Okay, you scat, before something comes up. See you in the morning, at eight sharp. You got my number if you need anything before then.”
Robin hesitated, but the phone rang and he reached for it. She waited to see if he’d want her to stay, after all, but he waved her off before turning his back.
She didn’t need to be told twice, so she hurried out the door before he could change his mind. To her relief, her car started right away. As she drove down the street, following his crude map, she tried not to get her hopes up about the house. It was probably a dump.
When she passed the sheriff’s office, she kept her head turned straight, not wanting to be caught looking for him. He wasn’t for her, she reminded herself. No man was.
Chapter Two
“Hi, sweetheart. How ’bout bringing me a steak sandwich and a longneck?” Charlie gave the waitress a quick smile as he settled himself onto a bar stool.
“Sure, boss. As long as you’re off duty,” she replied in a throaty voice. “I wouldn’t want to break the law.”
He patted his shirt pocket. “I’m not wearing my badge, Rita. You won’t get in any trouble.” With her black hair and dark, liquid eyes, Rita was an attractive woman—especially when she sucked in her breath so her generous curves strained against the fabric of her low-cut knit top as she was doing now.
If he didn’t have a rule against dating his employees, Charlie might have taken a run at her. When he pursued a woman, he didn’t want to wonder if she was genuinely attracted to him or just worried about keeping her job, especially a single mother like Rita.
“Fries with that or salad?” she asked, tossing back her hair to give him an enticing view of her throat.
He grinned his appreciation of her assets. “How about both, with ranch on the side?”
“Sure thing. Be right back.”
After she’d gotten his beer, sent him a last regretful glance from beneath a fringe of thick lashes and swaggered off to give his sandwich order to the cook, Charlie glanced around the room. There were people sitting at three tables and two men in hard hats at the other end of the bar watching soccer on the overhead television. Not bad for a weekday, especially this early in the evening.
“You singing tonight, Sheriff?” called out an older woman seated with her husband.
“’Fraid not, Maxine.” He touched two fingers to the brim of his Stetson. “My second job’s keeping me hopping, but I’ll be here on Friday. Maybe you can get Fred to bring you back then.”
She looked over her shoulder at her husband. “That’s my birthday. We’ll be here.”
Charlie toasted her with his beer bottle. “And I’ll be singing just for you, darlin’.”
She laughed, but her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll hold you to it.” Her husband leaned forward to whisper in her ear, and Charlie swiveled back around as Rita brought his salad. From ranching to the restaurant business and part-time lounge singer to law enforcement. Life was a hell of a ride.
“How are the boys?” he asked Rita.
She set down his silverware and dish of ranch dressing. “They’re crazy about the toy trucks you gave them. Thanks, honey.”
“No problem.” He knew her ex rarely sent money, and his nephews had more toys than they could ever use. When he’d mentioned the waitress to Rory and Emily, his brothers’ wives, their youngest kids had gone through their toy chests.
“You bat those pretty eyes at the guys sitting at the other end of the bar, should double your tips,” he suggested to Rita.
The touch of her hand on his shoulder was fleeting, her voice soft in his ear. “Enjoy your salad.”
A few moments later, after she’d brought the rest of his meal and he’d devoured half the sandwich while he’d mulled over his workday, a burst of laughter distracted him. Rita had followed his suggestion and was talking to the construction workers.
She’d be okay. This was a respectable bar, and she knew how to take care of herself.
Charlie turned back to his food, but eating alone had lost its appeal. Everyone in town knew him, and he knew most of them. His older brothers were his closest friends. He liked their wives, adored their children and was welcome anytime. It was a welcome he was careful not to wear out.
The sound of Rita’s laughter reminded him of the woman he’d met earlier, Robin Marlowe, even though the two appeared to be polar opposites. If Dr. Marlowe had found him attractive, she’d hidden it well. If she hadn’t rushed off, he might have invited her to dinner just to see her reaction.
Maybe he’d have to buy himself a dog, one that would need vaccinations at the local clinic.
Robin was unpacking the last of her aunt’s dishes and putting them into the kitchen cupboard when a knock at the back door nearly caused her to drop a dinner plate adorned with fat pink roses. She set it carefully down on the counter and ran a hand through her short hair. She’d only met two people so far, her boss and the sheriff. This was a small town, not Chicago, so perhaps one of them had come by to check on her.
Nerves fluttered in her chest. She was almost relieved when she peeked through the window and saw an elderly couple standing on the side porch. They looked harmless.
Robin flipped the lock and opened the door. The woman, a little bird of a thing with fluffy white hair and wire-rimmed glasses, was holding a pie with a flaky, golden crust. The man behind her wore coveralls and a Broncos baseball cap. His scraggly gray hair needed trimming.
“I’m Mae Simms and this is my husband, Ed,” the woman said quickly. “We don’t mean to intrude, but we wanted to say hello and to give you this.” She thrust the pie into Robin’s hands. “Welcome to Waterloo.”
Her offering smelled fantastic. As Robin’s stomach growled softly, she realized that she hadn’t eaten in hours.
“Thank you,” she said. Would they think her unfriendly if she didn’t invite them in? She had so much to do, and she was tired. “I’m Robin. I was just unpacking.”
“Oh, we know who you are, honey,” the woman replied. “We live right next door in the blue house. You’re renting this place from us.”
“Ah.” Robin wasn’t sure what else to say. Their visit was the type of gesture her aunt would have made under similar circumstances. The thought warmed her. Balancing the pie, she nudged the door open wider with her elbow. “Would you like to come in? I’ve already unpacked my coffeemaker and some mugs. I’m sure I could find the coffee.”
“Oh, no, dear.” Mae was already backing away. She nudged Ed, who hadn’t said a word. “You have things to do, I’m sure, and we’re going for our walk.” Reaching into the pocket of the purple nylon jacket she wore with matching pants, she pulled out a folded paper.
“Here’s our phone number, just in case.” She set it lightly on top of the pie. “If there’s anything you need, give us a call.”
Robin raised up the pan she was holding. The bottom was
