hung on her.
The legs beneath that dress were not so bad, though, he mused as his gaze landed there.
He knew damn well she hadn’t forgotten him, even if it had been more than eleven years since he’d seen her. If nothing else, the sheer terror in her eyes when she’d recognized him had given her away.
She delivered his breakfast without looking him in the eye, letting the heavy white plate laden with eggs and grits and biscuits land on the table too hard. His check followed, slapped onto the table near the edge. He mumbled a polite thanks and let her walk away. Whatever happened to forgive and forget?
Truman took his time with his breakfast, watching the sun come up. It would be another slow day, he imagined. Most of his days as a deputy for this small Alabama county were. There was crime here, there just wasn’t much of it. And it was minor stuff, usually. Some days he felt more like an errand boy than a deputy. He changed tires, picked up prescriptions for a couple of the old folks who didn’t—or shouldn’t—drive, and kept kids out of trouble. He broke up the occasional fight, and had driven home more than his share of drunks. It wasn’t the life he’d planned for himself, but he liked it. Most days.
Breakfast finished, he slid out of the booth, taking care with his right leg as he always did. His limp had improved so it was barely noticeable. Or maybe he was just getting used to it. He dropped a bill on the table.
As he approached the counter, his check and a five-dollar bill in hand, Lillian gave him a wide smile. “’Morning, Deputy Truman,” she said brightly. “Was everything all right?”
“Wonderful as usual,” he said as he handed over his check, waiting as she opened the register and counted out his change. Behind Lillian, Sadie wiped furiously at the counter and kept her head down—and her back to him. On purpose? Surely not. While Lillian placed his change in the palm of his hand Sadie escaped, taking the long way around the counter and wiping down recently vacated tables. She put an awful lot of energy into cleaning those tables, Truman noticed as he headed for the door.
“Have a nice day, Miz Lillian.” Truman pushed against the glass door and glanced over his shoulder. “You, too, Sadie Mae,” he said, casting a grin at her back.
He was still grinning when she flew out the door, not ten seconds behind him. “What is this?” she asked.
He turned around to find Sadie waving a five-dollar bill in his face. She didn’t look so tired and worn-out anymore. There was color in her cheeks, fire in her eyes, and instead of being simply tangled, her dark hair looked sexy and wild. He liked it. It struck him at that moment that Sadie Harlow had grown up quite nicely.
“Your tip?”
“Your entire breakfast didn’t cost five dollars,” she said, still thrusting the bill in his direction. “And I didn’t even refill your coffee!”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Take it back,” she ordered.
“No.” Truman leaned against the fender of his patrol car.
Sadie took a single step toward him. “I’m warning you, McCain.”
“Are you threatening an officer of the law?” he teased.
“Just take it!” She took another step forward. “And don’t you ever, ever, call me Sadie Mae.”
“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “I call you whatever you want me to, and you keep the tip.”
“I don’t want you to call me anything,” she said, her voice softer as she came closer. “And I certainly don’t want your…your pity tip!”
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Pity tip?”
“Well, what else would you call it? I gave you lousy service.”
On purpose, he was sure. “Yeah, but I figure you have potential. One day you’re going to be a great waitress.”
“Bite me,” she said, stepping forward to slip the five-dollar bill into his breast pocket.
“When did you get back?” he asked before she could make a quick escape.
“Yesterday.”
“How long are you going to stay?”
He saw the not very long in her dark eyes, but she answered, “A few days. The family just, you know, needed some help.”
“Johnny couldn’t make it?”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “My hot-shot cousin is much too busy to be bothered. Since I was available…” She shrugged. “Here I am.”
Sadie was surly, she was not happy to be here…and still there was something about her that made Truman want to smile. “Working lunch today?”
“Not if I can help it. Sorry if I was rude,” she added, turning around slowly to return to the coffee shop.
Truman took the five from his pocket and rolled it up tight between his fingers. “Sadie?”
She obediently turned around, and he stepped forward to drop the bill down the front of her too-big uniform. If his aim was even halfway decent, it would get caught in her bra. “Have a nice day.”
Sadie sputtered and went in after the five, but by the time she had it in her hand Truman was behind the wheel and backing out of the parking lot.
Things could not possibly get any worse. All she wanted was a nap. Half an hour. Maybe forty-five minutes. Jennifer leaned over the bed. “I am not cleaning up that mess,” she whined.
Sadie didn’t bother to argue with her cousin. Arguing with Jennifer was always a waste of breath. No matter how logical the argument, Jen refused to lose. “I thought this was your regular job,” Sadie said as she left the bed.
“Yeah, but I have to draw the line somewhere,” Jennifer whined. “Room 119 is a mess.”
“You already said that,” Sadie grumbled.
“And it stinks.”
Jennifer was an apparent afterthought, eight years younger than Sadie, a full eleven years younger than her brother, Johnny. Lillian had always claimed that she’d been too old when she’d had Jennifer. She hadn’t had the energy to handle a difficult child. From the outside it had always looked to Sadie as if it had become easier for Lillian and Jimmy to let Jennifer have her way than to discipline the brat.
At the moment, Sadie couldn’t even remember what it was like to be twenty-two. And she had never been spoiled the way Jennifer had.
Johnny was the only Banks son, the eldest, the responsible one. He was a real-estate bigwig in Dallas, and made it to Garth only slightly more often than Sadie did. Jennifer was the baby, pretty and pampered, coddled by the entire family. Why should she leave? She had it made here. Sadie was still the oddball, caught in the middle and never quite feeling like she was part of the family, even though they had all done their best to make her feel like one of them.
“You’ll do it?” Jennifer practically wailed.
“Yes, I’ll do it,” Sadie said. At least she had traded in her pink waitress uniform for something more palatable—jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Of course, over this she added an apron with several pockets, deep pockets that held cleansers, plastic bags and rags for wiping down counters and desktops. Not exactly her dream outfit.
“You’ll help, right?” she asked, just as Jennifer turned in the opposite direction.
“No way,” Jen yelled. “That room stinks.”
“Great. It stinks.” Sadie glanced across the parking lot to the busy Lillian’s Café. A county patrol car was parked near the door. Truman’s? Surely not. There were other places in Garth to eat lunch. Not many, but a few.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d been flirting