Chapter 19

Brock sat at his desk the next morning, trying to finish a report about a burglary, but his mind kept straying to the night he’d spent in Daphne’s arms. Making love with her had been an intense, heady experience. He’d expected her to be shy and scared, but she’d been eager and passionate.

She was the most beautiful, sensual woman he’d ever been with and already he craved her again even though they’d spent hours together. He knew that his desire for her would never be satiated. The way she looked, the way she felt in his arms ... Brock jerked his mind away from that and refocused his attention on his job. It wouldn’t do to get all worked up in front of his coworkers.

He’d just finished the report when someone came in the door. The young man looked around with a curious expression.

“Can I help you?” Brock asked.

“I’m looking for Sheriff Anderson. Is he around?”

Brock shook his head and stood up. “No. He’s not back from a meeting yet, but I expect him soon. You’re welcome to wait. I’m Brock Guthrie, one of his deputies.”

He extended a hand to the other man.

“I’m Hunter Stetson, the new deputy.”

Brock grinned. “That’s right. I forgot you were coming today. Welcome aboard.”

Hunter smiled, his warm brown eyes shining with good humor. “Thanks. It’s good to be here.”

“So, Stetson, huh?”

Hunter laughed. “No relation, unfortunately. I get asked that all the time.”

“Too bad. I could use a new hat,” Brock said. “I thought maybe you could get me a discount.”

“Sorry.”

Brock surreptitiously looked Hunter over as he started showing him around. He judged him to be around six-three, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds and muscular with it. He wore black washmaker pants, a white shirt, and a black leather vest under a black duster.

“You are wearing a Stetson, though.” Brock indicated Hunter’s stylish black cowboy hat. “And that’s a pretty fancy gun, too.”

Hunter took the pearl-handled silver revolver out of the holster and handed it to Brock. “Daddy gave me that for my birthday this year. Mama gave me the hat.”

Brock looked the fine firearm over and then handed it back to Hunter. “I know what a gun and hat like that cost. You must not be hurting for money.”

Hunter holstered his gun. “Well, we own a pharmacy and don’t do too bad. I’m an only child and I’ll admit that they sort of spoil me.”

Brock grunted. “Well, don’t expect that around here.”

Hunter turned serious. “No, sir. I don’t want any special treatment. I’ll pull my own weight.”

“Glad to hear it. This is the kitchen. And out here we have the Dog House.”

Hunter’s forehead wrinkled. “The what?”

Brock smiled as they exited through the kitchen door that opened onto the yard. “It’s actually Det. Decker’s office. He claimed the shed as his office, and he has three dogs that work with us. So, I started calling it the Dog House and it stuck.”

“Better than calling it the Cat House,” Hunter remarked, grinning.

Brock laughed. “You’re right about that.”

Cy was out in the yard working with Burt. He’d set up a small obstacle course at the one end of the yard and was putting the big dog through his paces. When he saw Brock and Hunter, he stopped and made Burt sit as they walked over to him.

“Cyrus Decker, meet our new deputy, Hunter Stetson. No relation to the hat company,” Brock said.

Cy looked the boy over. “Even if I didn’t already know you’re from Texas, I’d have been able to tell right away.”

“How?” Hunter thought it was an odd greeting.

“It’s in the way you hold yourself. You can’t help it. You learned it by emulating the other men in your family who do it, too,” Cy said. “Nothing wrong with it. It’s just distinctive. German Shepherd.”

Hunter shook his head. “German Shepherd? Is that code for something?”

Brock chuckled. “No. Cy is dog crazy and thinks about people in dog breeds. Ellie is a Jack Russell terrier, Rob is a blood hound, and now you’re a German Shepherd.”