“Sounds like she just needs help cleaning up bat droppings. Nothing wrong with that.”
Iona shoved the tub below the counter, then folded her arms across her ample bosom. “She’s from California,” the waitress said, as if no further explanation was needed. She gave one anyway. “Ada said that when the woman was in the motel, her jeans were real tight. She didn’t have a detectable panty line, so we figured she’s obviously wearing thong underwear, and the only reason a woman would ever wear something that uncomfortable is to show off for men. Everyone knows those California women play fast and loose.”
Dylan looked over his shoulder and watched Paris take the blond woman’s order. Ms. Spencer pointed to several different places on the menu, and by Paris’s pained expression, she was obviously one of those pain-in-the- ass “on the side” girls. Ms. Spencer looked like trouble, all right, but not the kind Iona meant. Dylan unhooked his bootheel and stood. “I guess I better go ask her about those panties,” he said. “Can’t have a woman walking around in a thong and me not knowing about it.”
“Sheriff, you’re bad.” Iona giggled like a teenager as he walked away, across the red-and-white linoleum, to the booth in the back.
When Ms. Spencer didn’t look up, he said, “Hello, there, heard you’ve had a real rough day.”
She gazed up at him then. Looked at him through the clearest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Blue the color of Sawtooth Lake. So clear he could see the bottom.
“You heard about my problem?”
“I heard about your bats.”
“I guess good news travels fast.”
She didn’t ask if he’d like to sit, and he didn’t wait for an invitation. He slid into the seat across from her.
“My son is one of the boys you paid to retrieve your purse.”
Her gaze moved over his face and she said, “Then Adam must belong to you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He settled back in the bench seat and folded his arms across his chest. Her expression gave nothing away. Purposely smooth, this woman was in control.
“I hope you don’t mind that I hired your son.”
“I don’t mind, but I think you overpaid those boys just to get your purse for you.” He made her nervous, which didn’t really tell him anything. His badge made most people nervous. Could mean she had unpaid parking tickets and nothing more. It could also mean she was hiding something, but as long as she stayed out of trouble, she could keep her secrets. Hell, he understood about secrets. He had a big one of his own. “I also hear you’re looking to hire young men to help you clean out that house.”
“I didn’t specify age. Frankly, I’d welcome your great-grandfather if he’d kill those damn bats for me.”
Dylan stretched his legs and his foot bumped hers. He’d crossed the boundary of her personal space, and as he suspected she would, she immediately drew her feet back and sat a bit straighter. He didn’t even try to hide his smile. “Bats won’t hurt you, Ms. Spencer.”
“I’ll just take your word for that, Sheriff,” she said, then glanced up as Paris set a glass of iced tea and a small plate of sliced lemons on the table.
“They don’t get any fresher than that.” Paris’s thick brows lowered over her brown eyes. “I just sliced them.”
The corners of Ms. Spencer’s lips turned up in a very insincere smile. “Thank you.”
Dylan had grown up with Paris. Played Red Rover and kickball with her in grade school, been in most of her classes in junior high, and listened to her valedictorian speech on graduation night. He’d have to say he knew her pretty well. She was usually pretty easygoing, but somehow, MZBHAVN had managed to irritate the hell of Paris.
“Ms. Spencer here is our newest citizen,” he said. “Appears she’s going to be staying out at the Donnelly place.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Growing up, he’d always felt a little sorry for Paris, and he’d always gone out of his way to treat her nice. She had beautiful long hair that she usually wore in a braid. Shy, she didn’t talk much, and while a man could appreciate that sometimes in a woman, she also had the misfortune of being built like her father, Jerome, tall, big-boned, with man-hands. A guy could overlook a lot of physical imperfections in a woman. A big nose and linebacker shoulders were one thing, but wide hands and beefy fingers were something a man really couldn’t overlook. They ranked up there with a mustache. A guy just couldn’t get himself excited about kissing a girl with facial hair, and there was absolutely no way he ever wanted to look down and see man-hands reaching for his Johnson.
“Can I get you something while you wait, Dylan?” she asked.
“Nothing, thanks, honey. I’m sure my burgers are just about up.” And it probably didn’t help that Paris’s mother was only slightly more feminine than her father.
Paris smiled and threaded her fingers in front of her stomach. “How did you like that raspberry cobbler I dropped off the other day?”
Dylan hated any sort of fruit with little seeds that got stuck in his teeth. Adam had taken one look at it, declared it looked “all bloody,” and they’d thrown it out. “Adam and I ate it with ice cream,” he lied to make her happy.
“Tomorrow’s my day off and I’m making up some Amish cakes. I’ll bring one by.”
“That’s real sweet of you, Paris.”
Her eyes lit. “I’m getting ready for the fair next month.”
“You planning on winning a few blue ribbons this year?”
“Of course.”
“Paris here,” he said, focusing his gaze on Ms. Spencer, “wins more blue ribbons than any other woman in the county.”
Ms. Spencer raised the glass of tea to her lips. “Oh, how thrilling for you,” she murmured before she took a drink.
Paris’s brows lowered again. “My next order is up,” she said and turned on her heel.
Dylan tilted his head to one side and chuckled. “You’ve been in town less than twenty-four hours, and I see you’re already making friends.”
“This town hasn’t exactly sent out the Welcome Wagon.” She set the glass on the table and licked a corner of her lips. “Of course, it may have come but I wasn’t home. I was standing in the lobby of the Sandman Motel, getting abused by a woman in sponge rollers.”
“Ada Dover? What’d she do?”
Ms. Spencer leaned back and relaxed a little. “She practically needed my entire family history just to rent me a room. She wanted to know if I’d been convicted of any crime, and when I asked her if she wanted a urine sample, she told me I might not be so ornery if my jeans weren’t so tight.”
Dylan remembered those jeans. They’d been tight, all right, but there were several women in town whose Wranglers were downright painful to look at. “It’s probably not personal. Ada takes her job too serious sometimes. Like she’s renting out rooms at the White House.”
“Hopefully I’ll be out of there by tomorrow afternoon.”
His gaze lowered to her full lips, and for a brief moment he allowed himself to wonder if she would taste as good as she looked. He wondered what it would be like to eat the lip gloss from her mouth and bury his nose in her hair. “You still planning on staying for the whole six months?”
“Of course.”
He still had his doubts about her lasting more than a few days, but if she planned to stay, he figured he should let her know exactly what she was in for. “Then let me give you some advice that I’m sure you don’t want, and I’m equally sure you won’t take.” He raised his gaze and put an end to his mind’s wanderings before he embarrassed himself. “This isn’t California. People here don’t care if you’re from Westwood or South Central. They don’t care if you own a Mercedes or an old Buick, and they don’t care about where you shop. If you want to see a movie, you have to drive to Sun Valley, and unless you have a satellite dish, you get four television stations.
“We have two grocery stores, three gas stations, and two restaurants. You’re sitting in one. The other is down the street, but I would advise you not to eat at the Spuds and Suds. They were shut down twice last year on account of health violations. We have two different churches and a large Four-H Club.
“Gospel also has five bars and five gun-and-tackle stores. Now, that should tell you something.”
She reached for her tea and raised it to her lips. “What, that I’ve moved to a town of alcoholic, gun-toting,
