Spring In The Valley

Kenny screwed his face in disgust. “What’s the fun of having a gun if you can’t shoot it.”

The class laughed, and Brynn smiled. “Oh, I shoot it a lot. At target practice. Anyone who carries a gun must know how and when to use it.”

“Officer Sawyer is being modest,” Mrs. Shepherd interrupted. “She has a caseful of trophies that she’s won in shooting competitions all over the country.”

“Awesome,” Jennifer Clayton, a redhead in the middle of the room, who reminded Brynn of herself at that age, said. “Just like Annie Oakley. We learned about her this year.”

Sid Paulie, whose folks ran the drugstore, stuck his hand in the air as if grasping for a lifeline.

“Yes, Sid?” Mrs. Shepherd said.

The boy sat up straight, pleased to be recognized. “How much money do you make, Officer Sawyer?”

In the back of the room, Rand shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Interest sparked in his expression, and Brynn felt a smidgeon of irritation. The clothes he wore today probably cost more than her pay for the month, so why was he so captivated by her finances?

But her salary always came up in school sessions, so she had her stock answer ready, thank goodness, because Rand’s steady scrutiny was turning her brain to mush.

“Police officers make about the same as school-teachers,” Brynn explained to Sid. “It’s not a lot of money, but enough for a decent living. People who become police officers and teachers don’t choose those jobs for the money. They do them because they like to help people.”

Kenny raised his hand again. “How do the police help people? Don’t you just give them tickets or lock them in jail?”

Brynn opened her mouth to answer, but a voice at the back of the room beat her to a response.

“May I answer that, Mrs. Shepherd?”

Looking more flustered than Brynn had ever seen her, the veteran teacher peered at Rand, apparently noting his presence in the midst of the other adult volunteers for the first time. “And you are?”

“Rand Benedict.” He held up the laminated visitor card on a lanyard around his neck to indicate he’d checked in with the office. “I recently moved to Pleasant Valley. Last week during the snowstorm, my boy Jared was dangerously ill and having trouble breathing. I was rushing him to the hospital when Officer Sawyer came along, radioed ahead to the emergency room and led the way to the hospital with lights flashing and sirens wailing. That’s one example of how the police help people,” he explained to the class.

“Is Jared okay?” Jennifer asked.

“He’s fine now, thanks to Officer Sawyer and Dr. Anderson.” Rand seemed as at ease among the children and parents as if he spoke to strangers every day. That confidence, Brynn thought, must give him a hell of a courtroom presence.

Jimmy Clayton, Jennifer’s twin brother, spoke up. “There was an accident on the highway near our farm last year. Officer Sawyer gave the driver CPR until the ambulance got there. My dad said she probably saved the lady’s life.”

“So you see, Kenny,” Mrs. Shepherd explained with a kindly smile, “police officers do much more than give tickets and lock people up.”

“Thank you, class,” Brynn said, anxious to make her escape. “You’ve been an excellent audience.”

She turned to leave, but Rand spoke again from the back of the room. “Mrs. Shepherd, may I ask one more question?”

Irritated by his interruptions and struggling not to show her annoyance, Brynn turned back toward the class.

“Of course, Mr. Benedict,” Mrs. Shepherd answered with her characteristic courtesy.

Rand nodded and locked gazes with Brynn, who felt skewered like a butterfly on a pin with no hope of escape. She forced herself to relax. Just one more question and she was out of here. And away from the magnetic charm of Rand Benedict.

“Officer Sawyer.” Rand addressed her directly, and even from the back of the room, she could read the devil in his eyes. “May I speak with you outside?”

Chapter Three

The children in the classroom turned and stared at Rand with open curiosity. Mrs. Shepherd smiled as if she’d just guessed an interesting secret. The adult volunteers on either side of him exchanged knowing looks. Only Brynn didn’t react, but stood at the front of the room as if carved from stone, her posture rigid, her expression impassive. She didn’t give him a clue to what she was thinking.

Suddenly his bright idea of confronting her publicly didn’t seem so bright after all.

He moved quickly toward the rear door of the class, but Brynn became instantly animated and made a swift but dignified exit through the door at the front of the room. She had a lead on him as she hurried through the hall to the exit, so he ran to catch up with her.

This might be his only chance, and he didn’t want to blow it. He’d been trying for a week to contact her, and pulling this stunt showed how desperate he’d become.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since the night of Jared’s illness, she’d haunted his thoughts. God knew what would have happened to him and Jared if she hadn’t miraculously appeared. Rand knew nothing about children. He knew even less about sick children. When Jared’s breathing difficulty had begun, Rand had panicked, shoved Jared into the car and taken off in the direction of town in search of a hospital. When Brynn’s siren sounded behind him, he’d been horrified to discover he was traveling ninety-five miles an hour on a dark, unfamiliar road. If she hadn’t pulled him over, he might have killed himself and Jared. He’d been so rattled, he’d been barely coherent when she’d stood by his car window and read him the riot act. As soon as he’d gathered his wits enough to inform her of Jared’s illness, she’d transformed into an angel in navy blue. As he’d watched over his sleeping child during the days and nights of Jared’s recovery, Brynn had filled his thoughts.

And gratitude wasn’t all he felt. In his corporate career, he’d met plenty of slick, sophisticated, smart women, elegantly attired, carefully coiffed, magnificently made-up. But he’d never encountered a woman with Brynn’s genuinely natural beauty—and a warm heart to match. Fate had thrown so much sorrow his way recently, Rand considered meeting Brynn compensation for the sadness in his life, and he wasn’t about to let her get away.

“Brynn, wait!”

She barreled through the double exit doors into the sunshine, then wheeled to face him, fists on her hips, her eyes blazing with annoyance. “You have some nerve!”

The deep blue hue of her eyes matched her uniform, and the sunlight sparked golden highlights in her auburn hair. Her full lips pursed in disapproval, her strong but lovely chin jutted at a defiant angle, and a delicate vein pulsed in the slender column of her throat.

“I was desperate,” he said.

“Desperate for what?” she demanded. “To embarrass the living daylights out of me? Everyone in town will hear about this and jump to all the wrong conclusions.”

I was desperate to convince myself you’re as magnificent as I remembered, he thought. To persuade you to know me better.

“To get in touch with you.” He couldn’t believe how calm he sounded when his heart was racing, not only from his sprint down the hall but from the sight of her in all her outraged glory. “You didn’t return my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” This time she avoided his gaze, and he knew she lied.

“You have to eat,” he said.

“What?”

“All I ask is that you have dinner with me, to let me thank you for your help the night of Jared’s illness.”

“You’ve thanked me already. Dinner isn’t necessary.” She pivoted on one foot and headed toward the parking lot.

He fell in step beside her. “Are you always this rude?”

She stopped again and turned on him. “Me? Rude? You’re the one who interrupted Mrs. Shepherd’s class.”

“I didn’t interrupt. In fact, I contributed to the discussion.”

“With a request to speak privately with me?”

“How else was I supposed to get in touch with you, when you won’t return my calls?”

“Did it ever occur to you I have good reason not to return your calls?”