A Match Made in Texas (18 page)

“It’s a sad state of affairs.” Harley sat down behind the desk, leaving a squashed Swiss Roll on the floor. “It seems Josephine couldn’t find anyone to work at the diner—leastways, not anyone as good as Rachel Dean. Jenna Jay is in Africa with Beau, and Hope is too busy with the kids and Bramble commerce to take on waitressin’, so Josephine was forced to close the diner down until she can find someone to help her out.” He shook his head. “It’s a real shame.” His tongue came out and collected a few crumbs. “ ’Course, I can’t eat that fatty food anyway. Not on my gubernatorial diet.”

As long as they weren’t causing trouble or breaking the law, Dusty wasn’t one who stuck his nose in other people’s business. But as he sat there watching the man search his mustache for any remaining crumbs, he figured he couldn’t let this craziness continue.

“I’m not sure running for governor is a good idea, Harley.”

“What do you mean? Are you sayin’ you wouldn’t vote for me, Dusty?”

Dusty rolled the brim of his hat through his hands, searching for just the right words. “I’m not sayin’ that at all. As far as I’m concerned, you’d make a fine governor.” It was the truth. At times, Harley could be a little naïve and narrow-minded, but he had a heart of gold and a strong desire to do the right thing. Dusty simply wanted to make sure this was Harley’s dream and not Reverend Jessup’s idea of a joke.

He looked Harley in the eye. “Whatever happened to your plan of retiring? Of getting up early every morning and being the first one out at Sutter Springs? Just you, a fishin’ pole, and a sack of Josephine’s brown sugar and cinnamon donuts?”

Harley’s eyes glazed over as if he was imagining doing just that. He brushed his tongue over his top lip. “I do love Josephine’s sugar donuts.” He blinked and straightened his shoulders. “But Texas needs me.”

“Right here in Bramble,” Dusty said. “Hope might be the next mayor, but she needs you to finish teaching her the ropes.”

There was a long pause before Harley nodded. “Well, you do have a point. That girl can go off half-cocked if she doesn’t have a firm hand to guide her. And Lord only knows that I wouldn’t want Bramble suffering just because I got a bee in my bonnet to be governor.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Figuring he’d planted enough of a seed, Dusty got to his feet. “Now I better finish up my town patrol before I go see what Kenny Gene is up to.”

Harley nodded as he followed him to the door. “Yesterday, on my morning bike ride, I stopped him from givin’ a ticket to Moses Tate for loitering. I’ll sure be glad when Sam’s foot heals up.”

“You and me both, Harley.”

After another quick cruise up and down Main Street, Dusty decided to stop by and check on Rachel Dean to make sure she wasn’t cooking up some toxic potion that would wipe out the entire town. But on the way to her house, he past Twyla’s and the little blue Smart Car parked out front had him slamming on the brakes. What was Brianne doing here? She should be back at the Henhouse, not gallivanting around Bramble with a head injury. He started to back up when it dawned on him that he had no business telling Brianne Cates what to do. She wasn’t his problem. He had plenty of his own already.

Unfortunately, before he could continue on his way, one of the high school football coaches came out the side door of the salon… followed by Brianne. At least, the dark, silky hair looked like Brianne’s. The clothing looked more like a cocktail waitress’. The tight sweater clung to her full breasts like a second skin, the short skirt was a good six inches above her knees, and the red shoes had stiletto heels that could knife right through a man’s heart.

If the dazed look on Travis’s face was any indication, they already had. The assistant football coach looked at Brianne like she was one of Josephine’s sugar donuts. The look got even more intense when she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

Well, sonofabitch.

Dusty smashed down on the accelerator and backed up next to the curb. Or more like on the curb. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was making sure that Brianne didn’t touch Travis again. Which was really stupid. He should be glad that her attentions were directed elsewhere. Except he wasn’t glad. He was pissed. And he only got madder when he got out of the car to find Travis asking Brianne out.

“… if you don’t have another appointment, we could go over to Bootlegger’s. Now that Josephine’s closed down, Rossie’s cooking up hamburgers on his grill out back. I can’t recommend Rossie’s cooking, but Manuel makes a mean margarita to wash it all down with.” He glanced up. “Hey, Dusty. I heard you were helping out Kenny while Sam is laid up.”

Dusty ignored Travis and stopped in front of Brianne, the toes of his boots inches from the toes of her red high heels. “Just what the hell are you doing?”

A smile tipped her lips, which were painted the exact same color as her shoes. Her eyes traveled over his body like a hot summer breeze. By the time they reached his eyes, Dusty was as turned on as Travis and mad as hell that just a look could make him that way.

“Answer the question,” he ground out.

Travis took a step closer. “She wasn’t doing anything illegal, Dusty. She just gave me a haircut, is all. The best haircut I’ve ever had, by the way.”

With his eyes still pinned on Brianne, Dusty spoke through his teeth. “I bet it was.”

“I aim to please.” Her eyes widened innocently before she turned to Travis. “So what were you saying, Travis?”

There was a slight pause as Travis looked between the two of them. “Umm, I was just saying that if you’re done working for the day—”

“She’s not,” Dusty stated. “I’m her last appointment.”

“Well, in that case…” Travis backed down the sidewalk, seeming almost relieved to be leaving. “I’ll catch up with you later, Willie.”

Once he was gone, Brianne turned back to Dusty. “Funny, but I didn’t see your name in the appointment book.”

He ignored the comment and pointed to her shoes. “Where did you get those?”

“Baby gave them to me because they pinched her toes.”

“And the skirt?”

“It’s mine. I just hemmed it.”

“Too damned short.”

She twisted around, displaying the way the black knit hugged her butt. “You think?”

“What are you doing, Brianne?” He rested his hands on his hips, his fingers curling over the metal of the handcuffs. Her gaze settled there. And damned if she didn’t lick those scarlet lips. When she spoke, her voice was low and husky.

“I’m helping out Twyla.” Her gaze lifted. “What are you doing, Dusty?” Before he could answer, she turned and went back inside, her heels clicking and butt wiggling almost as much as Baby’s. Of course, Baby’s wiggle never made him feel like someone had stuffed a heating pad down his pants and set it on scorch. He readjusted and stared at the screen door with the
Y’ALL COME ON IN
sign and tried to convince himself to turn around and get back in his car. Unfortunately, heat beat out brains, and he reached for the handle of the screen door.

He stepped inside to find Brianne sweeping hair into a dustpan. He could’ve continued to grump around like a bear with a thorn in his paw, but it wasn’t much fun to growl at someone who wouldn’t growl back. It was like Brianne knew exactly what he was pissed about and found it more amusing than annoying. Of course, any fool could see he was jealous.

Jealous of a woman he had no business with. No business whatsoever.

Without a word, he took off his hat and hung it on one of the hooks. “Where’s Twyla?”

“Darla thought it would be a good idea if she got away for a little bit. So she took her to Odessa to visit Darla’s sister. I told her I’d keep an eye on things until she got back.”

“When’s that?”

“Tomorrow.”

“So I guess your head is okay.”

“Nothing more than a scratch.” She had moved up behind him without him knowing, and her arm brushed against his as she flipped over the sign and pulled the door closed. The lock clicked in place with the force of a sledgehammer driving home a railroad stake.

His gaze snapped over, but she merely shrugged. “Since you’re my last appointment…” She let the sentence trail off as she wiggled her way to the chair and picked up the cape from the back. “You might want to take off your gun.” When he just stood there, she added, “Unless you’re scared of a little ol’ haircut.”

But it wasn’t just a little ol’ haircut. And they both knew it. It was something else. Something that had started the day before. Or possibly the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her. He thought that he’d avoided a head-on collision.

Obviously, he’d been wrong.

He unbuckled his belt and placed it on the hook next to his hat before he took a seat in the chair. “Just a trim.”

“Just a trim,” she echoed as she whipped the cape over his shoulders and snapped it, her fingers trailing a fiery path along the back of his neck. “But first I’ll need to wash it.” She moved over to the black sink and waited. Thinking cool water would help douse the heat that curled in his stomach, he got to his feet and followed her.

The water that she sprayed through his hair was warm and soothing, but Dusty didn’t feel soothed. He felt about ready to jump clean out of his boots.

“Tough day?” she asked.

It was a simple question. A question he’d been asked before by other women. Which didn’t explain why it caused a spiral of heat to tighten in his gut. Maybe because it was the first time a woman had acted like she was interested in the answer.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” She shut off the water and reached for one of the bottles that lined the shelf over the sink. The action brought her breast inches from his face… his mouth. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“A little.”

“Thank you for keeping a watch last night.”

“It’s my job.”

“Is it also your job to stop by and check on me?” He opened his eyes to find her staring down at him. “Since you ran off this morning without saying good-bye, I thought you’d had enough of me.” She sent him a smile as her hands cradled his head. Then her fingers started to move, and he lost track of the conversation.

Bri didn’t merely wash his hair—she worshipped it. Using just her fingertips, she caressed his scalp from front to back, then pulled his soapy strands through her fingers in a slow, undulating motion. It was heaven and at the same time hell. And as much as he wanted the torture to stop, he prayed it would never end—that she would continue to adore his tresses forever.

She turned on the water and moved closer, her thigh brushing against his arm. Or
was
it her thigh? His breathing became shallow and irregular, and he struggled to hold on to his sanity as she rinsed the shampoo from his hair. The water clicked off, and her nails ran over his scalp, sending a shiver through his body.

Her hands lifted, and there was nothing but heavy silence.

He opened his eyes to find her looking down at him with the same heat that pooled inside of him. And when she spoke, her words were barely above a whisper.

“Have you had enough of me, Dusty?”

A puff of air escaped his lips, and it took a full minute before he could speak. “Not even close.” He reached up and curled his hand around her neck, pulling her down to his waiting mouth. The kiss went from zero to sixty in a second flat. Then suddenly she was straddling him and he was sitting up, water dripping down his neck and over the cape.

“Me either,” she panted in between kisses. She pulled off the cape. “I can’t get enough.” Her hands slid up his chest, massaged his pecs, before grabbing the edges of his skirt and jerking it open in a staccato pop of snaps.

“Easy there,” Dusty said against her mouth. Although he spoke more to himself than to Brianne. He was locked and loaded and felt like it would take only one more undulation of her body to send him right over the edge. Unfortunately, Brianne was not a good listener.

She shook her head as she continued to ride him like a jockey on the home stretch. “I don’t want to go easy. I want it fast”—she nipped at his lip—“and hard.”

It was the “hard” that did him in. All restraint dissolved beneath a wall of carnal lust, and he came to his feet. Arranging Bri’s legs around him, he took control of the kiss, communicating his desire through tongue and lips. He carried her across the floor until they bumped into the counter in front of the mirror. With one swipe, he sent brushes, combs, and haircutting paraphernalia sailing to the floor. He jerked her skirt up and growled deep in his throat when he discovered that she didn’t have on any panties.

He unzipped his pants and was so consumed with lust that he didn’t even think about a condom until she pushed him back and pulled one out of her bra. In a flash of even teeth, she tore open the package. The first touch of her hands had him sucking wind.

“Easy there,” she teased as she stroked his shaft.

The feeling that washed over him was so intense that he tipped his head back and tried not to embarrass himself. As if realizing his need, she wasted no time slipping on the condom. And with just a little adjustment, he found himself surrounded by the tight walls of her body.

The fit was so perfect that he wanted to remain sheathed inside her forever. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, but his body had gone without for so long that it wasn’t willing to be put off for a second more. His hips pumped forward, thrusting deep and driving Bri back against the mirror. He expected her to protest. Instead, she set her hands on the counter, tightened her legs around his waist, and boldly met his next thrust.