Her Texas Lawman

The man was a handsome devil, she thought. There was no denying the fact. Something about this man had caught her attention the moment he’d stepped up and dabbed his handkerchief to her bleeding head.

She still couldn’t believe she’d actually searched his left hand for a sign of a wedding ring. What could have possibly possessed her? The deputy’s marital status had nothing to do with anything.

She wasn’t looking for a man to curl up to. Even one that looked as good as Deputy Ripp McCleod. She’d had one good-looking, smooth-talking man in her life and now that he’d gone with the wind, along with her family inheritance, she’d vowed to never have another. But this Texas lawman was more than enough to make a woman forget her vows!

Chapter Two

Her head now throbbing with pain, Lucita pulled her handbag onto her lap and began to search for a painkiller. She was still pawing her way through lipstick tubes and crumpled receipts when the cab door opened again and Deputy McCleod slid beneath the steering wheel. With him came the warm night air and his distinctly male scent. A prickle of awareness suddenly dotted her skin with goose bumps.

“No hog, Ms. Sanchez,” he told her. “Once it’s daylight, the department will have a closer inspection of your car. Of course, if we find anything, we’ll inform you.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Actually, I’m glad you didn’t find the hog. I didn’t want to think I’d ended its life, even if it would have helped me avoid a ticket.”

He reached for the clipboard and the paper where he’d jotted down her license information. “Hog. Tailgater. Whatever. You were obviously driving way too fast, Ms. Sanchez. I’d say if you put any value on that neck of yours, you’d better slow down.”

Lucita clamped her lips together as she watched him scratch more comments across the bottom of a second set of documents. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch him write what looked to be a whole stack of driving tickets.

“What am I supposed to do if someone starts to harass me on the highway again?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

He looked up and Lucita couldn’t help but notice the way his dark brows met in the middle of his forehead, the way the corners of his chiseled lips turned faintly downward. The man even made frowning look sexy, she thought.

“You really are concerned about a stalker, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “It’s just a hunch, but enough of one to scare me.”

To her surprise he reached across the seat and gently touched her forearm in a reassuring way. “I wouldn’t borrow trouble, Ms. Sanchez. Unfortunately, lots of people encounter rude, reckless drivers on the highway, but that’s where it ends. I doubt you’ll have any more problems. Just be vigilant and drive safely.”

Under normal circumstances, Lucita would agree with him. But her past wasn’t exactly normal. Three years ago her ex-husband had stolen every penny of the inheritance her family had given her after she’d turned twenty-five. And so far the police hadn’t been able to locate his whereabouts. But she wasn’t about to get into that sordid story with this man. After all, Deputy McCleod considered this a traffic incident and nothing more. And perhaps it would be best to let him keep thinking that, Lucita decided. Especially when she hadn’t a lick of proof that the person who’d practically run her down on the highway was Derek Campbell or anyone connected to him. Besides, during their ten-year marriage he’d never once threatened to harm her in any way.

Yet for the past few weeks she hadn’t been able to shake the idea that her ex was somehow connected to the person who’d been shadowing her comings and goings.

Folding the lawman’s handkerchief into a tight square, Lucita pressed it back to the leaky wound on the side of her head. “You’re right, Deputy McCleod,” she said after a moment. “I need to quit worrying and be glad that my car was the only victim tonight.”

“Like I said earlier, you’re one fortunate lady,” he said in a low voice. “I guess you know that?”

“Yeah,” she said with feigned cheerfulness, “this is definitely my lucky night.” Straightening her back, she looked away from him and said, “If you’re finished writing up that report, I’m going to call my brother to come get me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said curtly. “I’m taking you home myself.”

Her head turned toward him. “What?”

“We’re not that far from the Sandbur,” he explained. “There’s no need to bother your family. Besides, I think I need to talk with them about this little accident.”

Lucita couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder at his motive. As far as she knew, it wasn’t the legal responsibility of the sheriff’s department to see that she got home safely. “Is that normal procedure?” she couldn’t help but ask.

His face stoic, he ripped her portion of the ticket from his clipboard and handed it over to her. She took the piece of paper and without a glance crammed it into her purse.

“There’s no need for you to concern yourself about my procedure, Ms. Sanchez. I never step out of bounds.”

With the law, or women? she wondered. But she kept that question to herself. If this man knew she’d been looking at him as anything other than an official of the law, he’d probably write her a second set of tickets.

Deputy McCleod twisted the key in the ignition and the truck sparked to life. As he whirled the vehicle onto the highway, he picked up the two-way mike fastened to the dashboard. “Lijah, I’m headed to the Sandbur. Be sure to measure the skid marks and try to locate the owner of the damaged fence. If those bulls get out we’ll have accidents and lawsuits all over the place.”

“Gotcha, Ripp. Will do.”

Grabbing the seat belt, Lucita fastened it across her lap while the deputy gunned the truck down the highway toward the Sandbur turnoff.

Once she had the belt securely in place, she settled against the seat and stared out the blackened windshield. Her throbbing pulse was causing the gash on her head to leak even more and she pressed the handkerchief tightly to the wound. The fleeting thought passed through her mind that the snow-white fabric he’d lent her would never be the same again. She would owe him a handkerchief. But would she ever have the opportunity to repay him?

Idiot, she scolded herself. Seeing Deputy McCleod again was the last thing she needed to be thinking about.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him reach for the two-way radio. After the female dispatcher responded he began repeating letters and numbers that Lucita quickly recognized from her car tag and driver’s license. She understood. Even though her family was well-known in this part of Texas, he had no way of knowing if she had outstanding tickets or warrants. He had to treat her like any other person involved in an accident.

Moments later the dispatcher came back on the air. “Everything clear on that license and tag, number two.”

“Roger. Thanks.”

“Did she call you number two?” Lucita asked curiously.

“That’s my code,” he explained. “I’m the chief deputy behind the sheriff.”

“Oh.” She should have guessed he wasn’t a mere deputy. The man reeked authority, along with all that masculinity.

“Where will my car be taken?” she asked after a moment.

He answered her question. “To the only salvage yard in town—Santee’s. But just in case you’re wondering, I can save you the trouble and tell you right now that the vehicle is totaled.”

He flipped on the left-hand blinker and turned onto a graveled road that would eventually carry them to Lucita’s family ranch. The Sandbur was such a large property that it was divided into two: the Mission River Division and the Goliad Division. The latter was where the homes of the owners were located and it was to that bustling part of the ranch that Deputy McCleod headed as he guided the truck over a bumpy road past stands of mesquite trees and wesatch bushes.

Lucita wanted to ask him who’d made him an authority on automobiles, but she bit her tongue. There wasn’t any point in taking her bad fortune out on this lawman. So far he’d treated her with respect and concern where another lawman might have taken pleasure in giving her an angry chewing-out.

Forcing her gaze away from his handsome profile, she said in a quiet voice, “Do you think I’m lying about the tailgater bumping into me?”

Not bothering to spare her a glance, he said, “No. But there’s a chance you could be mistaken. Things happen quickly when a person is traveling at a high rate of speed. And I—”

He paused as though he didn’t think his next words were appropriate and Lucita was quick to prompt him. “Please finish, Deputy McCleod. I respect your experienced opinion.”

“Okay. I get the feeling that you’re holding something back about this whole thing.”

The insinuation in his words made her more than a little uncomfortable. She didn’t want this man knowing that she was the black sheep of the Saddler-Sanchez family, that she was the only one who’d brought shame upon herself and her loved ones by marrying a guy they all objected to. “In other words, you don’t trust me.”

He darted a glance at her and the aloofness on his face left her colder than the air blowing from the vents on the dashboard.

“Ms. Sanchez, in my business I can’t take anyone at face value.”

Thankfully for Lucita the remaining distance to the ranch house was only a few short miles. The atmosphere inside the deputy’s truck was thick with tension and the only noise breaking the awkward silence was the sound of crackling voices going back and forth over the two-way radio.

Lucita hunkered down and tried to rest her head on the back of the seat, but each time the truck hit a washed-out hole in the road, the jarring seemed to go right to her injury. After a couple of minutes she gave up and sat rigidly on the edge of the seat.