A Match Made in Texas (24 page)

“Do you think it looks good there or over by the window?” Bri pointed to the castle dollhouse—the one thing in the room she hadn’t touched. It was Dusty’s gift to his daughter and something he needed to finish. Hopefully, he wouldn’t feel the same way about the room.

When she didn’t get a reply, Bri glanced over her shoulder. Beckett was leaning on the doorjamb with his arms crossed, and she was surprised at how much he resembled her other brothers. He had changed so much since graduating from college. Gone was the lanky boy who had trouble coordinating his feet, and in his place was a man who looked comfortable in his own skin.

A man who knew how to cut to the chase.

“So what’s going on?” He pushed away from the door and stepped closer to the bed. “And don’t give me that crap about it just being a fling. You don’t spend an entire day painting and wallpapering just for a fling. Especially when you’re not exactly the homemaker type.” She started to deny it, but he held up his hand. “I’m not saying that Mother didn’t train you to be the perfect little homemaker. I’m just saying that I’ve spent years listening to you complain about it. And now, you look as happy as a heifer in an alfalfa field. So what gives?”

“Maybe I just wanted to do something special for someone.” She left the castle where it was and brushed out a wrinkle in the bedspread. “Dusty has been so busy keeping the hens safe that he hasn’t had time to decorate his daughter’s room. I thought it would be the nice thing to do.”

Beckett snorted. “Yeah, right. When are you going to stop playing mind games, Bri? Not only with your family, but also with yourself? I understand why you did it as a child. I grew up in the same household. I know how hard it was to have three older brothers bossing you around and telling you what to do. Four, if you include Buckley. Although he died so young that I have only a few memories of him.”

Bri had no memories of her oldest brother, who had been hit by a train on prom night. She had been only five at the time of the accident and could remember nothing more than the sorrow that filled the house after his death.

“But you’re a grown woman now,” Beckett continued. “There’s no reason you can’t have an old boyfriend.”

She shot a glance over at him. “Dusty is not old.”

“I doubt that our parents would agree since he looks to be as old as Billy. But that’s just my point, Bri. You should’ve listened to what you preached to Rachel Dean. It doesn’t matter what Mama, Daddy, or anyone else thinks. It only matters what you think—how you feel. And if you want to date some old sheriff”—his eyes sparkled with mischief—“then that’s totally up to you. You shouldn’t have to sneak around or lie about it.”

“I’m not lying. Dusty isn’t my boyfriend. We’ve never even been out on a date together.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m not even sure he likes me.”

“But you like him.” It was a statement more than a question. And looking around the room, Bri couldn’t deny it.

“Yes.”

“Then go for it.” Beckett took her arms and gave her a little shake. “Decorate his house, fill his freezer with frozen dinners, clean his windows until they sparkle, and fix everyone’s hair in town. And don’t let our family keep you from it.” A look entered his eyes, determination mixed with a huge amount of sadness. “I have something to tell you, something I should’ve told everyone months ago. But like you, I was worried about disappointing my family.”

Bri reached up and cradled his chin. “You could never disappoint me, Beck. Don’t you know that? Is this about the job you were thinking of taking with Apple?” She smiled. “Brant and Billy will hate to lose you, but if it’s what you want…”

“No, that’s not the job I decided to take.” He released his breath in a long sigh that had fear tiptoeing down Bri’s spine before he spoke again.

“I joined the Marines.”

Chapter Twenty-five

D
USTY GOT OUT OF HIS CAR
and looked up at the clear blue west Texas sky. It was a glorious morning. The autumn air still held a tinge of coolness, and the afternoon winds had yet to pick up. As he walked up the pathway to Sam Winslow’s front door, he was surprised to find himself whistling a tune. He laughed when he realized it was the theme song to
The Andy Griffith Show
. Emmie had been humming it off and on during their visit on Saturday, and now it seemed to be stuck in his head.

Although he had to admit it was a catchy tune.

“For a man who has two counties to look after and a Mexican outlaw on the loose, you sure sound happy.”

Dusty paused with one foot on the bottom porch step and glanced over to see Sam sitting on an old couch at the far end of the porch with his foot propped up. Other than the bandaged foot, Sam looked happy and healthy.

Relieved, Dusty continued up the steps. “You should know that you can’t let this job get the best of you, Sam. Work is work, and your private life your private life.”

Sam grinned. “Then I guess it’s your private life that’s worth whistlin’ about.”

Dusty started to deny it and then realized that he couldn’t. In the last week, his private life had become something worth whistling about. And it all had to do with a little bit of a woman who had slipped under his skin without him even being aware of it.

He could argue that it was simply sexual, especially when they spent a good 70 percent of their time in bed. But no matter how good the sex was, it wasn’t what he enjoyed the most about his relationship with Bri. What he enjoyed the most was the companionship. He’d gone without for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to have someone who really listened to you. And not just listened, but cared.

Bri did both. Since coming back from Houston, he and Bri had been together every night. Sometimes, he’d stop by the Henhouse after he got off work, and sometimes, she’d meet him at the ranch. Wherever they’d decided to meet, she was always there to greet him with a kiss that knocked his socks off and four simple words that warmed his heart.

How was your day?

And then she would take his hand and lead him to the swing on Miss Hattie’s porch, or the small table in his kitchen, and give him her full attention. Once they talked about his day, they would talk about hers. She was still helping out Twyla while Kenny Gene was in the hospital and always seemed to have some funny story about the townsfolk that made him laugh. After they talked about their days, they might go for a run or work on Emmie’s castle or just eat dinner and continue to talk. It was those moments together that he enjoyed the most. Those moments that stayed with him during the day and had him whistling and grinning like an idiot.

Attempting to control the giddiness that had taken over his body, he sat down across from Sam and tried to change the subject. “So how’s your foot?”

“Better.” Sam shifted his foot on the pillow. “I guess you’re more than ready to stop doing two jobs. I’m shore sorry about that, Dusty.”

“No need to apologize. I know you’d do the same for me. Besides, things have been pretty quiet in Bramble since the good reverend left.”

Sam shook his head. “That man sure raised a ruckus, didn’t he?”

“He did that,” Dusty said. “But the townsfolk figured things out before he did too much damage. Rachel Dean has gone back to work at the diner, and the mayor has given up his notion about running for governor. And as soon as you’re back in uniform, Bramble will be back to normal.”

Instead of agreeing with Dusty, Sam didn’t say anything. He turned and looked out at the road. His reaction worried Dusty.

“What’s wrong, Sam? Is it your foot? Did Doc tell you something that you’re not telling me?”

It took a moment for Sam to glance back at him. “It’s not my foot. Doc plans to take the bandage off tomorrow and says I’ll be able to go back to work as long as I take it easy.”

“Well, that’s great news. So what’s the problem?”

Before he could answer, the screen door squeaked and Myra came out with a tray of lemonade. “I thought I heard voices. You’re just in time for a midday snack, Sheriff Hicks.” She set the tray down on the table before handing a glass of lemonade to each of them.

A lot of folks in town thought that Myra was a bit of a tyrant who kept Sam on a short leash. But having spent time at their house, Dusty knew better. Sam adored his wife, and she adored him. Which was evident by the way she carefully adjusted the pillow under Sam’s foot.

“Now don’t overdo, Sammy,” she said before she sent Dusty a smile and took the tray back inside. Even after she was gone, Sam still looked at the door with a smile on his face. The smile dropped when he turned to Dusty.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Especially after all you’ve done for me.” He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “But with the way Myra loves to gossip, I figure you’ll find out soon enough. And I’d rather you hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.” He cleared his throat. “I’m retirin’, Dusty.”

Dusty set down his glass of lemonade. “What? But why, Sam? Don’t tell me it has something to do with that fool of a reverend.”

Sam took a deep swallow of his lemonade. “Actually, it does. But not how you think. The reverend never tried to get me to quit. He just pointed out that a sheriff should be proficient with a firearm. Something I’m obviously not.”

Dusty was so angry he had a hard time not jumping to his feet. “A good sheriff doesn’t need to be as proficient with his gun as much as with people. And you’re the best people person I know. Why, you can talk a criminal straight into jail without firing a shot.”

Sam smiled sadly. “And that worked pretty well when all I had to deal with were a few petty criminals who didn’t carry guns. But nowadays, we’re dealing with big-time criminals who don’t care about killin’ innocent people. And I’d never forgive myself if someone in town got hurt because I couldn’t get my gun out of my holster.”

When Dusty started to say something, Sam held up his hand. “I’m glad you don’t want me to quit, Dusty. And I figure you want to blame the reverend for my decision. But I was thinkin’ about this long before he ever arrived in town. The accident just forced me to make the decision.” He took his injured foot off the table and leaned over to pat Dusty’s hand. “It’s time, boy. And you’ll know what I’m talkin’ about when you get there.”

“So who’s going to take your place?”

Sam just smiled. “I guess that will be up to the voters of Bramble.”

Dusty didn’t feel much in the whistling mood after leaving Sam’s. All he needed was to have to deal with a new sheriff. He only hoped that the town didn’t elect Kenny Gene. As he drove down Main Street, he couldn’t help feeling more than a little relieved that things were back to normal. Josephine’s Diner’s parking lot was filled to capacity. Darla sat on the park bench in front of Sutter’s Pharmacy, knitting and yakking away to Moses Tate, who appeared to be sound asleep. And there was no sight of bicycles or biking shorts. In fact, Harley was dressed normally and helping Rye Pickett hang a banner across the street to advertise the Fall Festival.

He waved jovially as Dusty cruised by, bumping the ladder and almost knocking Rye off.

Dusty watched in his rearview mirror to make sure Rye caught his balance before he turned off Main and headed for Twyla’s salon. In the last week, he’d avoided the salon. Simply because he didn’t trust himself. And the last thing he needed was someone walking in while he had Bri up on the counter. But today he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see her. Not because he wanted to make love with her—although he always wanted that—but because he wanted to talk with her about what Sam had told him.

Except when he stepped in the side door, he didn’t find Bri in her cute little minishirt and red heels. He found Twyla sitting in the swivel chair and talking on the phone.

“… well, we didn’t set a date exactly. But Kenny Gene said that God had given him a vision after he got shot of me in a camouflaged huntin’ outfit sittin’ on a cooler of beer. And why else would I be in a camouflaged huntin’ outfit unless I was married to him? It was a sign from God that we’re gonna be hitched before next huntin’ season—” She glanced up and a brilliant smile lit her face. “Gotta go, honey. Sheriff Hicks is here for a haircut.”

Dusty waited for her to hang up the phone before he spoke. “Actually, I’m looking for—”

“Willie.” Twyla’s face fell. “You and everyone else. If she wasn’t such a sweetie, I’d think she was out to steal my bid-ness.”

He looked around. “So where is she?”

“Well, she was here, but then Bubba, I mean Billy, showed up, and she left in a hurry. I guess she doesn’t realize that he’s already taken.”

Dusty had heard that Billy and Shirlene were back from their cruise. For a moment, he actually contemplated driving out to their mansion on some trumped-up excuse. But then he realized what a mistake it would be. Especially when he was having the hardest time controlling his emotions where the woman was concerned. Even now, Twyla read the disappointment on his face.

“Now don’t be lookin’ so sad.” She picked up the plastic cape. “I can give you a haircut just as good as Willie, if not better.”

Luckily, before Dusty had to come up with an excuse, Cora Lee’s voice came through the radio.

“Your friend Ryker called and needs you to call him.”

Dusty unhooked the radio and pressed the side button. “Roger that.” He hooked it back on his belt as he spoke to Twyla. “Sorry, Twyla, I’ll have to take a rain check on that haircut.” Pushing open the screen door, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.