Lewis Plummer finally entered the bar and moved through the crowd toward Dylan. “Did someone take a poke at you?”
“Yep. Go ahead and Mirandize Emmett Barnes, then charge him with aggravated assault and aggravated battery on a police officer. I didn’t find anything on him, but just to be sure, why don’t you frisk him again?”
“What about Hayden?”
Dylan returned his gaze to Hope. “Did you see who swung first?”
“The short guy.”
“Hayden can go home.”
“Are you going to come into the station?” Lewis asked.
“No. Adam is at home with a sitter, so I’ll do the paperwork in the morning.”
“See ya in the morning, then.” Lewis held up his hand in an abbreviated wave.
Dylan watched his deputy pull Emmett to his feet, then turned to look into Hope’s face. She was still a bit pale and her eyes still a bit glazed, but she didn’t appear too upset by her experience at the Buckhorn. “Do you want to go to the station and make a statement tonight, or would you prefer to come in tomorrow morning?”
“I just want to go home.”
Someone plugged the juke back in, the lights were once again turned low, and Deputy Plummer escorted Emmett Barnes from the bar. It was ten o’clock, two hours before closing time. Just enough time for those still around to polish off a few more beers.
“Are you okay to drive?” he asked Hope as Conway Twitty once again poured from the juke.
She glanced down at herself, and Dylan glanced, too. At her tight spandex shorts and sports bra. Light from a Coors sign flashed from across the bar and lit up her flat stomach. “I jogged here,” she said.
Dylan forced his gaze from the blue light shining on her belly button. “Let me get my cuffs from Burley and I’ll take you home.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Dylan,” he reminded her.
“Dylan.” Then it happened. For the first time since she’d driven her little sports car into town, she smiled at him. Her full lips curved upward and she flashed him the straightest teeth he’d seen since leaving L.A. He figured relief from her ordeal must have warmed her up. Most women tended to get real weepy or real grateful after an ordeal.
From behind, someone placed a caressing hand around Dylan’s arm, and he looked over his shoulder and down into the shadows hiding Dixie Howe’s eyes. “Here’s your hat, Dylan.”
“Thanks, Dixie.” He brushed his hair back and replaced his hat.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Afraid so.”
“Can’t you stay for a game of pool? I heard you tell Lewis that Adam is home with a sitter.”
“Not tonight.” He tried to pull his arm from her grasp, but her grip tightened. She pressed one big breast into his arm, and he knew her well enough to know it wasn’t an accident. He’d known Dixie most of his life. He’d dated her sister, and he’d remembered her as a scrawny kid. Life hadn’t been real kind to either Howe sister, and he felt bad about that, about the way they’d grown up, but he felt nothing more. “I have to take Ms. Spencer home.”
Dixie cast a quick glance in Hope’s direction, then once again focused her attention on Dylan. “You remember my offer the other night?”
Of course he remembered. There hadn’t been many times in his life when a woman had walked up to him at a T-ball game and blatantly offered oral sex.
“Any time.” She finally released her grasp and Dylan pulled free.
“Good night, Dixie,” he said and moved to the bar before she could grab hold again. Hope followed beside him, and while he quickly retrieved his handcuffs from Hayden’s wrists, he had to listen to her express her appreciation to Hayden for his “heroic intervention.”
As far as Dylan was concerned, she laid it on too thick and gushed too much. She had the poor fool blushing and stammering about how it had been his pleasure to get his nose broken for her. Hope had been in town for five days, he’d run into her three times, and she hadn’t smiled at him until five minutes ago. He guessed he now knew what it took to make her smile. It took getting hit in the face.
As they left the bar, a cool breeze loosened tendrils of blond hair from Hope’s ponytail and blew them across her smooth cheeks. His gaze lowered from her face to her arms and the very distinct points in the front of her top. Dylan’s chest got tight, his left eye throbbed, and he looked away.
He helped her into the sheriff’s Blazer, and on the short drive to Timberline Road, he wondered what kind of woman dressed in spandex, walked into a redneck bar, and provoked a man like Emmett.
Someone who thought she was a badass. The Terminator.
“Who was that woman in the bar?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“There were several women in the bar. Which one do you mean?”
“Blond. Big hair. Big breasts.”
His brows lifted and he winced. “Dixie Howe,” he answered and gingerly touched his cheekbone just beneath his eye.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No.” Damn, his face had started to swell. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious.”
He looked over at her, the light from the switch panel illuminating half her face. Her ponytail was a bit ragged. She smelled strongly of beer. “Curious if I have a girlfriend?”
“No, curious about what she offered you.”
He turned the Blazer onto Timberline Road and said, “Now, that would be telling.”
“I bet I can guess.”
He laughed and pulled the Chevy into her dark drive. “Maybe she just wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, maybe through the bone phone?”
He slammed on the brakes, and if the vehicle hadn’t already been slowing, he would have put her through the windshield. “What?”
She put her hands on the dash to stop herself. “Maybe she wants to talk through-”
“Jesus H. I heard you the first time.” He stared at her and suddenly it all made perfect sense. Her glassy eyes, easy smiles, and the stench of beer he’d assumed had spilled on her. Relief hadn’t warmed her up to him at all. “How many beers did you drink?”
“Hmm? Well, usually I’m not much of a drinker, but it was twofer night.”
“How many?”
“I must have had four.”
“In how many hours?”
“Two.” She reached for the door handle and was out of the car before he’d even shut off the engine. “I probably should have eaten dinner before I had anything to drink,” she continued as she walked across the dirt yard.
Dylan tossed his hat on the passenger seat and followed. The house was completely dark. No light spilled into the yard from the porch or windows. The full moon provided the only illumination, and it shone on Hope’s hair, turning it gold. She stopped at the top of the steps and stared at her front door.
“Where is your key?” he asked as he came to stand behind her.
“I wasn’t going to be gone long, so I didn’t leave any lights on.” She fished around in her fanny pack and said, “This is kind of spooky.”
Dylan unhooked the MAG-LITE from his duty belt and shined it on the front door. It was slightly ajar. “Did you leave your door open?”
She looked up, and with the keys in her palm said, “No, I always lock it when I leave.”
“It’s still locked, so you probably just didn’t pull it shut all the way.” He stepped back and trained the light on the windows and the front of the house. Nothing was broken. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked around the house and shined the flashlight on the windows. He checked the back door, but it was locked and there didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. “Yeah, I think you just didn’t shut the door tight,” he said after he’d once again moved to stand beside her.
“Yeah, maybe.” She quickly stepped behind him. “You first.”
He’d already planned on checking out the house for her, but what he hadn’t planned on was her hooking her hand around the back of his belt and urging him forward like a human shield. Now, there were times in Dylan’s life when he hadn’t minded women using his body, but they’d always been naked at the time. He didn’t know how he felt about being used as a target so Hope could run like hell if anything hit him first.