Nothing But Trouble. BEVERLY BARTON
Tallie smiled, straightened her shoulders and prepared herself to endure his wrath. Although Peyton Rand was usually a calm, controlled, easygoing man, Tallie knew she possessed the power to dent his Southern-gentleman facade.
He slammed his leather briefcase down onto the table. Leaning over slightly, he splayed his big hands on each side of the briefcase, then glared at Tallie.
“You’ve done some stupid things before, Tallulah Bankhead Bishop, but this has to be the—”
Oh, he was really angry. He’d called her Tallulah! “I warned him to stop, Peyton. I promise I did.” Tallie took several steps forward, her hands cuffed behind her back. “He was beating Richie. Kicking him around. I couldn’t just stand there and let him hurt that child, now, could I?”
Straightening to his full six-foot-two height, Peyton bent his arms at the elbows and threw open his hands, knotting his palms into half-closed fists. “Okay, so you had to do something to stop him, but did you have to shoot Nolan with birdshot?”
“What was I supposed to do?” Tallie inched her way toward Peyton, one cautious step at a time, looking up at him with what she hoped was a remorseful expression on her face.
“You had Solomon with you, didn’t you?” Peyton reached out and grabbed Tallie by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. A shiver of awareness zipped through his body, reminding him of why he shouldn’t touch Tallie. Regardless of his unwanted attraction to the woman, the fact remained that she was bad news. “Why didn’t you let Solomon handle Cliff Nolan?”
“Hell’s toenails, Peyt, if I’d let Solomon attack Cliff, I’d be in here on murder charges instead of assault.”
“You’re going to be able to get her off, aren’t you, Mr. Rand?” Wanda Simple asked. “This whole town knows Cliff Nolan is a no-good skunk, always manhandling Loretta and those kids. Tallie just did what she thought was right.”
“Well, I hope the judge will see it that way.” Releasing his hold on her, Peyton shook his head. Why, dear God, why had he been cursed with the responsibility of Tallie Bishop? If ever there were two people on earth who were a mismatched set, it was Tallie and him. “I came straight from Jackson, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to Clayburn about your bail. But I have talked to Lowell, and you can thank him that the charges aren’t assault with intent.”
“I’ve already thanked him.” Tallie realized that nothing she said or did would soften Peyton’s attitude, and she couldn’t much blame him. Ever since her brothers had left Crooked Oak to find their own way in the world, Peyton had acted as their substitute, trying to look out for his friends’ kid sister—a kid sister who, at twenty-six, should have known better than to shoot a man.
“I’ll see if Clayburn won’t go ahead and set bail so I can get you out of here today.” Peyton glanced at Tallie’s arms, arched behind her back to accommodate the handcuffs. “Wanda, take this little heathen to her cell until I can make arrangements with Judge Proctor.” Pointing his index finger at Tallie, he said, “It would serve you right if I left you in here all night.”
Thrusting out her chin, Tallie gave him a haughty stare. “You do whatever you want to do, Peyton Rand. I splattered Cliff Nolan with birdshot to keep him from doing any more harm to his child and the child’s dog. I hate that I had to shoot him, and maybe what I did was wrong, but if you can’t see past the law into the human heart, then I doubt—”
“Dammit, woman, will you shut up!”
With a startled jerk, Tallie tensed, then swallowed hard and glanced up into Peyton’s stern face. “You tell Judge Proctor that if I could have thought of another way to handle the situation, I wouldn’t have filled Cliff with birdshot, but...at the time, I saw no other alternative.”
“I’ll tell him, and maybe he’ll agree to set bail.”
“Do you have any idea how much bail will be?” Tallie didn’t have a lot of cash money, but her garage and tow-trucking business was quite successful, so she didn’t think there’d be a problem with posting her own bail.
“I’ll handle the bail,” Peyton said. “I can trust you not to leave the country, can’t I?” A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
And Lord, how Tallie loved his mouth. She’d spent endless hours wondering just what it would feel like to kiss that mouth.
Taking a deep breath, Tallie didn’t even try to disguise the sense of relief she felt knowing that Peyton’s anger had begun to subside. She grinned at him. “I won’t even leave the state.”
“That’s good to know.” Retrieving his briefcase, Peyton headed for the door, all the while chiding himself for being a total fool. No matter how many times her behavior created problems for him, he could never stay angry with Tallie. Despite her fierce independence and feminist bravado, she was a tenderhearted, vulnerable woman—somewhere beneath all that grease, the boyish haircut and her aggravating take-charge attitude.
“Oh, Peyt, would you please go by the Humane Shelter and pick up Solomon?” Tallie asked. “I had Wanda call Susan to come get him and keep him until we could straighten out this mess.”
“We’ll pick up Solomon after you’re released.” Peyton stopped just inside the doorway, turned around and surveyed Tallie from head to foot. “How the hell can such a little woman stir up so many stinks in this county and cause me nothing but trouble?”
Before Tallie could reply, Peyton left. She supposed she should be grateful that he’d even bothered to come when she’d called. After all, he really didn’t owe her anything. Just because Peyt’s father, old Senator Rand, had been a hunting and fishing pal of her grandfather’s and just because her brothers and Peyton had buddied around together—despite the differences in their social positions—didn’t mean he was responsible for getting her out of every mess she got herself into, did it? Of course not. But ever since Jake and Hank and Caleb had, one by one, left Crooked Oak for the big, wide world outside the boundaries of Tennessee, Peyton had become her guardian angel, always just a phone call away. Of course, he fussed and fumed and swore she’d be the death of him. And whenever she called him for help, he warned her, “This is the last time, so help me, Tallie.”
“Come on, Tallie, let’s get you into a cell until Mr. Rand comes back for you.” Wanda Simple, a tall, skinny, bespectacled woman in her early thirties had graduated from high school with Jake, and she and Tallie had been on friendly terms for years.
“Do you think Clayburn Proctor will go ahead and set bail so I can get out of here today?” Tallie asked.
“Ah, shoot, Tallie, you know Judge Proctor thinks the world of you. Why, ever since you saved his grandson’s life when you got to the scene of the wreck before the ambulance and performed CPR on that child, Judge Proctor’s thought you hung the moon.” Placing her hand on the small of Tallie’s back, Wanda led her down the hall toward the short row of jail cells. “Besides, Peyton Rand could charm the birds down from the trees, couldn’t he?”
Tallie stood perfectly still, while Wanda uncuffed her. “Yeah, you’re right. Peyton’s got his daddy’s silver tongue. He’s a born politician.”
“I swear, girl, why haven’t you made a move on that man? It’s plain to see that you’re crazy about him, and everybody in the county knows he’s always acting like your knight in shining armor.”
“Peyt just feels responsible for me, that’s all.” Tallie walked into the cell. “My brothers made him promise to keep an eye on me.”
Wanda closed the cell door. “Well, for a man who doesn’t care, I’d say he keeps a pretty close eye.”
“He’s never thought of me as anything but a pest. Besides, I’m hardly the kind of woman a man like Peyton Rand would want, and I’m certainly not what he needs.” Stepping away from the bars and into the center of the small cell, Tallie spread out her arms and slowly turned around in a circle. “Just look at me. I’m a country girl. What I need is