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“Yes.” The word comes out a little too aggressively. I might be writhing in embarrassment, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sound professional. “Yes, please.”
“You know it’s against policy to take down a work of art without the council voting on it,” someone behind me points out. Probably one of the councilmen. Everyone laughs.
“Just take it down,” I order Lana through clenched teeth.
With a sigh, she opens the case and begins taking the letters down. There’s a collective “Awww” from the crowd. As soon as she’s done, I take the box of letters she hands to me and head back to my cruiser. I need to find the rest of the boards. Then I can kill Eliot.
The rest of the bulletin boards are not too bad. The one at the church is much tamer. Though the pastor is hopping mad about it.
The library’s is inside the lobby. It’s funny and geared to kids. Kim, at the circulation desk, tells me they’ve decided to leave it. My ass does not come into play, so I’m good with that.
The local body shop has already changed theirs back. They thought it was hilarious if not a little lewd for the local citizenry. I didn’t even ask what it said.
By the time I return to the office, I’ve put together a plan in my head of restitution for Eliot. I have to make my way through more taunts to my desk.
I’m calling around to locate Eliot when Ron tosses a box of flyers I requested from him. He’s president of the Lion’s Club this year, and they’re hoping to make the pancake supper bigger than ever. I have an idea of how to help with that.
“Thanks, Ron. I’ll get these out.”
“I appreciate it. Owen, right?”
We shake hands. He wanders off to visit with Wes in his office. It seems like everyone is friends with the chief. I need to get better at meeting the town. I don’t want our first introductions to always be writing them a ticket.
I leave the office again, heading for the diner down the street. Sources tell me the Caraway sisters are just finishing up brunch. I should be able to interrogate… I mean, question Eliot there. With the box of flyers in tow, I push inside the diner. It takes me three seconds to scan the patrons before my gaze lands on her.
As angry as I am at her, I can’t help but take a minute just to admire her beauty. Her long red hair is swept up in some form of a loose bun. The kind that seems both effortless and time-consuming at the same time. She throws back her head to laugh at something one of her sisters says, exposing her long neck, and I forget for a moment why I’m here.
“Do you need a table, deputy?”
“Oh,” I answer, shaking myself out of my fantasy. There was a moment of imagined nakedness on her part in my vision, so I’m safe calling it that. “No, I see my quarry.”
She gives me an odd look before I set off across the restaurant. The sisters’ laughter stops when I reach the table.
“Uh-oh,” Austen says, sizing me up. “I think I hear books begging to be shelved. Owen.” She stands as I nod in greeting. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Brontë adds, easing from the booth. “This little one is starting to smell funky. Good luck,” she says over her shoulder as she follows Austen.
I watch as Austen and Brontë leave the diner. My gaze turns slowly back to Eliot. She’s looking up at me with her big golden eyes. Her eyelashes bat once, twice. The urge to run my hand into those fiery tresses is overwhelming, but the last thing I need is a public harassment suit. Also, who uses the word tresses? I need to back off the historical fiction for a while.
“Why, Deputy Steele. What a pleasant surprise.” She smiles her thousand-watt smile. I slide into the booth across from her. Oh, this is going to be fun.
six
ELIOT
This seemslike cruel and unusual punishment if you ask me. Not the part about going door-to-door handing out flyers for the pancake breakfast. The part where I have to do it accompanied by a man with rippling muscles poured into a sheriff’s department T-shirt and jeans that seem to be spooning that ass I waxed poetic about. I mean, what is up with the jeans? They should be issued a ticket for how they wrap around his thick thighs like a lover.
“Hello, Mrs. Cates,” I say when the door I’m currently pounding on opens instead of considering the impressive ridge in the front of those jeans. Again.
“Hello, Eliot. What are you up to this evening? Would you like to come in?”
“No, no. I just wanted to remind you about the Lion’s Club pancake breakfast coming up. This year, the money raised will go toward the refurbishment of the senior citizens center.” I go on babbling about the needed remodel until Owen cuts in.
“I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Owen Steele, the newest addition to the Landry County Sheriff’s Office. We’re just trying to get the word out about the important needed repairs of our senior center. We’d appreciate it if you’d consider coming.”
Mrs. Cates literally fans herself at the end of his little speech. It makes me want to punch her in the face, which would be very wrong since she’s pushing eighty-five. Also, I know how she feels. Ripped, gravelly voice, sultry eyes. He’s the whole package. Jerk.
“And moving on,” I say after she closes the door. We walk to the sidewalk and continue toward the next house. “So, I get why you thought it would be amusing to punish me by making me hand out all these flyers, but there’s one thing I don’t understand.”
