To Catch A Player

I did.

Aunt Bette taught me everything I knew about cooking, about barbecue and pleasing Texas palates. Hell, the truth was, the woman had taught me everything I knew from the moment she’d taken me in at the ripe old age of four, when my parents had decided to run off in the middle of the night to get married in Vegas and make it official before I turned five. A birthday present for me. It would have been great, really, except they hadn’t even made it out of Texas before getting smashed between two eighteen-wheelers.

From that moment on, it was me and Bette—well, and her husband, my Uncle Cameron. And their five children, too, but a whole decade separated me from their youngest and we never quite bonded. Not how me and Aunt Bette did, and now it was just the two of us.

“All right, boss, I’m back.” Maven bounced into her spot beside me, a sleeve of napkins in her arms. “It’s nice and cool in the back.”

“Guess you’re reconsidering college in Texas right about now?”

She laughed. “Are you kiddin’? I grew up in Alaska, I love this heat!”

“Most people would have gone to Florida or California for college,” I told her, not for the first time. Or the tenth.

“Yeah, but cowboys are a lot harder to find in Florida and California. I wanted an abundance of cowboys. More than I can handle.”

“You’ve got that in spades, I’d say.”

“Damn skippy,” she shot back and flashed a bright smile for the elderly tourists with the selfie sticks hanging from their belt loops. “What delicious barbecue can I get for you folks today?”

She was a natural with the customers, and the tourists were charmed as she talked them into ordering dessert before they were seated.

I looked out at the restaurant with a smile. A packed dining room always brought a smile to my face, more so when it happened in the middle of the week. This place was my whole life; my first and only love. And to see it doing so well meant everything to me, especially when there were so many customers that my face ached from smiling.

“What a rush! Thank goodness it’s over.”

Maven smiled and shook her head. “The pits of being the boss.”

“No kidding,” I told her with a satisfied smile that died the instant I saw the Sheriff walk in with Jackson close behind. He was the last person I wanted to talk to—ever, really, but especially today. Right now.

“I’m gonna go check on the sauces. Holler if you need me,” I told Maven before making a quick exit.

Jackson was the last person I wanted to see these days, but it hadn’t always been that way. When he first came to town a few years back, I was ambivalent. Well, ambivalent and attracted, because not only did Detective Jackson Slater have that whole mysterious-stranger thing going on, he also had the dark, brooding looks to back it up—thick, dark brown hair that he wore just long enough that you see it curl, and hazel eyes that had big gold flakes in them. It was easy to see why he’d had all the women in town in a tizzy. But that ambivalence had fostered a small crush that had persisted for years until one night about a year ago, when my passion and my curiosity had been satisfied.

Well satisfied.

But it had also been a mistake. A big one that I had no intention of repeating. Ever. So, I kept my distance and eventually, finally, he’d gotten the hint. Mostly.

He also had the distinction of being the reason I kept my focus on work. Not the only reason, but one of them, and it had paid off. Two of my barbecue sauces had won awards throughout the state, and I was thinking of entering the retail game. But that was a thought for another time, when my chipotle bourbon sauce wasn’t about to burn.

“Yo, Boss, the Sheriff wants a minute of your time.”

I let out a long, slow sigh to hide how badly she’d startled me, and then I turned. “Any idea what it’s about?”

“He asked for a catering menu earlier, so maybe that. You coming?”

I nodded and when Maven was gone, I gave myself a few more moments to get my emotions in check. Then, I smacked a smile on my face and went to talk business.

“Afternoon, Sheriff.” Even though I’d grown up in Tulip and had gone to school with Tyson, we weren’t close and greeting him with his title felt appropriate.

But it always made him smirk. “You can just call me Tyson, you know that, right?” I nodded and he shrugged, giving it up. For now. “Do you have time for a chat?”

My glance bounced from the sheriff to Jackson, both men so large they took up an entire booth meant to seat four people. “Sure, what can I do for you?” I pulled out my notepad and pen, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted.