She said as much to Cash when they were seated at one of the small wooden tables waiting to be served.
“Altercation,” he repeated with a slow smile. “You sound like a cop.”
“Blame Judd,” she said on a sigh. “It really does rub off when you hang out with law enforcement types.”
He chuckled, toying with his napkin. “Are you sure he didn’t mind that you came out with me?”
She pursed her lips. “I think he did, a little. He’s very conventional.”
His eyebrows arched. “Are we talking about the same Judd Dunn?” he asked pleasantly. “The one who handcuffed a prostitute to the former mayor of Jacobsville when he caught them together in a brothel, and had someone tip off the newspaper?”
She cleared her throat. “He was a policeman here at the time...”
“...and chased a speeder all the way to Houston to give him a ticket?”
She moved one hand uneasily.
“...and then padlocked the local pool parlor until the owner promised to stop serving beer to minors?”
She sighed. “Yes. I suppose he used to be more unconventional than he is now. He feels that he shouldn’t embarrass the Texas Rangers. The exact figure changes from time to time, but this year, there are only 103 of them in the world.”
He gave her an amused glance. “I know. I used to be one.”
Her dark eyes widened. “You did?”
He nodded. “In fact, I worked with Judd for a while. I taught him those martial arts moves he uses so eloquently these days.”
“You know martial arts?” She was hanging on every word.
He chuckled. “There’s a movie cowboy up the road near Fort Worth who also runs a martial arts studio. He taught me.”
She named the actor.
He nodded.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, obviously impressed.
“Now don’t look like that,” he muttered. “You’ll embarrass me.”
She cocked her head, recalling something she’d heard about him earlier. “You’re one to talk about Judd being unconventional,” she added with a wicked grin. “We heard that you used the movie camera in your police car to film a couple in the back seat of a parked car up in San Antonio...?”
He chuckled. “Not the police camera—my own. And it was two local police officers I knew that I captured on tape. I made them promise to behave with more decorum before I gave them the only copy of the tape.”
“You make a bad enemy,” she pointed out.
He nodded, and he didn’t smile.
Around them, the band was just tuning up. It consisted of two men playing guitars, one with a fiddle and one with a keyboard. They broke into “San Antonio Rose,” and couples began to move onto the big dance floor.
“They’re pretty good,” she said.
“They’re missing their bass player,” he noted.
“I wonder why?”
“Oh, he’s in jail,” he said, smiling as the waitress approached.
“Why?” she asked.
“Some other guy was dating his girl. He chased them to her house in his car and made a scene. She called us.” He shrugged. “Fortunes of war. Some women are harder to keep than others, I guess.”
“Poor guy.”
“He’ll be out Monday, wiser and more prudent.”
“Hi! What can I get you?” the waitress, an older woman, asked.
“Pizza and beer,” Grier told her.
“Pizza and coffee,” Crissy said when it was her turn.
“No beer?” she asked.
“I’m not twenty-one yet,” Crissy replied easily. “And my...guardian,” she chose her words carefully, “is a Texas Ranger.”
“You’re Crissy,” the girl said immediately, chuckling. “I had a crush on Judd when we were younger, but he was going with that Taft girl from Victoria. They broke up over his job, didn’t they?”
Crissy nodded. “Some women can’t live with the danger.”
“Doesn’t seem to bother you,” the waitress said, tongue-in-cheek, as she glanced pointedly at Grier before she went away to fill the order.
Crissy chuckled as Grier gave her a meaningful look. “No, I’m not chickenhearted,” she agreed. “I worry sometimes, but not to excess. Judd can take care of himself. So can you, I imagine.”
“Well enough,” he said, nodding.
The crowd was growing as Crissy and Grier finished their pizza and drained their respective beverages. The music was nice, she thought, watching the couples try to do Western line dances on the dance floor.
“They give courses on that at the civic center,” Crissy told Grier. “But I could never get into it. I like Latin dances, but I’ve never found anybody who could do them around here, except Matt Caldwell. He’s married now.”
Grier was grinning from ear to ear. “Modesty prevents me from telling you that I won an award in a tango contest once, down in Argentina.”
She was staring at him breathlessly. “You can do Latin dances? Then why are you just sitting there? Come on!”
She grabbed him by the hand and tugged him onto the dance floor and up to the band leader.
“Sammy, can you play Latin music of any kind at all?” she asked the young man, one of her former schoolmates.
He chuckled. “Can I!” He and the band stopped playing, conferred, and the keyboard player grinned broadly as he adjusted his instrument and a bouncing Latin rhythm began to take shape.
The floor cleared as the spectators, expecting something unusual, moved to the edges of the dance floor.
“You’d better be good,” Crissy told Grier with a grin. “This crowd is hard to please and they don’t mind booing people who only think they can dance. Matt Caldwell and his Leslie are legendary at Latin СКАЧАТЬ