Instead of his Jeep, Rafe showed up in a pale blue rebuilt Mustang. And instead of his everyday uniform, at least the one she’d always seen him in, he was in dress blues, complete with spit-shined shoes, a gold name tag and numerous badges.
Judging by his reaction to her appearance, Janie was glad she’d listened to her sister.
In Scorpion Ridge, almost everything was ten minutes away. From Katie’s house, the Scorpion Ridge Community Hall was a mere nine minutes away. No place had never looked so safe to Janie. Every fifth vehicle was a squad car. Tonight’s event involved all of Rafe’s counties, from Scorpion Ridge to Adobe Hills to Gesippi. A police officer, acting as a valet, directed Rafe to a prime parking spot.
“One of the perks,” Rafe said.
Janie smiled. She’d always liked dressing up, but her version of dressing up meant a gauzy skirt and simple white blouse. Not appropriate, apparently, for the twentieth annual Police Officers’ Awards Banquet.
Instead, she was adorned in a fire-engine-red, midcalf silk dress, complete with a cute little white clutch purse and sensible white flats—women on pain meds should not wear heels. Janie definitely felt like a somewhat broken but extremely happy princess.
Rafe was definitely prince material.
He came around the car and opened the door. Janie stepped out to a chorus of wolf whistles and “Hey, boss, where you been hiding her?”
“I guess they don’t care about the black eye,” Janie whispered.
“You have a black eye?” Rafe teased, leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on the evidence of her fall. “I didn’t notice.”
She reached up, touched where he’d just kissed, and started to lean toward him, wanting another kiss—and not on her eye! But he was already walking toward the entrance, his whole demeanor purposeful.
Rafael Salazar was on duty.
Whoever sponsored the event had gone all out. Instead of arrows pointing the way to the event, nightsticks did. At the entrance, each door was made to resemble a giant police badge. In the middle of the white tablecloths were target practice sheets. The centerpieces were gorgeous flowers with yellow cordon-tape bows.
It was grander than the art exhibit they’d gone to together just over a week ago. “I take it you weren’t in charge of decor?” Janie said as Rafe guided her to a table up front and center.
“No, that would be the wife of the sheriff who held office before my father. She also happens to be the mayor’s twin sister. Not someone you want to mess with. This is her baby. She started the banquet back in the 1990s when Darryl was just starting to think about retiring and every year it’s the highlight of her life. Last year we even had a theme.” He pulled out a chair. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Whatever you get is fine with me.”
Rafe disappeared into a sea of boisterous men and women. Some were in dress uniform, some in street uniform, some in dress-up and others in dress-down. All greeted Rafe as if he were the most important person in the room. The guys looked back at Janie with open admiration, despite the bruises. The women couldn’t conceal their curiosity.
Before Janie could decide which bothered her more, an older gentleman appeared at the table, pulling out a chair for his companion. Displaying graying temples and a military stance, he wore a top-brass uniform and still managed to seem underdressed. There was nothing gray about his wife. With shock-white, upswept hair and a regal pose, she would have fit in better on a magazine cover instead of at a small-town policemen’s banquet. Before introductions could be made, the gentleman did the “What can I get you to drink?” bit and disappeared.