The Sheriff's Runaway Bride

“Oh,” Kylie squeaked, undone by his nearness, the deep, smoky timbre of his voice and that perfectly meaningless word “darlin’.”

A microphone whined, and they both looked to the gazebo in the center of the green as Reverend West stepped up to speak. The crowd quickly hushed. Red, white and blue bunting ruffled in the breeze as he welcomed the crowd and led them in eloquent prayer before introducing the mayor. As soon as Pauley pulled a sheaf of folded paper from his pocket, everyone went back to what they’d been doing before the pastor had spoken.

Zach spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Guess we know who commands the respect around here.”

Kylie said nothing, but she couldn’t stop a smile from breaking across her face. Chuckling, he moved off then, and Kylie nodded at the blue-haired matron waiting behind him, her handbag dangling from one wrist, cardboard platter in hand. When the woman’s narrowed gaze cut to a loudly laughing Vincent, Kylie realized that the woman had overheard every word of her conversation with Zach, most likely weighing every word for gossip potential.

As if to prove that assumption, the woman thrust forward her platter, remarking, “Those Clayton boys make fine-looking men, don’t they?”

Kylie hummed a noncommittal reply and dished out the beef. Fine-looking men, indeed. She glanced surreptitiously from Zach to Vincent. Handsome, yes, but at least one of them had proved himself to be a jerk. Her gaze moved back to Zach, following him across the green. It remained to be seen whether the other was as fine as he looked.

By the time Kylie found herself free to enjoy the day, it had all but ended. Just the barest lip of the sun clung to the horizon as she strolled across the grass toward her parents, who had placed their chairs on the church lawn, her father having been charged with opening the church to provide access to the restrooms in the tiny vestibule. A tall form fell into step beside her. Smiling, she glanced up at Zach Clayton, noticing that his jaws had taken on the faint shadow of a day’s growth of beard. The slight stubble gave him a rakishly handsome appearance.

“Where you headed?” he murmured.

“Going to sit with my parents a while.”

“That’s good. I won’t worry about you then.”

Kylie stopped dead in her tracks. “Worry about me?”

He winced. “I, um … well, you’ve seen how Vincent’s been acting.”

“No, not really,” she said. In point of fact, she’d done her dead level best not to notice what Vincent had been up to, but she felt a glow in the center of her chest at the knowledge that Zach worried about her. With all these people here, three or four hundred at least, tall, good-looking Zach Clayton had been keeping an eye on her.

Zach cleared his throat, but the eruption of a loud argument forestalled whatever he’d been about to say.

“I want to go now!” pleaded a brunette in red capris and a red-and-white-striped tank top.

“You will sit down and shut up until I’m ready!” a man bawled right in her face.

“Who is that?” Zach asked, turning in their direction.

“I want to go now!” the woman insisted plaintively.

Kylie wracked her brain. “Uh, Janey … Janey …” She shook her head, unable to find a last name.

“I said be quiet!” the man shouted, launching into a diatribe about whiny, self-centered women.

“That’s Rob Crenshaw. He’s about my age and a friend of Vincent’s.”

Nodding, Zach strode forward. Without thinking, Kylie followed, drawn by Janey’s sobs. Zach didn’t pause, just walked right up and threw his left arm around Rob’s shoulders in what looked like a companionable gesture.

“Rob,” he said calmly. “Rob Crenshaw.”

That surprised the younger man enough to shut him up and have him turning a stupefied gaze on Zach.

“Do I know you?”

“Deputy Sheriff Zach Clayton. How do you do?” Zach said, offering his right hand for a shake. Rob automatically took that hand and then seemed to have some difficulty letting go again. Zach turned him and walked him several steps away from the woman. While the two of them spoke quietly—actually, Zach did most of the talking—Kylie went to Janey.

“You okay?” she asked, patting the other woman on the back.

Heavily freckled and wholesome-looking, with pale hazel eyes and sleek, chin-length, dark-brown hair tucked behind her ears, Janey sniffed and nodded, confessing in a small voice, “He gets like this every time he drinks.”

“I thought alcohol wasn’t allowed on the green.”

“It’s not. He showed up with a snootful.”

Just then, Rob turned and lurched toward Janey. “We’re going,” he announced tersely, seizing her by the upper arm.

Kylie glanced at Zach, who stood with his hands at his hips, watching. “Do you want to go with him?” Kylie asked quickly.

For an instant, Janey hesitated, but then she nodded and let Rob pull her away. Zach watched to make sure Janey was driving. Then he removed his sunshades, folded them, stowed them in his shirt pocket and strolled toward Kylie. She turned as he drew near, and he once more fell into step beside her. They a put a few yards between them and the small crowd that had gathered to gawk.

“You handled that quite easily.”

Zach shrugged. “A bully never expects anyone to stand up to him. He’s surprised when people don’t cower or slink away. If you know what you’re doing, that can give you an upper hand.”

“I guess the badge doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Not a bit,” he admitted with a grin.

He walked her toward her parents. Reverend West stood waiting for them at the edge of the church lawn. Somehow, John West always managed to look as cool as a cucumber, and today proved no exception. His chinos held crisp creases, and the white of his Old Glory T-shirt fairly glowed in the fading light. He stepped forward at once, offering his hand to Zach and greeting Kylie with a nod.

“You two obviously work well together.”

Zach seemed as eager as Kylie to quell talk that involved the terms “you two” and “together.” They both began speaking.

“Oh, I was just talking to Janey.”

“A little private conversation between me and Crenshaw.”

“I wasn’t involved in anything.”

“It’s my job. The badge does most of the work.”

Reverend West laughed and stepped forward to drop one hand atop Zach’s shoulder and the other atop Kylie’s. “I have a couple of spots open on the helpline ministry team with our Church Care Committee.”

Zach flashed a pained look at Kylie.

“Oh, I’m, uh, on call twenty-four hours a day.”

“And I work shifts,” Kylie put in quickly.

“One evening a week,” West said, not in the least deterred. “I believe it will fulfill the voluntary community service requirement of the county sheriff’s new community involvement initiative.”

Zach twisted one corner of his lips into a wry grin. “So it will.”