“I tried to steal his dog, too.” Brynn picked up Duke, who had been starting to wander over to the street. “And I’ll totally be done with Deputy Major before he needs to meet Sally’s granddaughter. He might be tired, though.”
Mrs. Dury gasped.
“Oh, Major, I like this one,” Mrs. Klein said with a big smile. “She’s got sass. You need some sass in your life.”
“You can’t resist, can you?” Major asked with a smile that was more like a predatory showing of teeth. “She really will call all over town.”
“It sounds like she already did.” A bit of guilt swelled inside. She’d had to deal with gossip all her life. She’d learned at a young age to breeze right through it, but Major seemed bothered by it. “Do you want me to go talk to her? I can explain.”
“No. Absolutely not. You need to walk in that garage and break into my house and not cause more trouble.”
She kind of liked the authoritative vibe but also sensed he was getting to the end of his rope.
“Yes, Sally, he’s not wearing any pants. He’s walking around bold as brass with that hussy,” Mrs. Dury was saying. “And she tried to steal poor Harry Jefferys’s dog. What would little Luc think? Well, someone’s missing a dog, because she’s got one. It’s a fancy one like that Queen of England has. What is poor Samantha going to think? I don’t know, Sally. He might be used goods now.”
Major’s head dropped.
“Don’t you shame him, you old biddy.” Mrs. Klein had taken a couple of steps the other woman’s way.
“You stay out of this,” Mrs. Dury shot back. “Sally has been trying to find a nice young man for her granddaughter for years. I told her Major was a god-fearing, upstanding gentleman, but now I can see from his underwear that he’s got moral issues. Those are the devil’s shorts, I tell you.”
That was when Mrs. Klein turned her hose on the other woman. There was a loud squealing sound and Dolly started to whine.
“I’m going to go stop a water fight between two mature women.” Major said the words like he needed to hear them out loud to believe them.
At least he’d get the shower he wanted. “And I’ll break into your house. I’ll also remain silent if anyone else accuses me of hussiness. Promise.”
Major nodded and started to cross the street.
Brynn got to work.
* * *
* * *
Two hours later Major watched as Brynn pulled out of the station house parking lot. Duke had retaken his seat next to Brynn, and the corgi gave him a death stare as she drove away.
That dog was warning him off.
Like he was going to get involved with the sarcastic actress who would only be here for a few weeks. He wasn’t stupid enough to want to bask in her sunshine when he knew damn well it would go away and he’d be left with the rain again.
“So there’s a bet going on,” a husky voice said.
Speaking of sarcastic women. He glanced over and Roxie was walking in from the parking lot. “Hey, Roxie. What are we betting on now?”
There was always something going on at the station house. The Papillon Parish Sheriff’s Department was small, and the people who worked there tight-knit. Besides the sheriff himself, there were now two deputies, two officers, and a couple of dispatchers. Someone was always on duty, but late at night it was often a one-person show, which was why Major left his police radio on most nights. If anything went wrong, he didn’t want to leave his fellow officers alone.
The upshot was they acted like a family. Like a group of brothers and sisters he’d never had.
Roxie King-Guidry was dressed in her uniform, her golden-brown hair up in a neat bun. Everything about Roxie spoke of discipline.
So unlike that ball of chaos who’d just driven away. Brynn’s ponytail might have started the day all neat and perfect, but by the time she’d managed to get his door open there had been tendrils of honey-colored hair around her face. He’d almost asked her if Harry had put her to work, because she’d also had paint flecks on her hands and arms, and her manicure wasn’t Hollywood perfect.
He was completely fascinated by her, and that was a big problem.
“The bet is about why your cell phone got caught in a crab trap.” Roxie’s lips quirked up and she held up a set of familiar-looking keys. “Also, Jimmy Tremon caught a pair of sweatpants floating into the bay. I suspect these are yours.”
Damn it. He should have stayed to make sure his sweats didn’t resurface. He took the keys from her. “Dare I ask what’s the odds-on favorite?”
“Well, I can tell you that Gene has already been in and he thinks the rougarou is back and it either murdered you or turned you,” she said with a grin. “I’ve got instructions on how to tell if you’ve become a Cajun werewolf.”