Fried Pickles and the Fuzz (5 page)
Read Fried Pickles and the Fuzz Online
Authors: Calico Daniels
“Heather, I'd be happy to help in any way that I can.” Bronson stepped around her and gave the front door a nudge
,
swinging it open.
“Thanks, but I'm sure I can manage.” She shook her head. “You've got more important things to deal with than
worrying
about finding an old horse a home.”
Bronson gave her a sad smile and nodded. “The offer stands.”
Her heart fluttered. Sexy. Even though she was a bit irritated at him for locking Gus up, she understood his point.
H
e could probably give her an animal
-
at
-
large citation
,
and
she would still want to grab him and kiss the fire out of him. “I appreciate it.”
Bronson stepped closer, his right arm still extended
,
keeping the front door open. Heat radiated off his body, scorching her through
layers of
clothes. His scent wrapped around her, velvety and smooth with a hint of
earthiness
. She bit back a moan.
“Umâ¦
Heather⦔ He cleared his throat.
Oh no. This was it. The moment that she had been waiting for.
She had seen him like this about a dozen times in the past couple months
,
and she was sure she knew what was coming.
Leave it to a man to pick the worst possible time to ask a girl out on a date. She needed to say something before he did. Not that she didn't want him to ask
,
but this was
so
not the right time.
Do it. Say something witty. Sweet.
“Chicken fried steak tomorrow.”
Yeah, that was a real winner.
Bronson blinked his eyes and stared at her for what seemed like a full minute. Then, slowly he stepped back and nodded. “Sounds good.”
Heat climbed up her neck.
Really?
College educated and the best thing she could come up with was what was on the special's menu for the next day? Judging by the slightly
confused
expression marring Bronson's handsome face
,
she would have been better off saying anything but that. “I need to go. Lots to do this week.” She ducked her head and made a b
ee
line back to the café, not even slowing down when he
'd
called out to her.
She climbed the stairs
at
the rear of
T
he Pickle and unlocked her apartment door. He probably thought she was stark raving mad. It would serve her right if he never asked her out. And why would he now? No man wanted to date a nut job
with
a knack for shoving her foot in her mouth and making a total fool of herself.
Â
Â
Bronson couldn't help but grin as he watched the kids chasing the greased
pigs around the
makeshift
enclosure. Squeals of delight mixed with ones of panic as a dozen or so children all fought to capture the five thirty
-
pound piglets
that
had been selected for the event.
Each of the pint-sized swine
were
greased from head to toe
,
making the ability to actually maintain a grip on them that much harder. But with the promise of a home-baked pie from the bakery
,
along with a crisp
twenty-dollar
bill, the kids were all bound and determined to be one of the winners and end up with a pink p
orker
secure in their arms.
“This is one of my favorite events.”
Bronson turned his head and smiled at the
m
ayor
,
who offered his hand. “Yeah. Something about watching those youngsters having all that fun makes the smell worthwhile.”
Mayor Higgins chuckled. “Once the bingo game is over
,
the fire department will hose off the streets.”
“
Thank goodness for small favors.”
“We tried holding these two events out at the rodeo grounds once
,
but it just wasn't the same. Seems the folks would rather put up with the odor for a half
-
day than traipse out to the other side of town.” The
m
ayor eyed the corral that currently housed one of the six heifers
who were assisting with
the bingo game.
The bovine were rotated into the pen one at a time. The asphalt had been marked like a bingo board
,
complete with all the appropriate numbers. When not in play, the girls were
kept in a holding pen that had a large tank of water and plenty of feed
,
so the
y
were able to “produce” the plops that would end up being called into play for the bingo players to mark off on their cards.
As with
the
normal game, the first person to mark the pattern and call
“COW PLOP”
would win. Unlike
the regular
game, though, there was only one
round
played
,
since even cows could only “go” so many times.
Bronson shook his head. Who in the world had ever thought up
C
ow
P
atty Bingo? He wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer to that question.
Letting his gaze roam over the crowd
,
he smiled. It sure was popular
,
though. Men and woman alike all mingled in the general area around the big
b
ingo card and its current plopper, chatting and awaiting the next number called.
His eyes stopped when he spotted Heather in the crowd. She was laughing and
talking
with a few of the local ranchers
'
wives. Bronson was constantly amazed with her. No matter the situation
,
she seemed to handle it with ease. After the doozie she'd been handed last night
,
he had wondered if she would even be around at the events today.
Guilt gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should have handled the whole Gus situation differently. In a million years, Bronson would have never thought he'd be the source of any pain or discomfort for Heather. Quite the opposite
,
in fact. He always figured that if he played his cards right
,
maybe he could swoop in and be her hero. From what
,
he had no idea
,
but that had been his hope.
Watching her now, he had his doubts she would ever see him as anything but the county fuzz who threw her beloved pet in the clink. “Mayor, what can you tell me about Heather and Gus?”
“She
riff, that's a slippery slope
,
and one that as an elected official
yourself
,
I'm sure you
'll
understand if I tell you I want to stay out of it as much as I can.”
“Is it really that touchy a subject around here?” Bronson turned his attention back to the man beside him.
“Well, yes and no.” Mayor Higgins smiled and glanced around the crowd, nodding at a few folks. “Most of the residents here in town are willing to do just about anything for Heather. Gus makes her happy so⦔
Bronson caught his drift. Even if townsfolk didn't like having an aging equine wandering around their town, no one had the heart to break the news to Heather. “I understand.”
The
m
ayor nodded. “I'm glad you do
,
son. There might be hope for your future in this town after all.” He smiled and turned to join a group of local businessmen passing by.
Great. It was beginning to look like he had made a mistake locking the old guy up. But
town
safety had to come first. Right?
He needed to talk to Heather. Needed to clear the air. Even though he had told her his reasons last night, a new day brought about a clearer mind. Maybe he could
get her to understand.
M
aybe they could put their heads together to come up with a good solution for Gus.
Scanning the crowd again, he attempted to locate her in the undulating mass. A bright red head of curls caught his attention. Where there was Beth Ann, Heather was usually close by.
Tugging his hat down securely on his head
,
he made his way toward her best friend.
She caught sight of him as he drew near, her smile slipping a bit. “Well, i
f it isn't our law
-
abiding Sher
iff Andrews. Thrown any more geriatrics in the pokie today?”
Billy nudged her. “Be nice.”
She smiled up at Billy. “Oh, I'm just teasing.” Then she returned her gaze to Bronson, her smile not so warm. “Sorta.”
Bronson cleared his throat and tried his best to smile. “Have you seen Heather?”
The redhead
eyed him suspiciously.
“You looking to cause more trouble?”
“
Now, come on
,
Beth Ann. The
s
her
iff's just doin' his job.” Billy hugged her a little closer.
“I know.” She giggled and poked him in the stomach. “Hey, can you grab me a sod
a so I can talk to the good
s
he
riff for a minute?”
Billy winked at her and strode off toward a nearby street vendor.
Beth Ann turned and pinned him with an assessing look. “Here's the part where I tell you that I tend to get real protective over Heather. She's my best friend. Been there for me no matter what, even when she was away at school
,
and I'll do just about anything for her.”
“Okay.” Unsure of where the conversation was heading
,
Bronson decided it was best to let the redhead say her bit.
“What about you?”
Bronson wasn't exactly sure what sort of a question it was. “What do you mean?”
Beth Ann rolled her eyes. “How do you feel about her?”
“Heather's a great woman. I'd never do anything intentional to hurt her. This whole thing with Gus isn't about Heather. It's about safety for him and everyone else in town.”
She nodded. “Just so long as we understand each other.” She quickly glanced around as if she didn't want anyone to overhear what she had to say. Stepping closer
,
she lowered her voice. “She's been schmoozing folks
,
trying to find a place for Gus before your deadline. She's working with Carl and Molly
,
trying to get leads on property in the area to buy
,
but things aren't going quite as smooth as she'd hoped.
Now, with that saidâ¦
take it a little easy on her. M'kay?”
He'd had no idea the lengths Heather had been going to
,
trying to get a permanent setup for Gus. Yeah, he knew she spent a lot of time worr
y
ing about him and taking care of him,
but
this information shed a new light on the situation. He needed to talk to her. Needed her to know he was on her side and would do pert
-
near anything to help her. “Where is she?”
Beth Ann motioned over his left shoulder toward the town square. “Schmoozing.”
He turned and immediately saw her near the gazebo
,
speaking with the local realtor, Molly. He murmured a quick thank you to Beth Ann and made a
beeline
toward the two women
just as they parted ways
.
Trotting across the distance, Bronson caught up with Heather as she started making her way back to The Pickle. “Hey.”
She turned and gave him a half smile. “Hi.”
He tucked his thumbs into his front pockets. “How's it goin'?”
“Busy.” Heather didn't look directly at him. She looked over his shoulder, down the street
,
and at the ground
,
but refused to make eye contact. “Look, I'm going to be real busy for the next couple days
,
and I'm not sure how much time I'll have for chattin' in the evenin's.” She took a step backward toward the café. “I'll send Erma over to the department with your dinner around six. âKay?”
