Sheriff in Her Stocking (8 page)

He took the
bottle from her hand and set it on the counter before planting his hands on
either side of her body blocking her in. “Yeah. . .in my family we never do
anything half way.”  His gaze snapped to hers. “When I cook I put in an
infusion of spice followed by a hard kiss of heat guaranteed to make your taste
buds sit up and beg.”  His gaze roamed over her face. “Do you like a hint
of spice, Delaney?”

“Depends on the
spice.”

He smiled
slightly, a gentle lift of one corner of his mouth. “I hope you like mine.”

“I’m sure I
will. . .as soon as I wrap my tongue around it.”

Rick grinned.
“Good, let’s get started.”

Soon the kitchen
filled with the delicious aroma of sizzling meat, onions and peppers. Delaney’s
mouth watered.

Rick measured
some flour and other ingredients into a bowl and set it on top of the kitchen
island. He looked at Delaney sitting at the table. He curved his fingers in a
come hither motion. “Come here. I’ll teach you how to make tortillas.” 
The tone of his voice hinted that he wanted to teach her about something else.

She rose from
the chair and moved toward him as though he were the Pied Piper, his voice
luring her like a drug. Was she ready for what might happen next?  Damn
right she was. “You make your own?”

“Yeah, it would
be sacrilege to buy them ready made in a plastic bag.”

He guided her to
the far side of the island and Rick shifted behind her. He slid his arms around
her waist, gently grasped her hands and lowered them into the bowl. His strong,
masculine fingers reminded her how much she missed being caressed by a man.

“The trick is
merging the ingredients and. . .manipulating the dough.”  He might as well
have said masturbating. If he would just slip his hand inside her jeans, he
could slide his fingers over her clit and put an end to her craving. She
sighed, her eyelids drifting closed.

Wrapping his
fingers around hers, he pushed her hands into the soft dough. Rick’s breath
blew over her neck sending streaks of arousal into her breasts pebbling her
nipples into tight peaks. He pressed his hard male body against her back. She
felt his erection prod her fanny. A hot stream of liquid engulfed her core. Her
breath dragged raggedly from her lungs. God, if he didn’t rub his fingers
between her legs in the next few seconds and end the delicious torment, she
might die.

Before she could
voice her desires, the phone rang. Rick huffed out a breath and grabbed a dish
cloth to wipe off his hands. He crossed the room and snatched the receiver from
the cradle. “Sheriff Cruz.”

He listened for
a moment then told the caller he was on his way and hung up. He looked at
Delaney with disappointment and unresolved need in his eyes. “I have to go.
Domestic disturbance call.”

Delaney walked
to the sink and washed her hands. “Would it be okay if I came with you on a
ride along?”

He paused for a
moment. “Okay, but you have to promise to stay in the car and do exactly what I
tell you.”

Delaney nodded.
“I promise.”

* * * * *

As soon as he
climbed in the car he radioed the Sheriff’s Department dispatcher and apprised
them of the situation. He also asked them to run a check on Betty Verner. A few
minutes later, Rick smiled as he pulled the cruiser to the curb across the
street from the Verner’s house. The dispatcher had called back quickly with
good news. Betty Verner had an outstanding warrant on file in Billings for
writing bad checks. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called to the Verner’s
house because of a domestic disturbance. But today would be different. No
matter how much Lester begged him, the county would take Betty to lock-up.

Rick turned to
Delaney, grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make sure he had
her attention. “Remember to stay in the car. Domestic disturbances can
sometimes take an unexpected and dangerous turn. Understand?”

Delaney nodded.
“Yes.”

Rick climbed out
of the car and started across the narrow, snow-packed street. A frigid wind
curled around him with icy fingers. He looked at Betty and Lester Verner
standing on opposite sides of their car like two mortal enemies rather than
husband and wife. He shivered and zipped up his jacket. He wasn’t sure if he
was cold because of the weather or the domestic disaster before him.

He glanced down
the block. Most of the houses on the street were decked out in holiday cheer
with lights strung over bare tree branches, evergreens and eaves. Wreaths graced
a few front doors. A Santa and reindeer with chipped brown and white paint
leaned at an awkward angle in the Verner’s front yard. Only five more days
until Christmas.

Usually people
were wishing one another happy holidays only there was nothing happy about
Betty and Lester Verner.

Betty Verner was
taller than her husband, Lester by at least eight inches. Her bleached blonde
hair twisted over her skull in tight, sausage shaped curls. She wore baggy
white sweats, black rubber fishing boots and a red hooded pullover with a
large, white snowflake emblazoned on the front. She stood like a linebacker on
one side of their car, an old, blue Cadillac.

Lester, a thin,
painfully short man dressed in slacks and a white shirt watched his wife warily
from the opposite side. When Rick reached the end of the Verner’s short
driveway, he stopped. From his vantage point, he saw blood dripping from
Lester’s nose and an angry red welt marring his left cheek. Every so often he
wiped his nose with the back of his hand and a few more drops of blood dribbled
into the snow at Lester’s feet.

 Rick
noticed a trail of footprints scattered all around the car. Obviously, Betty
had tried to run Lester to ground and got in some good licks before he put some
distance between them. She yelled at poor Lester, her face scrunched in fury,
her hands bunched in fists at her sides. “Lester, you know it makes me madder
than hell when you run from me. Git over here. Now!”

Rick stepped up
to the rear of the car. “Evening, Betty. . .Lester.”

Betty turned her
large head with florid, puffy cheeks. She curved her small mouth in a brief
smile. “Evening, Sheriff.”  She said the words in a friendly, casual tone
before turning her beady, black eyes back to Lester.

Lester shifted
nervously, pulled the tail of his shirt from his pants and wiped at his oozing
nose.

Rick propped his
hands on his hips. “Want to tell me how the fight started this
time?”

Suddenly, Betty
turned her big body, lumbered toward the front of the car, her movements slow
and encumbered by the heavy rubber boots on her feet. “I have to kill him
first. Then we’ll talk.”

The only
advantage poor Lester had against his wife was that he could move faster.
 He darted like a frightened rabbit away from her toward the rear of the
car.

At that moment,
Betty slipped and nearly went down before the long fingers of her left hand
grabbed the hood ornament on the car for balance. She straightened, her breath
heaving, her lips curled in a sneer. “Lester went for lunch at McCrary’s over
on Lincoln with two women from his office.”  Her voice was rough and
grating with an undertone of hurt.

“Now,
Sugarlump,” Lester whined from his position by the back, right tire, “There was
another man in the group and we went as friends. You know I never look twice at
other women.”

Betty glared at
Lester. “I wouldn’t have even known about it if I hadn’t driven by on my way to
the cleaners to pick up your shirts. You two-timing, good-for-nothing little
weasel!”  In a couple of steps, she rounded the hood of the car.

Lester’s eyes
widened with fear. He turned to run, slipped in the snow and fell flat on his
face. He scrambled to his hands and knees and tried to stand but Betty reared
back with her right foot and kicked him squarely in the butt. He grunted in
pain, rolled to his back and held his hands up. “Don’t, Betty please!”

Betty gripped a
butcher knife tightly in her hand and held it over her head ready to plunge the
blade into Lester’s small chest.

Rick lunged
toward Betty ramming his body into hers. She rocked slightly on her feet, like
a tall tree swaying in the breeze. The knife fell from her fingers, sailed
downward and stuck upright in the snow about two inches from Lester’s head.

Sirens rang
shrilly through the afternoon air. It took Rick and two other police officers
to subdue Betty.

Just before they
put her in the car, she turned toward Lester who sat huddled in the back of an
ambulance with a blanket around his shoulders while an EMT treated his
injuries.

Tears streamed
from her small eyes, her thin lips twisted in remorse. “I’m sorry, Honey Bunch,
you know I didn’t mean it. I love you.” 

Lester leaped
from the back of the ambulance and ran to his wife; his fingers like bare twigs
caressed her face. “I know you didn’t.”  He turned pleading eyes on the
officers. “I don’t want to press charges. You heard her; she just gets angry
sometimes that’s all. She can’t help it.”

Rick laid a hand
on Lester’s shoulder and told him about the outstanding warrant against his
wife.

Lester was still
begging the officers to let her go as they helped her into the back of the
squad car.

* * * * *

A couple of
hours later, Rick waited for Delaney at a table in the Cozy Corner Diner. He
lifted a cup of hot chocolate to his lips and sipped just as Delaney breezed
through the door with Sara Farley by her side. The first section of the diner
contained two rows of booths, a bar and a bakery case filled with assorted
pastries. A glass and wood partition separated the front from the larger dining
area. Rick watched Delaney glance around the room. He waved to snag her
attention. She smiled and his heart skipped a beat. She touched Sara’s arm and
they started across the diner. He admired Delaney’s lush curves as she moved
toward him. The more time he spent with her the more she attracted him and slid
deeper beneath his skin. No woman had ever made him feel hot, cold, excited and
panic stricken all at the same time. What the hell was he going to do?

Delaney and Sara
settled at the table with Rick. Sara cocked her head and glanced at Rick. “I
hope you don’t mind me joining the two of you.”

Rick waved a
hand casually through the air. “Of course not. How was your day?”

“It’s been
nice,” Sara began. She reached over and patted Delaney’s arm. “I was thrilled
when Delaney dropped in earlier. I’ve been working on a new china pattern and I
wanted to get an objective opinion. When she invited me to dinner, I couldn’t
say no. I just hate eating alone...nothings been the same since my Carl
died.” 

Delaney reached
out and laid her hand on Rick’s arm. He fought not to cover her hand with his
own and entwine their fingers. “You should see the new pattern, Rick. It’s a
gorgeous holiday design with red birds, greenery and ribbon.”

She looked at
Sara and smiled. “When it goes on display, it’s going to sell like crazy.”

Sara beamed.
“Thank you, Delaney. I’m so glad you like it. Artists always need positive
feedback and encouragement you know.”

Rick studied
Delaney as they waited for their food to arrive. Her cheeks were flushed from
the cold, her eyes bright. She’d pulled her hair into a pony tail and a few
loose strands teased her neck. He wanted to brush his lips there as well but he
pushed the impulse away.

Delaney was so
supportive of the people she befriended and her loyalty appeared genuine. He
certainly respected her for being so kind to Sara. But was he seeing only
surface?  Was the real Delaney hidden from him?

Once, he had
believed in friendship and loyalty with every cell in his body. But Jake, his
partner had deceived him in the cruelest possible way.

Delaney laughed.
The girlish sound made lust quiver through his veins. Delaney shifted her gaze
and looked at him. He wanted to touch her, hold her, kiss her--right now but
could he trust her?

Several people
stopped by their table, spoke to him and eyed Delaney before they stuck their
hands out for a shake. She smiled and conversed with them for a few minutes
before they moved on. They were seated by a picture window. Rick glanced out at
the flurries falling from a sky quilted with clouds.  When a large, black
Mercedes SUV pulled into a space in front of the diner, Oliver Harden climbed
out and Rick’s eye brows shot up his forehead. In a moment, Oliver had helped
his wife from the vehicle. She took his arm; beamed at him as if he were a god
descended from Mount Olympus and together they headed for the diner’s door.

As they passed
the booth where Rick, Delaney and Sara were sitting Oliver and his wife
stopped. Oliver’s wife waved her left hand beneath Sara’s nose. A person would
have to be blind to miss the sparkle and flash from the large diamond on her
ring finger.

Sara gasped, her
eyes widened and she smiled in awe. “My goodness, Roberta, what’s this?”

“Oh,” she
gushed. “Ollie bought me a new wedding set in Billings. Isn’t it just. . .” 
She put her hand to her cheek. “I’m at a loss for words.”

Sara nodded. “Me
too.”

Delaney leaned
forward to have a look as well. “Wow, it’s gorgeous.”

Roberta shrugged
one shoulder. “Oh, thank you. I have to agree.”  She giggled.

Oliver squared
his shoulders and preened beside her. Curioser and curioser.

The diamond was
huge. “It’s a beautiful ring for sure.” Rick wondered where he got the cash for
a Mercedes and a huge rock like that for his wife.

Oliver puffed
out his chest and grinned. “Thanks. Did you see our new ride too?”

Rick leaned back
in his chair and looked at Oliver. “How could I miss it?”

Roberta tugged
on Oliver’s arm. “Come on, honey, I see a couple of ladies from my bridge club.
I’m dying to show them my ring. They’ll be green with envy.”