Falling for You Page 5

  Speechless, Bud turned to Sue Ellen. She seemed to be trying to form a protest but having no luck.

  “Well, neither of you is going anywhere until the clock strikes midnight.” Fletcher wrapped his arm around his bride’s waist. “The squad car’s blocked in by a half dozen vehicles.” He shrugged. “Hazard of coming early, I guess.”

  It didn’t take a specialist in criminal behavior to note the twinkle in his host’s eyes. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Fletcher?”

  “I refuse to answer that question.” The older man shrugged. “I suppose in your line of work, Deputy, that would be called taking the fifth.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sue Ellen looked around the room for a diversion and found none.

  Bud jammed his keys back into the pocket of his jeans and rubbed his palms together. “Least we can do is make the best of it.”

  “S’pose so,” she responded.

  “Another fifteen minutes and I can take you home.”

  She shrugged. “Better figure on more than that, Deputy. You’re assuming all these folks are leaving at midnight. What you don’t know is that Dottie Jean’s got a whole other course of desserts and appetizers to serve after the clock strikes. Oh, and don’t forget the fireworks. I heard tell that Fletcher went all the way to Lake Charles for the beignets.”

  Bud groaned.

  “Hey, a girl could be insulted by a man who’s that anxious to leave her company.”

  His expression softened. “I could say the same for me. That is, for you.” He shook his head. “What I mean is, you sure were in a hurry to get home. A guy might be insulted by that, too.”

  Sue Ellen chewed on that statement for a minute. “Fair enough. How about we make the best of the rest of the evening?”

  Bud looked around at the milling crowd and saw few prospects for enjoying himself. “What do you have in mind?”

  Her smile was contagious as her gaze swept the room. “Since Bubba and the reverend left, looks like we’re the only ones who aren’t a couple. What say we find a television somewhere in this place and watch the ball drop?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Sue Ellen. I doubt Dottie Jean wants us wandering around her home.”

  She grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the nearest exit, a hallway that led away from the noise of the crowd. “Which door shall we try?” she whispered as she looked at doors on the right, then on the left. “How about that one?”

  Bud stopped short and refused to budge as Sue Ellen tried the first door on the left. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Turning the knob, she pushed the door open to find a linen closet. “Hush. If you’re not going to help, at least keep quiet.”

  She tried another door and found what looked like a guest bedroom. On the third attempt, she hit the jackpot. A cozy den, done up in dark wood paneling, beckoned. A leather sofa dominated the center of the room, while a large television hung above the fireplace.

  “Bud, get in here.”

  Sue Ellen stepped inside the room and inhaled deeply of the vanilla scent, a fat white candle sitting on the oversized coffee table being the obvious culprit. Beside the candle was what looked like a remote control for the television.

  “Any idea how to. . . Bud?” She retraced her steps to find the deputy still standing in the hallway. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re trespassing, Sue Ellen, and I won’t be a part of—”

  Before he could complete the sentence, Sue Ellen had him inside the room with the door shut tight. “Now all we need to do is figure out how to get this thing working.” She thrust the remote in his direction, but he refused to take it. “Come on, Bud. Loosen up. Do you honestly think Dottie Jean and Fletcher will care that we’re watching their television instead of standing around out there making small talk?”

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But I just don’t think. . . Say, look at the size of that television. Is that surround sound? I wonder if Fletcher’s got 3D.”

  Sue Ellen chuckled as she handed him the remote, then led him to the sofa. “Sit here, techno dude, and fire that puppy up. The night’s not getting any younger.”

  Three clicks of the remote and they were watching a sports wrap-up of the evening’s bowl games. Sue Ellen grabbed for the remote, but Bud was too fast for her. He switched from the sports talk to a John Wayne movie.

  “Oh man, this looks amazing in HD on a screen this size,” he said as he made himself comfortable on the sofa. “I wish we’d thought to bring popcorn.”

  “Hey,” Sue Ellen said as she made another reach for the remote, “you’re going to make us miss the big moment. Cut that out.”

  “Oh, all right,” he said, “but I don’t think you fully understand what I’m giving up so that you can watch that show. Don’t you realize this movie is the Duke’s personal favorite?”

  She gave him an I-don’t-care look, then made a grab for the remote. He easily dodged her and turned the channel to the golf channel.

  “Bud!”

  He gave her a wicked grin as he clutched the remote to his chest. “Quiet, Sue Ellen, or we’ll be found out.”

  “Why, Bud Briggs, that was spoken like a true criminal.”

  His brows shot up in mock offense. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said in an exaggerated drawl, “but last time I checked, I was the law around here.”

  Before she could protest, Bud switched the channel to the correct program. Sue Ellen settled into the cushy leather sofa and watched a popular actor and his on-screen costar freezing on a balcony overlooking Times Square while chatting about their latest romantic comedy. Obviously half listening to the staged banter, Sue Ellen cast a furtive glance at her companion.

  The flickering light of the television cast a myriad of colors across his face, and the light of the single lamp cast gilded highlights into his already golden hair. While her fingers itched to improve the straight lines of the barber’s cut, she also wondered how the blond strands would feel to the touch.

  He obviously bought his hair products at the grocery store, and whatever he used did not have a good conditioner in it. Probably one of those shampoo-and-conditioner-in-one items. Given the right cut and a deep conditioning, the deputy would be drop-dead gorgeous.

  Who was she kidding? He already was.

  If only he had a sense of humor. Sue Ellen sighed again. There was nothing more tragic than a man who’d forgotten how to have fun.

  A commercial featuring a talking lizard came on, and Bud chuckled. He always did have a nice smile.

  Lord, You’ve thrown Bud and me together since we were just kids. Why is it that I feel like I’m just now seeing him for the first time?

  What would it take to keep Bud Briggs in Port Neches? She sighed. Certainly more than the promise of a romance with her.

  Much as she hoped she could change the situation, unless the Lord intervened, Bud Briggs would be headed out of town as soon as he heard back from the FBI Academy. And thanks to a recommendation from her daddy, he was all but certain to get in.

  “Thanks, Dad,” she muttered.

  “What’s that?” Bud hit the Mute button. “Did you say something?”

  “No, nothing.” At least nothing I meant for you to hear.

  The New Year’s Eve program came back on, and Bud clicked off the Mute button. “You’re not old enough to start talking to yourself, and I’m not deaf,” she thought he said.

  “What’s that?” She caught his grin as it disappeared.

  “Nothing at all. Just making an observation.” He pointed to the television. “Look, isn’t that the guy from. . .”

  Bud kept talking, and Sue Ellen did her best to give the on-screen antics her full attention. Something about the man sitting less than an arm’s length away kept her thoughts skittering in two directions.

  “Five more minutes,” Bud said without removing his gaze from the screen.

  She didn’t reply.

  “Any last-minute resolutions you want to make?” He swi
veled to view her profile. “Other than a full month of following my every command.”

  Butterflies crashed about in Sue Ellen’s stomach, and she clasped her trembling hands. Then good sense took over. Much as she wanted to be a blob of simpering emotions, she did have her pride.

  “As I recall, I didn’t commit to anything. I said I’d listen to what you had to say over lunch.”

  He shrugged. “Fair enough. But don’t think you’re ordering the fried catfish.”

  Sue Ellen worked up a look of pretend anger. “I predict by the end of the month I’ll have you eating fried catfish and begging for more.”

  Another chuckle. “How about we make this an official challenge?” He leaned forward. “One month is all I ask. After that you’ll thank me.”

  “Well, I don’t know.” She gave him a sideways glance. “What’s in it for me? Seems like you’re the one who benefits, given the fact you’ll be spending quality time with me.”

  “You do have a point.” This time his grin lasted much longer. “What did you have in mind?”

  “My first inclination is to require you to submit to my scissors and do something with that hair. I mean, honestly, Bud. Nobody ever died from a deep-conditioning treatment.” She held up her palms to silence his protest. “However, I’ve come up with something slightly—and only slightly, mind you—more valuable to your personal growth in the new year.”

  He quirked a brow. “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to have fun, Bud Briggs, and if you don’t agree to one month under my complete command, I’m backing out of my end of the deal.”

  “Hey, I’m fun.” The deputy actually looked a bit wounded.

  Sue Ellen tried to soften her words with a sensitive look. “Name the last time you did something just for the pure fun of it.” Before he could speak, she shook her head. “And exercising and deer hunting don’t count.”

  He opened his mouth twice but said nothing. For a second she thought he might have a response.

  “And working on cars doesn’t count, either.”

  “Not fair. Who’s making these rules, anyway?”

  “I am.” She squared her shoulders. “You got a problem with that?”

  “If it gives me a chance to improve your diet and health, no, I guess I don’t. Still, I think I’m a fun guy.”

  She gave him a look that told him exactly how fun she thought he was. “Stop stalling, Deputy. Fish or cut bait.”

  It didn’t take him but a second to grasp her hand. “Deal,” he said. “On the condition that anything you ask of me isn’t illegal, immoral, or fattening.”

  “Bud Briggs, you know me better than that.”

  “All right, strike the first two.” His eyes narrowed. “But I’m sticking to the third one.”

  “No deal,” she said. “I refuse to put caloric restrictions on fun. Shake on it or forget it.”

  On TV, the ball began its slow descent to the cheers of the crowd in Times Square.

  “No restrictions,” he said slowly. “All right, but that goes both ways, you know.” Bud slowly held out his hand to shake.

  “All right,” she said as she met him halfway. Palm to palm they sat, with only the glow of the magnificent crystal globe to light the room.

  On the other side of the closed door, the countdown began. “Ten, nine, eight. . .”

  Bud tightened his grip on her fingers.

  “Seven, six, five. . .”

  “Happy New Year, Bud,” Sue Ellen whispered.

  “Four, three, two. . .”

  “Happy New Year, Sue Ellen.”

  And then he shook her hand.

  Chapter Ten

  He shook your hand?” Dottie Jean swiped at the air with her dishtowel. “I just don’t believe it.”

  Sue Ellen perched on the stool nearest the cash register while Dottie Jean, filling in for Jenny, counted change. A half hour from now, the Catfish House would be full of customers. For now, however, the dining room was blissfully empty.

  “I know. I thought. . . Well, that is, I hoped. . .”

  “You hoped he’d come out of whatever fog he’s been in since high school? Good luck, Sue Ellen. That man’s near to impossible to figure out.”

  The door jangled and shut behind Leota. After exchanging hugs with her friend, Sue Ellen climbed back onto her stool to sip her coffee.

  “Welcome back.” Dottie Jean set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Leota, then leaned her hip against the counter. “We were just talking about how Sue Ellen and Bud rang in the New Year.”

  Leota’s brows shot up. “Do tell, honey. Did he kiss you?”

  Sue Ellen sighed. “No, he shook my hand.”

  Her friend nearly choked on her coffee. “Stop teasing me,” she said when the coughing fit subsided.

  “Oh, she’s serious,” Dottie Jean said. “That boy’s a blame fool, and I, for one, would like to give him a piece of my mind. Why, for once I wish Sassy was here instead of in Hawaii with Wendell. She’d have just the right thing to say about a man who settles for a handshake with a pretty girl instead of a New Year’s kiss.”

  Leota chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Sue Ellen asked.

  “I just had an image of Sassy in her overalls with a grass skirt and coconut top on over them.” She dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Oh, and Wendell in a pair of flowered swim trunks.”

  “His trunks were a solid color, thank you very much, and I, for one, wore a string bikini under my grass skirt.”

  “Sassy!” Dottie Jean laughed out loud. “Don’t even ask me to look at those vacation pictures.”

  “As if I’d ask you. Some things are just private, you know?” Sassy gave Leota a squeeze, and then enveloped Sue Ellen in a hug. “Now what’s this I hear about you getting a handshake instead of a New Year’s kiss?”

  “Bud shook her hand, Sassy. Can you feature it?”

  Sassy lowered herself gingerly onto the bar stool beside Sue Ellen, then winced. “Girls, I never did know a sunburn to hurt like this one.”

  “But you don’t look sunburned,” Leota said.

  “That’s cause I put lotion on every place I could reach. Guess I missed a spot or two.” She paused to take a sip from her mug, her face a mask of innocence. “That’s good coffee, Dottie Jean. Not like that sissy stuff my Tilly serves.” She slapped herself on the forehead, as if to remind herself. “You know, I’ve got to stop talking like that. Tilly’s a sweet girl—and I must confess even her coffee’s improved since she gave her heart to the Lord.”

  “Amen to that,” Sue Ellen agreed. “I tried her Cinnamon Streusel Delight. It’s my personal favorite.”

  “She is a good girl.” Sassy’s lips turned up in a smile. “And the proof’s in the pudding. Did I tell you that she’s offered the use of her place for the youth on Sunday morning? She told me on the way in from the airport that Reverend Jordan was thrilled with the idea.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Sue Ellen said. “Especially with the way our youth group is growing.”

  “I agree.” Sassy’s lower lip began to quiver. “And that Fred. . .” She shook her head and wiped away a tear. “He’s been the next best thing to sliced bread for that daughter of mine. I do hope he proposes soon.”

  “Why, Sassy Hatchett!” Sue Ellen put a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake. “I mean Meeks. Sassy Meeks.” She let out a little giggle. “I thought you were opposed to the idea of Tilly marrying Fred because they scarcely knew each other.”

  “I’m over that.” Sassy grinned from ear to ear. “I’m a firm believer in marriage. And besides”—she took another sip of the coffee—“I’ve already talked to Pastor Jordan. He thinks Fred would make a great youth pastor. Can you imagine my Tilly Mae, a youth pastor’s wife?” She slapped her knee and let out a deep-throated laugh. “My goodness, would Tilly’s daddy get a chuckle out of that?”

  “I do believe he would,” Sue Ellen said.

  Sassy patted Sue Ellen’s ar
m. “I didn’t mean to get off on all that. Why, I’m not paying a bit of attention to what happened to you.” She looked over at Dottie Jean. “You say this pretty girl only got a handshake at midnight?” When Dottie Jean nodded, Sassy frowned. “I’d say we ought to string him up, but likely as not, doing harm to a deputy sheriff is probably a bad idea.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Leota said. “I kind of like the idea.”

  “I’ve got a plan,” Sue Ellen said, “so don’t you worry.”

  “Do tell, child,” Sassy encouraged.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Dottie Jean said. “Much as we’d all like to teach our deputy sheriff a lesson, I suggest we keep it to ourselves.”

  “Why’s that, Dottie Jean?” Sue Ellen asked.

  She gestured toward the plate glass window advertising the best catfish west of the Mississippi. “ ’Cause here he comes, crossing the street.”

  “Be nice, all of you.” Sue Ellen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve got this under control.”

  “Of course you do,” Dottie Jean said as she shared a grin with Sassy.

  “Just act natural,” Sue Ellen said. “All of you. I mean it.” That last comment she directed at Sassy, who looked to be trying to scoot off the stool.

  “You don’t want me to act natural, Sue Ellen.” Sassy wiggled back onto the stool, then winced as she straightened her overall strap. “I just might say something to offend somebody.” When the others giggled, she shrugged. “Hey, you never know.”

  “Please,” Sue Ellen said. “Leota, talk to me about something. I don’t want him to think I’m waiting for him.”

  “But you are,” Sassy said.

  “Stop it, Sassy.” Dottie Jean reached under the counter to deposit a stack of cloth and silverware in front of Sassy. “Get a handful of those napkins and set to work. Me, I’m going back to my hush puppies.”

  By the time the bell on the diner door jingled, Sue Ellen and Leota were engrossed in a discussion of the latest Christian concert coming to Beaumont, while Dottie Jean was up to her elbows in hush puppy dough.