Tempting The Sheriff. Kathy Altman
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Both, she wanted to blurt. Instead she said, “What’s done is done,” and waved him over to the office that had remained empty since Sam Weems had retired the year Lily won the election. “This is yours,” she said, and backed away, eyeing his T-shirt. “You’ll need a uniform shirt. JD’s office is the next one over. You can borrow his spare until you get one of your own.”
“JD. He’s out on a call?”
“Out sick.” She exhaled. “Guess that means you’ll be riding with me.”
* * *
OUCH. VAUGHN PUSHED a breath through his nose. The sheriff couldn’t have made it any clearer that she was less than thrilled to have him around. Not that he’d expected any different, but damn, she’d smacked his ego hard enough to make it sting.
Fine with him. Not like he was thrilled to be working with a woman who would arrest a dying man.
With a curt nod, Vaughn maneuvered around the sheriff and let himself into the office belonging to the absent JD. He glanced around the cramped space—battered metal desk, overcrowded bookshelf, spare chair with a faded cloth seat—but didn’t see a coatrack or anything resembling a closet door.
Door. He peered behind the office door. Bingo. A uniform shirt hung on a self-stick hook. Vaughn plucked the shirt free and gave it a sniff. It would do.
He had second thoughts after he’d peeled off his T-shirt and shoved his arms through the sleeves of the borrowed shirt. To say it was a tight fit would be like saying Clarissa Dodd was a little friendly.
Or Sheriff Lily Tate a little hostile.
Outside the door, Clarissa belted out a laugh, and Vaughn’s lips twitched at the sound. An odd pair, those two, but the affection between them was obvious. Had they worked together long? Did Clarissa know the reason her boss was such a hard-ass?
Vaughn fumbled a button and swore. Why do you care? Damn it, he didn’t want to be here in the first place. But after tallying the cost of repairs to the house, and to a cat whose owner was nowhere to be found, he’d realized any kind of income would come in handy. The clincher had been his mother ordering him not to take the job.
A paycheck and payback. Childish, yeah, but he hadn’t been able to resist.
And he was already regretting it.
He finally managed to button up the shirt, but only just. Shit. If he wore this for long, he’d lose all feeling in his arms. He considered putting his T-shirt back on and letting the uniform shirt hang loose, but he’d never fit the second set of sleeves over top of the first.
“Having difficulties, Deputy Fulton?” The sheriff’s long-suffering tone seemed to convey that a mere six years on the force wasn’t enough to qualify Vaughn to get into a uniform, let alone wear it.
To hell with it.
He yanked open the door and stepped out. The dispatcher’s eyes went wide and she bounced in her high heels when she saw him. Vaughn was proud of himself for not letting his gaze linger on her...bouncy parts.
A throat cleared.
His eyes met those of the sheriff, who was regarding him in a decidedly non-Clarissa kind of way. Then again, pretty much everything about her was non-Clarissa. Her dark hair was short and tousled, her mouth an unfriendly line, and the energy her slim figure radiated was more impatience than cheerfulness.
But the promise of softness was there, in her big hazel eyes and her pale pink lips. With her pointed chin and wide eyes, she looked like a too-tall elf.
An elf with a tendency to bite, he’d do well to remember.
His eyes dropped to the weapon at her hip. Too bad he never had been able to resist a woman in uniform.
Now was probably a good time to start.
Sheriff Tate shook her head at the fabric stretched over his biceps and muttered something about a waste of a good uniform. “It’ll do for now,” she said.
“I’ll say.”
The sheriff tossed Clarissa a scowl and the dispatcher stopped bouncing. As soon as the sheriff turned her back, Clarissa sent Vaughn a good-natured wink, then dropped into her chair. She scooted in close to her desk and put on her headset.
Vaughn let his shoulders go lax, which improved the fit of the shirt. A little friendly flirting he could deal with. More, he didn’t have time for.
Sheriff Tate was still giving him the evil eye. “Clarissa will give you the grand tour of our offices here,” she said.
“Castle Creek Sheriff’s Department, how may I help you?” the dispatcher lilted into her microphone. When she started tapping at her keyboard, the sheriff shot Vaughn a disgruntled look.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll give you the grand tour of our offices.” She pointed to the left. “My office.” She pointed behind it. “Break room.” She pointed straight ahead, at Clarissa. “Dispatch station.” She pointed to the two offices across from hers. “Deputies’ offices.” She pointed to the short hallway to their right, and the door at the end with the electronic keypad beside it. “Bathrooms and holding cells. Any questions?”
He scratched his jaw. “I feel like I should say no, but...how about a set of keys?”
“I’ll get you a set before the end of the day.”
“Sheriff? That was Mr. Katz.” The dispatcher made a face. “Mona’s being assaulted again.”
“Fudge.” The sheriff turned to Vaughn. “Sounds like the perfect opportunity for our newest employee to show us what he’s got.”
A domestic. Damn, he hated those. He strode toward the exit behind the dispatcher’s station. “I’m ready. Let’s hit it.”
But when he looked over his shoulder, he saw the sheriff hadn’t moved. Instead she watched him with a bemused expression. Meanwhile Clarissa had swiveled in her chair to follow his progress. She batted her eyes.
“Yeah, Deputy Fulton,” she said. “Show us what you’ve got.”
The sheriff made an irritated noise. “What I meant was, we can see him in action.”
Clarissa popped an eyebrow.
“Watch him do his thing.”
The other eyebrow came up.
“Gauge his level of experience.” When Clarissa laughed out loud, the sheriff gave her head a disgusted shake. “Know what? Never mind.”
Vaughn stared at them both in disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right?” His gaze shifted from the sheriff to Clarissa and back again. “There’s an assault in progress.”
The sheriff pulled a set of keys from her pocket, but she hadn’t taken more than two steps when the phone in her office rang. She held up a finger and veered toward her desk.
Vaughn shoved a hand through his hair. For God’s sake, what would they do if someone called in a shooting, stop to take orders for lunch?
The sheriff reappeared. “That was the mayor. He’s calling me in for an emergency conference. You’re on your own, Deputy.”
“Convenient,” Vaughn muttered.
“You said you didn’t need a wrangler. Here’s your chance to prove it.” She turned to Clarissa. “Give him the keys to his cruiser. Mr. Katz’s address, too.”
“Mr. Katz is at Ivy’s. The calendar, remember?” Clarissa bit her lip. “You sure you want to send the new guy out there alone?”
“He can handle it.” Sheriff Tate eyed his borrowed shirt. “As long as his arms don’t go numb.”
* * *
VAUGHN SHOOK HIS head as he steered the patrol car out of the courthouse