Most Eligible Sheriff

“Sorry,” she murmured and glanced about. “I don’t think anyone heard.”

“Walk with me.”

“I can’t just leave the guests.”

Cliff reached for her hand and held up their laced fingers. “Hey, Will. I’m borrowing Scarlett for a few minutes. She’ll be right back.”

The trail boss gave them a wave. “Sure thing.”

When Ruby would have removed her hand from Cliff’s, he tightened his grip.

“Remember, we’re dating. People expect to see us together.”

“Are you going to kiss me again before you leave?”

He wasn’t sure if she’d asked the question in jest or seriousness. “We’ll compromise with a hug.”

Her relief was visible. She’d been serious.

“Call me every hour on the hour,” he told her when they reached his vehicle. “If you’re more than five minutes late, I’ll call you.”

“My phone’s in pieces, remember?”

“Use Sam’s or Annie’s or the ranch phone.” He pulled a business card from his pocket, scribbled his cell number on the back and pressed it into her palm. “Don’t lose this until you’ve memorized the number. Park the truck Sam lends you as close to the trailer as possible. And leave the porch light on all night.”

“Porch light. Living room light. I’d better check my supply of bulbs. At this rate, I’ll be going through them quickly.”

She was putting up less of a fight than she had before the trail ride. Crowley’s phone call was probably responsible.

“Good idea,” he said. “Light is one of the best deterrents. Call me when you’re ready to leave work. I’ll meet you here and follow you home.”

“With my guard?”

She’d remembered.

He smiled. “You’ll like Sarge. Best partner I’ve ever had.” As soon as he spoke the words, his smile faltered. Her sister hadn’t like Sarge one bit. Maybe Ruby would have the same reaction.

“Sarge? Is he former army?”

“Retired from the police force. There isn’t anyone else I trust more to protect you when I’m not around.”

“Do I invite him in or does he sit outside in his vehicle?”

“Your choice. He’ll be fine on the front porch.”

“All night?”

“He’s done it before.”

“Maybe he can sleep on the couch,” she said with great reluctance.

“Or in the kitchen.” Cliff popped the automatic lock with his key fob and opened the driver’s side door. “Remember to call me.”

“Thank you for everything. Scarlett and I...we acted hastily. Without thinking things through.”

“That happens when you’re scared.”

“Everyone’s going to so much trouble for me.”

“We’ll talk more tonight. Set up your new cell phone. Make plans for the square dance.”

“Okay.” She started to back away.

Cliff didn’t let her get very far before pulling her into his embrace.

“For show,” he said. “In case Will and any of the other employees are watching.”

And to comfort Ruby, he added to himself. She looked ready to crumble.

Only it felt less like show and comforting and more like how a man holds a woman he wants to kiss. Cliff was reluctant to release her.

“See you later.” Sliding behind the steering wheel, he started the engine. She turned and headed back to the corral. He watched her progress in his rearview mirror.

Leaving Ruby was difficult and not only because he was concerned for her safety.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had felt so good, so right, in his arms.

Cliff spent a total of fifteen minutes at Tom Welch’s place checking on the missing chain saw. While there were fresh footprints behind his barn, nothing was stolen or disturbed. Cliff considered the possibility that Tom had made the prints himself. He did have a reputation for imbibing one too many whiskeys, forgetting where he’d been and what he’d done.

After assuring Tom that either he or his deputy would drive by later on rounds, Cliff aimed his SUV in the direction of town. Traffic was light, and he passed only two unfamiliar vehicles. The occupants appeared to be tourists. Nonetheless, he made a mental note of each car’s make and model.

The Dempsey Trading Post and General Store had changed little since Cliff was a kid, though it was easily ten times the size of the original one founded in the early 1860s. His ancestors had originally come from Ohio, traveling with one of many wagon trains heading west. For reasons unknown, they disembarked early rather than continuing to California.

Sweetheart was no more than a primitive settlement in those days. Cliff’s entrepreneurial great-great-whatever uncle founded a one-room trading post that had catered to prospectors lured to the area by a gold strike in the nearby mountains. As the population expanded, so had the man’s business. His nephew became the first sheriff.

Cliff grew up spending much of his youth in the store, pestering his aunt or playing with his cousin. Even during high school, when girls and sports consumed his every waking thought, he still visited the store. More frequently when his aunt hired the homecoming queen for a part-time cashier position.

Striding down the center aisle, he tipped his hat to a pair of customers and made his way straight to the photo and electronics counter.

“Hey, you!” His cousin Maeve smiled broadly at him as she rang up a young man’s order. “Be just a second.”

He observed his cousin, taking pleasure in her happy expression and relaxed, cheerful manner. So different from last summer when he’d helped her and her children move here. Then, she’d been miserable and withdrawn.

“What brings you by, cowboy?” she asked after seeing off the customer. “Don’t tell me Evan is throwing rocks into the neighbor’s yard again.”

Lately, her two-year-old son had decided it was fun to collect rocks and chuck them over the fence. The neighbor had complained.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Cliff said.