Dogwood Days (10 page)

Jefferson kept his mouth shut. His uncle started to speak, but Jefferson shot a glare at him, and Uncle Sherman wisely continued eating his lunch without saying a word.

“You know, keeping it a secret is only going to make me more curious. Oh, I bet they’re for Beau, aren’t they? Why do you have such a ridiculous crush on him, Jefferson Lee? He’s perfectly nice but not at all the man for you.”

Jefferson growled and pushed away from the table. “I’m going to go upstairs and change so I can take you on your walk, Uncle Sherman.”

“He’s certainly in a mood today,” Clover observed once she thought Jefferson was out of earshot. Actually, she probably didn’t care.

ONCE THEY’D
finished lunch, Clover helped Jefferson put all the leftovers in plastic containers and clean the half dozen dirty casserole dishes. She’d not questioned his cookie making any further, although Jefferson could tell her curiosity was about to kill her. He’d taken the cookies out to cool while they were working, and she’d turned up her nose at them. They were slightly misshapen, but it was the thought that counted, right?

She’d left a few minutes later, needing to get ready to lead the afternoon Holly Berry meeting. They had a couple of hours, so Jefferson helped Uncle Sherman down the porch steps and into the waiting wheelchair. Clover had thoughtfully added the leg prop contraption so Uncle Sherman’s broken leg would be raised. Oh, she was earning so many brownie points. If he didn’t look out, he’d be writing that blog post bashing Beau Granville after all.

“You ready to tell me what’s bothering you?” Uncle Sherman asked as Jefferson began pushing the wheelchair down the sidewalk.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jefferson answered.

“Perhaps not, but if something has you worked up, I’m happy to listen.” Uncle Sherman reached back and gave Jefferson’s arm a pat.

“The sheriff is ticked off at me.” Jefferson thought he’d done really well keeping the confused whine from his voice. He had no clue why this was bothering him so much.

“Ah. You and Clover weren’t very subtle in your meddling.”

Jefferson grunted his reply.

“Although trying to convince Charles that my affec—er, friendship—might be at stake was a nice touch.”

“Aha! I heard that. So you
do
have affections for the mayor.”

“Jefferson Lee,” Uncle Sherman said, the warning tone clear in his voice. He shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair, another indication of his unwillingness to have this discussion.

With a sigh, Jefferson acknowledged that he wasn’t going to be able to push his uncle into the conversation. He could take a hint on occasion. Besides, if he were honest, he’d admit that he really wouldn’t want Uncle Sherman messing around with his love life, so he should be a grown-up and give his uncle the same respect.

“I am going to be a
great
nephew right now and stop this conversation. But I want it acknowledged that I am making this sacrifice against my better judgment and claim an out on the next uncomfortable conversation you try to force on me.”

“I acknowledge and give you your claim.”

“Thank you.”

“Now about the sheriff.”

“Crap. Are you really going to make me use my out already? Not cool, Uncle Sherman. So very not cool.”

“I would just like to say that the sheriff has never stopped by so often in all the time he’s been in Holly Creek. Only since your arrival has he come by unannounced. Think on that for a few minutes. Turn onto Spruce, would you?”

Jefferson made the turn and had walked a few dozen feet before he stopped. “Uh, Uncle Sherman?”

“Well, how about that,” his uncle said.

The mayor was right, not that Jefferson planned on pointing that fact out to his uncle. The sidewalks on Spruce weren’t in the best shape. Pushing the wheelchair along the cracked concrete might not end well for them.

“Um, perhaps an alternate route?”

Uncle Sherman sighed. “Let’s go back and turn onto Cherry Street instead.”

“Will do,” Jefferson said. He carefully turned the wheelchair around and pushed his uncle up to the next block. The sidewalks on Cherry were in much better shape, and Jefferson was able to push his uncle down the block without any trouble.

“I hate it that he’s right.”

“I know,” Jefferson replied.

“He’ll have me eating humble pie on this for months.”

“Nah,” Jefferson said. “You’ll just have to complain about the dilapidated state of the sidewalks and insist that he use city funds to correct the problem as soon as possible. Holly Creek’s disabled visitors shouldn’t have to deal with such a travesty. Maybe he’ll even let you head up the project. You know how he hates these projects. As an alderman, it’s your duty or something to take something like this off our busy mayor’s plate.”

“I do like the way you think, Jefferson Lee.”

“Oh, we could have a Spruce up Spruce Festival!”

“I take back my last comment.”

Jefferson snickered. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

They continued walking the mayor’s suggested parade route, with Uncle Sherman rattling off improvements that would need to be made along the way. Some of Holly Creek’s residents would be getting a visit from a certain alderman insisting that they update their landscaping. Jefferson Lee would love to be a fly on the wall for a few of those conversations. Although he probably would be, since he’d be the one pushing his uncle’s wheelchair to and from the meetings.
Crap
.

“Would you be so kind as to give me a push down to Town Hall? I know it’s a bit of a walk for you, but I should speak to Charles and get it over with.”

“Not a problem. You mind if we make a quick stop back by the house first?” The sheriff’s office happened to be located next to Town Hall. If he were going to find the sheriff, his office seemed a good place to start.

“Of course. I have some nice tins in the pantry. You can put the cookies in one.”

He couldn’t get anything past his uncle.

AFTER DROPPING
Uncle Sherman off at Town Hall, Jefferson walked over to the sheriff’s office. The cruiser was parked out front, so he hoped Zane would actually be inside. He blew out a nervous breath and pushed the door open. Selma Jane was sitting at the reception desk in front, a fancy headset covering her perfectly curled gray bob.

“Jefferson Lee! I wondered if you’d stop by and see me!”

“Of course. Couldn’t resist seeing you, now could I?”

“Silly boy. You’re here to see the sheriff, aren’t you? I heard you and your uncle were out walking on Cherry Street. We having a change in the parade route after all?”

“Now, you know I can’t spill alderman secrets, Selma Jane. What would Uncle Sherman say?”

“He’d say for you to tell me so he didn’t have to spread the word himself.” She grinned and held up a finger as the phone rang. “Sheriff’s office. This is Selma Jane.”

She covered the end of the headset with one hand and whispered to Jefferson. “Go on back. This’ll be a minute.”

Jefferson waved and went through the arched doorway to the back office. He found Zane sitting behind a desk with a pile of paperwork in front of him. He wasn’t in his uniform.

“Jefferson Lee?”

“Hey, Sheriff.”

Zane sighed.

“I meant, Zane.”

Huh. He’d never actually seen the sheriff in anything other than his uniform. His shoulders really were that wide. Interesting.

“Jefferson Lee? You okay?”

Jefferson shuffled nervously. “Yeah, just realized that I’ve never seen you out of your uniform before.”

The sheriff suddenly looked extremely smug, and Jefferson realized what he’d said.
Never seen him
. Right. Maybe he’d had a point after all, not that Jefferson planned on admitting that fact out loud. In fact, he’d never noticed how dark the sheriff’s hair was either, or that he could use a bit of a haircut.

His eyes were really blue too. And kind. Which Jefferson had never really thought about. When Zane suddenly smiled at him, Jefferson noticed how nice that was too. Whoa. Weird.

“Uh, I brought these for you.” He took the tin of cookies out of his messenger bag where he’d hidden them for the walk and placed them on Zane’s desk.

Zane opened the tin and looked inside. “You baked?”

Jefferson shuffled nervously again. “Well, uh, they’re just from those tube things. You know. Uh, at the store.”

He should just shut up now before he embarrassed himself any further.

“Thank you, Jefferson Lee.”

“You’re welcome. I hope they’re okay.”

Zane took one out of the tin and took a bite. The cookie crunched and crumbled a bit, but the sheriff smiled after he chewed and swallowed.

“They’re great. Want to have one with me? I can get us some coffee.”

Jefferson didn’t have a whole lot of time before he needed to get over to Clover’s for the Holly Berry meeting, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“I can do that.”

Zane smiled again, and Jefferson’s stomach did a weird little flip. He really was handsome, in that all-American clean-cut kind of way that Jefferson had never really had a thing for in the past. Suddenly he was wondering why.

The sheriff stood and came around his desk. “Go on and sit down. I’ll be right back with that coffee.”

Jefferson nodded, noticing for the first time just how tall the sheriff was. The man had really long legs. Wow. And a great ass, especially in snug jeans. Heaven help him.

He sank down onto the mustard-yellow chair that had clearly been part of the office decor since the seventies and wondered what the hell had gotten into him. Zane was back before he’d had time to figure it out and placed a mug of coffee on the desk in front of Jefferson.

After going back around the desk, Zane sat down and offered the opened tin to Jefferson. He took out one of the cookies, and Zane did the same. They stared at each other for a long moment. Jefferson had to fight the urge to squirm in his seat, so he took a giant bite of cookie instead.

He nearly choked as half of it broke off in his mouth.

Zane sat calmly watching him and sipping his coffee. All warm eyes and nice smile and broad shoulders.

Jefferson took a slurp of coffee, then nearly yelped at the temperature.

Zane bit his lip, but Jefferson could tell he was about to laugh hysterically.

“I can’t cook,” Jefferson managed to say.

“I can,” Zane replied.

“Good to know.”

The silence stretched.

“I’m really horrible in the kitchen all around.”

“Okay,” Zane said.

“Would you maybe like to have dinner with me sometime?” Jefferson asked.

Zane grinned, and Jefferson’s stomach did that thing again. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.”

The intercom on Zane’s desk buzzed, and he pushed a button. “Yes, Selma Jane?”

“Sheriff, Mayor Hollister is on the phone. He wanted to know if Jefferson Lee was going to come get Mr. Davis so they could get over to the Holly Berry meeting.”

“Oh crap! Yes, Selma Jane. I’m on my way.” Jefferson jumped up, splashing the hot coffee all over his hand. “Crap,” he yelped.

Zane came around the desk and pulled an honest-to-God handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped at Jefferson’s hand and grinned down at him.

“So dinner,” Jefferson said. “Soon?” He had to look up at Zane.
Really tall. Very nice eyes.

“You busy tonight?”

“Tonight?” Did his voice just squeak?

“Yeah. I’m off duty.”

“Okay. Yeah, tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sounds good.”

Jefferson backed out the door and made it about five steps before he spun around and went back into the office. “I don’t know where you live.”

“Why don’t I pick you up instead?”

“Okay. That works.” Jefferson grinned and backed out the door again. Ten steps later he’d spun around and gone back to the door. “Um, do I have to ride in the backseat of the cruiser?”

Zane laughed. “No. I’ll take my car.”

“Oh, good. That’s good. Okay. Gotta go.”

“See you later, Jefferson Lee.”

“Yeah. Okay. Seven. Great.”

Jefferson spun back around and ran smack into the doorframe. He grunted and heard the sheriff snicker behind him.

“I’m okay!”

He ran for the front of the office, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Be careful,” Zane called after him.

The mayor and Uncle Sherman were waiting in front of the building.

His uncle took one look at his face and gave him a puzzled frown.

“Sorry. Got to talking. You know.”

“Not a problem.” Charles smiled.

The man looked about as flustered as Jefferson felt.

Interesting
.

AFTER THE
Holly Berry meeting, Jefferson sprinted back to Uncle Sherman’s house with barely a wave good-bye to the ladies. What he’d thought would be an hour-long tea party with a few vague agenda items thrown in so they could actually call it a meeting had turned out to be a marathon planning session for the upcoming Dogwood Days. Who knew the Holly Berries planned every single aspect of the event? Three hours and forty-seven minutes later, Jefferson ran for his life. He stumbled up the front steps and into the house.

“You’re back early,” Uncle Sherman said.

“Early! I can never get the last few hours of my life back. What do you mean
early
?”

Uncle Sherman looked puzzled. “Holly Berry meetings normally last much longer, particularly if an event is so close.”

“Longer than four hours! God, I don’t even have time to think about how horrific that would be. I’m going to be late.”

Jefferson dropped his notes from the meeting onto his uncle’s lap and turned to go upstairs.

“Late? For what? The alderman’s meeting isn’t until tomorrow night, Jefferson Lee. We don’t have anything on our schedule for tonight.”

Crap on a cracker. He’d not told his uncle about his date with Zane.

He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “I have a date. Gotta go get ready.”