“Not like you mean.” Hawk took a deep swallow of his beer.
“Explain before I kick your ass, Hawk,” Quinn said. So much for niceties.
The outside door opened, and Colton shoved inside. Surprise lifted his eyebrows as he hustled toward them. “What’s going on?”
Hawk groaned, while Adam grinned.
Quinn settled his stance. “Somebody was about to explain that to me.”
Adam’s eyes filled with amusement. “Hawk objects to Dawn singing in the band when she’s home during weekends.”
Colton nodded his head toward the waitress. “We all object.” He smiled when she brought him a longneck. “Not that we don’t like your bar or your band, Adam. But Dawn is too young to sing in a bar. Besides, she should be staying at college and having fun each weekend instead of driving home.”
“She’s legal to drink,” Adam said. “I think she’s old enough to make up her own mind.”
Quinn was more interested in why Hawk felt the need to object on Dawn’s behalf. He eyed his old friend, who met his stare evenly and without blinking. “How long you in town, Hawk?” Quinn asked.
“Just a week.”
Quinn rubbed his chin. “While you’re here, let’s all meet up to secure the fences on both our properties before the next storm hits.” That way, he and Hawk could have a little discussion.
Hawk’s full lip quirked. “I look forward to it, Sheriff.”
Yep. Quinn was going to have to smack him a good one.
“Sheriff?” the bartender bellowed. “Mrs. Wilson is on the phone. She said you left your radio and phone in the truck.”
Quinn took a deep breath and focused on the bar. “And?”
“There’s been a wreck out on the interstate, and they need more spotlights.”
Damn it. “This night is never going to end.” Giving anyone within his vicinity a hard look, the sheriff turned on his heel and headed toward the door and his next disaster.
Chapter Thirteen
Juliet glanced at the dark storm outside and hung up the phone. The caterer would be early the next day to set up, and he’d assured her everything would go smoothly. More than anything, she needed the show to go off smoothly. Sophie deserved astounding success.
Wiggling her feet back into an awake state, Juliet surveyed the sheriff’s home office. Dark walls lent a masculine atmosphere while the tumbled stone fireplace offered coziness. She could picture him sitting at the solid oak desk, filling out the ranching ledgers. The room even smelled like him. Sexy and strong.
The doorbell rang.
She pushed back from the desk and wandered through the sprawling house to the front door. Glancing in the intricate window set in the middle, she groaned. Then she pulled open the door. “Hi, Joan.”
Joan Daniels opened her mouth and closed it quickly. She stood on the porch, casserole dish in hand. A low-cut blouse enhanced impressive breasts. Her jeans were tight enough they had to be cutting off oxygen to her feet, which were crammed into four-inch heels. “Hi, Juliet. Is Quinn home?”
“No.” Ingrained manners forced Juliet to step aside. “Would you like to come inside?”
“Sure.” Joan drifted by in a rose-scented cloud. She’d piled her blond hair high in a series of tumbling curls to compliment sultry and dark makeup. She sauntered through the hallway and into the kitchen as if she’d been there many times. “I brought dinner for Quinn as a thank-you for rescuing me from a wild cougar the other night.” She set the dish on the granite island. “He had to come out late at night.”
“I know.” Juliet slid her polite smile into place, wondering who’d save the sheriff from the cougar now in his kitchen. “I was here when the call came in.”
“Oh.” Joan maneuvered around the island to perch on a bar stool. “Well, you’re not the first woman to spend time with the sheriff. He’s a handsome man.”
Had Joan “spent time” with Quinn? Juliet took the dish and placed it in the refrigerator. Hopefully the woman would leave since Quinn wasn’t home. Her manners got the better of her. “May I offer you something to drink?”
“Absolutely. He keeps Wallace Brewery beer on the bottom shelf.” Too many teeth flashed when Joan smiled. “I’d love one.”
Sure enough, there were several bottles of Pale Ale on the bottom shelf. Juliet grabbed two and handed one to Joan. Twisting off her cap, she shoved the fridge shut with her hip. “Cheers.”
Joan removed her cap and lifted her bottle. “Cheers.” She tipped back her head and took a healthy swallow. She hummed. “It’s so thoughtful of the sheriff to keep these in stock. He likes the Irish Red, you know.”
Actually, Juliet hadn’t known that. “Really? He always drinks Scotch when we’re out.”
Joan frowned. “I wonder why he’s so formal with you. The man likes beer.” She leaned forward, elbows on the counter, false interest in her eyes. “Maybe he’s not comfortable with you.”
Juliet took another sip. “I’ll have to ask him when he gets home tonight.”
Joan’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll both ask him.”
The doorbell rang. Again.
Juliet set her beer on the counter. “Excuse me.” She hustled through the hallway to the door. Hopefully Sophie or Jake had decided to drop by and check on her. She opened the door and smiled with every bit of manners she owned. “Hello, Amy. How nice to see you.”
Amy Nelson arched an eyebrow. “Where is the sheriff?”
“Out on a call.” Juliet stepped to the side, amusement and irritation battling for control inside her. “Would you like to come in? A neighbor and I are having a drink in the kitchen.”
“For a moment.” Amy swept by Juliet and headed down the hallway. She charged into the kitchen and zeroed in on Joan. “Hi. I’m Amy Nelson.”
“Joan Daniels.” Joan glanced at Amy’s dress. “That is a stunning dress.”
Juliet reached for her beer. The dress was stunning. Sparkling red, the material shimmered and hugged Amy’s curvy figure perfectly. “I agree.”
Amy smiled. “Thank you. We had a fund-raiser for my uncle on the north side of the county, and I introduced him before his speech.”
Juliet cleared her throat. “Amy’s uncle is the governor. He’s running for reelection.”
“As is Quinn.” Amy squinted at Juliet. “I’m here to talk to him about the rest of his campaign. The man needs to get smart and start campaigning.”
“Nobody can beat Quinn. I mean, he is our sheriff.” Joan finished off her beer.
“True.” Juliet gestured toward the bottle. “Would you like another?”
“Sure,” Joan said.
Juliet turned toward Amy. “Would you like a beer?”
“No, thank you.” Amy eyed the beer bottle like it might explode. “When will Quinn return?”
The doorbell rang. Again.
“Excuse me.” Juliet carried her beer down the hallway this time. “You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered. What other woman from Quinn’s not-so-distant past would be visiting now? She yanked opened the door and stopped short.
Loni Freeze and Leila Lodge stood on the porch, holding hands. Leila jumped up and down. “Hi, Juliet! Uncle Quinn said you’d be here.”
Juliet grinned. “Hi, Leila. Loni. There’s a small get-together in the kitchen. Come on in.”
“Whoo-hoo,” Leila yelped, releasing her grandmother to skip down the hall.
Loni crossed the threshold, her head tilted. “Quinn sent us to check on you. They’ve set Jacoby’s funeral for the day after tomorrow. Poor Melanie.”
Remembered sadness washed through Juliet. Being alone made the world a darker place. “But Melanie has you and your family, Loni. She’ll be all right.”
Loni slipped an arm around Juliet’s waist. “You have us, too. Don’t forget that.”