Montana Sheriff

The one thing she clung to was that the boy looked like her.

And not like his father.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Ronnie waited half a beat while the rest of the surrounding area pulled itself out of the encroaching darkness and slowly came back into focus.

She couldn’t wait until her knees came back from their semiliquid state. If she took too long to respond, Cole would be able to see the effect he still had on her. And that was the very last thing in the world she wanted.

It was bad enough that he probably suspected as much. She didn’t want to confirm the impression.

So she forced a smile to her lips and returned his greeting. “Hello, Cole.”

Her eyes slid down to take in the shiny piece of metal pinned to the khaki-colored, long-sleeved shirt that Cole wore. Had her father mentioned this development to her in one of his visits to Seattle? She couldn’t remember but she really didn’t think so. She would have remembered if he had.

In a rare display of sensitivity, her father went out of his way to avoid all references to Cole whenever they talked. He never even asked if Cole was the father of his grandson. Amos McCloud was a firm believer that everyone was entitled to their privacy. It was basically a policy of don’t ask, don’t tell. She didn’t ask and her father didn’t tell—even though there were times when she ached to know what Cole was doing these days.

She still didn’t ask. Because if her father had said that Cole had gotten married, or worse, gotten married and started a family, the news would have sliced through her heart like the sharp blade of a cutlass. No, not knowing anything was the far better way for her to go.

But that had left her entirely unprepared for this first encounter.

Ronnie struggled against the feeling that her soul was suddenly completely exposed.

“So, you’re the town sheriff now,” she acknowledged pleasantly, silently congratulating herself on being able to mask all the feelings that rushed to the surface. “When did that happen?”

Cole’s reply was sparsely worded. Just long enough to get the answer across. “Four years ago. The old sheriff got sick. Decided he needed to be someplace warmer. Nobody would take the job, so I did.” He punctuated the final sentence with a careless half shrug.

She could feel every one of his movements echoing inside of her. Get a grip, Ronnie, or you’re going to blow this.

“He’s being modest,” Ed told her, cutting in. “The whole town took a vote when Paul left and just about everyone cast their ballot for Cole here. Couldn’t ask for a better sheriff, either,” Ed said, beaming his approval in the town’s choice. “Painfully honest, this boy. Won’t even take a cup of coffee when it’s offered to him at the diner without paying for it.” Ed chuckled as he shook his head, his wide waist undulating ever so slightly as he did so. “Gives graft a bad name, Cole does.” And then the Emporium owner sobered just a shade. “We’re all lucky to have him here.”

Ronnie looked at Cole for a long moment. She could see why Ed and the other citizens of Redemption would feel that way. Something about Cole exuded strength.

That had always been the case.

Having him in a position of authority allowed people to sleep better at night, she imagined. He made them feel safe. She had certainly felt that way when she was with him. Right up until the end. But then, the threat had come from her own feelings at that point, not from him.

“Where else would he be?” she asked quietly. She’d meant her question to have a touch of humor in it, but it had come out deadly serious. “He never wanted to be anyplace but here.”

To the outside observer, the comment seemed to be addressed to the shop owner. But her eyes never left Cole’s.

His eyes were still hypnotic, she thought. Even after all this time, they hadn’t lost their ability to pull her in. To make her long for things that just didn’t have a prayer of working out.

In the end, that last turbulent summer where they seemed to argue all the time, it came down to a matter of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object. She wanted him to leave Redemption, to test his wings and fly away with her, and he wanted her to stay with him. Wanted her to start a life with him in earnest.

So, he had stayed and she had gone.

But not before taking a part of Cole James along with her.

And that, along with the radio silence that followed, was something she knew Cole would never forgive her for. There wasn’t any point in thinking about it, or any of her reasons—good reasons—for having done what she had.

Forcing herself to look away, Ronnie turned her attention back to Ed. “So, you’ll deliver the order to the ranch today?” she asked, referring to the items she had just paid for.

“I’ll get on it right away,” Ed promised. “You’ll have it by this afternoon.” He beamed at her, his brown eyes regarding her kindly. “Nice seeing you again, Veronica. You do your father proud.”

Ronnie inclined her head, feeling a little embarrassed by the compliment. “Family does what it has to do,” was all she said, deflecting any further words of praise.

Right now, all she wanted to do was get back into her car and drive away. Quickly. Before her knees melted away altogether.

Cole surprised her by asking, “Mind if I walk you out?”

The words sounded so formal, so stilted. So unlike anything that had ever been exchanged between them before, even going back to the time when they were kids. She couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t known one another.

And now, now they were just strangers, feeling awkward in each other’s presence.

Strangers with a past.

If she wanted to get through this with her sanity intact, she would have to treat Cole James the way she treated a client. Politely, competently, but always with preset boundaries.

Never once had she mixed business with her private life. Mainly because her private life was all about Christopher.

“Of course not,” she finally replied. “I wouldn’t want to say no to the sheriff.”

This time the smile that rose to her lips came of its own accord. The idea of Cole being the sheriff of the town they had grown up in just didn’t seem real to her. It was more like something they would pretend in one of their elaborate games.

Cole opened the door for her and held it. The bell just above the door rang softly, ushering them out.

She barely heard it, listening instead to the sound of her heart pounding.

Breathe, Ronnie, breathe. You knew he was going to be around.

The thing was, she’d expected him to be on his ranch. Which cut the chances of running into him down rather drastically.

“What happened to you being a rancher?” she asked him.

“Town needed a sheriff,” Cole said. “And my mother got a really good man to help her run the ranch,” he added. After a moment, he shrugged. “I still help out once in a while, during branding season, if Will’s short-handed.”

Ronnie tried to put a face with the first name. “Will?”

“Will Jeffers,” he clarified. “The man my mother hired to help run the ranch after …” Cole’s voice trailed off for a moment, his discomfort with the topic more than mildly evident.

Ronnie pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant to inadvertently dredge up a painful subject for him. Cole’s father had died suddenly last year, coming down with and succumbing so quickly to ALS no one even knew what was happening until it was almost all over. Her father had told her about that last night, after she’d put Christopher to bed.

“I was sorry to hear about your dad,” Ronnie said haltingly.

She had to stifle the urge to put her hand on his shoulder, to communicate with Cole the way she used to, with a simple look, a touch. They’d had their own unique way of “speaking” without words once. Back when the world was new and their paths hadn’t diverged so very sharply and far apart.

“Yeah, well, these things happen,” Cole replied, his voice distant as he made an attempt to shrug off her sympathy.

He didn’t want sympathy from Ronnie. He didn’t want anything at all from her.