The Lawman's Holiday Wish

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Chapter One

Deputy Sheriff Luke Campbell aimed his cruiser for the Kirkwood Lake Elementary School with measured reluctance. A mandatory meeting with his five-year-old son’s principal and teacher didn’t bode well for him or the boy. It didn’t take an early-education degree to tell Luke what he already knew. Aiden was quiet, withdrawn, uncertain, timid and refused to join activities.

Luke had hoped being in school would help, but this was the second phone call in three weeks regarding Aiden’s issues. How much was real and how much exaggerated by a smart kid who knew how to evoke adult sympathy to the max?

Luke didn’t have a clue.

Did he tend to make excuses for the boy?

Yes.

Did he have good reason?

Yes again, but unless he wanted to be a failure as a parent, he had to find a way to bring Aiden around. The sooner the better.

He’s five. Give him time.

Luke shoved the thought aside. He’d been telling himself that for nearly three years, since Aiden lost his mother. School was important, and getting along with other kids was invaluable, all the books said so. They called it “socialization.”

Luke was the third of seven Campbells, three of whom were adopted. In the Campbell house, you either socialized quickly or got taught a lesson by your big brothers.

Luke’s sweet mother had been praying for Aiden’s situation to improve.

Luke used to pray. Back before he realized the improbability of a just and beneficent God. Because if God did exist, He’d messed up the job, and Luke knew that firsthand.

But if it made his mother feel better to pray, who was he to argue? Jenny Campbell was a great lady, a wonderful mom and grandma, and Luke loved and admired her. He’d leave the praying to her and her church friends.

An aging Camry darted into the school driveway ahead of him, then pulled to a quick, crooked stop in the mostly empty parking lot.

Luke angled into the spot alongside the other car and climbed out. He turned and locked gazes with the dark-haired woman staring at him, her unadorned hands grasping the top of the car door.

Breathtaking beauty. Tall and slim. Scared to death.

You’re in uniform, Einstein.

Of course. She thought he’d followed her into the school lot to issue a ticket, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. The posted signs were school-in-session speed limits, and she hadn’t exactly careened around the corner on two wheels.

But her face held more than concerned chagrin. It held fear, and the cop in him wondered why she feared police. He jerked his head toward the building as he walked that way. “You here for a meeting, too?”

Relief eased her jaw and the set of her shoulders. She nodded as she matched his stride. “Yes.”

Vulnerable but tough; they were two red warning flags, despite the instant attraction. Luke stayed away from vulnerable women. Once burned, twice shy.

Tough women weren’t his cup of tea, either.

His older brother Jack had scolded him the week before. Said he was afraid to shop around because he couldn’t find June Cleaver.

Was Jack right?

Most likely. But this woman wasn’t making eye contact with him, so the attraction must be one-sided.

Or she’s hiding something.

And that was just one more reason to keep his distance. If he could get beyond the caramel skin. The past-her-shoulders, wavy dark hair. Eyes round and deep-toned. “You’ve got a kid here?”

“Two.”

That surprised him. She looked young, mid-twenties. Too young to have two elementary school kids, at any rate. But maybe she wasn’t too young. He might be feeling old before his time.

He stepped forward and swung the door wide for her.

She glanced up to thank him.

Time stopped.

So did she.

Her eyes, a blend of storm-cloud gray and milk-chocolate brown, were a shade he had no name for. Brows, thin and arched, framed long lashes that looked real. Her mouth, soft and full, was perfectly shaped....

No makeup.

Unusual. Didn’t all beautiful women wear makeup these days?

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped, pressed her lips together, turned and moved through the door. But that moment—seconds that felt like long, drawn-out minutes—assured him the electricity went both ways.

They walked down one hall side by side, turned right, then proceeded to the principal’s office.

Mr. O’Mara stepped through his door. He nodded to Luke and sent a look of commiseration to the woman. “Rainey, I’m sorry, but you’re late. Deputy Campbell’s meeting is scheduled to start now. Can you wait here and we’ll meet about the twins once we’re done talking with Luke?”

Rainey.

Rainey Cabrera McKinney, the woman who’d done time years ago for a crime she didn’t commit. A woman who’d skated the edge of the law too often as a kid. His friend Piper McKinney had been raising Rainey’s twin daughters until Rainey returned to the family farm last month.

“Rainey wants to make amends,” Piper had told him.

The word on the street, and the look on her face, said the whole making-amends thing wasn’t going too well. Luke’s mother had a saying: “Small-town folks have little to talk about, and drawn-out winters to do it.”

With winter approaching, Piper McKinney’s sister might be in for a long, hard haul.

Rainey nodded, stepped back and took a seat on the hand-crafted wooden bench outside the office. “It’s no problem, Mr. O’Mara. I’ll wait here.”