Falling For The Sheriff

“That’s the whole point of the gathering, so we can get to know some of our new neighbors. Maybe start making friends.”

“I have friends. In Houston.”

“Well, we aren’t in Houston anymore. Gram was nice enough to take us in, and we owe her. Our actions here reflect on her, too.”

“So you’re saying if we don’t fit in, she might kick us out?”

“Of course not!” Her grandmother would never resort to reverse extortion. Was he asking because he feared not being accepted, after the way most of his teachers had labeled him last year, or was he secretly hopeful, wondering if antics at Gram’s cookout could be his ticket back to Houston?

“I expect you to be on your best behavior,” she stressed. “Do not screw this up.”

Hurt flared in his eyes, but his tone was his default-mode sarcastic when he said, “So you’re saying I shouldn’t hotwire the guests’ cars and do doughnuts in the back pasture?”

“After your stunt yesterday, you don’t get to make jokes like that.”

“How long are you going to stay mad about that? It was just a stupid candy bar!”

No, it was a destructive pattern of behavior. Then again, if she always acted as though she expected the worst of him, was she creating a self-fulfilling prophecy? “Luke, I—”

Outside, a car door closed, and he shot out of his chair. “I’ll see if she needs help bringing in groceries.” His gallantry was clearly motivated by an excuse to end the conversation, but Kate would take what she could get.

The screen door clattered as he hurried out of the house, and Kate heard Gram call good morning to him. Decades ago, Joan Denby had been able to coax Kate out of her shell when she was feeling abandoned by her father. Maybe now Gram could work her magic on a sullen teenage boy.

There were so few bags that Luke got them all in one trip. Kate offered to help put away the groceries, but Gram said to just leave them out for baking. She then made Luke’s day by giving him permission to hook up his game console to the living room TV while the two women worked in the kitchen.

Once he’d happily scampered off to lose himself in a digital quest, Gram raised an eyebrow in Kate’s direction. “Am I wrong, or was there some tension between the two of you?”

“Always.”

Gram patted her arm. “Hang in there. The teen years are difficult. I seem to recall a certain summer where you and Crystal fell for the same lifeguard at the local pool and life as you knew it was over!” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in melodramatic parody.

Kate chuckled in spite of herself. “Okay, I suppose even I had my tantrums.”

“And you grew into a wonderful woman. Luke has a good heart.”

“I know. I just wish he’d share it with people more often.”

Gram disappeared into the walk-in pantry and returned with a sack of flour and an armful of spices. “Do you want an apron to protect your dress? It’s pretty. Brings out the green in your eyes.” She beamed proudly. “You’re sure to make a good impression in it.”

Alarm bells sounded in Kate’s head, as jarring as a classroom of seven-year-olds all playing xylophones for the first time. Suddenly she recalled a phone conversation with Gram a few months ago. Her grandmother had gently hinted that Luke might do better with a male role model in his life and asked if Kate ever dated. When Kate had said no, Gram had dropped the subject. Now, Kate wondered if her grandmother had simply been biding her time.

“Gram, this welcome party... It’s not going to be a lineup of the county’s eligible bachelors, is it? I told you, I’m not ready for romance.”

Her grandmother smiled sadly. “I lost my husband, too. I understand. But you’re in the prime of your life, with a lot of years left ahead of you. Damon wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

That answer did nothing to settle Kate’s apprehension about the party. “Today isn’t going to be you, me, and a dozen single guys between the ages of twenty and fifty, right?”

“You have your grandfather’s active imagination. As I told you last night, I invited some families. Now, can we get started? I’ve got several desserts I want to bake, and my oven will only hold so many things at a time.”

Telling herself to quit being paranoid, Kate lost herself in the comforting rhythm of working alongside the woman who had taught her how to cook. The first dinner she’d ever fixed for Damon had included her grandmother’s chicken and dumplings recipe. The hours passed quickly. In seemingly no time, afternoon sun streamed through the windows and the kitchen smelled like a decadent bakery. Unfortunately, the kitchen was nearly as hot as the inside of a bakery oven.

At least outside there was a breeze. Kate covered long folding tables with vinyl tablecloths, glad she hadn’t bothered with makeup. It would have melted away. They drafted Luke to dump ice into the drink coolers and pretended not to notice all the food he stole off the veggie tray. Beans simmered on the stove, and a vat of potato salad waited in the fridge. The smell of brisket cooking made Kate’s stomach rumble. While she waited for the grill to heat up so she could throw on some sausages, she opened a bag of tortilla chips and taste-tested Gram’s homemade salsa.

Gram handed her a cold water bottle, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You might want this.”

Kate nodded. “It’s a little hotter than I remembered.”

“Well. Everyone needs a little spice in their lives.”

As Kate sipped her water, two vehicles came down the dirt road that led from the street to the farm. The second was a battered pickup; the one in the lead was a sedan that was probably older than she was but gleamed as if it were washed and waxed daily. As soon as it pulled to a stop, the back door opened. While the driver and front passenger were still dealing with their seatbelts, two blonde blurs of energy spilled out. Followed by a tall man with ink-black hair.

Cold water splashed over her fingers, making her realize she was squeezing the bottle in her hand. “Gram!” She couldn’t keep the note of shrill accusation from her voice. “That is Cole Trent.”

Her grandmother ducked her gaze. “Oh. Did I, um, forget to mention he was invited?”

Chapter Three

A single glance across the shaded front yard confirmed the suspicion that had been growing inside Cole as his father drove. Joan Denby’s granddaughter was indeed the beautiful blonde he’d met yesterday. Two single moms with sons moving to Cupid’s Bow at the same time wasn’t impossible, but it would be an unlikely coincidence. When the possibility had first occurred to him that the woman they were welcoming to town was the same one he’d met at the gas station, he’d discounted it because his mother had made it sound as if the newcomer’s son was closer to the twins’ age.

Then again, his mom had proven that her ethics were flexible when it came to introducing him to single women.

He had to admit, on some level, he was excited to see the blonde again. Judging from her tense body language as she talked to her grandmother, the feeling was not mutual.

“Hey, it’s that lady!” Mandy announced as the adults unloaded folding chairs and covered dishes from the car.

Gayle Trent glanced at her granddaughter. “The older one, or the younger one?”

Mandy frowned, momentarily perplexed that someone over thirty might qualify as young. “The one with the ponytail. We met her yesterday. Her son’s a big kid. He and Alyssa took a—”

“I didn’t take it!” Alyssa interrupted, her face splotched with red.

“Why don’t we leave what happened in the past?” Cole said, steering his girls away from his mother’s blatant curiosity. He had not yet shared the Great Candy Bar Heist with her. “Come on, let’s go meet our hostess.”

He tried to recall whether his mom had mentioned Joan’s granddaughter by name but drew a blank.

“Sheriff Trent!” Joan Denby waved him over with a smile. “So nice to see you—and your girls. They’re getting so big. This is my granddaughter, Kate Sullivan. I hear the two of you have met?”

“Briefly, but I didn’t catch a name.” He set down the chairs he carried and extended his hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Kate.”

Her gold-green eyes narrowed and, for a second, he didn’t think she would shake his hand. She did, but the contact was as fleeting as social protocol allowed.

“Sheriff,” she said stiffly.

He smiled. “Please, call me Cole. I’m off duty at the moment.”

His parents had caught up to them and Mr. and Mrs. Ross, who owned The Twisted R ranch at the end of the road, were climbing down from their truck and calling their own hellos. Cole stepped out of the way, giving Joan a chance to proudly introduce her granddaughter. As Kate greeted everyone, her gaze kept darting nervously back to him. The lingering interest would be flattering if not for her apprehensive expression.

He was used to being well-regarded in the community and frankly unsure how to respond to her thinned lips and rigid posture. Did she somehow blame him for her son’s actions yesterday? After all, if his daughter hadn’t asked for the candy bar in the first place, Luke might never have swiped it. She certainly hadn’t made excuses for her son, though. She’d responded to the situation with a directness Cole admired, marching her son back inside to apologize to Rick Jacobs and offer restitution.

“Mom!” The front door banged open, releasing an exuberant German shepherd into the yard. Luke Sullivan emerged on the wraparound porch. “There’s some lady on the phone for you.”

At the sight of Luke, Alyssa gasped. Apparently, it hadn’t yet clicked with her that if Kate was present, her son would be, too. “I do not like him,” Alyssa said to no one in particular before stomping off to sit beneath a pear tree.

Mandy watched her sister’s retreat with wide eyes, then tugged Cole’s hand. “Now what?”

Good question.

* * *

“OFCOURSE I UNDERSTAND,” Kate said into the phone, trying to concentrate on Crystal’s words instead of staring at the sheriff through the front window. “We’ll get together for lunch or something as soon as everyone’s feeling better.”

Her childhood friend had called with the news that two of her kids had the stomach flu. When the first one had thrown up, Crystal had hoped it was an isolated incident and had planned to leave her husband at home with the kid. But now that there were fevers involved, Crystal worried that even the members of the household not showing symptoms might be contagious.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Crystal said, her tone apologetic. “I hate that I won’t make the barbecue.”

“Me, too.” Catching up with her old friend would have been a nice distraction from Sheriff Trent. Call me Cole. His rich voice was more tempting than Gram’s desserts. “Hey, Crys, do you know much about the sheriff? Gram invited him and his parents.”

“Then she has good taste,” Crystal said approvingly. “He’s a cutie.”

Cute did not begin to describe him. The casual cotton T-shirt he wore delineated his muscular arms and chest far more than the crisp polo shirt she’d last seen on him. And she felt foolish for noticing that in the full sunlight, his thick hair wasn’t simply black. Half a dozen subtler hues threaded through it.

She was not interested in the sheriff’s hair. Or his muscles. Mostly, she just wanted to make sure Luke behaved today and didn’t further damage his reputation with the sheriff—or any of the other guests, for that matter.

“One of my boys played soccer in the spring with Mandy Trent,” Crystal said. “The sheriff’s got his hands full, but he seems like a good dad. And he’s considered quite the catch among the women in town. Or would be, if anyone could catch him.”

“So he’s not seeing anyone?” Kate wished she could take back the impulsive question. The sheriff’s dating life was none of her concern.

“I don’t think he’s gone on more than three dates with the same woman since his divorce, which was years ago. Popular opinion is that Becca Johnston will wear him down eventually—unless he gets a restraining order. Becca’s relentless, never takes no for an answer. Every time she calls, I get sandbagged into chairing some PTA committee or local food drive. If you want to volunteer for something like the Watermelon Festival in order to meet people, you should talk to her. If not, avoid her like the plague. And speaking of plague, I’d better go check my sick kids.”

As Kate was replacing the cordless phone on its charger, the front door opened.

“Katie?” Gram’s tone was rueful. No doubt she felt guilty for the way she’d ambushed Kate with Cole’s presence. “Are you rejoining us?”

Like I have a choice? “You raised me better than to hide in the house just because there’s someone I’d rather avoid. I was talking to Crystal. She had to cancel because they’re dealing with a stomach bug.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was excited about seeing you again.”

Kate shrugged, trying not to look as disappointed as she felt. “Sick kids come with the parenting territory. I’ll see her soon.”

“You know, I thought there was a chance Cole might have to cancel,” Gram said. “As sheriff, he’s got a lot of responsibilities. Just keeping the Breelan brothers under control is practically a full-time job. As fretful as you were about seeing him again, it seemed unkind to worry you needlessly in the event he couldn’t make it.”

“As opposed to giving me time to mentally prepare myself?”

“Well...we did both agree that it would be best for you to encounter him sooner rather than later,” Gram said, taking some creative license with the conversation they’d actually had. “Please don’t be angry. His mother is a close friend. Your paths were bound to cross. Give him a chance.”

A chance to what? “I’m not angry, Gram. You invited his family before you knew Cole and I had shared an awkward run-in. I’m sure he’s a nice man. But, at the risk of being repetitive, I really don’t—”

“Oh, I just remembered! I need to stir the beans so they don’t burn on the bottom. Excuse me, dear.” Gram moved with impressive speed for a woman over seventy. “Will you let our guests know I’ll be back in a moment?”

“For the record,” Kate grumbled with wry amusement, “I know perfectly well I’m being manipulated.”

Gram flashed a cheeky smile over her shoulder. One thing was for sure, living with a crafty grandmother and an unpredictable teen would keep Kate on her toes.

* * *

LUKEJAMMEDHIShands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, wishing he could disappear. With his mom and Gram both inside the house, he didn’t know any of the other adults. Except the sheriff—and Luke would rather not face him.

One of the sheriff’s daughters was pleading with her dad to kick a soccer ball back and forth; the other girl had gone off by herself. In Luke’s opinion, she had the right idea. He suddenly found himself walking in that direction.

Although the twins were technically identical, they were pretty easy to tell apart. The one beneath the tree had a pink backpack and her hair was braided the same way it had been yesterday; she was the one who’d wanted the candy bar. Alyssa, her dad had called her.

She glared when she saw him coming. “I don’t like you.”

A common opinion. Luke wasn’t sure his mom liked him, either. Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure he liked himself. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing.” She hunched forward, protectively. He couldn’t see what she was drawing, but he could tell she had a sketch pad in her lap. Crayons spilled from her open backpack across the grass.

“What are you drawing?”

“Go away.”

The side of his mouth lifted in a grin. For a little kid, she certainly wasn’t intimidated by a teenager twice her height. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble yesterday.” Despite the way his stomach had hurt when he’d seen the Trents in the yard, now he was kind of glad they were here. The chance to apologize was an unexpected relief. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Her head lifted, and she studied him for a long moment.

“I was just trying to do something nice,” he added. “I thought he should have bought you the candy bar.”

“You made a poor decision.” The way she said it sounded like she was imitating an adult. Her dad, probably.

Jealousy pinched Luke’s insides. It caught him off guard whenever he felt this—envy for all the regular kids who still had fathers. It wasn’t as if he wanted anyone else’s dad to die. He just wished his own was still around. Sometimes Luke could hear his dad’s voice so clearly he could almost pretend they were on the phone. Other days, his dad’s voice was faded and distorted, like bad audio on a corrupt game file.

His throat burning, he backed away from Alyssa. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wait! It’s a horse.” She held up the pad. “But it’s not very good.”

It was terrible. The legs weren’t the right scale to the rest of the body, the neck was weirdly lumpy, and the nose looked like a crocodile snout. Plus, horses shouldn’t be purple. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. What if she cried again?

“Keep trying. With enough practice, you could get so good you surprise yourself.” He’d heard his mom say that to music students. He hoped it would be enough to make Alyssa feel better about her mutant horse. He stared at the picture, trying to find a positive. “The tail looks right.”

“Thank you.” She brightened a little. “My nana said this is a farm. Do you have horses?”

“No. There are goats, though.” Taking her toward the barn to look for the goats would kill some time until the food was ready and keep Luke away from the sheriff. “Wanna go see them?”

“Okay.” She picked up her backpack, frowning as she zipped it. “But don’t you dare stick candy in my bag.”

He recalled his mom’s stern warning. Do not screw this up. Everyone thought he was too stupid to learn from his mistakes. “I said I was sorry.”

“Then I guess you can be my friend.”

“Gee, thanks.” His first friend in a new town, and it was a five-year-old girl. Still, as they headed to the barn, he had to admit it was kind of nice not to be walking alone.

* * *

COLEHADJUSTretrieved the soccer ball from some rose bushes at the side of the house when his dad clapped him on the back.

“You look like you could use a break, son.” Harvey Trent said. “Mandy, I’m not sure your dad can keep up with you! How about Paw-paw takes a turn while your dad grabs a cold drink?” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “And talks to the pretty girl.”

Cole groaned. “Did Mom put you up to this?”

Harvey took the soccer ball from his son’s hands. “No one has to ‘put me up to’ enjoying time with my granddaughter.”

If Cole’s parents thought Kate Sullivan wanted him to talk to her, they must be blind. The woman’s “stay back” vibe was so strong, he expected to see gnats and butterflies bouncing off the invisible force field that surrounded her. After the casseroles other women in town had baked him over the years and Becca Johnston’s less than subtle pursuit, Kate’s disinterest should be refreshing. Except...he wouldn’t mind seeing those hazel eyes fixed on him with a feminine interest. There’d been a moment at the gas station yesterday, a brief flicker of connection.

Or was that wishful thinking on his part?

Not that it mattered, he thought as he pulled a can of soda from the cooler and popped the tab. Whatever spark might have been there seemed to have been extinguished when he busted her son. Still, this welcome party was in her honor. Not talking to her would be rude. He approached the table where the women were chatting. Mr. Ross stood a few feet off to the side, working the grill.

As Cole neared the group, he overheard Mrs. Ross bragging about her son, Jarrett. “...so good with young people. He spends a few weeks every summer working at a horse-riding camp. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here today.”

Kate’s expression was a discordant cross between placating smile and deer-in-the-headlights stare. Cole experienced a twinge of sympathy. Were they already trying to fix her up with someone? Jarrett Ross was a good guy, but he was gone a lot on the rodeo circuit. Although Mrs. Ross might be eager for her son to settle into a steady relationship, as far as Cole knew, Jarrett was thoroughly enjoying the admiration of his female fans.

“It’s also a shame Crystal couldn’t be here,” Kate interjected, surprising Cole by glancing his way. She was obviously desperate for a change of subject. “If her family had made it, your girls would have had more kids to play with.”

“Luckily for me, the girls are pretty good at entertaining themselves. Mandy’s happy as long as she has a soccer ball, and Alyssa...” He looked toward the tree where his daughter had been sitting. She was often content with quieter hobbies, like coloring or reading her favorite picture books. But she was no longer there.

Following his gaze, Joan Denby said, “She’s with Luke. I watched them walk over that hill a few minutes ago.”

“You’re kidding.” Last Cole had heard, his daughter was still ticked off at the teen. What had enticed her to wander off with him?

Joan nodded. “They headed in the general direction of the barn.”

“Maybe I should round them up.” Kate shot hastily to her feet.

Was she worried the two kids were into mischief? Cole didn’t know Luke Sullivan. Had the kid’s shoplifting been an aberration, or was he a habitual troublemaker?

“I’ll go with you,” Cole volunteered.

Kate bit her lip. Whether she wanted his company or not, it wasn’t as though she could forbid him to check on his own child.

They fell into step with each other, making their way down the small green slope that curved behind the farmhouse. The barn was visible, the distance of a couple of football fields away, but he didn’t see the kids yet. They might have been inside or around the corner, where the overhang provided shade. Kate was quiet as they walked, her gait stiff. He attempted to defuse the situation with humor.

“Could be worse,” he deadpanned. “You could be stuck at the table, sitting through countless pictures of Jarrett Ross’s rodeo buckles on Mrs. Ross’s phone.”

“Did I look as trapped as I felt?”

“So much that I was questioning whether I’d need my hostage negotiation training to rescue you.”

Her lips curved in an impish grin. “Think Mrs. Ross would have let me go in exchange for a fully fueled helicopter and a briefcase of unmarked bills? Not that she was the only guilty party. Before she started regaling me with Jarrett’s many fine qualities, Gram— Oh.” She sucked in a breath as her foot slid sideways, catching a root that jutted out from the hillside.

Cole reached for her automatically, his hands going to her waist so she wouldn’t tumble. As soon as his fingers settled above her hips, a potent sense of awareness jolted through him. The only thing separating her skin from his was the soft thin cotton of her dress. It was an absurdly tantalizing thought, given the hands-on nature of his job. From shaking hands with voters to demonstrating first-aid techniques in community classes, his days were full of physical contact. Yet he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so deeply affected.

Kate, however, didn’t seem to share his enjoyment of the moment. Her eyes were wide, as if she found his touch disconcerting. As soon as he noticed, he let go of her so fast she almost lost her balance again.

He winced. When had he become such a bumbling ass? “Sorry.” This time he steadied her with a strictly platonic grip on her elbow.

“No reason to be,” she said, her voice shaky. “You were, um, just trying to be helpful.”

Exactly. Helpful. Not lustful.

Well, maybe a bit of both. “I didn’t mean to startle you, grabbing you like that.” The expression on her face had been damned near panicky.

“It’s been a really long—” Her cheeks reddened. “I guess I shouldn’t be tromping around the farm in wedge sandals. They’re not exactly all-terrain. What was I saying? Before?”