The Deputy Gets Her Man. Stella Bagwell
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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 him a reckless, bad-boy look. Add that to the day-old growth of beard shadowing his jaws and chin and the image was downright lethal, she decided.
He looked across the table at her. “Why? Because you told me where you’d be? Or because I’m here?”
“Both.”
“You’re out of uniform,” he stated the obvious as his gaze swept over her. “I got the impression you’d be stopping by here on your work break.”
“Since I worked through most of the night last night, another deputy offered to take over my shift. Once I leave here, I’m going to go home and crash.”
“Well, you look very pretty.”
From everything Undersheriff Donovan had told her about Tyler Pickens, she’d not expected him to be a flirt or anything close to it. Apparently, the man had a side to him that others hadn’t seen before. So why was he showing it to her?
Deciding she might not want to know the answer to that question, she picked up her coffee cup and gazed into the brown liquid. “Thanks.”
He was about to make some sort of reply when Loretta arrived. As the young woman took their orders, Rosalinda could see the waitress was bursting with curiosity, but thankfully she didn’t ask to be introduced.
Once she’d left, Tyler picked up the glass of ice water that Loretta had served him and took a hefty drink. Rosalinda was momentarily distracted by the long, brown fingers wrapped around the slender glass. This morning as he’d clasped her hands, she’d been struck by his calloused skin, the roughness that told her he used his hands for more productive things than signing paychecks.
“Do you live here in Ruidoso?” he asked.
“At Ruidoso Downs,” she answered. “I used to live down on the res, but that made the drive to Carrizozo even longer. In case you didn’t know, that’s where the sheriff’s department, courthouse and county jail are located.”
“I know where it is,” he told her. “But this is a huge county. If you arrest someone in the Ruidoso area do you have to drive them all the way to Carrizozo to lock them up?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No. We can use the local lockup here as a preliminary holding cell. Then later we transport the suspect to the county jail. And you’re right about this county being huge. The sheriff’s department has jurisdiction over 4,859 square miles. That’s why Sheriff Hamilton likes for his deputies to live all over the county. Makes it easier for us to keep up with what’s going on in our area and to better deal with local problems.”
“I see.”
He rested his shoulders against the back of the padded seat, and Rosalinda was drawn to their width and the slow, sensual movements of his body. The man was more than enough to take a woman’s breath away. So why wasn’t he married? Or at the very least, playing the field? She could only presume he wasn’t interested in having a relationship with a woman. And yet there were moments he looked at her with something like hunger in his eyes. Not necessarily for her, but for something that was missing in his life. The whole notion unsettled her.
“So you lived down on the reservation,” he remarked. “Are you Native American?”
“Half. My dad is from the Zuni tribe and my mom is white. They have a little farm south of Gallop—near the river.”
“Hmm. How did you end up all the way down here?”
“How did you?” she countered.
A clever smile lifted the corners of his lips, and Rosalinda was suddenly wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by this man. It had been so long since she’d had a man’s lips pressed to hers, she wasn’t sure how her body would react. Maybe her mind would freeze everything inside of her and she wouldn’t be able to feel a thing. Or maybe she’d want to run and never stop running.
Oh, God, why was she thinking these things now? Tyler Pickens wasn’t here as her date! He wasn’t here because he found her attractive, intriguing or anything else. He was simply showing his gratitude for not hauling his wrangler to jail.
“All right,” he conceded, “I ended up here because I didn’t like where I was.”
“Hmm. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that come out of a Texan’s mouth.”
His lips twitched with sour humor. “It was the circumstances, not the place, that pushed me to move here.”
“Ah, yes, circumstances,” she repeated softly. “We all have them, don’t we?”
“Some more than others,” he said.
Rosalinda felt something inside pushing and prodding her to confide in him, to relate exactly why she’d come to this southern part of the state. The realization startled her. No one, except for Sheriff Hamilton and Undersheriff Donovan, knew about her past and the traumatic experience she’d been through. She’d never really wanted anyone to know about the strange and dangerous situation she’d gotten herself swept up in. But the moment this man had set his cool green eyes on hers, she’d felt a connection. The guarded walls inside her had started trembling and cracking. It was the most reckless feeling she’d ever experienced in her life.
Clearing her throat, she sipped her coffee and told her heart there was no reason for it to bump along at such a high speed. Until last night, when Brady Donovan had briefed her, she’d not even known Tyler Pickens existed. She wasn’t going to confess her personal life to this man, she promised herself. She wasn’t going to do anything with him, except eat a meal.
“So how is Mr. Garza?” she asked. “Still angry with me?”
“Since this morning, I’ve not talked to him. I’ll give him a chance to lick his wounded ego before I light into him. As for being angry with you, Santo isn’t the sort to simmer and carry a grudge.” It was a trait that Tyler admired and wished he could apply to himself. But try as he might he’d never been able to forgive his family for hurting and ostracizing him. And why should that matter? he glumly asked himself. Neither his twin brother nor father needed or wanted his forgiveness.
Hell, it had been over nine years since he’d spoken directly to either of them. That’s how much they cared. As for his sister, Connie, she’d always avoided controversies in the family just so she wouldn’t have to face Warren Pickens’s wrath. And Edie, his mother, had tried to stand up for him, but her opinion had never held much weight for a man who didn’t respect women. Now his mother was the only one who still loved him enough stay in touch. Even though her calls and letters were few and far between.
“Well, I thank you for explaining about his wife. It makes me feel a bit better to know it wasn’t entirely me that made him fly off the handle.” Shaking her head with self-recrimination, she said, “I should have realized what he was doing. But to be honest, I’m still green at my job. Sheriff Hamilton says it takes years of experience and learning to catch all the nuances needed to make a great lawman. It’s clear that I have a ways to go.”
One of his brows arched upward. “Does he know what happened this morning with you and Santo?”
She tried to laugh, but the sound came out more like a strangled cough. “Of course he knows. Everyone in the department heard me call in the arrest. I’ll be the butt of their jokes for months.”
“I