Taming a Texas Devil - Katie Lane Page 0,60
with the scent that was solely Dixie’s. Then he wanted to whirl her around and press her back against the car and—
He shook his head and tried to get his mind out of the gutter and back on the questioning, but it was difficult to do when Dixie shifted her weight from one boot to the other and that sweet butt wiggled.
“Sam came into Cotton-Eyed Joe’s?” she asked.
“Almost every night.” Cal reached back for a wrench. “And almost every night, he started some kind of trouble. Either he insulted a lady or pissed off some cowboy and tried to start a fight. The guy was a real jackass and everyone hated seeing him walk through the door.”
“Do you remember the last time he came in?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I remember because Sam got drunk off his ass and started one hell of a fight before the sheriff broke it up.”
His reply snapped Lincoln out of his butt gazing. “What night was that?” he asked. “Can you remember the date?”
Cal ducked out from under the hood. “It was a Saturday night. I worked Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, but we only had live bands on the weekends and there was a live band that night. But I don’t have a clue about the date. All I remember is that it was the last time I saw Sam.”
“Who did he get in the fight with?”
“I don’t know. The fists were already flying by the time I knew what was happening. But it could’ve been anyone. Sam ticked off everyone he met.”
Dixie straightened. “It sounds that way. Did the sheriff arrest him?”
“He took Sam outside so I don’t know if he did or not.”
“And you didn’t see him again?” Lincoln asked.
“No, but I left for Abilene about a week later.” Cal shook his head. “I wanted to experience big city life.”
Lincoln pulled out a card and handed it to Cal. “If you should remember anything else about that night—anything—be sure to give us a call.”
“Sure thing.” Cal wiped off his hands with a rag before he took the card and slipped it into his back pocket. “I met Sam’s daughter at the trailer park and she mentioned Sam was missing. I guess you still haven’t found him.”
Before Lincoln could answer, Dixie did. “Not yet, but we’re getting close.” She gave him a hug as if that was exactly what a deputy should do after questioning someone. “Thanks for your time, Cal. It looks like you’re settling in to the boardinghouse okay.”
“Reba and Val are good people. And so is Miss Gertie. She and Cheyenne have become fast friends. Cheyenne spent most of the morning in the garden with her, learning how to knit while Miss Gertie told her stories about the boardinghouse. Cheyenne is all hopped up about seeing some ghost that supposedly haunts the garden at night.”
Dixie laughed. “Who doesn’t love a ghost story? I’m glad Cheyenne is doing so well after what she went through yesterday—both of you.”
“Have you discovered anything else about who started the fire?” Cal asked.
“No. We’ll let you know if we do. For now, we’ll let you get back to work.”
Cal nodded. “Reba and Val were nice enough to let me use their garage as a shop.” He looked at Lincoln. “Thanks for hooking me up with them. I appreciate it.”
“You’re more than welcome.” He shook Cal’s hand. “We’ll be talking.”
He and Dixie headed for his truck in the parking lot. Without much thought, he opened the door for her. It wasn’t until she hesitated that he realized what he’d done.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.” He released the door and backed up. “I’ll just let you get that.”
A smile spread across her face as she got into the truck. He walked around to his side and felt like an idiot. What was he doing? They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. They were . . . hell, after last night, he didn’t know what they were. But he did know he had no right to open her door. Especially when they were working. Thankfully, Dixie didn’t say anything about it when he got in. Instead, she kept things pure business. Which is exactly what he needed to do.
“Well, my theory that the fire was somehow connected to Sam’s murder was completely wrong,” she said as she fastened her seatbelt. The shoulder strap rested between her breasts. Breasts that fit perfectly in his hands—dammit! He pulled his gaze away and concentrated on starting the truck and backing out