Chapter Nine

Sasha’s eyes widened as she stared at the stage. Oh no, what had she done? Her temper had gotten the better of her, and now she’d publicly bid on the one man she’d intended to stay far, far away from. So much for that.

“The winner is Sasha Honeycutt. Ladies and gentlemen, this auction is over.”

Shaking her head, Sasha looked to the auctioneer. He shrugged his shoulders and canted his head toward Remy, who was grinning from ear to ear.

Mrs. W turned to Sasha and beamed. “See? What did I tell you? The heat of the moment.”

“Yes. I mean no…it was—”

Floy interrupted by leaning over and embracing Sasha in a cloud of Jean Naté. “If I had to lose, I’m glad it was to you.”

Sasha hugged her back and shook her head as she pulled away. “Mrs. Wiggenhauser, I meant what I said. I didn’t come to bid. You can have the date with my compliments.”

The other woman squeezed Sasha’s arm. “Don’t be silly, dear. You kids go have a great time. I can call someone to clean my gutters.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “You mean you really did want him just to clean the gutters?”

“It’s gotta be done, and I’d rather stare at the sheriff’s assets up on the ladder than anyone else’s.” The woman’s faded blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

Sasha was speechless, but her first assessment of Floy Wiggenhauser as more than blue hair and purple polyester had clearly been correct.

“Ooh, here comes your date, dear.” The older woman jumped up and pulled Sasha with her.

Was Floy pushing out her chest? Sasha bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Remy strutted over to them.

He raised his eyebrows at Sasha. “Looks like we’re going out on a date.”

“I tried to give up my date to Mrs. Wiggenhauser, but she declined,” Sasha told him. “I honestly didn’t mean to win.”

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Too late now, cher. I’m all yours.”

…

After looking in on a peacefully sleeping Evie, Remy tugged off his tie and tossed it on the dresser in his bedroom. He thanked his lucky stars for the way the auction went down. He’d been able to convince Greg to bang the gavel and end the charade before Deirdre could counter. Yeah, nothing would have convinced Sasha to place another bid. Now he needed to plan a date that would convince her that he was perfect for her.

He pulled his shirttails from his pants and sat on the bed to remove his boots. An image of Sasha from New Orleans flashed into his mind as he tugged off the first one. She’d worn the same perfume again tonight. Would she want a fancy piano bar style date? His gut told him she’d been telling the truth when she said her actions that night had been an aberration. He tugged off the boot. The Sasha he’d gotten to know in Rose Creek was more introverted and cautious, but she still had no problem holding her own against him. And he liked that about her. He didn’t want a doormat, but then again, he didn’t want someone brittle like Deirdre. Sasha would be a good mother for Evie and, although their relationship hadn’t gotten physical yet, he suspected that would work between them. He was happy with his choice and the way things were working out while still maintaining control.

If he tried real hard he could smell her perfume. That’s when it struck him. He knew what that scent reminded him of, and it was the answer he needed for their date.

Grinning to himself, he unbuttoned his shirt. She would either hate the date or she’d love it, but he was willing to pull out all the stops. Tossing the shirt on the floor next to the discarded boots, he prayed his instincts about Sasha Honeycutt were correct.

…

Sasha glanced in the mirror at the T-shirt she’d finally chosen. Remy had suggested dressing comfortably, in something she wouldn’t mind getting dirty. As a precaution, he’d said, but refused to elaborate. Was that his idea of an obligatory date, because she’d placed the winning bid instead of Deirdre Simmons? She’d spent the week since the auction wondering what he had in mind for their date.

In her dreams, their date involved a lot less clothing and a lot more kissing. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be right or not.

Not that she hadn’t tried to get out of it. Okay, so her attempts had been halfhearted at best. She’d reminded the principal of the ethics involved in dating a parent of a student, but he’d waved away her concerns.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Honeycutt. You placed the winning bid fair and square, so you deserve your date,” Jim Drake had assured her and chuckled.

Sasha checked her watch and collected her stuff from atop her dresser. She slipped her purse straps over her shoulder and checked again to be sure she had put her keys into the side pocket. A car door slammed.

“Behave while I’m gone,” she cautioned Henry, who ignored her in favor of lounging in the rays of sunshine streaming in through the large front window.

She hurried to the door and opened it as Remy stepped out of his car.

He wore comfortably faded jeans, a dark T-shirt that stretched across his wide shoulders, and scuffed cowboy boots. Damn but Remy was sexy in those boots. Strange because as someone from the Northeast, she’d never harbored any cowboy fantasies, but boy did she have some interesting variations now. She remembered watching his feet the night he taught her the Cajun two-step. The boots he’d worn that night had been newer and shinier, but she preferred these battle-scarred ones. They reminded her of the calluses on his hands.

What did he have planned for their date?

She smiled to herself because she had a little plan of her own.

After double-checking the door was locked, she bounded down the steps to where he was waiting next to his car, his legs crossed at the ankles. Leaning against the driver’s side door, he looked as if he was admiring the view, every bit the bad boy she’d enjoyed reading about as a teen.

He straightened and stepped away from the car as she approached. “I hope that mysterious little smile is for me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“So full of sass today.” One side of that sexy mouth quirked up. “You look good enough to eat, cher.”

She rolled her eyes, but she had to admit the same could be said about him. “You said to dress casual. I hope this is okay for wherever it is we’re going. You never told me.”

He nodded and opened the passenger door. “I want it to be a surprise.”

She looked at him before getting into the car. “Do we have to be there at a certain time?”

“No, why?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Planning some back-seat fun before the date?”

“Yes, I think this will be lots of fun, only it doesn’t involve the back seat of your car.”

“I’m liking this so far…tell me more.” He bumped his hip against hers.

Oh yeah, she was going to enjoy this. “It’s a little errand to we need to take care of first.”

He leaned closer. “Tell me, does it have to do with a stop at the drugstore?”

“No.” She scowled, but it only seemed to excite him. “I told you it’s just an errand.”

“Errand?” He narrowed his eyes as he regarded her. “What sort of errand did you have in mind?”

She got into the car and lowered her head, pretending to arrange her purse next to her feet. “Do you know where Floy Wiggenhauser lives?”

He heaved a sigh. “As a matter of fact I do.”

“Good. It shouldn’t take too long.” She looked up and gave him a saccharine smile.

He shook his head. “Now, cher, I hope you’re not suggesting she come with us.”

“No. I— Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that.” She canted her head as if considering it, paying him back for all his teasing. “Now that you mention it…”

“Sasha, I swear…” he said before shutting her car door.

He hurried around the front of the car, muttering to himself. She bit her lip, honestly not intending to spoil whatever he had in mind for their date.

He slipped into the car and turned to her. “I’ll go along with whatever this is and do what you want me to, but she’s not coming with us and that’s that.”

“Okay. Okay,” she said and heaved an exaggerated sigh but couldn’t keep up the pretense and laughed, feeling more lighthearted than she had in a long time.

He started the car and backed out of the driveway. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve been manipulated?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She folded her hands primly on her lap. “I don’t manipulate.”

He gave her the once-over before pulling out of the drive onto the main road. “What do you call making me sit in that miniature chair in your classroom?”

Okay, yeah, he had her there, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. “I call it conducting my meeting with the furniture in my classroom. What would you call it, Sheriff?”

He waggled an index finger at her, but his dark eyes glinted with amusement. “Now, see, that right there. Starting in with the ‘Sheriff’ business again. You’re playing me, cher.”

“And you don’t like to be played with.” She pulled in a breath through her nose. It didn’t help. The delicious tingling in her stomach continued unabated. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for future reference.”

He clicked his tongue. “Now, let’s not jump to hasty conclusions. It all depends on what sort of games you have in mind and whether they include rulers and handcuffs.”

“Rulers? What do rulers have to do with anything?” She frowned, trying to recall the details from that meeting. It should be fixed in her mind; her prominent memory was of being flustered and trying not to show it.

“You were wielding one that day.”

Wielding? He made it sound as if… Oh my God. Why did he have to put pictures in her head? She wasn’t into kink of any kind, but now? Her mind began—

“Sasha?”

His deep voice penetrated through the fog of her thoughts, and she turned to him. “What?”

“We’re here,” he said and winked like he knew exactly where her thoughts had been.

…

Remy turned off the car with a self-satisfied smirk. So maybe Miss Honeycutt wasn’t as immune to him or as buttoned up as she’d like him to believe. He recalled the way she’d been dressed that night in New Orleans. It was the stuff of fantasies. But then, he had no trouble fantasizing about her no matter what she wore. Even today, in her casual clothes, she was a vision.

He got out and hurried around to the other side, but Sasha was already scrambling to exit the low-slung car when he reached her. He offered his hand, but she batted it away as if it were a bug. From the pink on her cheeks, he’d say she was embarrassed by her thoughts. He’d love to know what she’d been thinking. She’d tried to hide it, but she’d reacted when he’d mentioned rulers and handcuffs. Had she read that erotic book everyone had been talking about a few years back?

Floy Wiggenhauser appeared at the door and stepped outside. “Sheriff? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

He’d been so busy letting Sasha think she was putting something over on him that he hadn’t stopped to think about Floy’s reaction when they showed up. “Mrs. W, I—”

“I may be old but my memory’s still intact, and you said you weren’t coming until next week to clean those gutters.”

Beside him, Sasha sucked in a breath and gave him a sharp glance.

Remy tried not to laugh…too hard. She thought she’d played him, and he’d gone along with it. But thanks to Floy, Sasha now knew he’d planned to help the elderly widow all along. Auction or no.

Sasha turned to him and cuffed him on the arm, but a smile ruffled those kissable lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He rubbed the spot where she’d hit him, but not because it hurt. No, he wanted to touch where her hand had been. “Why didn’t you tell me you were trying to get me to come here to clean Floy’s gutters?”

“There you go again, Sheriff.” She glared at him. “Answering my question with a question.”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Maybe I wanted to see where you were going with this whole ‘let’s run an errand’ thing.”

“By asking if we needed to stop at a drugstore first?”

“A guy can hope.” Bon Dieu, but he acted like a lovestruck adolescent around her. A schoolboy with a crush on his teacher. She made him crazy like no one else ever had.

“Are you two finished with your foreplay?” Floy crossed her arms over her chest and studied them.

“Mrs. W!” they said in unison and turned to stare at her.

“What? I’m old, not dead.” She raised her head and sniffed. “Where are you two off to anyway?”

“He won’t tell me. Says it’s a surprise,” Sasha said and gave the older woman a quick hug.

Remy shrugged. “I’m taking Sasha for our bachelor auction date, but I promise to come back next week like we planned.”

Floy nodded. “Is it the kind of date where you can bring some buckeyes? I made some this morning.”

“That would be nice. Always love your baking, Mrs. W,” Remy said.

The woman beamed and went back into the house with a wave of her hand.

Sasha was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret, like some sort of combination of fascination and surprise.

“What?” He was tempted to cross the distance between them and take her into his arms, but Floy would be back out. He didn’t want to be caught necking in the librarian’s driveway.

“You’re very nice to her,” Sasha said and shook her head, but she wore that smile, the one that had his pulse racing.

“What’s not to like?” He shrugged as warmth spread across his chest. That smile had him thinking about more than lustful fantasies.

The screen door squeaked, and Floy came back onto her porch holding a clear plastic container. “Here you go, Sheriff. I hope you like them.”

“I’m sure I will. You’re one of the best cookie makers in the county.” He took the package and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Floy gave him a little shove. “Go off and have your fun. Those gutters’ll still be here next week.”

He grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

The woman waved him off. “You two enjoy that date. And be thankful Miss Honeycutt placed that strategic winning bid.”

Remy glanced at Sasha and quickly handed her Floy’s baked goods. “To help keep your hands busy,” he whispered.

Her gaze met his, and he had to step back or pull her into his arms. Sasha made him feel a lot of things, some welcome, some not so much. Like the way that gaze made him want to lose control. He opened the passenger door and waited for her to get in, then went around and climbed into the driver’s seat.

They both waved to Floy as he backed the Charger out of her driveway.

“So…”

Uh-oh. His hands tightened a bit on the steering wheel. No good conversation ever started with that word. “Yes?”

“Exactly how did I come to win?”

“What do you mean? You placed the winning bid,” he said, doing his best to sound innocent.

She shook her head. “But it all happened so fast. Isn’t there supposed to be the whole going once, twice, three times thing? I don’t recall the others winning quite so fast.”

“I was the last one. Maybe the auctioneer just wanted to wrap things up for the evening.” He shrugged, thankful he was driving so he didn’t have to meet her scrutinizing gaze.

“Or maybe you and he are old friends from school?” She turned her head to look at him.

“Why, Miss Honeycutt, have you been doing some detective work?” He pressed his lips together. Had she asked around, or had she been talking to Ethan?

“That was hardly necessary.” She huffed her breath out. “I have a feeling you told him to bang the gavel and end it while Deirdre was distracted.”

“And if I did?” He glanced at her. “Would you have preferred me to go on a date with her?”

“Of course not.” She rubbed her palms on her jeans. “I mean, I just…just…”

The light turned yellow, so he slowed and let the car roll to a stop. “You just what?”

“It doesn’t matter. The money went for a good cause.”

“And we’re having a date that’s been sanctioned. So you can relax and enjoy and not be in fear for your job.” He reached over and grabbed one of her hands, enjoying the warmth of her fingers in his, enjoying being with her. “A very good cause.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but a grin spread across her face. “So where are we going?”

“First, we’re going to Annie Metcalf’s place.” The light turned green, and he lightly squeezed her hand before releasing it.

“More baked goods?”

He chuckled. “Not quite.”

“The name sounds familiar. Does she have kids in school?”

“Yeah, her son Scotty goes to your school. She lives on a small spread she inherited from her grandfather.”

She tilted her head as she studied him. “Are we going to go muck out her horse stalls or something? You did say to wear something I wouldn’t mind getting dirty.”

“No. No mucking.” What kind of date did she think he had in mind?

“Because I’d be willing to give her a hand. I heard she is a single mother.”

“That’s very sporting of you, especially since you volunteered me to clean Floy’s gutters.” He glanced at her.

She scrunched up her nose. “Uh…sorry?”

“Yeah, you look it.” He brought his attention back to the road. “I should let you think that’s what we’re doing.”

“But you’re a super nice guy and aren’t going to do that.” She clasped her hands together in her lap.

Something in his chest expanded. She was nervous. This date meant as much to her as it did to him. He tucked that bit of information away. “We’re going to her ranch because we’ll be getting our transportation from her.”

“Transportation?” She turned her head to look at him. “So if her place isn’t the destination, where are we going exactly?”

“It’s a surprise. I had planned that we’d go on horseback, but as Annie reminded me, you may prefer alternate transportation in case you’re allergic or afraid of horses. In which case, Annie also offered her Gator for our use.” Of course he hoped for horseback to give her the full effect. Bon Dieu avoir pitié! When had he become a romantic?

That little furrow, the one that was so dangerous to his ability to concentrate, appeared between her eyebrows. “A Gator?”

“Relax. It’s a four-wheel ATV.” He took her hand in his, and thankfully, she didn’t pull away.

“Gotcha. I think I’d like to try the horse. Not allergic or afraid, but I confess it’s been ages since I’ve ridden, so I’m a bit nervous about it.” She laughed a little. “Can’t horses smell fear?”

He squeezed her hand. “No worries. You don’t weigh anything, so you can ride with me. We’ll take Annie’s big gelding. Her ranch hand uses him to cut cattle.”

“That’s really nice of Annie to let us use her horse.”

It took him a moment to process Sasha’s comment. His mind had been on holding Sasha close while they rode. He cleared his throat. “Annie’s very nice.”

“Are you and she…?”

Why the sudden tensing? Had he missed something? He was normally good at reading people. Her reaction told him he was off his game, but she had that effect on him. “Are we what?”

She licked her lips. “Did you and she ever—”

Did she think he strung women along? Or maybe… “Is that curiosity over my private life I detect?”

“Humph.”

“What? Did you say something?” He chuckled and squeezed her hand before releasing it so he could make the turn into Annie’s long dusty driveway, and the car clattered over the cattle guard. He shouldn’t feel so satisfied by Sasha’s—dare he think it—jealousy.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that-that you would…you know.” She rubbed her fingertips along her jeans.

“Apology accepted.” He reached over and laid his hand over hers. “Annie’s just a friend. She’s struggling to make a go of her spread. Folks in Rose Creek help her out as much as she’ll let us.”

“That’s very sweet of you. You’re not just policing the town, you’re taking care of it.”

Sweet? His former NOPD colleagues would have a field day with that. Living in the sticks must’ve softened him. “You sound surprised. You didn’t think I was nice?”

“What? No. I—” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I am beginning to realize what a big tease you are, Sheriff Fontenot.”

He mimicked her cocked eyebrow. “Why, Miss Honeycutt, haven’t you been paying attention?”

A white two-story home with an open porch running the length of the front came into view. The paint on the wooden clapboards was faded and chipped, the porch steps sagged, and one of the upstairs shutters was hanging askew.

Maybe he should challenge his guys and the fire crew to some sort of workday. Of course, getting Annie to accept would be the harder part.

Remy shut off the engine, got out of the car, and went around to the passenger side.

Sasha had already opened her door, but he offered his hand as she got out of the car. “Let’s go find Annie and get this date underway.”