Record of Wrongs (Redemption County Book 1) Read online

  Entering the building, she called out hello to Owen and ducked into the employees’ rooms to stow her purse. Rosie tied on her black half apron and headed to the kitchen, where George manned his post at the stove. “How’s it going today, George?”

  He waved in between stirring two pans. “Busy, busy. It’s all good.”

  “Hey, girl,” Brenda chirped, entering the kitchen with a tray full of empty glasses. “It’s been a busy Friday. You can tell it’s payday—oh. Hang on.” She set down her tray and reached her hand toward Rosie’s face. “Somehow, you’ve got blue eyeshadow on your jaw.” She swiped Rosie’s skin with a gentle finger.

  “Mm-hm. And somehow…your girls know I have a date coming up.”

  “Oh, they’re excited for you! I couldn’t resist telling them.” Brenda grinned. “Heck, I’m excited for you. When was the last time you had a date?”

  “I don’t remember and that’s not import—”

  “See? It’s been too long if you don’t remember.” Brenda reached back to adjust her ponytail. “Cute new guy, defends you from some assholes…”

  Rosie couldn’t suppress a smile. She hadn’t seen Cruz since the fishing date that involved barely any fish, but she’d thought about him every day. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d stop by the Grille, though he’d told her that his crew was working long hours to take advantage of the nice weather. Get a jump on the load of projects they had to get done this year, before the weather turned too cold.

  She’d told Brenda about Cruz’s past, the little that she knew. Nothing stayed secret in Sundown, and she’d rather have Brenda hear it from her. “Thanks for being cool about him, Bren.”

  “Pssht.” Brenda popped a hand on her hip. “Ain’t none of us saints. I don’t care where he came from. All I know is he coulda left like most customers that night. After all, he was done eating and drinking. But he stayed. He says he was on his phone. Girl, I think he was worried about you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Lemme stash these in the dishwasher and I’ll be right up.”

  “You got it.” Rosie headed into the restaurant. She wasn’t surprised to see the bar empty now, in the middle of the afternoon. Out in the dining area, only three tables had customers.

  “The lull before the dinner rush,” Brenda said as she joined Rosie, leaning her elbows on the bar. “Gonna wear your boots tomorrow?”

  “You know it. That’s standard fair footwear.” Rosie grinned. “The rest?” She shrugged. “I’ll wing it.”

  “I bet he’ll like whatever you pick,” Brenda murmured. “But ya know, feel free to show off those awesome boobs.”

  “Brenda!” Rosie coughed. “Oh my god.”

  “What?” Brenda pasted on a faux-innocent face. “I remember that night he came in with the guys. He’s your date and he’s smokin’ hot. Tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious.”

  “And, apparently, a prince.”

  “Hey, that was the best explanation I could come up with. Those two relate to anything involving a crown.” Brenda gave a wave as she walked to the back. “On that note, let’s see how much of my house is covered in glitter after the royal events of the day.”

  “Have fun,” Rosie called.

  Two other servers, Tina and Shelley, worked the dinnertime rush as Rosie manned the bar. They worked seamlessly together and thankfully, no jerk customers showed up. Rosie was in the middle of filling draft pitchers for the local men’s softball team when a shadow fell across her light.

  Cruz.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed. She may have sounded as giddy as Brenda’s daughters, but the bar was loud and she really didn’t care. “Nice to see you.”

  He grinned down at her. “Sorry I couldn’t make it in earlier.”

  “That’s fine. You guys finally call it a week?”

  “We’re working four hours tomorrow morning. But then—I’m done.”

  “Good. Don’t leave yourself too tired to walk around the livestock pens.” She winked at him.

  “Never.” To her surprise and total moment of wanting to melt, he winked back. Big, tattooed, muscle-bound Cruz winked in a way that was cute, sexy, and froze her in place.

  She stood there like an idiot for three seconds before she realized her hand was wet. “Oh shoot.” She shut off the tap and set her pitchers on the bar. “Whoops.” Grabbing a towel, she snuck a glance at Cruz.

  Mirth flickered in his eyes. “Didn’t mean to get you all riled up,” he said softly.

  “Mm-hmm.” She dried them swiftly and arched a brow. “Be right back.”

  She delivered the pitchers to the men, all of whom she knew. She didn’t think twice about it, it was just the way Sundown was. They bantered with each other, including her. “When you gonna come and watch us play, Rosie?” “You gotta watch us beat the snot out of Murphysboro.” “You shoulda seen the play Steve made.” She stood and joked with them for a minute before returning to the bar, where Cruz had taken a seat.

  “I’m beginning to think you know this whole town,” he said.

  “I do,” she said proudly. “Did you want something to drink?”

  “I just wanted to say ‘hi.’ I see you’re pretty busy.” He scanned the other men at the bar. “Customers cool tonight?”

  “Yep, all good.” She leaned a hip on the worn wood.

  “Good. So tomorrow? What time should I pick you up?”

  “Hmm, seven. We can catch the last demolition derby of the day—that’s the one where they really let loose.”

  He chuckled. “More crashing than during the day, huh?”

  “Yep. They got nothing left to lose. If those cars are still moving, they’re hitting something. And don’t eat dinner. There is so much food there.”

  He nodded. “Got it.”

  “Oh—wear a cowboy hat and boots and you’ll fit right in.” She widened her eyes for emphasis, holding in a smile. If he actually had those, she might just die.

  “Yeah?” His eyes twinkled.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “I’ll have to check my closet.”

  She burst out laughing. “I’m teasing. But I may wear mine. Just sayin’.”

  “Noted.” He tilted his head, focused on a point somewhere beyond her face… “Come here.”

  She leaned forward as he reached up and toward the crown of her head. She had no idea what he was doing, but it left her curious and tingly and hot. Above the noise of the bar, she heard a tiny snap.

  “This a new thing?” he brought his hand forward

  Held lightly between his fingers was a bright red barrette. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my Lord. Has that been in here the whole afternoon?” She giggled and met his eyes. “I watched Brenda’s girls today. Dress up is required at their house.”

  “I see. And they left you a present.”

  She took it, her fingers brushing his rough ones. Maybe more on purpose than she needed to. “Yep. Are there any more in there?” She shook out her hair.

  “Turn around.” His voice held a command and it made her breath hitch, even though she’d asked the question. Without hesitating, she complied. His answer rumbled over her skin. “Nope, that’s it.”

  “Well thank you.” She rotated to face him again. “You’re the only one who said anything. I left their house at two o’clock today. So I’ve had an unknown accessory for hours. Great.”

  “It works for you.” He stood. “See you tomorrow night.”

  “Sounds good. Night.”

  She watched him walk out, all long legs and broad shoulders. She could still feel his touch on her hair. Maybe she was overthinking this...but god. He made her warm inside, made her heart race, and no one had done that for a long time. And the next evening, he’d be her date. She didn’t have to share him, had no responsibilities. Her body heated in anticipation
and she forced it down. She’d had her Cruz fix for tonight. It would have to tide her over until tomorrow.

  Chapter 10

  Cruz angled his truck down the two lane rural road, searching for the turnoff that Rosie had said looked like it went nowhere but was actually her driveway. She was technically outside of the main town area, in one of those houses that sat in the middle of fields of crops he had yet to identify without his phone.

  She had texted directions to her house earlier in the day, and Cruz silently thanked the nation’s search engines and online navigation programs that Sundown was on GPS. Rosie had clued him in with a few landmarks as well.

  Spotting a group of three towering trees, then a mailbox with bluebirds on it, he checked off his mental list and turned. The road appeared to lead straight into a field, but after a couple hundred yards, it made a ninety-degree turn to the left. Another couple hundred yards ahead was a little brick house.

  Two birds with long tails swooped overhead. None like he had ever seen before, and he added it to the bucket list of things to learn about country life. Each yard closer to Rosie’s house brought more of it into focus: the porch that she made into two syllables. The millwork along the upper edges that made it look feminine like her. And the wooden swing, big enough for two, with red pillows at each end. A wind chime swung in the barely-there breeze, not even enough to make it ring.

  Clusters of brightly colored flowers sectioned off the corners of the front yard. The whole scene was straight out of a movie. He parked his truck and got out, walking across the neat lawn. Did she mow it herself? What about when something in the house broke? Who did she call?

  He’d never wondered how a woman took care of herself or got things done before. Rosie seemed independent. And hell, the whole town knew her. She probably didn’t have to look far for help.

  Then again…she sure as hell needed it the night he met her.

  His fist clenched but he pushed the negative thoughts out of his head. Other than meeting her, that night didn’t deserve any space in his head.

  Tonight was all about her. He wasn’t sure what to expect from a county fair, but he wanted time alone with her. Selfish? Maybe, but she sure didn’t seem to mind—

  The front door of the house swung open and Rosie stepped out.

  Holy fucking hell.

  Cruz hadn’t made it up the three steps yet, so he was level with her boots.

  Cowboy boots.

  He never in a million years would have thought cowboy—cowgirl—boots could be hot. But words failed him as he took in the brown leather that ended below her knees, and her bare toned legs that were on display. More denim shorts, these ones with ripped edges. Strands of pale blue cotton fiber brushed against her thighs, making him think about doing the same with his fingers. Or mouth… She wore a black and white checked shirt tied at her waist. It was unbuttoned, revealing a black tank top beneath. Her hair swung long and loose, and in her hands was a light brown cowboy hat.

  She set it on her head and raised a brow. “Too much? I wasn’t sure about the hat.”

  Cruz could only stare, because that damn hat short-circuited any coherent thoughts. All he could process was unbidden images of her in that hat—and nothing else. Shit and fuck, he needed to cool it. He cleared his throat. “Ah…”

  “Yeah, thought so.” She took it off and shrugged. “Another time.”

  “Sure,” he coughed. Another time might kill him.

  “Lemme just set this inside and we can go.” She ducked back through the doorway.

  That perfect tight ass. That sexy honey hair. Tonight would require his biggest effort ever to keep his hands to himself.

  A porch light flicked on. She emerged and locked the door behind her. “So you found me okay.”

  “Yeah. Three trees and the mailbox. This is a hell of a driveway.”

  “It’s a quarter mile.” She descended the steps to stand in front of him. “Guessing you don’t see that back home?”

  He shook his head, wanting to absorb every nuance of her porcelain skin, her tumbled hair, the fruity fragrance that curled into his nose. That tank top she wore was just low enough to show off the tops of her breasts. Jesus.

  “Cruz,” she said softly. Sweetly and with a hint of a drawl.

  Shit. “Sorry.” He met her eyes, not actually sorry to be caught checking out her tits. But the expression on her face was more amused than anything else. “Right. The driveway. What do you do when it snows?”

  She glanced at the strip of road. “Enough of the townsfolk hook plows to their trucks in the winter—someone always ends up over here to plow me out. Though, main roads first, so it can take a while.”

  “So you really are snowbound.” He didn’t know if that was good or bad. If she couldn’t get out, then no one could get in either.

  “We really don’t get as much snow down here as upstate, so it’s not bad.” She stuck a hand in a front pocket. “But snow is a distant thing right now. Tonight is fair night!”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. “Let’s go.” He walked to the truck and opened the passenger door for her. She hopped in, and he made the effort to look at her boots and not her ass. “Nice boots.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “Didn’t wear yours, I see.” A teasing smirk that he wanted to kiss right off her lips.

  “Nope. I have to fess up and tell you that I don’t have any.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Well, we’ll have to fix that right away. Can’t have no boots.” Her tone still taunted. Still so damn sexy.

  “You can help me with that. Pick some out.” He rounded the front and climbed in. He cranked the engine to life and steered the truck back down her driveway. The radio, hovering at a low volume, played a country station. “I noticed all the radio stations are country or talk.”

  “Yep.” She paused to listen, and turned up the volume a little. “Oh, it’s Dierks Bentley. I like this song.”

  “Can’t say I’ve heard it.”

  “You’re gonna hear it all the time now. Unless you hook up your phone and stream whatever you want. Oh, and tonight? There’ll be live country music. Some folks really get into the dancing. Two step, line dance, even square dancing.”

  “You serious?”

  “I kid you not. Costumes and all.”

  “I didn’t know people really did that. I thought square dancing was something they made us do in elementary school PE to torture us.”

  She laughed, a merry sound that filled the car and made him want to bottle it up and keep it for the times she tried to hide her shadows. “No, the do-si-does and allemande-lefts are real down here.”

  Twenty minutes later their truck joined a long line of cars snaking through a grassy field. Fair workers with yellow vests and orange flashlights directed the cars to park in makeshift rows, creating one line and then another.

  They exited the car and followed the crowds to the hustle and bustle of the fair. Low, flat-roofed buildings sat in groups, while dozens of white-topped tents were scattered all around.

  “Just FYI, you may want to watch your step,” Rosie said. “I’m not sure what was in this field last week.”

  “Good to know,” Cruz murmured, just in time to hear a child ahead of them shriek about finding cow poop.

  He looked at Rosie and they both laughed. “Country life.” She shrugged.

  After they got to the entrance and Cruz bought tickets, Rosie studied the map they’d been given. “Here’s the derby.” She pointed to a spot at the far end. “Let’s go.”

  They threaded their way through throngs of people. Families, teens, and senior citizens meandered with food, drinks, or maps in hand. The aroma of grilled meat enticed his nose, followed by the scent of sugary treats as the wind shifted. “This is the most people I’ve seen in one place since I moved here,” he remarked.

  “I told you, t
he fair is the place to be this weekend. Oh—there’s the goat pen. We gotta come back this way after the show. My old baby sitter has a couple goats in there. I need to see if she won any prizes.”

  He nodded. Anything and everything about Redemption County was different, and he was over being surprised. He could go along with it—prize goats, giant vegetables, butter sculptures, anything they might have here, just to hang with Rosie.

  The demolition derby took place in a dirt-filled arena with bleachers on one side. Cruz and Rosie climbed the worn wooden steps and found a spot in the middle. Two women and six kids occupied the spaces on Cruz’s right side. They smiled and scooted to make more room, giving the short glances you give to strangers that you’re going to sit next to for a specified amount of time. All except one.

  A little girl—Cruz had no idea how to estimate kids’ ages—with purple all around her mouth, focused on him with big eyes.

  Rosie noticed and gave the child a small wave. “Hello.”

  The girl peered at Rosie but then turned back to Cruz. “Did you drawed on yourself?” she asked in a voice that was somewhere in between awe and you’re-getting-in-trouble.

  Rosie stifled a snort.

  “Ah…” Cruz frowned. Christ, the kid had to be three feet tall. And she stared at him like a courtroom judge who expected an honest answer immediately. “No. One of my friends did.”

  “You gots to wash it off,” she said. “You’re ‘posed to use soap but we don’t have soap. Here.” She grabbed a grubby napkin from on top of a paper plate at her feet and proceeded to rub it along Cruz’s arm.

  “McKenzie! Stop that!” the woman next to her grabbed her hand and pulled it away from Cruz. “I am so sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay,” Cruz said.

  “McKenzie, we do not take dirty napkins and wipe off people’s arms. Understand?”

  “But he gots to wash it. He needs soap. I think he needs a bath,” McKenzie said with utter seriousness.