Stay by Dahlia Rose Page A

gaze traveled down her body. She was maybe five-three, five-five in her heels, and stacked in all the right places.
    “And you can call Sheriff Layton again and he can try to force me to do it because he’s in your pocket,” she snapped, “but I’m putting my foot down. No one wants you in Honeywell.”
    “Ma’am, you may have me confused with someone else,” Hart said.
    She looked him up and down. “Biker boots, duffle bag, criminal features… Nope, you’re exactly who I think you are.”
    “Not all guys who ride bikes are criminals,” he pointed out.
    “In Honeywell, yes, you are.” She pointed under the table. “My daddy’s twelve gauge is under this desk and, trust me, I don’t need to be a crack shot to hit your big ass frame.”
    Hart smirked. He liked spunky chicks. He took his identification out and slid it across the counter. “Lieutenant Hart Temple, ma’am. United States Army out of Fort Irwin in California. I was passing through to Florida and my bike died. I‘m just trying to get a room until I can figure out what’s wrong with it, get it fixed, and move on.”
    She studied his ID and gasped. “Oh, God, I am so sorry! Fudge it all, fudge, fudge, fudge! This is what it comes to—me profiling people because of the cheese and crackers Deuces. My sincerest apologies, Lieutenant. You can of course get a room and I’ll comp you the first night for my rudeness.”
    “Fudge, cheese and crackers, huh?” he teased.
    She shook her head and sat in front of the computer. “I’m trying to stop cursing. I have a potty mouth. We have a nice room available with a view of the pool. Let me get you in the system and get you a key.”
    “Where can I get something to eat around here?” Hart asked.
    “Next door is Emma Lee’s Homestyle Restaurant. She’s about seventy-five with a firecracker of a personality but her food is to die for,” she said. “Tell her I sent you and she’ll treat you right.”
    “I’d do that if I knew your name,” Hart said.
    “Crystal Cantrell.”
    She smiled up at him and Hart forgot how to breathe. When they used the term sweet as apple pie, well, they obviously meant her and she was the brown sugar version.
    Crystal handed him a card. “This is for you. It’s the second to last room down the driveway. Again, I’m so sorry for being insulting to you.”
    “Seems you have a reason to,” Hart replied and watched her face darken. Yeah, there was something wrong in this tiny town but it wasn’t his business. He wanted to fix his bike and hit the road.
    “Mommy, Mommy, that big guy kicked over the flower pots outside again and laughed at me!”
    He heard a child’s voice and barely looked down in time to see a tiny person streak around the desk and wrap her arms around Crystal’s legs. The little girl looked up at her mother with tears on her face but fire in her eyes. Hart saw a miniature version of the woman who owned the motel.
    “I know you said it’s not nice, but can I kick him in the boy bits?” the little girl asked.
    Crystal shook her head. “No, because he’s bigger than you and I don’t want you getting hurt. I’ll kick him for you if he does it again. I’m sure Miss Emma would help you replant them and I will too later on, okay?”
    “Okay.” The little girl sniffed and turned her attention to Hart who stood watching the exchange. “Is he one of them too?”
    “No, this is Lieutenant Hart, but Mr. Temple to you, young lady,” Crystal said firmly. “Lieutenant, this is my daughter, Kaydee.”
    “Call me Hart. I’m eight weeks away from someone calling me by my rank,” he answered.
    “Can you read?” Little Bit demanded to know. “And don’t call me Kaydee. It’s too girlie. I’m Kay.”
    “I can read, and I think Kaydee is a nice name,” Hart replied.
    “I don’t like it, but it was my daddy’s mommy’s name so I was named after her. My daddy went to heaven when I was three and now it’s just me and Mommy. Those big guys