Anywhere with You

“I wasn’t feeling well.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Between him and Ben, she’d felt a bit off.

“Morning, Laura.” Clarence and the woman exchanged smiles as she passed.

“Do you know where the traffic cones are stored?”

He snapped his attention back to Grace. “How would I know? Don’t try and change the subject.”

“What subject?” She remembered the storage closet behind the office and studied her set of keys. “That I left early? So what?”

“Not that. I want to know about Ben. Hilda’s boy.”

Grace glanced up. “What about him?”

“It seemed you two had a lot to talk about.” Clarence’s small, shrewd eyes searched her face.

She hurried her pace in case she blushed. “Yup, the McAllisters and the weather. It was a fascinating discussion.”

“Don’t you sass me, young lady.”

“Mayor Leland, I’m on duty. I am working.” She turned left down the narrow alley.

“Where are we going?”

“The storage closet behind the office.”

“Why did we have to come this way? We could’ve used the back door.”

She preferred that he hadn’t followed at all. Ignoring him, she located the correct key, found the cones and carried them to the truck. Of course, Clarence stayed on her heels. She opened the driver’s door.

“You hold on a minute,” he said. “I know that boy, and what I have to say is for your own good. You should appreciate I’m looking out for you.”

Grace wanted to tell her uncle that whatever it was had to wait until she clocked out. But she couldn’t stand waiting all day. “Okay, what is it?”

“His mother, Hilda, is a good, God-fearing woman. She raised a fine daughter, and I’m sure she tried with Ben.” Clarence shook his head. “He was just one of those kids who couldn’t seem to keep his nose clean. The minute he entered his teens, he was nothing but trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? What did he do?”

Clarence seemed surprised by the question. “Now, you don’t need to be concerned with details,” he said, his condescending tone suggesting she shouldn’t worry her pretty little head. “Just take my word for it. You steer clear of him before he tarnishes your reputation.”

Grace smiled. Her uncle had no idea what he was talking about. He’d probably heard some rumors or knew Ben hadn’t seen his mom in some time, which made him plain bad to the bone.

“You know I’m telling you this for your own good, don’t you, Gracie?”

“Well, while we’re on the subject,” she said sweetly, “I’ll remind you again that singling me out in front of the other deputies is not helpful. They already resent me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t the city. We all know each other around here. You and I are related. So what?”

She forced a smile. “Have a nice day, Mayor,” she said and climbed into the truck.

Fortunately, he spotted a couple of his constituents and glided along the sidewalk to shake hands, letting her go without an argument. Good. The election was months away, but the more he campaigned to get reelected, the less he would bother her.

After an hour of driving around checking for mudslides, Grace pulled over and opened her thermos. She’d left a few orange cones at the base of a popular hiking trail, but that was it. Everything looked okay.

One thing Montana had over Arizona was rain. And lots of it. She’d been leaving her window open at night. The inn where she was staying was located on Main Street, and a couple times she’d heard noise coming from the bar several blocks down. But it was worth it just to hear the patter of rain on the windowsill.

She sipped her coffee, anxious for the much-needed caffeine to give her a boost. Kind of a shame, really. The peace and quiet made her pleasantly mellow. She glanced into the rearview mirror. Nothing but blacktop, blue sky and woods for miles.

What the—?

She stared at the red blur until she could make out the shape of the Porsche. The car hugged the curve of the road, then raced toward her. Was he out of his mind?

Ben had been right. She didn’t have radar, but she’d bet anything he was going well over the fifty-mile speed limit. Grace started the engine and hit the flashing lights just as the car came up on her. The vehicle whizzed past.

She hesitated, torn between anger at his recklessness and a reluctance to give him another ticket. Depending on his record, it could cost him his license. But then, maybe it should. Maybe this was the lesson he needed. Either way, this was her job.

Hastily getting the truck on the road, she cursed at the spilled coffee wetting her jeans. She pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor. The older model truck didn’t have a chance of catching up to the Porsche. So it surprised her when Ben slowed and coasted until she came up behind him.

She glimpsed his dark hair as he pulled onto the shoulder, and she felt a little sadness that her uncle might be right about Ben. Mostly, though, she was mad.

Breathing deeply, she grabbed her ticket book and pen, then climbed out of the truck. She kept her sunglasses on, unwilling to let him see her anger and disappointment. Did he think he could charm her out of another ticket?

“This seems all too familiar,” she said as the tinted window lowered. “License and—” She blinked. “Trace?”

“Mornin’, Deputy,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“I thought you were Ben.” She cleared her throat, annoyed at the surge of relief she felt. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Too fast.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re going to ticket me. I know and I deserve it. But so you don’t think I’m a total idiot, I cut loose for only a couple miles to see what the Porsche could do.” He reached into his back pocket. “I don’t usually speed, not in my truck.” His mouth curved in a boyish grin. “Not by much anyway.”

Grace watched him slide his license out of his wallet. She sighed. “I’ll give you a verbal warning,” she said, lowering the ticket book to her side.

Trace’s face lit up, and he was quick to make his license disappear. “Thanks. I mean it. You won’t catch me speeding again.”

“Good. Because next time, no mercy. Not even at five miles over.”

His expression fell. “Five,” he repeated. “Huh.”

Hiding her smile, she headed back to the truck, wondering if she dared analyze why she was so pleased the driver hadn’t been Ben.

4 (#u52eb26de-745a-52a4-bb6b-40e7da477beb)

THE TENT WAS GONE, along with the tables and chairs. Ben shouldn’t have been surprised. People in the country woke early and went right to work. He’d been one of them once.

He stood near the stable waiting for Trace to bring back the Porsche. In the bright sunlight, the Sundance looked even more run-down than it had last night. The place wasn’t an eyesore, nothing like that. In fact, their paying guests might consider the buildings quaint and rustic. And for all he knew, that was the point of not keeping things pristine. But he doubted it. The McAllisters had too much pride.

A dude ranch...

Ben still couldn’t believe it. Gavin McAllister must be turning over in his grave. He’d been a cattleman to the bone, and proud of it. But he’d been a husband and father first, and willing to do anything to take care of his own. And that had once included Ben.