Justin's Bride

He wanted to deny it, but what was the point? They both knew the truth. “Yes. I am still angry. It’s been seven years, and I figure I should have forgotten it by now, but I haven’t. If nothing else, Megan, you were supposed to be my friend.”

“I was.” But her actions then belied her words. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers twisted together nervously.

“Then why didn’t you believe me?” he asked.

“I wasn’t sure. Everyone said you did it.”

“I said I didn’t.”

She looked up at him. Sadness widened her eyes, darkening the hazel color to gray. “I know. Later, when I knew you were innocent, I didn’t know where you were. I wanted to write and tell you I was sorry.”

He stood, walked over to where she was sitting and held out his hand. She stared at his outstretched palm for several seconds, then placed her gloved fingers on his and let him help her rise.

She was tall for a woman, but the top of her head only came to his chin. She smelled of some forbidden flower. With her blond hair pulled away from her face, there was nothing to hide the pure beauty of her skin, the large almond-shaped eyes, or her trembling mouth. How many nights had he lain awake picturing this face, trying to forget...desperate to remember? How many times had he begged God to let him hear the words she’d just spoken? The statement of his innocence.

“It’s too late,” he said. “It doesn’t matter now.”

She blinked. “Oh, Justin, it has to matter. As you said, whatever happened, we were friends.”

“Not anymore.” He wouldn’t forgive her, couldn’t trust her. “You don’t want to be friends with me, Megan. I’m still the town bastard.”

“I’m sorry I said that. You frightened me that day. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You could have said you’d changed your mind.”

“I was afraid you would persuade me.” She bit her lower lip. “You always had the power to persuade me.”

Did he still? The thought tempted him. No, it didn’t matter. None of this mattered. He’d come back to Landing to make his peace with the town. To prove to them, and himself, that he was more than a troublemaker. When his year was up, he would move on and find a place to put down roots. Until then, he would stay as far away from Megan Bartlett as possible. She had always been his greatest weakness. Chances are, that hadn’t changed.

“Go home, Megan,” he said. “Go back to your respectable life. I’m not here to make trouble.”

“You’ve made it already, and you know it. Did you think that you could just come back here and be sheriff? Did you think people wouldn’t notice...or remember?”

“I’m counting on them remembering.”

Her delicate eyebrows drew together. He loved her frowns. They made him want to kiss away the lines in her forehead and hold her close until her worries faded. He drew back a step, putting more distance between them. He’d been right to want to avoid her. She was more trouble than he had ever been.

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I would.” She stepped closer, close enough for her to touch his arm. Even through her gloves, the brief contact seared though his shirt to his bare skin. Instantly, his body reacted to the heat as his blood flowed quicker. “Explain it to me.”

The fire of need ignited his anger. He jerked his arm loose and walked over to the desk. After picking up a single sheet of paper, he waved it at her. “This is all you have to know, Miss Bartlett. The town council of Landing has signed a contract with me. Unless I commit a criminal offense, I will be your sheriff for the next year. I don’t need your friendship, or anything else from you.”

“Fine.” She reached for her cloak and drew it over her shoulders. The heavy fabric swirled around her, brushing against his legs, taunting him like a too-brief caress. “Keep your secrets and your friendship. I’ll be sure to tell everyone you’re back in town and that you’ve only changed for the worse.”

“Why don’t you tell them the rest?” he asked, knowing he was pushing, trying to hurt her the way he’d been hurt. “Why don’t you tell them the real reason you’re so afraid?”

She picked up her reticule. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She started toward the door, but he moved quicker and slammed his hand against the wood, preventing her from leaving. “Tell them your dirty little secret. No one knows, do they? No one knows about our times by the stream.”

“Stop it.”

She reached for the door handle and pulled, but the door didn’t budge. He leaned against it and folded his arms over his chest.

“Tell them about how you liked my kisses, Megan. How you liked me touching you.”

“Justin, no.”

She raised her head to him. Tears glistened in her eyes. But the visual proof of her pain didn’t ease his anger. If anything, it made him want to her hurt her more.

“I was good enough to sneak around with, but not good enough to bring home to your father.”

“You don’t understand. You never understood.” She raised her hands in front of her, palms up. “There are things you don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“That’s you, Megan. You’ve always kept your dirty little secrets. Does anyone know you promised to marry me?”

She choked on a sob. “Let me g-go.” She pulled frantically at the door handle. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you agreed to marry me, or sorry you threw it back in my face? Are you sorry you couldn’t marry the town bastard?”

He stepped back and she jerked the door open. She gave him one last glance. He saw the tears on her cheeks and the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly, his anger died, snuffed out by a wave of shame.

“I’m sorry you’re back,” she said and escaped onto the boardwalk. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? You wanted me to be sorry. I am. I truly am.” With that, she slammed the door shut behind her.

He thought about going after her, then shook his head. It was too late. He made a fist and hit the wall beside the door. The sharp pain wasn’t enough to distract him. Megan was right. He wasn’t nice anymore. He sure as hell hadn’t been nice to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring out the window at her retreating back. She walked quickly, not greeting the people on the street. He saw her hand rise toward her face and wondered if she was wiping away the tears.

“Come back to Landing and set the past right,” he muttered. “You just made a hell of a start.”

He owed her an apology. Whatever had gone on between them seven years ago had nothing to do with the fact that he was the new sheriff. He had no right to treat one of his citizens so rudely. Williams would be damned disappointed.

Of course, it was Williams’s fault he was here in the first place. “Meddling old goat,” he said affectionately. His friend and former employer had been the one to come up with the idea that Justin needed to make peace with the past. He’d been the one to find the notice soliciting applications for a sheriff in Landing. Then he’d bullied Justin into applying. And here he was.

He turned away from the window and stared at his small office. Maybe this had been a mistake. It would have been better to take another job. After all, small-town sheriffs weren’t that easy to come by. Especially in Kansas. He could have gone further west, or maybe south to Texas. But no. He had to come back to Landing and prove them all wrong. It was a great plan with only one flaw.

What if they hadn’t been wrong? What if he was the one who was wrong? Maybe he wasn’t better than a born troublemaker. He picked up the signed contract and stared at it. He had a whole year to find out the truth.

* * *

An hour later, he grabbed his coat and hat from a hook on the wall and left. Suddenly, the office had seemed too confining. He crossed the street, jogging to avoid an oncoming wagon pulled by six horses.

It was late afternoon. The sun was already sinking behind the buildings, leaving half the street in shade. A stiff breeze tugged at his open jacket and hat. If it rained, there could be snow, but the skies were clear in all directions.

He stopped and stared at the livery stable. Someone had told him it had burned down three years ago. The new building was larger. He’d worked there from the time he was thirteen, until he’d left Landing at twenty. He liked being a deputy and he was fairly sure he was going to enjoy being sheriff, but he missed working with horses. Maybe when he left here, he would find a bit of land and raise them. He shrugged, then kept walking. Any plans for the future were a waste of time. He still had to get through his year here.