After leaving Adam and Connor, we checked out the cars. We oohed and awed, both of us agreeing that the 1966, perfectly restored, white-with-red-upholstery Mustang convertible should win the Classic Car Class. I wasn’t at all surprised to learn that the Hunter brothers owned that one. Last year their entry had been a ’69 Dodge Charger that I would have almost given up my world tour to own. I said almost. I loved cars, but I wasn’t that far gone.
“Let’s have pulled pork barbeque sandwiches.” At Dylan’s raised brow, I said, “When in North Carolina…” Someone needed to teach the man about good southern food. Who better than me?
We got our paper bowls filled with the sandwiches and fat, soft fries, taking them to one of the picnic tables. I rolled my eyes when he scraped the cabbage off his bun. “At least try it that way,” I said.
He eyed the cabbage, shifted his gaze to me, opened his mouth, and then shut it. The cabbage went back on his bun.
Have I said how much I liked this man? “It’s not going to kill you.”
“Not so sure about that, Red. Anything else I should do before I eat it?”
“Just this.” I picked up the red sauce and slathered it over his pork, then added a dash of hot. “Now have at it.” I tossed a handful of paper napkins his way. “Oh, and you’ll need these.”
I scored it a victory when he deemed the pulled pork with cabbage on the top good. We’d just gotten a funnel cake—my festival weakness—to top off our lunch when there was a commotion near the stage where a band was setting up. Of course Dylan’s attention zeroed in on the crowd gathering around what appeared to be a fight. I couldn’t see over the heads, but I could hear the yelling. Dylan headed that way, and holding on to my funnel cake, I followed him. Two cops, Sarah Griffin and Tommy Evans, were already pushing through the crowd when we got there.
“Stay here,” Dylan said, then elbowed his way past the people egging on the combatants.
I didn’t try to follow him because that would mean I’d probably get my funnel cake dumped on the ground. That wouldn’t have made me happy. Dylan let his officers do their job while he forced the crowd back by putting his arms out and backing up. When one man tried to push back, Dylan said something and the guy shut his mouth as he stepped away.
Sarah and Tommy got the two men wrestling each other on the ground apart. Dylan still did nothing more than maintain crowd control with brute strength and words I couldn’t hear. I’d expected him to jump in and, if nothing else, help Sarah because she was a female, but he didn’t. It reminded me of how he’d stayed out of my confrontation the other night, yet had stood behind me, letting me know with the touch of his hand on my back that he was there if I needed him.
Was the man for real? As I munched on my powdered sugar–coated cake, I ran a critical eye over him. Tall—at least six feet—whiskey-brown eyes that I’d noticed had gold flecks in them, and muscled—but not overly so—in appearance, he was a man who would catch the eye of any red-blooded woman.
Of course, I thought he was hot, but it was his personality that intrigued me. No one was perfect, and I knew me. I’d be obsessed now with finding his flaws. I also thought there had to be a story behind him leaving a big city like Chicago for a small mountain town like Blue Ridge Valley. Maybe he’d been married and there had been a nasty divorce. Or had there been some kind of on-the-job scandal?
The crowd had dispersed, leaving him standing with the two men who’d been fighting and his two cops. It figured that it was the Emery brothers. Those two practically had a cell at the jail with their names on it. Now that the yelling had stopped, I could hear their conversation. Apparently Dick had knocked over Ted’s beer.Good grief, just go get another one, guys.
Dylan glanced over at me and winked, sending my stomach into a somersault.Don’t you dare go and fall for the man, Jenn.No, I wouldn’t do that because I had a world to see and a promise to keep. So what if he made my heart flutter when he looked at me with that crooked smile? It was lust I was feeling, nothing more.
12
~ Dylan ~
Ileftthe Emery brothers for Sarah and Tommy to deal with now that we’d managed to separate them. According to my officers, this was typical behavior for Dick and Ted, and I could expect to see them in my jail on occasion. Tommy told me they were always fighting each other for the slightest offense, but if you messed with one, you’d have them both trying to take you down.
I walked back to Jenny. “You save me some of that, Red?”
She peered down at the paper plate, empty except for one small bite left. “Oops.” She held out the plate.
“Yum,” I said, munching on the sugary concoction.
“We can get another one.”
I laughed at the hopeful look on her face. “You eat any more of that and you’ll be so high on sugar your feet won’t touch the ground.” It was funny how she kept making me laugh. She’d already taught me two things. I still had a libido, and I could still laugh. Hadn’t been sure either of those things would happen again.
“Oh, I see someone I want you to meet.”
She took my hand, pulling me toward the stage. As we passed a trash can, I dropped the paper plate into it. The man she led me to sat on a metal folding chair next to the stairs that led up to the stage. He wore coveralls, had a scraggly gray beard that reached halfway down his chest, and hair as white as snow. Even sitting down, I could see that he was rail thin. At his feet were a violin case and a filthy white canvas tote.
“There’s my honeypot,” he said, breaking into a wide, toothless smile at seeing Jenny.
Honeypot? Oh boy, I couldn’t wait to call Jennyhoneypot.
“Hamburger, I’d like you to meet Dylan Conrad. He’s the new police chief. Dylan, this is Hamburger Harry.”
I’ll be dammed, the infamous moonshiner in person. Rheumy pale blue eyes gave me the once-over. I wasn’t sure what to call him. Hamburger? Just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“I heared we got us a new sheriff in town.”
