A Match Made in Texas (9 page)

“This is such bull—”

The judge pounded twice on the desk with his fist. “I’ll warn you to watch your mouth, Dusty, or I’ll have to charge you with contempt.”

Sheriff Hicks stepped closer to the desk. “Contempt? This is my office, not a courtroom.”

“As a district judge, any place I’m presiding is a courtroom. And I’ll thank you to remember that.” He sat back and steepled his fingers beneath his stubbly chin, his gaze pinning the sheriff. “You okay, son? Is the stress of the job gettin’ to you? You seem a little hot around the collar for a mere pepper sprayin’.”

A laugh slipped out of Bri’s mouth before she could stop it. She coughed to try to cover it, but it was obvious that the sheriff knew better.

“Just set bail,” he growled.

The judge sat up and cleared his throat. “Now I don’t think there’s any need for that. In fact, since Ms. Cates has pleaded guilty to all charges and offered to pay for any damages, I don’t see why we can’t settle this without bringing bail or a jury into it.”

Bri smiled. “That sounds perfectly acceptable to me, Judge. And please… call me Brianne.” She shot a glance over at the sheriff. “After all, we’re almost like family.”

Sheriff Hicks leaned his knuckles on the desk and glared at the judge. “So you’re just going to let her go scot-free.”

“Of course not. People need to take responsibility for their actions.” He looked back at Bri and winked. “What would you think of a little community service?”

The sheriff emitted a growl as Bri smiled brightly. “I think that would be just fine and dandy. I’ve always believed in giving back to the community. And I was wondering, Judge Seeley, if we might keep this little episode as confidential as possible. You know how things like this can get blown out of proportion with the press.” She paused for just a second. “And it might be best if we didn’t mention it to my family, either.”

Since her brothers hadn’t shown up, that could mean only one thing: Minnie hadn’t told them. If that was the case, Bri certainly wasn’t about to.

“Why, of course, Brianne. No need for anyone to catch wind of this.” He glanced over at the sheriff, who now looked more than hot under the collar. He looked like he was about to explode. His hands were clenched in fists, and the veins in his neck protruded. “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Sheriff?”

The sheriff didn’t answer. He just stood there mad-dogging the judge, who seemed to be completely unaware of the anger directed at him. The judge got to his feet and headed for the door.

“All we need now is to draw up the paperwork. And rather than take Cora Lee from her exercise ball, I’ll just…” His voice faded as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Being stuck in the same room with a surly sheriff was not Bri’s idea of a good time. She got up with every intention of following the judge when Hicks stepped in front of the door and blocked her way.

“You’re not getting away with it. I don’t care what the judge says.”

If Bri had learned anything from her brothers, it was “show no fear.” So she tipped up her head and sent him a superior look. “Oh, but I think I have gotten away with it.”

A muscle twitched at the right corner of his mouth. Figuring that it was probably best to put some space between them, she turned on her heel and strolled around the desk in the pretense of studying the books on the shelves. But that wasn’t the only reason she moved away. There was something about being close to the man that took all the oxygen out of the air. Which was exactly how she had ended up kissing him in the jail cell. One minute, she’d lost her balance, and the next, she was in his arms, experiencing the same feeling she got the first time she went skydiving—all breathless and filled with heart-stopping adrenaline.

Even across the room from him, she was having trouble breathing. And keeping her eyes off the handcuffs that dangled from his belt. In an attempt to get some kind of control over her crazy emotions, she turned her back to him.

“You’re a very angry man, aren’t you?” she said.

“Only when the scales of justice tip the wrong way.”

She studied the framed Texas Tech diploma on the shelf, somewhat surprised that he had graduated from college. “Let’s be honest, we aren’t talking about a major crime here. All I did was wound your pride. You’re just upset because you got bested by a girl, and now you want to get even.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he spoke. “Probably.”

The truthful answer had her glancing over her shoulder. He didn’t look angry anymore. His fists had relaxed, and his neck held only the bump of his Adam’s apple and some stubble that he’d missed with his razor.

“So what is it going to take to make you forgive and forget?” she asked, turning back to the shelves.

“You doing more than just handing out canned goods at the local food bank.”

“How about if I pick up trash on the highway or clean out porta-potties? Will that soothe your ego enough?” A cluster of photos on the second shelf caught her attention. One was of a chubby, bald-headed baby cocooned in the crook of a man’s muscled arm. Another of a cute blond toddler. The last was of the same little girl at about three.

Bri had no more than picked up the picture to examine it when the sheriff walked over and pulled it from her hand.

“This isn’t just about my ego,” he said. “It’s about justice. Things should be fair for all people. Not just the ones who have money.”

“Ahh,” she said. “So that’s it. You have a thing against wealthy people.”

His gaze moved down to the photo. “I have a thing against people who think they’re above the rules. Spoiled people who don’t care about anyone but themselves and their own selfish wants and desires.” When his gaze lifted, it was cold and chilling. “And I won’t forget or forgive, Miz Cates. You can count on it.”

Just then the door opened, and Judge Seeley walked in with Cora Lee close behind him.

“So have we called a truce?” he asked as Cora set a stack of papers on the desk. She gave Bri an almost sympathetic smile before scurrying back out. Before Bri could give much thought to what that smile meant, the sheriff answered the judge’s question.

“Not hardly.”

Judge Seeley frowned. “Now that’s too bad. A little friendliness would make things a lot easier.” He held out a pen to Bri. “Just sign on all the lines that Cora highlighted.”

Bri didn’t waste any time taking the pen. If she hurried, she might still have a chance to make sure Minnie didn’t contact her brothers. Without one glance at the documents, she signed each highlighted line, then handed the pen back to the judge.

He took it and released his breath. “So that’s that.”

Bri held out her hand. “Thank you, Judge Seeley. And I hope you will stop by Dogwood real soon and say hi to the family. But for now, would it be too much to ask for a ride out to Miss Hattie’s?” When the judge looked a little surprised, she quickly amended. “Of course, if you’re worried about your reputation—”

“Not at all,” the judge said. “Minnie and I go way back. It’s just that I thought that you understood the conditions of your release. You can’t go back to Miss Hattie’s until you start your community service.”

Her eyes widened. “Today?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Seein’ as it’s still early, I think it’s an ideal time.”

Since the judge had already been so lenient, there was nothing for Bri to do but nod. “Of course. I’ll just call Miss Minnie and let her know I’ll be home a little later.”

“No need for that.” The judge grabbed his bright orange cap that was hooked on the back of the chair. “I already talked with Miss Minnie, and she knows that for the next two weeks you won’t be gettin’ home until late.”

Two weeks?

Bri’s mouth dropped open, and she stood there staring at the judge for what felt like a good five minutes before she could find her voice. “Exactly what will I be doing for two entire weeks?”

The judge pulled on his cap, the side flaps dangling down over his ears. “You’ll have to ask the sheriff that since your community service is becoming his new housekeeper.”

“What?” the sheriff and Bri both said in unison.

The judge only smiled at their shock. “It’s a great idea, isn’t it? Seein’ as how the sheriff was the one who suffered, it seems only fair that he should be the one who benefits from your community service. Of course, I didn’t come up with it entirely on my own. Miss Minnie was the one who called my cell and got me here. The one who, after finding out about Dusty losing his housekeeper, suggested the perfect solution.”

“Minnie did this?” Bri’s voice had become shrill and unfamiliar.

The judge chuckled and shook his head. “That woman has always had a good head on her shoulders.”

“A crazy head!” The words slipped out of Bri’s mouth as her anger started to build. “And you’re even crazier if you think that I’m going to work for that man.” She jabbed a finger at the sheriff. “This is America, and you can’t force a woman into servitude.”

The smile left the judge’s face, replaced with confusion. “But I thought you agreed with the terms.” He nodded down at the signed papers. “And it’s not servitude as much as community service. A community can’t have a stressed-out sheriff. And anyone can see that Dusty’s anger is due to the stress he’s been under since his housekeeper up and quit on him. A man can’t have pressure at work and pressure at home. A man needs a clean house and a warm meal to replenish his mind and body.”

“So you’re giving Miz Cates to me?”

The deep voice of the sheriff cut in, and Bri glanced over at him. His sullen anger was gone. Now he looked smug, like a cat that was holding a mouse in his mouth just waiting to swallow.

“As if!” Her eyes narrowed on him before she turned back to the judge. “You’ll have to find him another housekeeper. I’ll even be happy to pay her time and a half—no doubt she’ll earn it working for such an angry man.”

The judge gave her a stern, fatherly look. “Now, Brianne, I’m sure your folks would agree that you owe more than just money to the sheriff. And a little light housekeepin’ for two weeks isn’t gonna hurt you.” He picked up the papers. “But if you’d rather go through the system, I can set bail and call your brothers so they can get their lawyers—”

“Fine!” she snapped. “I’ll work for the sheriff.”

Judge Seeley’s shoulders relaxed. “Now, that’s my girl. I’ll just go get Cora to make copies of these.”

Once the door had clicked closed behind him, Bri turned to Sheriff Hicks, who was now leaning on the desk.

“I assume by that smug look on your face that this will appease your desire for revenge, Sheriff,” she said.

“Nope.” He folded his arms over his chest. “But it’s a start.”

Chapter Nine

B
RI WASN’T SURPRISED THAT
Sheriff Hicks didn’t live within the city limits of Culver. Most people from small towns didn’t live in the actual town. Bri’s parents’ farm was seventeen miles from Dogwood. And Brant and Elizabeth’s hundred-acre spread a good twenty.

What did surprise Bri was the size and condition of the house that the sheriff pulled up to. It was no more than an adobe shack with a sun-bleached door and a front window with a huge crack angling down the center.

“You don’t need a housekeeper. You need a bulldozer.” It was the first time she’d spoken since climbing into his squad car, and as soon as the words were out, she felt a twinge of remorse. No matter the circumstances, her mama had raised her to be polite and kind, not rude and heartless. She started to apology when he spoke.

“Now, why would I need a bulldozer when I have me a slave?” He turned those mirrored glasses on her for a brief second before opening the door and getting out.

Bri watched as he rounded the hood of the car. He was almost to the front door before it dawned on her that he had no intention of opening her door. His breach of manners should’ve annoyed her; instead, it was liberating. Why did she have to be nice and mannerly to a man who had obviously been raised in a barn?

With something that felt an awful lot like relief, Bri climbed out and followed him inside. She stepped over the threshold to find him pushing back the heavy drapes that hung over the window.

The front room was small and had a kiva-style fireplace on one side and a tiny kitchen on the other. There was very little furniture. A worn recliner and wooden rocker sat in front of the fireplace, and a small table and mismatched chairs separated the living room from the kitchen. The walls could’ve used a good coat of paint and some pictures, but the floor looked like it had recently been tiled. The red Saltillo tiles shone in the little bit of sunshine that was strong enough to filter through the dirty glass of the window.

“You can start with the windows,” the sheriff said as he walked into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels.

Bri really wanted to use the standard “I don’t do windows,” but she bit back the words. It was only two weeks and much better than the alternative.

She started toward him to take the cleaning items and tripped over the crumpled edge of a throw rug, landing hard against the sheriff’s chest. It was becoming a regular occurrence. A rather nice occurrence.