The Deputy Gets Her Man. Stella Bagwell
o’clock!” he exclaimed. “That late?”
“I’m working a split shift today. Some of us don’t get to hang up our spurs after the sun goes down, Mr. Pickens.”
Casting her a suggestive smile, he said, “Sometimes I wear mine all night, Rosalinda.”
“Deputy Lightfoot to you, Mr. Pickens.”
Before he could make a reply to that, the window slid upward and he could do nothing more but watch as she reversed the truck away from the barn, then drove away.
The dust of her vehicle had barely dissipated with the wind when a voice sounded directly behind him.
“What the hell was that?”
Turning, Tyler saw that Gib had walked up behind him. Apparently, the cook had noticed something going on here at the ranch yard and had walked down to check things out for himself.
“That was the deputy leaving,” Tyler told him.
“I’m not talking about the deputy. I meant you laughing. What was that all about? I can’t see anything amusing about part of the ranch going up in smoke and the law snooping all over the place.”
It was about him flirting and actually getting a charge out of the whole exchange between himself and the sexy deputy, Tyler could have told him. But Gib didn’t need to know that; especially since it had been a momentary thing. He didn’t want the older man worrying that he was going to get himself involved in another painful position with a woman. Because that was the last thing Tyler would ever do again.
“Oh. I’m just feeling good, I guess.”
Frowning, Gib said, “You sure as hell weren’t feeling good when you left to go to town a while ago.”
“That was before I saw parts of the burn in daylight. Made me realize how lucky I was to only lose one hay meadow and no cows.”
Gib thoughtfully stroked a thumb and forefinger against his chin. “That’s so. But she—that deputy—was about to haul Santo off to jail. I thought you’d be upset with her.”
“No need for that. She came around to my way of thinking.”
Gib studied him for another moment and then, with a puzzled shake of his head, replied, “I’m going to the house.”
The cook had taken only a few strides in the direction of the sprawling hacienda when Tyler called out to him. “Don’t bother making supper for me tonight. I’ll be eating in Ruidoso.”
Halting in his tracks, Gib glanced over his shoulder. “You’ll be eating supper in Ruidoso, too? Why?”
“I’ve got a date. That’s why.”
Turning, Tyler walked to his truck to leave the flabbergasted cook staring after him.
Chapter Three
“Rosa, you look so pretty tonight!” Loretta, a longtime Blue Mesa waitress, stepped back from the booth and gave Rosalinda a full-length inspection. “I can’t ever remember seeing you in a skirt. Must be something special going on.”
Loretta’s remark brought a sting of heat to Rosalinda’s face. She’d donned the turquoise tank top and white tiered skirt because it was a warm summer evening. Not because there was anything special about tonight, other than the idea that Tyler Pickens might walk through the door and sit across from her.
Ever since she’d driven from the Pine Ridge Ranch this morning, she’d been asking herself exactly what she was doing. Cozying up to the enemy or simply wanting to be a woman again? No matter which way she answered, it would be wrong. Outside of an official interview, she had no business conversing in any form or fashion with Tyler Pickens. And why would she want to? He wasn’t the most charming or sociable guy she’d met in the past few years, though he was probably the sexiest. He was also a mystery. One that she wanted to unravel.
“Nothing special, Loretta. I do wear skirts and dresses, you just always happen to see me whenever I’m working.”
The young woman with a long red ponytail pulled out her order pad. “That’s for sure. You’re always working. Especially at this time of night.”
“I worked overtime last night investigating the fire out on the Chaparral Ranch. So I got off early this evening.”
Loretta tapped the end of her pencil against her chin. “Oh, yeah, I heard about the fire. Have you caught the person who set it?”
She gave the waitress a sidelong glance. “How did you know that someone set it? It could’ve been a wildfire.”
Loretta chuckled. “Rosa, you know how word gets around. Lawmen are in here for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, if it had been a simple wildfire you wouldn’t have been working overtime.”
“You’re a smart girl,” Rosalinda said wryly. “What are you doing wasting away here in this restaurant?”
A furtive look came over the waitress’s face. “Waiting for a man to walk through that door and sweep me off my aching feet.”
She might as well keep waiting, Rosalinda could’ve told her. Gallant knights didn’t ride up to restaurants and save damsels in distress. A few years ago Rosalinda had worked as a waitress, too, at the Brown Bear Cantina, a dingy little diner down on the Mescalero Apache Reservation. During that time she’d fallen in love with a regular customer, but her feelings had all been one-sided. Johnny Chino had loved someone else and was now happily married to the woman. Thankfully, he’d never really guessed her flirting meant anything serious. Otherwise, it would be awkward working as his fellow deputy now.
“Good luck,” Rosalinda told her.
A customer at another table called out to Loretta and she said to Rosalinda, “I’d better go check on that table. I’ll get your coffee on the way back.”
The waitress swished away from the corner booth and because she was nervous, Rosalinda picked up the menu that Loretta had left behind. The Blue Mesa wasn’t a fancy place. But the simple, home-cooked food was so good that patrons ignored the scruffy seating and worn tile. The old establishment had been a focal point on Mechem Drive for more than five decades, and during all those years the city police and county law officers had used it as a gathering place.
Moments later, Loretta returned with her coffee and as Rosalinda stirred a huge dollop of half-and-half into the cup, she heard the bell over the front door jingle.
Glancing up, her heart immediately gave a hard jerk as she watched Tyler Pickens emerge from a small entryway at the front of the room. Except for replacing the cream-colored shirt with a pale blue one, he was wearing the same cowboy gear he’d worn this morning. And like it had this morning, the sight of him struck her hard.
He paused at the entryway long enough to allow his gaze to sweep the room. When it finally landed on her, he acknowledged the recognition by a faint incline of his head, then quickly made his way through the busy eating place until he reached the far back wall where she was sitting.
“Hello, Mr. Pickens,” she greeted him.
“What a surprise to find you here, Ms. Lightfoot.” The wry slant to his lips made the glint in his eye seem even more suggestive. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Because she didn’t know whether to groan or laugh, she ended up doing neither. And since she was off duty at the moment, it hardly seemed appropriate to remind him once again that she was Deputy Lightfoot to him, not a Miss or Ms.
She said, “Ridiculous is more like it.”
He took a seat on the opposite side of the table and eased off his gray hat. As he placed the headgear next to him on the bench seat, her gaze traveled over his black hair. It was thick with a slight wave bending the ends. Her mother would say the man needed a haircut. The wayward strands curving around his ears and onto the back of his neck gave