Colton's Texas Stakeout. C.J. Miller

was involved, if only marginally. The FBI had been brought in to investigate, but since the Alphabet Killer had not been apprehended, they needed to catch a break.

      The female officer smiled at something her older, male partner said, and she looked even more beautiful. She had her hair tied in a ponytail, and it swung as she strutted down the sidewalk. She and her partner walked into the diner.

      Jesse changed his mind about having enough time. He would make time. A second chance to talk to the pretty officer was slim, considering he rarely drove to town, and he doubted she would visit the farm.

      Jesse parked and started toward the diner. He was hungry, and it had been a while since he’d eaten. The diner made the best tuna melt and apple pie. His stomach growled just thinking about it.

      “Willard!”

      At the sound of his name, he turned. Tug Johnson, who had worked for him on and off over the years, was jogging toward him. The last he’d heard, Tug had left town. What had brought him back to Granite Gulch?

      “Hey, how are you?” Jesse asked. He stayed on friendly terms with his employees and former employees. With the exception of a few bad seeds, he had been successful. The farming community in Texas was close-knit, and it didn’t help him to make enemies.

      “Doing okay. I was out in California for a while, but the work dried up. I even had a temp job in an office. Came back this way for the growing season.”

      “Looking for honest work?” Jesse asked. He didn’t lie to his employees about the amount of work or how labor intensive it was. Working for him meant a decent wage, but in return, he expected a fair day’s toil.

      “Mind if I come by the farm later? I have a girl now. She’s counting on me,” Tug said.

      “Sounds good,” Jesse said, relieved he might have found someone to replace the farmhand who’d quit without notice.

      Tug shifted on his feet and adjusted his blue ball cap. “I heard about that mess with your sister. What are you going to do?”

      Jesse hated confronting rumors, and he didn’t know what Tug wanted him to say, except maybe divulge some tidbit of information about Regina that would garner Tug some attention at happy hour as he shared the latest gossip. But an overreaction on his part would be telling, and Jesse didn’t want to encourage the rumors by feeding them a temper tantrum. “The police are looking for Regina. They have questions for her. If I see her, I’ll send her their way.” Sticking to the facts would keep him out of trouble.

      Tug touched the brim of his hat. “You’re not worried she’ll come looking for you?”

      “Unlikely. I haven’t spoken to her in years, and she’s been good about ignoring me when she doesn’t want to talk.” Regina had been that way since they were children. She sulked, she brooded and when she was ready to discuss her problems, she’d find Jesse.

      “I hear she has an ax to grind with everyone. An ax or whatever weapon she can find,” Tug said.

      Jesse hid his annoyance. The implication Regina was the Alphabet Killer was off base. “Regina can be difficult, but she’s not dangerous.”

      Tug pulled on the waistband of his pants, hitching them higher. “I don’t know about that. Careful about turning a blind eye to a problem. You live way out there alone. Can’t know what could happen in the middle of the night.”

      Jesse enjoyed the solitude and privacy of his farm, located just inside the borders of Granite Gulch but far enough away from the busiest part of town. Jesse could have hired staff to live on the premises, but his farm wasn’t big enough to require it, and he enjoyed having the farm to himself sometimes. He had a carriage house he had been renovating, but that pet project wasn’t leading anywhere fast, given his time and money restrictions. “I’ll be okay, but I appreciate your concern.”

      He tipped his hat to Tug. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see about wrangling some lunch.”

      Tug said goodbye, and Jesse continued on to the diner. He guessed Tug wouldn’t show up at the farm later. That conversation felt like Tug digging for information about Regina. If Jesse didn’t find help soon, he’d start actively looking for someone, which took even more time.

      Entering the diner and removing his hat, Jesse scanned for the police officer. She should be easy to spot; both her uniform and her beauty would stand out head and shoulders above others. The diner was crowded. Waitresses and waiters in their navy pants and crisp white shirts, their green aprons tied around their waists, moved through the diner with trays of food and drinks. Jesse stopped and slid to the side to allow two older women with walkers move toward the register.

      Maybe this was crazy and he should grab his lunch to go. He was nervous, which didn’t happen often. But he had come this far, and it was just a conversation. If she did not want to talk to him, he could take a hint and back away.

      He looked around and didn’t see her. Just as he was about to give up searching, he spotted her brunette ponytail at the end of the counter.

      She was next to the other officer, drinking a soda and eating a club sandwich. Despite the busy lunch hour, Jesse was pleased the stool next to hers was open. Maybe his luck was finally changing. Moving through the crowd, he pretended not to hear his and Regina’s names whispered. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and he wouldn’t slink around town with shame hanging on his shoulders.

      “Mind if I sit here?” he asked as he tapped the seat next to her.

      She turned toward him, smiling. The sense of connection and rightness arced between them.

      Though her smile faded and her eyes turned wary, she gestured to the seat. If she hadn’t known who he was on their first meeting, she knew now. “Please, help yourself. Seat’s open.” Her voice was warm and inviting.

      He sat. He wanted to see her name tag, but from the position she was sitting, he couldn’t read it. His interest in her was unusual for him. Though he’d had some girlfriends, he hadn’t worked at a relationship, hadn’t pursued women who didn’t come to him easily. He hadn’t mastered the art of flirting. Relationships fell into place, at least for a while. He didn’t think his relationship with the police officer would be anything like that. If he wanted her attention, he’d need to work for it. That intrigued him.

      The Alphabet Killer investigation wasn’t one he was interested in discussing. Did they have anything else in common? Why was he tongue-tied when he was near this woman? Even at the police precinct when he had run into her, he felt like an oaf who couldn’t construct a coherent sentence. “Are you new to Granite Gulch?” Jesse asked. He’d purchased his farm ten years ago. Though he hadn’t become friendly with many people outside his farmhands and business associates, he’d have remembered seeing someone like her around. She was a head turner and hard to forget.

      She inclined her head, and her ponytail swung to the side. “Not new to Granite Gulch. New to the police force,” she said. Hitting the word police hard made her point, if her uniform hadn’t already.

      “I work on a farm nearby. I make it to town now and then,” he said.

      If she showed a spark of interest, now and then could become often and eagerly.

      She didn’t say anything and looked instead at her sandwich. Jesse couldn’t let the conversation go that easily. He wanted to feel the way he did at the police precinct when they had been chest to chest, thigh to thigh. That moment had been like a drug in his veins, and he craved the high again.

      Despite the crowd, he felt the snap of their connection as if they were the only two people in the diner. How could she not feel the attraction, too? He glanced down at his clothes. Dirty and dusty, indicating he worked with his hands. Maybe that was a turnoff to her. Not a lot of women fantasized about dating a farmer. Or if they did harbor any fantasies, they died quickly when they realized it was tough work and long hours. Jesse wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Working the land brought him a great sense of pride. “What did you do before becoming a police officer?”