narrowed gaze.
“I’ve heard of First Christian. Reverend Hampton runs the show up there, no?”
“It’s Hapton, sir.” Dylan smiled, not about to be tripped up on details. “Reverend Hapton.”
“Hmm.”
“And I hear good things about your church, First United.” Dylan easily turned the conversation back toward his ultimate goal. “Though I’ve never had the pleasure of sitting through a service.”
“Well, you should join us this weekend.” Mrs. Harold immediately leapt to the invitation Dylan was fishing for. “It would be the perfect first chance for you and Kristen to get better acquainted.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Dylan smiled.
* * * *
Brandon sat at the front desk, staring at his magazine without actually seeing anything on the high-gloss pages. His mind was caught and stuck by the memory of how good Kristen had looked in her dress that afternoon. She’d waltzed into the Bread Box at lunchtime looking as if she’d walked right off the set of an old sitcom.
Her slick dark tresses had been lightened with a hint of red and curled around her headband in a cascade of waves that framed the perfect curve of her heart-shaped face. Those wispy curls had highlighted the soft arch of her brows and the shine of her brilliant eyes. With her nose, her lips, the way her chin stuck ever so slightly out, she looked like an angel…and dressed just about as modestly as one.
That was all right with Brandon, especially if it helped keep the other men at bay. Like that was going to happen. Those idiots had screwed him completely over, and Brandon knew that was the point. It had become clear that the stupid competition was really about him.
After all, most of the deputies liked their women full-figured and fresh. Normally so did Brandon. Why work for it when easy came so…well, easy? Kristen was anything but easy, but she was worth the work. The way she’d strutted past them with her head held high that afternoon at the bakery had proved it.
Kristen had class. She might have been a little quiet, but it had been clear when she’d dumped all the letters the other deputies had sent her on Alex’s table that she also had a backbone. Nobody was going to mess with her. Nobody better or Brandon would be taking care of them.
“Hamilton, Hammel, Young….and where the hell is Singer?” Alex stuck his head out of his office to call out those names. Thankfully for Dylan, he was just walking in the door.
“Right here, sir.”
Alex grunted and shoved the door to his office farther open. “I want to see all of you. Now!”
“You’re in trouble,” Travis sang softly as all four deputies treaded slowly past. “Enjoy the night shift, guys.”
“Screw you, Travis,” Brandon shot back, miserable already because he knew the bastard was right.
Nothing was going his way these days. Fate hated him. That was clear enough when he walked into the sheriff’s small office and found both extra chairs already occupied by Duncan and Dale. Brandon realized in that moment he was not going to catch a break. Not today.
“Shut the door, Singer,” Alex snapped as Dylan crowded in behind Brandon. “I want to talk to you idiots because I’m sure, between the four of you, I’m talking to the mastermind of some stupid deputies’ challenge.”
Brandon, Dylan, and Dale all looked over at Duncan, who managed to look almost innocent in that moment. The sheriff wasn’t buying it, and neither was anybody else.
“That’s what I thought.” Alex snorted as he settled down behind his desk. “Well, it ends now. Understand me?”
Alex pinned each man with a pointed look until every one of them had nodded.
“Good,” he grunted. “Because Miss Kristen Harold is aware of your juvenile attempt to make her into some stupid prize. She’s threatening to go to the mayor and the paper.”
Brandon couldn’t help but smirk at that. The little miss had the brains to know just what to threaten to make Alex squirm. He
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