Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,137
One second he was bare and bodacious. The next he was fully dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and boots.
She looked down. Her black sandals peeped from beneath the hem of her robe.
“Leave them,” Grim said, reading her mind.
His voice was husky, and he had that look, the one that made her insides melt like caramel.
“Whoever is here will not tarry long,” he said. “I will make sure of that.” He tugged her close and kissed her. “In the meantime, I will know you are wearing them—and nothing else—beneath that garment.”
Sassy’s breasts tightened against the terry cloth, and a delicious tension coiled in her belly. Bunny rabbits, he sure knew how to wind a girl up.
The doorbell buzzed a third time, and Sassy hurried to answer. She opened the front door, and Sheriff Whitsun and Mr. Houston stepped inside.
Whitsun looked calm as an oyster behind his Ray-Bans. Houston, on the other hand, was clearly rattled.
“Sorry to bother you folks,” Whitsun said, “but I’ve got news about the mill.”
“It’s a total loss,” Houston blurted. “Everything the firemen did seemed to make it worse. Fire spread. Never seen anything like it. Burned the outbuildings and the office. The men and I managed to save the equipment and some of the cut timber, but that’s about it.”
“Anyone hurt?” Sassy asked.
Houston shook his head. “Two of the men sucked up some smoke, but Doc Dunn says it’s not serious.”
Sassy exhaled. “Thank goodness. Any idea what started the fire?”
“I’ve got my arson guy on it,” Sheriff Whitsun said. “We don’t know anything yet.”
“Probably started with one of the machines.” Houston removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “That’s the most likely source. ’Course, you know there are stories.”
“What kind of stories?” Sassy asked.
“Same old same old.” Houston snorted. “Some of the men swear they saw the ghost hound.” He wiggled his fingers and made a whooooo noise. “Claim the hound ran from building to building, spreading the fire. Damn nonsense.”
Trey had set the fire. He’d finally succeeded in destroying the mill. Maybe now he would find some peace. Sassy hoped so. Her brother deserved a happy after-life.
“So,” Houston said. “When do we start rebuilding? The men want to know.”
Rebuild the mill? Sassy’s body and mind balked. An idea formed and took root.
“We don’t.”
Houston stared at her. “What do you mean? My men have families to support.”
“We’ll clear the lot and build a pickle factory,” Sassy said. “Mother’s been scouting new locations. Hannah would be ideal.”
“A pickle factory.” Houston’s eyes bulged. “What about my men?”
“They’ll be given first dibs on the best jobs at the new plant,” Sassy said. “If they don’t want to work there, I’ll provide them excellent references.”
Sassy grew more excited about the plan by the minute.
“I’ll hold a pickling contest,” she said. “The winning recipe will launch our newest pickle, alongside our standard products. Dills. Bread and butter pickles. Sweet baby gherkins.” She clapped her hands. “It’s going to be creamy.”
“Pickles,” Houston muttered in disgust. “Reckon that’s it for me.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Houston,” Sassy said. “You can’t quit. I need you more than ever.”
“I’m a timber man. I ain’t working in no dang pickle plant.”
“Of course not.” Sassy gave him a sunny smile. “I want you to manage my timber properties. I need someone I can trust. Someone honest and dependable. Someone with an excellent work ethic and an extensive knowledge and love of trees. That’s you, Mr. Houston.” She beamed. “You’ll be my very own Fangorn.”
“I’ll be a what?”
“A tree shepherd. You’ll decide which ones need cutting and what to plant. When it’s time for a controlled burn. That sort of thing.”
Houston looked uncertain. “I could do that with my eyes closed. What does it pay?”
“I’ll treat you to breakfast at the Sweet Shop tomorrow morning,” Sassy said. “We can hammer out the details then.”
“I’ll have to think on it.”
Houston left, shaking his head.
Sheriff Whitsun lingered.
“Eddie Furr’s funeral is this Friday,” he said. “It’s closed casket.”
The witch hadn’t left much for Eddie’s family to bury.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Sassy said. “I’ll be sure to attend.”
“His folks want answers,” Whitsun said. “Is it safe to assume the . . . er . . . person responsible is dead?”
“Yes,” Grim said. “She is no more.”
“She? Eddie’s murderer was a woman?”
“Not precisely,” Grim said. “You strike me as astute, Sheriff. Perhaps you have noticed things in Hannah that are beyond the norm?”
“No kidding.”
“Then, perchance, you have heard of a creature called the Hag?”
“The Howling Hag of Catman Road? ’Course. It’s a bedtime