A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,43
he said as they pulled into the Shed, an amazing breakfast-and-lunch place that served the best breakfast burritos this side of the Pecos. And they served them all day. Ish. They were only open until 3:00 p.m.
“I know what I’m having,” she said, suddenly ravenous despite the upset state of her stomach.
“I know what you’re having, too. You really need to switch it up every so often. Be more adventurous. Like me.”
She pursed her lips. “You order the same thing every time we come here. You have since high school.”
“You’ve been gone a long time, sweet cheeks.”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Chicken Burrito Smothered in Green?”
“Yeah, Miss Green Chile Breakfast Burrito with Extra Salsa on the Side.”
“Okay, fine, what else do you order?”
A smile stretched across his handsome face. “A chicken burrito smothered in red.”
Sun snorted.
“Oh, it gets better.”
“No,” she said, waiting with bated breath, the anticipation killing her.
“Yep. Sometimes I go crazy. Sometimes I order a chicken burrito Christmas-style.”
Sun gasped playfully, the conversation proving to be the salve they needed after such a strenuous morning. “You know what you are?” she asked, keeping up the game.
“A chile connoisseur?”
“I was going to say a chile slut.”
That time, he gasped. “Who told? Was it Wanda Stephanopoulos from the Book Babes? I knew I shouldn’t have let that woman hump my leg.”
They burst out laughing as Sun let the levity of the moment overtake her. It felt good. Just like the image of that tiny lady wrapping herself around the massive deputy. The Book Babes were nothing if not entertaining.
They stepped inside the Shed, a miniscule place that always had more customers than chairs. Thankfully, Sun and Quincy were ordering to go. The crowded room went silent when they walked in, and all eyes landed on the law enforcement officers. Quincy, they were used to. Sun, not so much.
The pair stepped to the counter to give their order when an older man walked up, took her hand, and slapped her on the shoulder. “Congratulations on the win, Sheriff.”
“Thank you,” she said, more than a little surprised.
And the floodgates opened. Each patron stood and took a turn to offer her a hardy congrats before sitting down to their food again. Everyone seemed pleased and hopeful with her win. Everyone except the former sheriff, who sat seething in a corner booth.
Baldwin Redding had a thick body and thin hair, and both of those adjectives could describe his mental state.
Sun chose to ignore him and turned back to the waiting server. But when he stood as well, the room fell silent again. The server stepped back as though afraid. After everything Sun had heard, she couldn’t blame her.
“Sheriff,” he said when he stepped within earshot. He gave her a once-over, his face distorting as though on the verge of laughter.
“Former Sheriff,” Sun said in return.
The reminder wiped the smirk off the man’s face. “I’d hate for your election win to be called into question.”
“Not as much as I’d hate for your terms served to be called into question, but we all have our burdens to bear.”
He bit down, then let the smirk reemerge as he said, “I hear you’re having a really bad first day.”
“On the contrary. I’m glad I can actually be of use in these types of situations. I’m not sure what you could have done.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Okay,” she said, adding a healthy dose of pep.
He gave her one more leisurely appraisal, as though that would unnerve her. Clearly, he’d never been a woman walking past a construction site. After he’d finished, he tipped his hat and then sauntered, actually sauntered, out the door.
“Tootles,” she called after him.
Quincy leaned into her. “Honestly, who names their son Baldwin? It’s like they set him up for failure from the get-go.”
Sun nodded. “Or, at the very least, male-pattern baldness.”
Quince snorted, then rubbed his own head, suddenly worried.
“Speaking of which, thanks for the backup.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, like you need my help with the likes of that pile of shit.”
He had a point.
They got to the station just in time to eat one-tenth of their food before a call came in. A very interesting one.
Dispatcher Anita Escobar, the pretty blonde with masses of unruly hair pulled back into a thick ponytail, rushed into her office as they ate, almost bursting at the seams with the news. And yet she said nothing. She waited for Sun to address her, which took a moment because she’d just taken a huge bite.