Zachariah Baxter
Zachariah Baxter set his violin back in its velvet home, gently dusted rosin off the wood, and snapped it closed. He also stuffed into the case the slight disappointment that Deputy Hot Stuff hadn’t stopped by for the show. He’d shown up for five of the first six shows. Sometimes only for a few minutes, but he always smiled, his brown eyes twinkling beneath the hat he always tipped.
So damn hot.
Zach had been eye-fucked his whole life. He knew when someone wanted him, and Deputy Hot Stuff wanted him. But it was a respectful want. Something Zach didn’t get often.
Most of the time there was an expectation. Either Zach should be grateful for the attention of someone so self-important or thankful for the money they offered so they could abuse him however they wanted. No thanks.
Hot Stuff had manners and a touch of shyness that was melt-in-his-mouth sexy. Like he didn’t deserve Zach’s attention. Zach liked that type the best. They could have fun without the power play.
Except that wasn’t why he welcomed the attention. And God, it made him feel like a total shitbag.
He pushed the case under his bunk and shoved that thought aside. As his granddad liked to say, thinking too much was a privilege of those who had enough. Right now Zach had nothing, much less enough.
Maddie Brown was in her regular spot, keeping watch. No one went in or out without her knowing and approving. “Heading out, boy?”
He smiled, because her tone said she knew what he was up to. “Can’t fool you, can I Maddie?”
She’d practically raised him after his parents had disappeared when he was five. His grandfather was his legal guardian, but Maddie had handled his upbringing.
“Never could, so best you don’t try now.” Her pretend cheery disposition faded and she leaned closer. “Go find him.”
That was his plan, but as his life proved, plans didn’t always work out. “He wasn’t here today.”
“He’s here,” she said confidently. “I saw that other one coming onto some brainless thing who asked if she could see his gun.”
Zach rolled his eyes. He’d used some terrible pick-up lines over the years, but even he wouldn’t use that one. And not on Deputy Hot Stuff. “That assumes they always work together. He also always comes to see the show, and he didn’t today.”
“You’re darn pretty, Zach, but the world doesn’t revolve around you.” She patted his cheek. “He’s working. Probably had something to do.”
She was probably right. God he hoped she was right. He might not get another chance. “I’ll be back in time to get ready.”
“See that you do.” She patted his hand. “I don’t need to hear them boys barking that I play favorites with you.”
He didn’t hear the others, but they were around. They never left the area, as if there was something contagious in the crowd.
“Even though you do.” He said it in a whisper.
“Hush,” she hissed at him, her voice devoid of any playfulness. “Go find him.”
His ‘brothers’ in the band might not like to leave the tent, but Zach loved walking among the people. Maybe it was an ego-scratch. More than a few recognized him, told him they loved his playing. He fed off it. It also meant he didn’t arouse suspicion when he left to find his knight in unsuspecting armor.
Zach learned early on that when people looked at him, they liked what they saw. Once he figured that out, he found fun in the crowd wherever they went. He didn’t think he was all that special—Bradley Ulmstead, the youngest of the five brothers—was beautiful. But if people thought he was desirable, and it got him the fun he wanted, Zach wasn’t above using his talents that way.
This time he had a very specific need. One only Deputy Hot Stuff could provide. He shook his head. His name was Deputy McAllen. Twice he’d gotten close enough to the stage that Zach could read the name tag on his uniform. And McAllen wanted Zach. Zach wanted out of the shit show his life had become since his grandfather had died. They’d both get what they wanted and be happy.
It was good business for both.
Except it wasn’t, really. McAllen didn’t seem the type to use people. Since opening night, Zach had stalked the guy. Watching whenever he could see without being seen. McAllen smiled at everyone, picked up little children whose parents had too many kids and not enough hands, gave the preteens tips on how to win at the midway games, passed out praise to the teens for their livestock at the 4-H tent, and laughed non-stop with that other deputy who helped patrol the fairgrounds.
He was a decent person. The type Zach rarely met and almost never messed around with. Not because he couldn’t, but theydeserved better than a nobody like him. For McAllen he needed to make an exception.
Desperate times, as they said.
The hat came in view before the hottie. McAllen was tall, at least five inches more than Zach’s five-ten. Broad shoulders, trim waist, oh-so-clingy uniform. God, the man did unnatural things to him.
Zach wasn’t a holster-sniffer like Peter Ulmstead. That boy dropped his bass fiddle faster than a sizzling skillet if a hot cop of either sex walked by. Which meant that McAllen making eyes only at Zach filled Peter with a tsunami of jealousy.
