the job.”
“And before that?” She sat down across from him and sipped her coffee.
For the first time since he’d asked her to dance the night before, his eyes stopped smiling. In fact, they turned hard and cold. The deep vertical clefts on both sides of his mouth no longer resembled laugh lines. “Before that I was somewhere else.”
“Oh.”
Sunny got the message. His past wasn’t open for review. She envied him that. She wished hers wasn’t. In New Orleans she was safe. No one knew about the debacle with Don Jenkins. Her friends there knew she had moved to the city from a small town, but no one had ever pressed her for information about herself. She appreciated that.
That’s why she honored Ty Beaumont’s need for privacy now, even though he was the most aggravating man she’d ever met. She refrained from asking him any probing questions and filled the yawning silence by nibbling on a cookie.
He was the first to speak. “Did you have an accident?”
Sunny followed the jutting motion of his chin down to the floor, where the debris from the drawer was still scattered. She laughed with self-derision. “I was going to look up George Henderson’s telephone number and check you out.”
“He would have felt obliged to give you a glowing report. He works for me.”
“George is a law officer?”
“My deputy.”
Sunny shook her head with disbelief. “I remember when he stole watermelons.”
“I think he still does.”
They laughed together, and it felt good. A little too good for Sunny to feel truly comfortable about it. When their laughter subsided, she realized just how intimate the setting and situation were. “It’s getting late.” She practically snatched Ty’s coffee cup away from him and carried it along with hers to the sink.
“Are you limping?”
“It’s nothing,” she said with a negligent shrug as she replaced the package of cookies in the pantry.
“It’s something.”
She lifted her foot off the floor, holding her leg out straight at a thirty-degree angle. “My knee found the head of that nail when I went down on all fours. See?” She indicated the tiny red mark on her knee. “Nothing to it.”
“That’s not enough to make you limp.”
“I stubbed my toe, too.”
“What else?”
“Nothing,” she stressed.
“What?” Though Ty spoke the question softly, it conveyed his determination to get the truth from her.
“I stepped on the damn nail,” she cried in frustration. “Okay?”
“Not okay. Sit.” He sternly pointed at the chair she had vacated.
“It’s time you left, Sheriff.”
“If you don’t let me check your foot, I’ll feel that it’s my professional duty to take you to the hospital. Then the whole story about the raccoons and the window-peeper scare will be the topic of conversation at the beauty parlor tomorrow and—”
Sunny’s fanny landed hard in the chair.
“That’s better,” Ty said, and smiled. “Give me your foot.”
She didn’t actually offer her foot for his inspection. He bent forward and picked it up off the floor, unbalancing her so that her bottom slid almost to the rim of her seat. Bracing herself with stiff arms and hands that curled over the edge of the chair, she watched as his large, tanned hands enfolded her foot.
He turned it up and examined the sole. “Here?” He touched the crescent-shaped wound on her heel. She winced. “Sore?”
“With you mashing on it, it is.”
“Helluva bruise. You’re lucky it didn’t break the skin. Almost, but not quite. You don’t need a tetanus shot, but you might want to watch it for the next few days.”
“I will. Thanks.” She tried to pull her foot away, but to no avail. He closed his hands around it, enclosing it firmly and snugly between his palms.
“They’re a little skinny, but otherwise you have very nice feet.”
“Is this part of your official duty, Sheriff Beaumont?”
“My duty is to aid and abet the citizens of Latham Parish. Right now, I think
“And before that?” She sat down across from him and sipped her coffee.
For the first time since he’d asked her to dance the night before, his eyes stopped smiling. In fact, they turned hard and cold. The deep vertical clefts on both sides of his mouth no longer resembled laugh lines. “Before that I was somewhere else.”
“Oh.”
Sunny got the message. His past wasn’t open for review. She envied him that. She wished hers wasn’t. In New Orleans she was safe. No one knew about the debacle with Don Jenkins. Her friends there knew she had moved to the city from a small town, but no one had ever pressed her for information about herself. She appreciated that.
That’s why she honored Ty Beaumont’s need for privacy now, even though he was the most aggravating man she’d ever met. She refrained from asking him any probing questions and filled the yawning silence by nibbling on a cookie.
He was the first to speak. “Did you have an accident?”
Sunny followed the jutting motion of his chin down to the floor, where the debris from the drawer was still scattered. She laughed with self-derision. “I was going to look up George Henderson’s telephone number and check you out.”
“He would have felt obliged to give you a glowing report. He works for me.”
“George is a law officer?”
“My deputy.”
Sunny shook her head with disbelief. “I remember when he stole watermelons.”
“I think he still does.”
They laughed together, and it felt good. A little too good for Sunny to feel truly comfortable about it. When their laughter subsided, she realized just how intimate the setting and situation were. “It’s getting late.” She practically snatched Ty’s coffee cup away from him and carried it along with hers to the sink.
“Are you limping?”
“It’s nothing,” she said with a negligent shrug as she replaced the package of cookies in the pantry.
“It’s something.”
She lifted her foot off the floor, holding her leg out straight at a thirty-degree angle. “My knee found the head of that nail when I went down on all fours. See?” She indicated the tiny red mark on her knee. “Nothing to it.”
“That’s not enough to make you limp.”
“I stubbed my toe, too.”
“What else?”
“Nothing,” she stressed.
“What?” Though Ty spoke the question softly, it conveyed his determination to get the truth from her.
“I stepped on the damn nail,” she cried in frustration. “Okay?”
“Not okay. Sit.” He sternly pointed at the chair she had vacated.
“It’s time you left, Sheriff.”
“If you don’t let me check your foot, I’ll feel that it’s my professional duty to take you to the hospital. Then the whole story about the raccoons and the window-peeper scare will be the topic of conversation at the beauty parlor tomorrow and—”
Sunny’s fanny landed hard in the chair.
“That’s better,” Ty said, and smiled. “Give me your foot.”
She didn’t actually offer her foot for his inspection. He bent forward and picked it up off the floor, unbalancing her so that her bottom slid almost to the rim of her seat. Bracing herself with stiff arms and hands that curled over the edge of the chair, she watched as his large, tanned hands enfolded her foot.
He turned it up and examined the sole. “Here?” He touched the crescent-shaped wound on her heel. She winced. “Sore?”
“With you mashing on it, it is.”
“Helluva bruise. You’re lucky it didn’t break the skin. Almost, but not quite. You don’t need a tetanus shot, but you might want to watch it for the next few days.”
“I will. Thanks.” She tried to pull her foot away, but to no avail. He closed his hands around it, enclosing it firmly and snugly between his palms.
“They’re a little skinny, but otherwise you have very nice feet.”
“Is this part of your official duty, Sheriff Beaumont?”
“My duty is to aid and abet the citizens of Latham Parish. Right now, I think
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