The Sheriff's Nine-Month Surprise

She set the bottle of wine on the counter and turned to dump the pasta in the pot of boiling water on the stove, hoping the steam would explain the sudden flush in her cheeks.

“Did you want wine or beer or something else?”

“I’d love a beer if you’ve got one handy,” he said.

She stirred the pasta, then moved to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of Icky IPA. “Bottle or glass?” she asked as she pried off the cap.

“Bottle’s fine.”

Instead of taking the bottle she offered, he wrapped his hand around hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily.

“Trying to figure out why you invited me to dinner but haven’t made eye contact since I walked through the door.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m just trying to get dinner finished up.”

“Tell me what I can do to help,” he suggested.

Go back to Echo Ridge.

The response immediately sprang to mind, but of course, she couldn’t say the words aloud without then explaining why his sudden and unexpected appearance in Haven complicated her life.

Instead, she only said, “For starters, you could give me back my hand.”

He loosened his grip so that she could pull her hand away without dropping the bottle. “What else?”

She gestured to the living area. “Go sit down.”

“You don’t trust me to help?”

“There’s really nothing you can do,” she told him.

“Do you want me to open the wine?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to stick with water—I’ve got work to do tonight.” Which was true, if not the whole truth.

He took his beer and moved around to the other side of the island. But instead of retreating to the living area and relaxing on the sofa, he chose one of the stools at the counter.

“So what do you think of Haven so far?” she asked, resigned to making small talk for eight minutes while the pasta cooked.

“I like it,” he said. “It’s a little smaller than Echo Ridge, but there’s a strong sense of community here.”

“There is,” she confirmed, lowering the heat on the burner beneath the sauce. “Even when I was away at school, I knew I’d come back here after graduation.”

“Summa cum laude from UCLA Law.”

She frowned. “How’d you know that?”

“I met your grandmother,” he confided.

“How? When?”

“Last weekend. I was walking down Main Street, trying to get a feel for the town, and our paths crossed. We had coffee together.”

“You had coffee with my grandmother?”

He nodded. “She introduced me to Donna Bradley at The Daily Grind.”

“You had coffee with my grandmother,” she said again.

He studied her as he tipped his bottle to his lips, swallowed. “Why does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” she denied. “But it’s a little weird.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my grandmother and you’re...”

“The guy you had lots of naked sweaty sex with?”

“Okay, yes,” she allowed.

“I didn’t tell her about the naked sweaty sex,” he promised.

“Thank you for that,” she said drily.

He just grinned.

And that smile did strange things to her pulse...or maybe it was the heat from standing so close to the stove.

“But I haven’t stopped thinking about it—or you,” he continued. “I applied for the job before I met you, but you were definitely a factor in my decision to accept it.”

“We weren’t ever supposed to see one another again,” she reminded him of the agreement they’d made in Boulder City.

“And yet, you went to Echo Ridge last weekend.” The surprise must have shown on her face because he explained, “You left a message with Deputy Ryker.”

She nodded. “A friend of mine from law school lives in Texas. Since I was there, I thought I’d stop by to say hi.”

“Texas is a pretty big state.”

“Chloe lives just outside of Dallas, so a side-trip to Echo Ridge wasn’t really out of my way.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I was kind of hoping you’d made the trip to see me.”

The timer on the stove buzzed, granting her a temporary reprieve from the increasingly awkward conversation.

“Dinner’s ready.”