with our little Hope?” Harley asked, not looking at all happy about the situation.
“Doing?” Hope finally entered the conversation, her voice sounding three pitches too high. “Nothing. We aren’t doing a thing… I was just taking a walk and ran into him.”
Shirlene tipped her head and smiled. “Sleepwalkin’, were you, honey?”
With her hair all tangled and wild around her face, Hope did look like she just rolled out of bed. And she pretty much had—his bed. The thought brought a flash of heat to his crotch and, not wanting to embarrass himself, he tried to get his mind back on track.
“It doesn’t matter what Hope is doing. Where’s my bike?”
Shirlene flapped a hand, the morning sun refractingoff her huge diamonds. “Would you stop worrying about that bike? You’ll get it back all safe and sound in a few days.”
“A few days!” Both he and Hope spoke in unison.
As if on cue, Sheriff Winslow pulled up in his squad car and rolled down the window.
“You put the cell keys back, Shirlene?” When she only flashed her dimples, he turned to Colt. “Colt, I shore hope you ain’t plannin’ on causin’ any more trouble. I’d hate to have to lock you up again.”
“I sure hope so too, Sam.” Shirlene threw Colt a sly look. “It breaks my heart to see my big brother behind bars. And I give you my word that I’ll keep an eye on him. In fact, we were just headed over to Josephine’s to have us a nice, hearty breakfast.” She waltzed over to Hope and hooked an arm through hers. Hope put up a good fight, but in the end Colt’s ornery baby sister prevailed and tugged her across the street.
Colt remained on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his chest, debating whether or not he wanted to follow his sister or tell her and the entire town of Bramble to take a hike. But the truth was, with the bike delivery deadline a week out, he didn’t have anywhere that he needed to be.
Still, he hadn’t completely made up his mind until Hope shot him a wicked glare over her shoulder. A glare that grew even more poisonous when he couldn’t help but grin. She turned back around, and he watched the wiggle of her butt beneath the thin cotton.
What were a few days?
Especially when it annoyed the hell out of the homecoming queen.
Chapter Five
T HERE HADN’T BEEN anyone murdered in Bramble, Texas, since 1892, when the sheriff shot William Cates for attacking the mayor, after the mayor refused to pay him for the dedication plaque he’d made for the town hall.
But Hope was about to change that.
As she sat at the counter, awaiting a breakfast she hadn’t ordered and didn’t want, she eyeballed the knife Harley was using to spread the mound of whipped butter over his pancakes and calculated how long it would take to grab the knife, ram it through Shirlene’s conniving heart, and get out the door before Sheriff Winslow could clear his gun from beneath the edge of the counter.
Of course, it didn’t matter how quickly he cleared it. He didn’t keep any bullets in it anyway. “Safety first” was the town motto. And people knew from experience that Sam wasn’t someone who could carry a loaded weapon safely.
Still, the sheriff wouldn’t need a gun to stop her. Especially when her truck sat at her parents’ house. By the time she said good-bye to her sisters and brother, hermama made her bologna sandwiches for the trip, and her daddy checked the oil and the other fluids in the engine, the lynch mob would be in the front yard, amid her mother’s whirling lawn ornaments.
So her murder plans would have to wait.
“… so I said to Mary Jean, you should be thankin’ your lucky stars that Melvin ran off with your manicurist,” Rachel Dean continued her nonstop chatter as she poured Shirlene a cup of coffee, coffee that smelled as good as it looked. “After two husbands, I can tell you men ain’t all that.”
Hope flipped her cup over and set it in the saucer.
“Maybe you just haven’t had
“Doing?” Hope finally entered the conversation, her voice sounding three pitches too high. “Nothing. We aren’t doing a thing… I was just taking a walk and ran into him.”
Shirlene tipped her head and smiled. “Sleepwalkin’, were you, honey?”
With her hair all tangled and wild around her face, Hope did look like she just rolled out of bed. And she pretty much had—his bed. The thought brought a flash of heat to his crotch and, not wanting to embarrass himself, he tried to get his mind back on track.
“It doesn’t matter what Hope is doing. Where’s my bike?”
Shirlene flapped a hand, the morning sun refractingoff her huge diamonds. “Would you stop worrying about that bike? You’ll get it back all safe and sound in a few days.”
“A few days!” Both he and Hope spoke in unison.
As if on cue, Sheriff Winslow pulled up in his squad car and rolled down the window.
“You put the cell keys back, Shirlene?” When she only flashed her dimples, he turned to Colt. “Colt, I shore hope you ain’t plannin’ on causin’ any more trouble. I’d hate to have to lock you up again.”
“I sure hope so too, Sam.” Shirlene threw Colt a sly look. “It breaks my heart to see my big brother behind bars. And I give you my word that I’ll keep an eye on him. In fact, we were just headed over to Josephine’s to have us a nice, hearty breakfast.” She waltzed over to Hope and hooked an arm through hers. Hope put up a good fight, but in the end Colt’s ornery baby sister prevailed and tugged her across the street.
Colt remained on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his chest, debating whether or not he wanted to follow his sister or tell her and the entire town of Bramble to take a hike. But the truth was, with the bike delivery deadline a week out, he didn’t have anywhere that he needed to be.
Still, he hadn’t completely made up his mind until Hope shot him a wicked glare over her shoulder. A glare that grew even more poisonous when he couldn’t help but grin. She turned back around, and he watched the wiggle of her butt beneath the thin cotton.
What were a few days?
Especially when it annoyed the hell out of the homecoming queen.
Chapter Five
T HERE HADN’T BEEN anyone murdered in Bramble, Texas, since 1892, when the sheriff shot William Cates for attacking the mayor, after the mayor refused to pay him for the dedication plaque he’d made for the town hall.
But Hope was about to change that.
As she sat at the counter, awaiting a breakfast she hadn’t ordered and didn’t want, she eyeballed the knife Harley was using to spread the mound of whipped butter over his pancakes and calculated how long it would take to grab the knife, ram it through Shirlene’s conniving heart, and get out the door before Sheriff Winslow could clear his gun from beneath the edge of the counter.
Of course, it didn’t matter how quickly he cleared it. He didn’t keep any bullets in it anyway. “Safety first” was the town motto. And people knew from experience that Sam wasn’t someone who could carry a loaded weapon safely.
Still, the sheriff wouldn’t need a gun to stop her. Especially when her truck sat at her parents’ house. By the time she said good-bye to her sisters and brother, hermama made her bologna sandwiches for the trip, and her daddy checked the oil and the other fluids in the engine, the lynch mob would be in the front yard, amid her mother’s whirling lawn ornaments.
So her murder plans would have to wait.
“… so I said to Mary Jean, you should be thankin’ your lucky stars that Melvin ran off with your manicurist,” Rachel Dean continued her nonstop chatter as she poured Shirlene a cup of coffee, coffee that smelled as good as it looked. “After two husbands, I can tell you men ain’t all that.”
Hope flipped her cup over and set it in the saucer.
“Maybe you just haven’t had
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