Falling For The Sheriff

“Sheriff Trent!” Joan Denby waved him over with a smile. “So nice to see you—and your girls. They’re getting so big. This is my granddaughter, Kate Sullivan. I hear the two of you have met?”

“Briefly, but I didn’t catch a name.” He set down the chairs he carried and extended his hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Kate.”

Her gold-green eyes narrowed and, for a second, he didn’t think she would shake his hand. She did, but the contact was as fleeting as social protocol allowed.

“Sheriff,” she said stiffly.

He smiled. “Please, call me Cole. I’m off duty at the moment.”

His parents had caught up to them and Mr. and Mrs. Ross, who owned The Twisted R ranch at the end of the road, were climbing down from their truck and calling their own hellos. Cole stepped out of the way, giving Joan a chance to proudly introduce her granddaughter. As Kate greeted everyone, her gaze kept darting nervously back to him. The lingering interest would be flattering if not for her apprehensive expression.

He was used to being well-regarded in the community and frankly unsure how to respond to her thinned lips and rigid posture. Did she somehow blame him for her son’s actions yesterday? After all, if his daughter hadn’t asked for the candy bar in the first place, Luke might never have swiped it. She certainly hadn’t made excuses for her son, though. She’d responded to the situation with a directness Cole admired, marching her son back inside to apologize to Rick Jacobs and offer restitution.

“Mom!” The front door banged open, releasing an exuberant German shepherd into the yard. Luke Sullivan emerged on the wraparound porch. “There’s some lady on the phone for you.”

At the sight of Luke, Alyssa gasped. Apparently, it hadn’t yet clicked with her that if Kate was present, her son would be, too. “I do not like him,” Alyssa said to no one in particular before stomping off to sit beneath a pear tree.

Mandy watched her sister’s retreat with wide eyes, then tugged Cole’s hand. “Now what?”

Good question.

* * *

“OFCOURSE I UNDERSTAND,” Kate said into the phone, trying to concentrate on Crystal’s words instead of staring at the sheriff through the front window. “We’ll get together for lunch or something as soon as everyone’s feeling better.”

Her childhood friend had called with the news that two of her kids had the stomach flu. When the first one had thrown up, Crystal had hoped it was an isolated incident and had planned to leave her husband at home with the kid. But now that there were fevers involved, Crystal worried that even the members of the household not showing symptoms might be contagious.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Crystal said, her tone apologetic. “I hate that I won’t make the barbecue.”

“Me, too.” Catching up with her old friend would have been a nice distraction from Sheriff Trent. Call me Cole. His rich voice was more tempting than Gram’s desserts. “Hey, Crys, do you know much about the sheriff? Gram invited him and his parents.”

“Then she has good taste,” Crystal said approvingly. “He’s a cutie.”

Cute did not begin to describe him. The casual cotton T-shirt he wore delineated his muscular arms and chest far more than the crisp polo shirt she’d last seen on him. And she felt foolish for noticing that in the full sunlight, his thick hair wasn’t simply black. Half a dozen subtler hues threaded through it.

She was not interested in the sheriff’s hair. Or his muscles. Mostly, she just wanted to make sure Luke behaved today and didn’t further damage his reputation with the sheriff—or any of the other guests, for that matter.

“One of my boys played soccer in the spring with Mandy Trent,” Crystal said. “The sheriff’s got his hands full, but he seems like a good dad. And he’s considered quite the catch among the women in town. Or would be, if anyone could catch him.”

“So he’s not seeing anyone?” Kate wished she could take back the impulsive question. The sheriff’s dating life was none of her concern.

“I don’t think he’s gone on more than three dates with the same woman since his divorce, which was years ago. Popular opinion is that Becca Johnston will wear him down eventually—unless he gets a restraining order. Becca’s relentless, never takes no for an answer. Every time she calls, I get sandbagged into chairing some PTA committee or local food drive. If you want to volunteer for something like the Watermelon Festival in order to meet people, you should talk to her. If not, avoid her like the plague. And speaking of plague, I’d better go check my sick kids.”

As Kate was replacing the cordless phone on its charger, the front door opened.

“Katie?” Gram’s tone was rueful. No doubt she felt guilty for the way she’d ambushed Kate with Cole’s presence. “Are you rejoining us?”

Like I have a choice? “You raised me better than to hide in the house just because there’s someone I’d rather avoid. I was talking to Crystal. She had to cancel because they’re dealing with a stomach bug.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was excited about seeing you again.”

Kate shrugged, trying not to look as disappointed as she felt. “Sick kids come with the parenting territory. I’ll see her soon.”

“You know, I thought there was a chance Cole might have to cancel,” Gram said. “As sheriff, he’s got a lot of responsibilities. Just keeping the Breelan brothers under control is practically a full-time job. As fretful as you were about seeing him again, it seemed unkind to worry you needlessly in the event he couldn’t make it.”

“As opposed to giving me time to mentally prepare myself?”

“Well...we did both agree that it would be best for you to encounter him sooner rather than later,” Gram said, taking some creative license with the conversation they’d actually had. “Please don’t be angry. His mother is a close friend. Your paths were bound to cross. Give him a chance.”

A chance to what? “I’m not angry, Gram. You invited his family before you knew Cole and I had shared an awkward run-in. I’m sure he’s a nice man. But, at the risk of being repetitive, I really don’t—”

“Oh, I just remembered! I need to stir the beans so they don’t burn on the bottom. Excuse me, dear.” Gram moved with impressive speed for a woman over seventy. “Will you let our guests know I’ll be back in a moment?”

“For the record,” Kate grumbled with wry amusement, “I know perfectly well I’m being manipulated.”

Gram flashed a cheeky smile over her shoulder. One thing was for sure, living with a crafty grandmother and an unpredictable teen would keep Kate on her toes.

* * *

LUKEJAMMEDHIShands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, wishing he could disappear. With his mom and Gram both inside the house, he didn’t know any of the other adults. Except the sheriff—and Luke would rather not face him.

One of the sheriff’s daughters was pleading with her dad to kick a soccer ball back and forth; the other girl had gone off by herself. In Luke’s opinion, she had the right idea. He suddenly found himself walking in that direction.

Although the twins were technically identical, they were pretty easy to tell apart. The one beneath the tree had a pink backpack and her hair was braided the same way it had been yesterday; she was the one who’d wanted the candy bar. Alyssa, her dad had called her.

She glared when she saw him coming. “I don’t like you.”

A common opinion. Luke wasn’t sure his mom liked him, either. Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure he liked himself. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing.” She hunched forward, protectively. He couldn’t see what she was drawing, but he could tell she had a sketch pad in her lap. Crayons spilled from her open backpack across the grass.

“What are you drawing?”

“Go away.”

The side of his mouth lifted in a grin. For a little kid, she certainly wasn’t intimidated by a teenager twice her height. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble yesterday.” Despite the way his stomach had hurt when he’d seen the Trents in the yard, now he was kind of glad they were here. The chance to apologize was an unexpected relief. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Her head lifted, and she studied him for a long moment.

“I was just trying to do something nice,” he added. “I thought he should have bought you the candy bar.”

“You made a poor decision.” The way she said it sounded like she was imitating an adult. Her dad, probably.

Jealousy pinched Luke’s insides. It caught him off guard whenever he felt this—envy for all the regular kids who still had fathers. It wasn’t as if he wanted anyone else’s dad to die. He just wished his own was still around. Sometimes Luke could hear his dad’s voice so clearly he could almost pretend they were on the phone. Other days, his dad’s voice was faded and distorted, like bad audio on a corrupt game file.

His throat burning, he backed away from Alyssa. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wait! It’s a horse.” She held up the pad. “But it’s not very good.”