sat next to him. She picked up his bottle, which looked empty and probably had been for some time. From her jeans pocket, she pulled out a package of spearmint gum, and they each had a piece. Duke raised an eyebrow, watching this silent communication.
“Mrs. Carmine is wondering about you,” Duke said.
Bug looked back at the sky as if searching for the ducks he’d been watching before. But they were long gone and only small white clouds trailed across the blue in cumulus strings. Bug’s gaze came to rest on Duke. “How’s your jail, Sheriff?”
“It’s a jail,” Duke said. “And occupied,” he continued quickly, in case Bug was looking for a place to stay. “Mr. Parsons is still in residence.”
Bug nodded. “Marriage is a jail, and I’m still in residence, too.”
Liberty shot a worried glance at Duke. He remained silent. Maybe his powers of communication weren’t quite what he’d thought they’d been.
Liberty stood, putting her hand out to Mr. Carmine. After a moment, Bug took her hand and lifted himself to his feet, giving all appearances of using Liberty’s strength as emotional support. Duke watched as the two of them headed to the truck. Bug silently settled himself into the back seat of the double cab. Liberty nodded at him, telling him they were ready to go, so he got behind the wheel and drove back to the ranch house.
Mrs. Carmine came out onto the porch, her face lit with a gentle smile. Bug got out of the truck, and walked toward the house, where he was enveloped in a big hug he seemed happy to return. The two of them went inside the house arm in arm and closed the front door.
Duke blinked. Checking the back seat, he saw Bug’s shotgun and empty whiskey bottle.
“He won’t need the gun ’til next time,” Liberty said. “Why don’t you just keep it with you at the jail for now? He’ll come get it soon enough.”
He didn’t understand any of what had just happened. But Liberty seemed to, and he was happy to take her suggestion. “What happens now?”
She shrugged. “Now Mrs. Carmine ignores that he went away because she loves him, and he ignores the fact that he’s unhappy because it’s not her fault.”
What a prison. A curse, maybe. Like something out of a Grimm’s fairy tale. Duke plucked at the steering wheel. Maybe Liberty was on to something where they were concerned, though he was hard-pressed to admit it.
Still, he didn’t want her to ever think marriage to him was a jail, though Mr. Parsons seemed to like his own prison well enough. “Ye gods, you people are hard to live with,” he said, and Liberty looked at him.
“So?” she asked. “Your conclusion?”
“That you’re right,” he said slowly. “There really is no happy ending.”
“I think not,” Liberty said, “which is a very scary thought.”
“Damn,” Duke said. “I need to get home and feed my dog.” He started the engine, glad to have an excuse to hurry back to town.
“I thought Mr. Parsons took care of Molly-Jimbo.”
“He feeds her peanuts as a snack,” Duke said righteously. “I want to make certain I head him off at the pass.”
“Does she like the peanuts?”
“Molly likes anything that comes from a human hand.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Liberty asked.
“I don’t like it. A dog should eat dry dog food.”
Liberty raised a brow. “Duke, do you ever bend the rules?”
“No,” Duke said, surprised. “If I did, I wouldn’t be sheriff, would I? At least not a very good one.”
Liberty turned her head to look out the opposite window. “I suppose not.”
They rode in silence until they reached the town square.
“Please drop me off at the Tulips Saloon,” Liberty said.
“It should be closed. No one will be there.”
“I have a key,” Liberty said.
“A key?”
“Yes. Of course. I am one of the co-owners of the saloon,” she said. “Along with Pansy and Helen and a few others, as you very well know. It was our gift to ourselves, a woman-owned business.”
“And a questionable one at that,” Duke grumbled, griping because he knew full-well that the ladies had been catching tourists who came to town with their stained-glass-decorated monument to femininity and womanhood. “I just thought that perhaps since you’d left town, maybe you’d given up your key.”
She looked at him for a long moment, long enough to make his heart shrivel. God, how he wanted to kiss her again, kiss her the way they used to kiss, without worry or hurry or anything more than intense pleasure on their minds.
“I guess you were the only person who thought I’d never come back,” Liberty finally said. She got out of the truck and closed the door, not looking back. The door to the saloon opened for her, and Helen and Pansy peered out at him before snatching Liberty inside and slamming the door.
Heaven only knew how he’d become the villain.
Chapter Three
Duke was proud of three things in his life: his family, his job and his reputation. He loved his sister, Pepper, and his brother, Zach, so it hurt that they might be part of the blue-haired angels’ plan to oust him from the vocation of which he was most proud. All of this directly impacted his reputation, which was bad enough. The root cause of the problem, he realized, was the woman he loved.
He had a plan for dealing with Liberty Wentworth-who-should-be-Forrester-by-now. A taste of her own medicine was what she needed. If he could straighten her bent ways, then all the rest of the crooked line that had become his life would return to being straight-as-an-arrow predictable as the road to the Forrester homestead, on which he was now driving with his traitorous brother.
“Maybe,” Zach said, watching Duke glare out the windshield, “you should talk to the ladies. They’ll have insights into your female issues.”
Duke pinned him with the glare. “Zach, do not violate the bachelor code.”
“Is there one?”
“Hell, yes. Bachelors only commiserate with each other. They never, ever side with the enemy.”
“Since when are women the enemy? I like them,” Zach said. “I’ve got two dates this weekend.”
“I’ve got the Tulips Saloon Gang banded together against me with their dolly faces and their innocently spindly frames. I need backup, please, so don’t give me any more advice like that. It just doesn’t help.”
“Spindly?” Zach repeated
