Free The Potluck Club by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson

follow you back to your hotel and make sure. Where are you staying?”
    “My California bank canceled my credit card when it picked up both a California and then a Colorado charge today. They said they considered the card stolen until they could confirm my whereabouts. Never mind that they had me, in person, on the phone, telling them I was indeed in Colorado and needed to use my card.” He laughed bitterly. “They just said they were sorry for any inconvenience but had to follow bank protocol.” He sighed. “I didn’t know I needed my bank’s permission to travel.”
    “So, you’re saying you don’t have a place to stay?”
    “Not till tomorrow, when I get this mess cleared up.”
    “Well, then, I see you’ve got two choices: I can either haul you to jail for loitering or take you to the ER.”
    A loud voice called out from the tavern doorway. “Deputy Donna, is this man giving you trouble?”
    I cringed. I knew that voice all too well. Without turning around, I said, “Wade Gage, how are you?”
    “Half drunk, as usual.”
    I turned to look at him. Wade is a good-looking man. There he stood, six foot tall, his muscular silhouette framed in the doorway, his blond hair backlit in a golden halo. Of course, he was wearing his signature Coors belt buckle, his brown cowboy boots, jeans, and a black muscle tee.
    I pretended to be glad to see him. “Wade, you’re just the person I’ve been waiting for. Let me make you an offer. My friend Harris here is sober. That is correct, Harris?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Now, Harris will run you home, so you won’t get arrested for DUI, if you let him stay tonight in that spare bedroom of yours.” Wade walked up to Harris and gave him the once-over.
    “I don’t know. He ain’t a Texan, or worse yet, a Californian, is he?”
    I put my hands on my hips. “Wade, I don’t see that’s any of your business. However, Harris doesn’t feel too well, and his credit card down at the hotel is temporarily out of commission. Besides, I don’t think he’s even got a record. Do you, Harris?”
    The man’s eyebrows shot straight up. “No. No, ma’am.”
    I turned back to Wade. “So, how about playing the good guy for once and giving him a bed. Your act of kindness will win you a get-out-of-Donna’s-jail-free card, especially if you don’t cause any trouble tonight.”
    Wade stared at me, then said, “That would make you indebted to me, now wouldn’t it?” He flashed his white teeth into a grin. “Now, a guy like me could get along with a proposition like that.”
    “Don’t get any ideas,” I snarled.
    “Of course not, Deputy. Why, I would never dream of laying a hand on the meanest woman around, even if she is as cute as you.”
    I felt my face color. I swallowed down my displeasure. “Well, good. Then, Harris, you’re driving?”
    Harris walked over and opened up his passenger door for Wade. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Wade ducked into the car as Harris said, “Just tell me the way home.”
    As I watched the two men drive into the night, I felt pretty good. Most people think my job is all about arresting criminals, but actually, I see it as problem solving. It also means I don’t have to waste my time writing reports. Problem solving seems to be my so-called “spiritual gift,” as Vonnie would say.
    I couldn’t help but think about Harris. Like mine, his mother had apparently abandoned him. As for the mystery of who she was, I figured he must have been adopted, probably through one of those private arrangements complete with instructions never to reveal the identity of the birth mom. But somehow, through hook or crook, he’d managed to discover her name and maybe a possible location. Somehow, I hoped he’d find her.
    By 3:00 in the morning I felt half dead. It would be so good to hit the shower and climb into my bed. My telephone message light was blinking when I got home, but at that point, I couldn’t care less. For now, all I wanted was a ham sandwich and to