Читать книгу The Sheriff's Secret Wife - Christyne Butler, Christyne Butler - Страница 9

Gage stepped from Max’s office into the deafening noise, leaned against the wall and became one with the shadows. The Blue Creek was rocking with a live band, typical for a Saturday night. Bodies filled the dance floor and tempting smells wafted from the kitchen, causing his stomach to rumble. He’d missed dinner, thanks to spending most of the evening dealing with the twins and his mother.

Since their father’s death ten years ago, his mother often took a soft road with his youngest sister and brother, resulting in him drawing a hard line when it came to their adolescent antics. Officially, they’d gotten off with a warning, but both were grounded for a month.

Damn, days like this he really missed his old man.

Gage had never got away with anything growing up. Then again, having your father as the town sheriff pretty much guaranteed you’d either be a rebel or a straight-up kid.

He’d been straight as an arrow. Not Garrett and Giselle. First graders when their father was gunned down during a drug bust gone bad, they’d gone from good kids to troublemakers in record time. He knew heartache was the driving force behind their behavior and their mother had been lost in her own grief-stricken haze. He’d returned from Washington, D.C., to make funeral arrangements, and moved back permanently a month later, leaving behind his dreams of working for the FBI, to take care of his family.

A family that at the moment was driving him crazy.

Not to mention that, at least legally, his family included Racy Dillon. As he’d often learned over the last ten years, sometimes life kicked you right in the ass.

His eyes followed Racy as she worked the main bar alongside two other bartenders, whose names didn’t register in his brain. Nothing registered except for the trim, toned skin on display.

She had on something that looked like the top half of a bikini. Two scraps of dark material covered her breasts while below swayed a row of fringe that reached her navel and the glittery stone pierced there.

Except for the twin knots behind her neck and between her shoulder blades, her back was entirely exposed, thanks to her long red curls piled in a messy knot on top of her head. Low-rider jeans completed the look.

Gage dropped his head back against the wall and sighed. Ever since that crazy weekend in Vegas, his usually neat and orderly life had slowly slid out of control.

First Racy, and now Gina and the twins. Oh, and let’s not forget his mother. When he’d finally reached her today, she’d been out at Hank Jarvis’s place. Hanging curtains. A long-time family friend and widower for almost three decades, Hank worked at the Crescent Moon, Maggie Stevens’s ranch.

Gage had been surprised as his mother’s only interests since his dad died were the kids, and in the last couple of years, her job decorating cakes for the local inn. When asked, she’d insisted she and Hank were only friends. The pretty pink blush on her cheeks had told a different story.

He was yanked from his thoughts when Racy leaned across the bar, getting nose-to-nose with a customer. His stomach clenched. Good thing it was Willie Perkins, a local cowboy old enough to be his grandfather, or Gage would’ve—

Would’ve what?

So, she made him horny. Hell, she probably had that effect on every guy in the bar if their body parts worked properly.

But he knew what it was like to hold her in his arms.

Over the last five months, every exacting detail of their night together in Vegas had returned. He remembered the dusky scent of her skin, a mixture of vanilla and lime. The way her hands trembled when she touched him and the catch of her breath when his mouth found certain sensitive places on her body, like the small of her back, the inside of her elbow and the underside of her breasts.

Gage shifted his stance thanks to the pressure building behind his zipper. Damn, he felt like a Peeping Tom up here.

He’d returned to his rounds at The Blue Creek a little over a month ago. With Max’s okay, he used his office as easy access to a spot that offered him a view of everything that went on in the bar. It also allowed him to watch his deputies to judge how they responded to any incidents.

And yeah, he could watch Racy.

She worked the back side of the bar, letting the other girls deal directly with the customers, easily handling three mixers and never missing a beat while popping the tops off ice-cold longnecks. She loaded them on a tray held by one of her waitresses. He didn’t recognize her, but it didn’t matter. He was only interested in keeping an eye on one other person and that was Gina. He scanned the crowd. Sexy waitress, sexy waitress, sexy wait—

Whoa, back up!

The waitress with the full tray turned. Gage registered her trim figure and long dark hair, but missing was the usual ponytail and glasses. That was no waitress. That was his sister.

“Wow, look at you!”

Racy felt more than heard the voice over her shoulder, thanks to the rocking country music. She turned and found her best friend, Maggie Stevens, soon to be Maggie Cartwright, standing behind her.

She shot a quick glance down at her outfit while moving to the end of the bar. “Yeah, look at me.”

Maggie reached out, her fingers brushing at the fringe. “I love this! I’d never be able to pull it off, but on you …”

“Looks can be deceiving. I’m freezing my ass off.”

“What’s up with you behind the bar? You usually let the girls run the show.”

“I’m trying to stay warm.”

Confusion filled Maggie’s eyes for a moment, then she smiled. “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?”

“Oh, come on. Tell me you’re not wearing that for a certain hunky sheriff.”

Thankful when one of the bartenders called her name, Racy ducked back behind the three feet of wood. She tossed the requested bottle of whiskey to Jackie, confident her assistant manager would catch it. She took an extra minute to ensure her face was devoid of any expression before she turned back.

“What sheriff?”

Maggie leaned in. “Look, I know I’ve been distracted with the wedding—”

“And you have every right to be.” Racy cut her off. “You waited a long time for the right man to come along. You deserve to be distracted … and happy.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time to listen.”

“To what?”

“You’ve been quiet—too quiet—about Gage since you two got back from Vegas.”

“You sound like we were there together.” It took all Racy’s strength not to look up to the balcony. She knew he was there. Never mind the fact she hadn’t seen him. “Besides, I told you we ran into each other a few times in the hotel. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you have other things to worry about?” Racy latched on to the topic most likely to be on her best friend’s mind, her upcoming wedding. “Like my bridesmaid’s dress?”

Maggie smiled. “You haven’t read your mail today?”

Racy shook her head. The only letter she’d had time to read today was the one Gage had given her. A lot of legal double-talk that came to the same conclusion.

She and the sheriff were still legally man and wife.

The date on the notice was over two weeks old. She’d fumed that he’d known about this mess for that long and only told her today, after he’d found out about his sister taking a job here.

“No, I was working with a new waitress and one emergency after another happened in the kitchen this afternoon.”

“I put a note in your wedding invitation. The dresses are all set except for the final fitting. You’re going to knock him for a loop when he sees you.”

“Knock who?”

Maggie grinned then said, “Of course, it doesn’t quite have the flair of this outfit. I think something’s brewing—”

“The only thing brewing is a wicked headache,” Racy paused when the band announced it was taking a break. She hit the switch on the bar’s stereo system and recorded music filled the air. “And a good case of frostbite.”

“Okay, I give up. You got any plans for tomorrow?”

Racy shook her head. “Nope. What’s up?”

“How about getting with Leeann for lunch around noon?”

“Are you sure the good deputy is going to show? She’s blown us off more times than I can count.”

Maggie nodded and Racy read worry in her gaze over their best friend. “She’s the one who suggested it. Did you know whoever bought her family’s land last year finally tore down the remains of the house?”

“There wasn’t much left after the fire.”

“And still Leeann held on to it. I think selling was the best thing she’s done in a long time. But to know someone is building there again …”

Racy frowned as Maggie’s voice faded. Their friend’s childhood home, an antebellum-style mansion, was situated on the side of a mountain surrounded by acres of land. When a fire had destroyed the house five years ago, many had been surprised Leeann didn’t sell outright, or rebuild when she’d finally moved back to town.

“Maybe the corporation that bought it is going to make it into some kind of resort. Anyway, count me in.” Racy noticed the arrival of Maggie’s fiancé, Landon Cartwright, as he strolled through the archway leading from the main entrance. “Hey, your honey just walked in. Who’s the cowboy with him?”

Pure joy filled Maggie’s expression before she looked over her shoulder. Racy was happy for her friend. If anyone deserved to be loved by a good man it was Maggie.

“That’s Chase, my future brother-in-law.” Maggie turned back. “He’s here for the wedding.”

Racy took in the man’s tall frame and wide shoulders. He was a few inches shorter than Landon, but shared the same sharp facial features and dark skin, even in the dead of winter. He filled out his cotton shirt and jeans nicely, drawing more than a few feminine glances his way.

She waited for the zing of attraction. Nothing. Why was it no man stole the air from her lungs? Or made all the interesting parts of her body turn to mush?

Nowadays, only one man made her feel anything, and at the moment it was pure loathing. And to get back at that man, Chase Cartwright would be perfect for what she had in mind.

“Do you think he’d be up for a little fun?”

“Why? What are you planning?”

She nodded toward the bar. “I think it’s time for another Racy Special.”

“Are you serious? You haven’t done one in months after that last guy—e www! That was not fun to watch.”

“I swore that one was going to be my last, but something’s come up—anyway, my tip jar is getting low.” Racy slipped a folded bill into Maggie’s hand. “Here, give this to your brother-in-law and explain how it works, okay? I don’t want to take his money.”

“Why do I get the feeling this has to do with Gage?”

“Because you’re too smart for your own good.” Racy grinned. “Go on, your family’s waiting. And be nice to your waitress. She’s new.”

Maggie eyed the young girl at their table. “She looks familiar.”

“That’s Gina Steele.” Racy grabbed the microphone from behind the bar.

“Gage’s sister? The whiz kid?”

“That’s her.”

“First his sister—” Maggie waved at the bar “—and now this? I thought you said Gage hasn’t been inhere in a while.”

“I said I haven’t seen him here.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I’m going to ply you with margaritas at my bachelorette party to get the whole scoop on this,” Maggie whispered, then turned and headed for her fiancé.

Yeah, like she was going to spill how too much booze and an old dream had caused her to make the biggest mistake of her life.

Racy locked down any Vegas memories before they could surface. A trick she was getting pretty good at lately.

She brushed a hand against the trophy, a physical reminder of what really mattered. A quick yank on a few well-placed bobby pins, and her hair fell past her shoulders. She whispered her plans to her fellow bartender and, thanks to a step stool and the vertical cooler, stood on the L-shaped bar.

A piercing whistle got everyone’s attention. She rarely got up here anymore, preferring to stick to choreographing the Belles’ dance routines.

Tonight was different. With her back to the balcony, she couldn’t see the man who technically had been her husband for the last five months, but her skin tingled.

He was watching.

“Welcome to The Blue Creek!” She addressed the crowd and they cheered. “It might be cold and snowy outside, but it’s hot in here. And while the band is taking a well-earned break, I think it’s time we raise the heat!”

Ignoring the surprised looks from her waitresses, Racy waved to the girls who made up the dance team. The cheers from the crowd grew when they joined her on the bar. “It’s time for a down-home boot stomping!”

The music started and Racy fell into the familiar steps. She dipped and stomped and grabbed Willie’s tattered straw cowboy hat, plopping it right on her head.

Exaggerating the curve of her hips, she turned to face the shadowed balcony, the hat low over her eyes to conceal the direction of her stare. The short end of the bar was hers alone and she made good use of the space.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she pictured Gage’s blue eyes turning a stormy indigo like they did when he got angry. Or turned on. It was part of the ever-growing collection of memories that continued to haunt her.

One of her favorites was the two of them on the dance floor. Their bodies so close she felt the outline of every hard muscle. His hands clenched her hips as she moved against him, never breaking eye contact. Song after song, until he pulled her off the dance floor and into a dark alcove. The width of his shoulders blocked the outside world, the wide brim of his Stetson created a private canopy as he pressed her against the wall with a kiss that stole her breath.

The music ended and the bar erupted in thunderous applause. Racy bowed, and blamed the wild beating of her heart on the dancing as she handed Willie back his hat.

“Let’s hear it for the Blue Creek Belles!” She huffed into the microphone, pushing the words past her dry throat.

One down. One to go.

“Ya’ll enjoy that?” She was rewarded with cheers while her girls got down from the bar. “I bet ya’ll have worked up a mighty thirst. I know I did.”

She motioned to Jackie, who recognized the hand signal. Seconds later, a shot glass filled with a golden liquid was handed to her. To the crowd it was tequila. To Racy it was ice-cold apple juice and not nearly enough to quench her thirst.

She tossed it back, took a deep breath and, for a moment, questioned if she was doing the right thing.

But she couldn’t back out now.

Gage knew what was coming.

Hell, he was still trying to recover from her dancing. Every bump and grind of her hips brought back to life the hours he’d spent with her. The same red waves he’d buried his face in flew over her shoulders and skimmed across her naked back. The dark blue fringe of her top brushed against the toned stomach he’d covered in a trail of wet kisses.

It had been years since she’d danced with the girls, but she still had the moves. Moves he was intimately familiar with. It wasn’t until the music stopped that he managed to get his breathing under control. Now she was going to—

Racy held up the empty glass. “Anyone else want one?”

She laughed when the crowd shouted in agreement and surged forward. Gage immediately sought out his sister. Relief filled his chest when he found her against the back wall with another waitress and one of the bouncers.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Racy’s singsong voice called out over the crowd, pulling Gage’s attention back to her. “Seeing how my tip jar is getting low, I think we need a special….”

The regulars in the crowd knew what was coming and roared their approval.

Damn, it was getting warm in here. Gage yanked down the zipper of his bomber jacket, desire tightening his chest.

“Now, what I need is a very thirsty cowboy, but not just any cowboy.” I need someone with all the right moves … who is willing to part with his money!” Racy held aloft the empty shot glass. “The going rate for a Racy Special is one hundred dollars. Do I have any takers?”

Despite the absurd price, there were plenty of men willing to part with their cash. When word spread just what a Racy Special included, even more hands shot into the air.

He couldn’t believe she was still pulling this stunt.

“So many choices.” Racy dropped her voice to a throaty rumble. “The tall, dark and handsome stranger in the back.” She waved at a man who moved through the crowd toward the bar. Gage zeroed in on him, noting he was everything Racy said. “You got the cash, honey?”

The man smiled and held up a hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Gage caught something familiar in his face. Did he know this guy?

“What’s your name, sugar?” Racy asked, taking the money and making a show of tucking it into the deep V of her top.

“Chase.” The man’s deep voice carried over the microphone.

“You’re not one of our locals, Chase,” Racy said. “Don’t tell me you’re a University of Wyoming Cowboy?”

Racy’s question brought more cheers as the band broke into “Ragtime Cowboy Joe,” the university fight song. The University of Wyoming in Laramie was less than an hour’s drive south, and The Blue Creek was a favorite among the college crowd.

“It’s a few years since my college days,” the man said when Racy stuck the microphone under his nose again. “I’m from Texas.”

“Oh, Texas … love that Southern drawl.”

Gage thought he was going to puke.

“Okay, let’s give a paying customer some room.” Racy waved away the bar patrons, who moved back into the crowd, taking their drinks with them. She traded her empty shot glass for one filled to the brim, then slowly turned to face the cowboy.

“That’s it?” he asked, looking up at her on the bar.

“Oh, no, I’m not done with you yet.”

Gage’s gut tightened into a painful knot.

Racy backed up and crooked her finger, motioning the cowboy to join her. He grinned and easily climbed up on the scarred wood surface.

From this angle, Gage couldn’t see the man’s expression, but he could imagine what he was thinking with almost six feet of toned, sexy female standing right there in front of him.

“Now, sweeties, you hold on to me while I hold on to this,” Racy said, before handing off the microphone and raising the shot glass over her head.

Gage’s hands curled into fists as the crowd roared its approval when the music started again.

Racy once again put her arsenal of bumps and grinds to good use as the cowboy took her in his arms in a modified two-step. She didn’t spill a drop while they moved in a timeless rhythm that would’ve been blatantly sexual if they’d been horizontal.

A hot jolt of something he refused to label raced through Gage’s veins as he watched. A rush of pent-up air escaped his lips when the music finally ended and the crowd applauded.

Racy spoke but he couldn’t hear her words as the cheering grew louder when the cowboy nodded. She motioned to the bar where a saltshaker and wedge of lime sat on a small tray. With one hand on his shoulder, she directed the cowboy to his knees.

“Now, a Racy S-special isn’t just a s-shot of Mexican blue agave tequila reposado.”

Her voice shook as she spoke, the crowd now hushed. “To do this properly you need the right inducements.”

Gage mentally nailed his boots to the floor. It took every ounce of his willpower not to march downstairs and yank her ass off the bar. What the hell was she trying to prove? Hadn’t she learned—

Wait, did she just look up at him?

She pulled in a deep breath, her voice strong again as she swung her long curls off the face with a practiced toss of her head. “Let me demonstrate. The rest of you are welcome to watch so you can try this in the privacy of your own home.”

Taking the saltshaker from the cowboy’s outstretched hand, she raised her left wrist to her mouth. Gage could’ve sworn she was staring right at him as her tongue left a damp path on her skin. She then held the arm and sprinkled salt over the area.

Moving closer, she balanced her salt-encrusted arm on his shoulder and held the shot glass inches from his mouth. Piercing whistles and catcalls raced through the crowd.

“Don’t make me laugh, ya’ll, can’t spill good booze.” Racy addressed the crowd before turning her attention back to the cowboy. “Okay, sugar. You’re welcome to take your shot whenever you’re ready.”

Again, her gaze lifted to her overhead lights. No, that wasn’t right. She was staring up at the balcony. At him.

The cowboy remained still for a long moment. Then he rose, ignoring her salt-covered skin and tossing the lime over his shoulder. Leaning forward, he captured the shot glass with his mouth, tipped his head back and downed the booze in one swallow before releasing the glass into his hand.

The crowd cheered and the band went live with a rocking country song when the cowboy lifted Racy’s hand to his mouth and kissed it before jumping back to the floor.

Gage found himself torn between respect for the guy and the urge to tear the man’s heart out of his chest.

Lucky bastard.

Racy tried to concentrate on the computer screen. Chase Cartwright’s words, whispered before he’d jumped off the bar, still rang in her ears. At first, she’d had no idea what he was talking about. Then he’d winked and said if she needed any help making her guy jealous, he’d be in town for a couple of weeks.

Her guy? Yeah, right.

She’d mumbled thanks and spent the rest of the night trying to justify to herself why she’d done it. Had it been worth it? She wasn’t sure Gage had seen her performance. Keeping an eye out for him the rest of the night had produced nothing. If he was in the bar, he’d managed to stay hidden.

Until closing time.

She and Max had decided to close up an hour early due to a surprise snowstorm predicted to accumulate several inches. After the staff had cleaned up, Gina had given her a hug goodbye. Racy had quickly picked up that she was upset.

When she had pressed, thinking it was job related, Gina had said her jailer was waiting to take her home. Powerless not to, she’d looked and found Gage’s hard stare directed at her.

Too far away to see his eyes, his clenched jaw and his arms folded over his chest told her either he’d indeed witnessed her entire act or he was still pissed about his sister working here.