Saving Allegheny Green Read Online Free PDF Page A

plunge my tongue along that treacherous outcropping?
    “Since I took over.” He stabbed his thumb into his chest. Was his hard-line stance supposed to make me hot and bothered? If so, to my complete embarrassment, it was working.
    “So Parker County belongs to you?” I was literally breathing hard.
    “That’s right.”
    “I didn’t vote for you.”
    “Too bad. I’m still here.”
    “If you’ve finished trying to intimidate me, I’ve places to be.” I put my hand on the doorknob.
    And he put his hand on me. On my shoulder to be more specific.
    My knees liquefied into noodle soup. It was damned hot in here. Someone, please, turn on the air-conditioning, give me a fan, and while you’re at it, how about a gallon of ice water?
    “Let’s get something straight,” he said. “If I were intimidating you, then you’d know it.”
    “Excuse me.” I tugged open the door but that pesky hand remained branded on my skin.
    “Be careful what you say and do, Allegheny Green,” he warned. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

CHAPTER THREE
    I’ VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU .
    His words echoed in my head. And, I really could feel his eyes on me. Burning, searing, scorching my backside.
    I stalked away, determined not to wiggle. I held my head high, then realized to my chagrin I was going to have to ask Conahegg for a lift home. I turned and saw him in the doorway, one strong shoulder slouched against the jamb, a smug grin on his face, his car keys looped around his finger.
    Did he have to look so damn sexy?
    “Need a ride?”
    Briefly, I closed my eyes and reached into the depths of my soul for patience. Oh, he knew what he was doing. I wasn’t fooled for a moment. I stared at Conahegg and forced a smile. “If you please.” My tone of voice could have frosted a dozen cakes.
    “My pleasure.” The corners of his lips twitched. He was clearly amused at my predicament.
    The turkey.
    I searched the corridor for Sissy but didn’t see her. “Just let me get my sister.”
    “The ladies’ room is around the corner.” Conahegg pointed. “Try there.”
    “Thanks,” I judiciously said. What I really wanted to tell him could have landed me in jail.
    “I’ll wait right here.”
    From the front of the building came the sound of an argument. In unison, Conahegg and I craned our necks at a man’s raised voice.
    “I have to see the sheriff. It’s extremely urgent.”
    “Could I have your name, sir?” we heard the dispatcher ask.
    Conahegg pocketed his keys and stalked toward the entrance in long-legged strides. Compelled by curiosity, and the fear my sister was somehow involved in the commotion, I followed.
    We rounded the corner, Conahegg in the lead. We found a well-dressed man of about sixty standing at the front desk. A mousy woman maybe ten years his junior, stood beside him, nervously worrying her purse strap.
    The man looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him at first. His silver hair was swept back off his forehead in a glorious pompadour. His face was slightly flushed as if he’d either been drinking or had recently run a short distance.
    He smelled of Yves Saint Laurent and something darker, mustier. His teeth were so perfectly white and straight, I figured that they had to be capped. He used his hands when he spoke, punctuating each sentence with flourishing jabs.
    “I want to see the sheriff right now!” Both palms went up, slicing through the air faster than a ninja on Dexedrine. “As a taxpayer I should have carte blanche access to my elected officials, day or night.” He spoke as if winding up for a Sunday-morning sermon.
    Then I knew who he was.
    The Reverend Ray Don Swiggly. And his wife, the very antithesis of Tammy Faye Bakker, Miss Gloria. Or that’s how Swiggly referred to her on his weekly Sunday-morning, bible-thumping rampages.
    I’d only caught the program because Aunt Tessa liked tohiss and boo at the man while she ate breakfast. More than once his television effigy had sustained damage from