction and wasn’t disappointed at seeing his eyes widen.
He licked his lips. “That tasted like apple pie.”
“Good, huh?”
“Very, but honeypot?”
I sputtered a laugh. “Mmm?”
“Next time you give me some of that, lie. Tell me I’m drinking a flavored fruit drink or something.”
Although he winked when he said it, I knew he was half serious. Hamburger Harry’s moonshine was obviously a quandary for Dylan, but he’d get used to small-town ways soon enough.
“Will do, Officer. Now give me a kiss so you can take off.”
“I can do that.”
He prowled toward me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Before he even touched me, my body hummed with anticipation. Because I already knew that he had the ability to make my knees weak, I backed up against the wall so I’d have something to lean on. He chuckled as he put his hands along the sides of my head, his gaze capturing mine.
“I want my mouth on yours, Red. I want my mouth on your neck and shoulders, on your breasts and the sweet curve of your ass. I think a lot about tasting you. All over. It will happen, but not tonight.”
“When?” I rasped. No man had ever sent damp heat to my core with only words the way Dylan just had.
“When you’re ready.”
He covered my mouth then, stopping me from yelling, Now! I’m ready now. His tongue swept inside, and he tasted like apple pie, sweet and tangy. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he pressed his hips against mine, letting me feel how much he wanted me.
I moaned. The little bit of my brain that still worked suggested that I call in sick and let Dylan spend the night showing me what he could do with his talented mouth. It was tempting, but I’d never missed a day in the three years I’d worked at Vincennes, and Dylan was right. I wasn’t ready for him yet. I needed to get my head straight on what I wanted where this man was concerned. He was different. Special. That scared me because I could fall for him real hard. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
He lifted his head and stared at me, and I loved how his eyes had gone darker and dreamy-like. “I’ve never been kissed by a cop before you. I rather like it.” There went that grin that made my heart flutter.
“I�
�ve never been kissed by a mountain girl before you. I very much like it.” He kissed my nose. “What nights are you off?”
“Mondays and Tuesdays.”
“Let me pick you up Tuesday and take you to my apartment. We can cook a couple of steaks on the grill. You do eat meat, right?”
“I sure do, and I’d like that.” Plus, I was dying to see his place. You could get to know a lot about a person by their stuff. Yet… “Is all this still pretend? You know, you and me just being together to make whatshisname go away?”
He rocked his groin against me. “Does that feel pretend, Red?”
Since my mouth was incapable of forming words, I just shook my head.
“Good. I’ll come get you at five if that’s okay.”
“Five works.” He laid one more delicious kiss on me, then walked out the door. I slid down the wall on legs that had given up their job of supporting me.
On Monday mornings I always made a stop at Mary’s Bread Company to get a box of assorted doughnuts and three ready-made honey ham and cheddar cheese sandwiches on sourdough. Knowing I’d walk in the door around eight, Mary had my order ready to go.
Although there were six pastries in the bag, I was never charged for the two pecan bear claws. Those were my dad’s. Twelve years ago he had been serving his last term as the mayor of Blue Ridge Valley. One of the town’s wealthy and influential commissioners had wanted the land Mary’s bakery shop was on and had tried to force something called eminent domain—which we’d never heard of here in our small part of the world. Once everyone understood what it meant, there was a firestorm.
I don’t even remember why the commissioner wanted Mary’s land, but oh man, the yelling that went on at the town hall meetings for over a month. The commissioner had a lot of people who owed him favors, so it was him and his group against my dad, Mary, and everyone else.
From the time Natalie and I entered high school, Daddy made us go to open town meetings, saying that it was important for us to understand the workings of our community. Sometimes we found them interesting, and sometimes they were so boring that we could barely keep our eyes open.