The Sheriff's Secret Wife (4 page)

"Roger that. We're on our—wait one," a crackle came from the walkie-talkie before Leeann came back on. "Deputy Bailey just pulled up. He's got the second driver in custody."
"Good. Contact the parents of the other driver."
"Sheriff, the other driver is Giselle."
Racy bit back a choke of laughter, but part of it escaped in a loud
oomph.
Gage and Gina's twin siblings, both seniors at Destiny High School, caught drag racing. Each other.
Hell, she'd done the same thing many times as a teen in her father's rattrap of a pickup that hid a killer engine. Usually against Bobby Winslow, who never seemed to get caught. But she had been, and her old man had left her overnight in jail while he and her brothers went on a bender in Cheyenne.
She doubted the Steele twins faced the same fate.
Gage's eyes narrowed as he took in her attempt to hold back her amusement. "I'm on my way. And take their cell phones. They aren't to talk to anyone until I get there."
"Their cell phones?" Racy asked.
Gage ended the call and jammed the radio back on his hip. "Those two will call our mother with a sob story so fast, she'll end up lecturing me instead of them."
Racy didn't doubt it. Sandy Steele was well known for her nurturing. Racy had experienced it firsthand years ago when the woman had provided a hot meal, a homemade quilt and a soft pillow to a scared teenage girl who'd spent the night in one of her husband's jail cells.
The heat of Gage's touch as he grabbed her hand and slapped an envelope into it yanked Racy back to the present.
"Read this," he said. "We'll talk later."
Her fingers curled around the letter as he headed for the door in Max's office that led directly to the front lobby. She read the envelope's return address. Her stomach dropped to her feet. "Gage, this…this can't be real."
"Oh, it's real." He paused at the door to look at her. "Welcome to my nightmare."
Racy stood frozen in place after he left. Then a knock came on the door. She shoved the envelope into her back pocket and turned. "Come in."
Gina peeked inside. "Has the smoke cleared?"
"What smoke?"
"No one can smolder better than my brother. Gage was here about me." The forlorn expression on Gina's face spoke volumes. "And don't ask me how I know. I'm the smart one, remember?"
Racy crossed the office and ushered the girl toward the stairs, quickly deciding it wasn't her place to relay the antics of Gina's younger siblings. She'd leave that for Gage or their mother. "Yes, he was here, and no, you aren't fired."
When Gina got to the bottom step she turned to face Racy. "The last thing you need is my big brother acting like…well, a big brother. Any more than he already does."
A pang Racy attributed to the craziness of what Gage had just told her hit her square in the gut. The folded envelope in her back pocket seemed to burn through her jeans.
"How's that?"
"You know, overprotective, watching my every move, staring down any guy that even looks at me."
So that's what big brothers did. Too bad nobody had filled in Billy Joe and Justin, who thought their sister was put on earth to keep their buddies occupied, steal bail money from and clean up after their lazy asses. Like father, like sons.
"Don't worry," Gina continued. "He'll behave tonight."
Racy focused on the young woman's assurance. "What?"
"He's here most nights."
"Gage hasn't been here in over two months."
"I was teasing him earlier—oh, that's right. He said he stays out of sight most of the time."
Out of sight? That's impossible.
Built on the same location as the original saloon, The Blue Creek had expanded over the years but remained on one level with an open floor plan. From her vantage point at the main bar, she could see everything, including the smaller bar on the far side near the pool tables and dartboards.
There were pockets of darkness, but there was no way Gage had stepped inside these walls and she hadn't known about it. The kitchen was off-limits to customers, as well as the second floor. The only rooms up there were Max's office and storage areas. Most of the doors off the balcony were fake, mimicking bedrooms where saloon girls would've taken—
The balcony.
Racy's gaze shot to the three-foot-wide area, complete with support beams and railing that ran three-quarters' way around the bar. Always in the shadows, but especially at night, someone could be there and she'd never know it.
How many nights had he done that? Before Vegas he used to come into the bar and deal with her face-to-face. Now he was hiding. And was that before or after he'd got the letter in her back pocket?
"Racy?" Gina's voice cut through her haze. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Proud of the control in her voice, she pasted on a smile and showed Gina the easiest way to get a loaded tray off the bar without spilling its contents. "Why don't you practice carting this back and forth? It can get heavy."
Gina walked away and Racy again stared above her head.
Welcome to my nightmare.
Gage's condescending words rang again in her ears. Okay. If he wanted to play games, she'd play. And if he wanted to watch, she'd give him a show to remember.

G
age 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—ewww! 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 in here 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.