The Sheriff's Proposal

It was clear that whatever talking he wanted to do, he’d have to initiate. He pulled his car out onto the two-lane road and headed towards Lily and Ned’s. “Tell me what happened Saturday night.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I don’t see you as a woman who hides behind denial. You’re too intelligent for that.”

Meg stared out the windshield. “I’ve solved my own problems for a very long time. I’m not about to depend on someone else to do it now.”

“So there is a problem.”

“Let it go, Logan. Life’s like a puzzle. You just have to figure out how to fill in the pieces so they fit.”

He glanced at her profile. “Your philosophy?”

“Uncle Ned’s.”

Meg was making it very clear she wanted him to butt out of her life. And he should. Their roads wound in different directions.

After he cruised down the lane to the farm, he got out of the car quickly and went around to Meg’s side. She’d already opened the door. When she climbed out, she stood beside him looking nervous.

He was feeling a bit jittery himself, unsettled by the inner turmoil he felt whenever he was close to her. “I understand if you don’t want someone to problem-solve for you. But if you need to talk, I can listen.”

When she looked up at him, he wanted to kiss her. But he knew he’d scare her away. So instead, he gently tapped the tip of her nose. “You know where to find me.”

It was hard for him to leave her there, to drive away without another word. He’d give her some time. If she didn’t come to him, he’d be back to find out why she was afraid of him…of them together.

The terror. She could still feel terror. She was cold…so cold. Despite the heat. Despite the perspiration. She interpreted their kidnapper automatically. But her teeth were chattering, she hadn’t slept for three days and she was scared…scared she’d say or do something wrong. Think something wrong and put it into words.

The terrorist rattled off his demands. She conveyed what he wanted to the official on the phone. Suddenly their kidnapper shouted and waved his gun. Pomada yelled. Meg didn’t know what she’d said wrong. But she moved toward the man, hoping to reassure him—

He shot.

The searing pain brought her to her knees. No one helped her. She knew Pomada was afraid he’d get shot, too. She reached out anyway. No one reached back. Her ears rang, and dots floated in front of her eyes, turning everything to gray. She couldn’t pass out…she couldn’t…she couldn’t….

Meg awoke, drenched in sweat, the terror as real as it had been that day weeks ago. When would the nightmares stop? When would she forget?

Sunday afternoon, Meg drove to Logan’s house, not sure she was doing the right thing. But maybe Logan was the one person who could help her. Maybe he’d understand her fear of going back to work. She needed someone else’s perspective. Logan himself had said he’d experienced traumatic situations. How did he make himself do it again? How did he persuade himself to take the same risks or face the same challenges when he’d narrowly escaped injury before?

Meg rang Logan’s doorbell, not wanting him to solve her problem but hoping he’d share his experience. When he didn’t answer the door, she rang the bell again and reminded herself she was here to talk about her work, not to satisfy her curiosity about her attraction to him.

Both the sheriff’s car and Logan’s sedan sat in the driveway. The garage door was open, so he had to be around. She descended the porch steps and followed the path around the side of the house. A low buzzing became louder as she rounded the corner. Logan was using a hedge trimmer on the spirea. His bare back, tanned and muscled, gleamed with sweat in the bright sun.

Because of the buzz of the trimmer, he couldn’t hear her as she walked toward him. She stared at the strong column of his neck, his hair damp and wavy on his nape, his straight spine, his khaki shorts riding low on his hips. The sparks inside Meg flicked against her warning to herself, threatening to ignite with a matching response from Logan.

Suddenly he turned around.

She stopped and took a deep breath. But that didn’t help because she inhaled sun and male, potent enough to make her head spin.

Logan’s stare was intense, then he smiled. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Her gaze went straight to his chest—a broad chest covered by black hair. A mat of it whorled around his dark male nipples then arrowed down the center, disappearing under the snap of his shorts. Meg felt herself getting hotter the longer she stared. “I, uh, thought I’d ask about your perspective.”

“On…?”

“What happened to me in Costa Rica. There’s something you don’t know.”

He came closer. Her fingers tingled, and she realized she wanted to touch him. There was no point denying it.

“Why don’t you sit on the deck while I shower? Then we can talk.”

Meg went up the stairs to the deck and settled in a lawn chair while Logan wound up the cord to the hedge trimmer. He climbed the steps and opened the door, his gaze lingering on her. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

She heard the underlying message. He didn’t want her to run away. As he went inside, she closed her eyes. She’d never been afraid of life or the challenges it presented. But right now she felt like running far away and hiding. She made herself sit still and wait.

Not ten minutes later, Logan opened the screen door. “Iced tea or soda?”

“Iced tea.”

He gave her a smile that made her knees wobble although she was sitting.

She heard the ring of the phone in the kitchen and Logan’s deep rumble as he answered it. A few seconds later, he came outside, his expression grim. “That was a hospital in Richmond. Travis was mugged.”

Chapter 4

Logan’s expression reflected a mixture of dismay, relief and worry.

Meg couldn’t keep herself from going to him. “How is Travis? Are his injuries serious?”

Logan raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “Cuts and bruised ribs. A black eye. They kept him overnight for observation. He only gave them my number now because his doctor threatened him with the juvenile authorities if he didn’t. They wouldn’t release him on his own.”

Meg knew the drive to Richmond would take about three hours. She could imagine Logan’s concern, recriminations and hope as he drove. “Would you like me to go along?”

His green eyes gentled, then darkened with the same intensity that had been there right before she’d evaded his kiss. “I’d like that.”

An hour later, Meg sat beside Logan as he drove and wondered if she should have offered to come along. She’d called Lily so her aunt wouldn’t worry. But Logan had been silent ever since they’d gotten into the car. Meg felt as if she was intruding.

Suddenly he glanced at her. “I’m sorry I’m such lousy company.”

“I understand.”

He grunted. “No, I’m afraid you don’t. You’ll probably wish you’d stayed in Willow Valley. Travis can be…” Logan sighed.

“Are you afraid he won’t want to come home with you?”

Logan adjusted his sun visor with a snap. “I know he won’t want to come home.”

“Even after what he’s probably been through?”

“I told you he hates me, Meg. And maybe he has good reason.”