“Do you? I doubt it,” he said scornfully. “This town needs that racetrack to survive. What we don’t need is a wet-behind-the-ears, blue-eyed, redheaded female lawyer in a fur coat to come along and screw things up.”
“I came here to investigate a murder,” she lashed out, stung by his unexpected insult. “The racetrack, the gambling license, and the local economy have no relevance to it.”
“Like hell they don’t. If you ruin the Mintons, you ruin Purcell County.”
“If the Mintons are proven guilty, they’ve ruined themselves.”
“Look, lady, you’re not going to uncover any new clues about your mother’s murder. All you’re going to do is stir up trouble. You won’t get any help from locals. Nobody’s gonna speak out against the Mintons, because the future of this county is riding on them building that racetrack.”
“And you top the list of the loyal and close-mouthed.”
“Damn right!”
“Why?” she pressed. “Do the Mintons have something on you? Could one of them place you in that horse barn well before you ‘discovered’ my mother’s body? What were you doing there at that time of day, anyway?”
“What I did every day. I was shoveling shit out of the stables. I worked for Angus then.”
She was taken aback. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know. And you’re far better off that way.”
He whipped the Blazer into his parking slot at the courthouse and braked, pitching her forward against her seat belt. “You’d do well to leave the past alone, Miss Gaither.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll take that under advisement.”
She got out of the truck and slammed the door behind her.
Cursing beneath his breath, Reede watched her walk up the sidewalk. He wished he could relax and just enjoy the shape of her calves, the enticing
sway of her hips, and all else that had immediately captured his notice when she had entered Pat Chastain’s office yesterday afternoon. Her name, however, had robbed him of the luxury of indulging in pure, masculine appreciation.
Celina’s daughter, he thought now, shaking his head in consternation. It was little wonder that he found Alex so damned attractive. Her mother had been his soul mate from the day in grade school when some snotty kid had hurtfully taunted her because she no longer had a daddy after her father’s sudden death of a heart attack.
Knowing how ridicule about one’s parents could hurt, Reede had rushed to Celina’s defense. He had fought that battle and many others for her in the ensuing years. With Reede as the bearer of her colors, no one dared speak a cross word to her. A bond had been forged. Their friendship had been extraordinary and exclusive, until Junior had come along and been included.
So he knew he shouldn’t be surprised that the assistant D.A. from Austin had churned up such emotions inside him. Perhaps his only cause for alarm should be their intensity. Even though Celina had borne a child, she had died a girl. Alexandra was the embodiment of the woman she might have become.
He’d like to pass off his interest as purely nostalgic, a tender reminder of his childhood sweetheart. But he’d be lying to himself. If he needed any help defining the nature of his interest, all he had to do was acknowledge the warm pressure that had developed inside his jeans as he had watched her lick sugar off her fingertips.
“Christ,” he swore. He felt as ambiguous toward this woman as he’d felt toward her mother, just before she had been found dead in that stable.
How could two women, twenty-five years apart, have such a pivotal impact on his life? Loving Celina had almost ruined him. Her daughter posed just as real a threat. If she started digging into the past, God only knew what kind of trouble would be stirred up.
He intended to trade his sheriff’s job for one that would generate wealth and status. He sure as hell didn’t want his future shadowed by a criminal investigation.
Reede hadn’t worked his butt off all these years to let the payoff slip through his fingers. He’d spent his adult life overcompensating for his childhood. Now, when the respect he’d always wanted was within his grasp, he wasn’t about to stand by and let Alex’s investigation remind folks of his origins. The sassy lady lawyer could wreck him if she wasn’t stopped.
The people who said material possessions weren’t important already had plenty of everything. He’d never had anything. Until now. He was prepared to go to any length to protect it.
As he left his truck and reentered the courthouse, he cursed the day Alexandra Gaither had been born, just as he had on that day itself. At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if her smart mouth wouldn’t be good for something besides spouting accusations and legal jargon.
He’d bet his next win at the track that it would.
Chapter 4
Judge Joseph Wallace was the Prairie Drugstore’s best customer for Mylanta. He knew as he pushed away from the lunch table that he’d have to take a swig or two of the stuff before the afternoon was over. His daughter Stacey had prepared the meal for him—as she did every day of the week except Sunday when they went to the country club buffet. Stacey’s dumplings, light and puffy as always, had landed like golf balls in his stomach.
“Something wrong?” She noticed that her father was absently rubbing his stomach.