Fried Pickles and the Fuzz (9 page)
Read Fried Pickles and the Fuzz Online
Authors: Calico Daniels
Beth Ann released a snort of laughter. “You just sit there and let me work my magic. You'll knock his boots sideways when he sees you. And, if he's any kind of a man, he'll realize in no time flat what a great catch you are and that you've got a ton more goin' for you than just your cookin'.”
Without waiting for Heather to reply, Beth Ann went to work creating a sleek new hair style, slathering on make-up and accessorizing the fire out of Heather.
****
Bronson cleared his throat and tried to calm the jitters in his stomach.
He quickly rubbed the toe
of his
left boot
against the back of the opposite leg
then did the same with the right
,
to remove any dust they'd picked up on the walk over to Heather's apartment above
T
he Pickle. Standing there on the tiny landing just outside her door
,
he realized he'd never been more nervous. Ever.
H
e was a man in his thirties. Not some kid who was new to girls and dating.
He was a manâ¦
and Heather was certainly no girl.
But no matter how many times on the way over he'd told himself there was nothing to get worked up over, his body just didn't seem to agree.
His stomach was in knots
,
and his heart was racing.
With his luck
,
he'd ask her to dance and his palms would be so sweaty
,
she'd never want to see him again unless it was on the opposite side of the counter at the café.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Bronson raised his hand and knocked on the door. A quick glance at his boots confirmed he'd been able to remove most of the dirt. His eyes were still trained on his boots when the door opened.
He focused on the toes of the boots revealed by the open door. They were worn and broke
-
in
,
but clean. The blue jeans were crisply starched
,
and the hem of each leg sported a two
-
inch slice along the inside seam
,
allowing the jeans to ride low on the boots rather than bunch. That trend, known fondly as the Texas Crinkle, had gone by the
wayside
about a decade before.
His gaze followed the neat crease that led up the front of her jeans,
over her silver belt buckle and green plaid button-up shirt to her smiling face. The blond locks she usually kept in a simple braid were loose and flowing. Large soft curls swayed around her face as she shifted from foot to foot. Her eyes sparkled, the dab of make
-
up only making them look brighter and more captivating.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him when the door opened. Sure, he'd seen Heather nearly every day since he'd accepted the position as sheriff, but this time it was different.
He swallowed hard, knowing if he made it through the evening without tripping over his tongue or saying something completely stupid
,
he might just stand a chance of getting another date.
“Do I look that bad?
“Not at all. Fact is
,
you look great.” So maybe not the most suave response he could have given
,
but it was better tha
n
the frantic
headshake
he might have done ten years ago. “You ready to head over?”
Heather smiled, nodded
,
and pulled the door closed behind her as she joined him on the small landing. “I'm actually pretty excited. I haven't been to one of these dances in years.”
“W
e
ll, I've never been
,
so you're doing better than me.” He backed up and allowed her room to step past him and make her way down the narrow staircase.
Once they reached the alley behind the café
,
they turned left and headed to the end of the block. Even with the row of buildings separating them from the festivities, the sassy country beat of the band could still be heard. When they reached the end of the alley
,
they made another left and crossed the street to the town square.
The park-like area in the center of town was teaming with activity. The band stood center stage in the gazebo
,
playing their music for the locals and visitors. Folks danced, neighbors laughed
, everyone seemed to be having a grand time on the last night of the festival.
As they made their way through the crowd, both nodding and returning greetings as they went, Bronson felt Heather place her hand on his forearm. He glanced at her. She really was beautiful. Merriment danced across her face as she laughed at the children running by. At least a dozen residents stopped them as they made their way around the grounds, each one taking the time to exchange greetings and let her know how glad they were she'd come home.
Bronson smiled as she chatted with the girl who worked the counter at the drug store, then he took her hand and slipped it securely in the crook of his arm. He wanted everyone in town to know she was here with him. Especially all the single guys he'd caught checking her out as they strolled.
After what seemed like an hour of smiling and chatting with what had to have been nearly everyone in the county
,
they found an empty bench on the back side of the gazebo.
It was quieter behind the band
'
s speakers. Not silent but definitely quieter.
“I'm glad you asked me to come with you tonight.” Heather squeezed his arm as they sat side by side on the little park bench.
“I'm glad you agreed.” Bronson breathed a heavy sigh. “To tell you the truth
,
I wasn't sure I'd have the nerve to ever ask you out.”
She threw back her head and laughed. The tiny white lights suspended around the square cast a glow across her skin
,
making her look almost ethereal. A beauty that was almost too perfect to be real.
Bronson reached out with his left hand and trailed a finger across her flawless cheek. Her laughter died
,
and she locked gazes with him. “I've been wantin' to ask you out since right after I came to town.”
She swallowed hard and turned her body slightly toward him, toward his caress. “Why'd it take you so long? I've been waitin' for you to ask just about as long.”
“We sure make a pair
,
don't we? Both of us waitin' and neither one doin'.” He trailed his fingertips down her cheek and across the satiny skin of her neck. “Maybe we should just agree to make this a regular thing
. T
hat way neither of us'll be stuck wonderin' again.”
“I like that idea. Dinner at the café every evening. Maybe a movie once a week.”
Her eyes sparkled with the reflections of the lights.
Did she just inch closer
,
or did he? “Only one date a week?” He
tsked
and slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck. “I think we can do better than that.”
She leaned closer
.
“I do
,
too.”
The moment their lips touched
,
Bronson knew he was in Heaven. She pulled her hand from the crook of his arm and slid it up his bicep and across his shoulder, threading her fingers in the hair at the base of his skull.
“I could get used to this, Sheriff,” she murmured against his lips as they shifted to get closer.
So could he. Their lips met again with tentative passion. His desire to ravage her mouth and the need to maintain at least some composure in a public place warred within him.
Never in his life had he been so consumed with such a
fiery
need to know everything about a woman. Not just physically, but to really know her. Bronson wanted to know everything about Heather. What brand of shampoo did she use to get her hair to smell so summery? Was it some flavored lip gloss or just the simple taste of her that seemed to remind hi
m
of apples? Did she wear perfume or was the mouthwatering smell of her
just thatâ¦
her
?
He
needed to know.
“Sheriff?” Heather pulled back slightly and looked at him. Her eyes glazed with what he hoped was passion that rivaled his own. “I definitely think we're gonna be spending a fair amount of time together for awhile.”
He leaned back and tilted his head to the side. “Think you're gonna get tired of me?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “No
,
I don't. I've got a feeling you're gonna keep things interesting around here for a long time.”
“That's certainly my plan.”
Â
Â
“I still ca
n't believe you two were suckin'
face right there on the town square.”
“Just to clarify, it's not like we had our tongues down each other's throat.”
Heather laughed and carried two cups of coffee to the battered little table in her apartment kitchen. She set one down in front of Beth Ann and took a sip of hers as she sat in the chair opposite her friend.
“Weren't you the one who said I should lay a big wet one on him?”
“Yeah, but I didn't mean right there in front of the whole town.” The redhead sipped her java and moaned. “That's what I needed. So, how are things going between you two now?”
“To be honest, I haven't seen him much since the farewell brunch on Sunday. He was on duty yesterday and had to skip dinner.” And she had missed him. Funny how used to his company she had gotten over the past few months. And now since the kiss, she wanted to spend even more time with him. She wanted to get to know everything about him.
“And the whole Gus situation?” Beth Ann raised a crimson brow and took another sip of her coffee.
Heather shrugged. “I haven't been able to find a single place locally that I can afford. I need to get over to the station and talk to Bronson about that.” She glanced at the clock on the wall above her sink. Seven-thirty. Bronson should be at the department by now.
“Maybe I can convince him to give me a bit more time.”
“I just bet you can.” Beth Ann gave her a sly wink and sipped her coffee. “Use those womanly wiles I know you have locked away, gal.”
“Speaking of wiles, what's going on with you and Billy?”
A light flush crept up her friend's neck and stained her cheeks. “Nothing nearly as interesting as the drama in your life right now.”
“Who says I've got drama?”
“When are you gonna learn that everything in Big Creek comes with drama. Either starts with it or it comes close on its heels.” Beth Ann set down her empty mug and snatched her purse from the floor by her chair.
“And speaking of, I need to get over to the shop.”
Without waiting for Heather's reply, Beth Ann got up from the table, squeezed her friend
'
s shoulder
,
and let herself out of the small apartment
,
leaving Heather alone with a thousand thoughts running through her head.
Aside from the fact that she was itching to know all the juicy details about her best friend's relationship with her high school sweetie, Heather had her own fish to fry. First upâ¦
talking to Bronson.
After checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Heather made the short walk up the alley behind
T
he Pickle to the Police Department. Martin sat at his desk near the rear of the office
,
typing furiously on his keyboard, a teetering stack of paperwork looming near his left hand. “Be right with you,” he called.
“I'm just lookin' for the
s
heriff.”
Martin turned and smiled.
“He's got the day off today.”
Heather
'
s heart sank. She rifled through her memory
,
trying to recall if he had told her about the day off or not. Surely she had simply forgotten. “Okay, I'll just call him.” She walked toward the dispatcher's desk. “Is it okay if I poke my head out back and see Gus while I'm here?”
Martin looked as if his hand had just gotten slammed in a car door. His eyes grew wide and his pallor took on a greenish tint. “Umâ¦
well.”
Certainly there shouldn't be any issue in her paying a small visit to the department
'
s only resident. A sinking feeling started to roil in the pit of her stomach as she watched Martin begin to fidget. It seemed he was doing his level best to look anywhere but directly at her. “Martin? Is Gus okay?”
