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Falling For The Sheriff
Tanya Michaels
A FRESH STARTWidow Kate Sullivan moved to Cupid’s Bow, Texas, to get her teenage son on the right path. But their new life in the small town gets off to a rocky start when her son is caught shoplifting by the sheriff. Kate is immediately attracted to Cole Trent, but she's not ready to fall in love again, and certainly not with another cop.Cole should have known Cupid’s matchmakers would scramble to fix him up with a smart, beautiful woman like Kate. The single dad has managed to evade their efforts until now, so he and Kate come up with a plan to keep the matchmakers at bay. Pretending to be a couple was a good idea, until Cole realizes his feelings are anything but pretend. Can he convince Kate to give their romance a real chance?


“Well played!” Admiration danced in Cole’s blue eyes. “You helped convince Becca I’m off the market—I could kiss you.”
Kate inhaled sharply, but it didn’t seem to put any air in her lungs. “It’s, ah, probably best if you don’t.” She started to take a step backward.
“Oh, I don’t know.” His voice dropped lower. “Becca’s got spies everywhere.”
“Cole, I …” Her voice was husky, unfamiliar. Though he was no longer touching her, he stood so close her thoughts were short-circuiting. Could she allow herself to kiss him in the name of convincing Becca he was taken? A flimsy excuse, at best, but so tempting. She swallowed. “I have to go.”
“Can I call you later? We didn’t finish our conversation.”
She lifted up on her toes, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. It was a peck, nothing more, but effervescent giddiness fizzed through her. She’d surprised herself—and she could tell from his sudden, absolute stillness that she’d shocked him.
“Just in case any of Becca’s spies are watching,” she murmured.
Falling for the Sheriff
Tanya Michaels


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and five-time RITA
Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle school algebra class (which probably explains her maths grades). Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frisé who thinks she’s the center of the universe.
This book is dedicated to all my fellow parents out there also raising one of those wondrous and terrifying creatures known as a “teenager.”
Contents
Cover (#u26425977-16fb-5428-9925-d736067dafac)
Introduction (#uc8cdae4b-4ac7-5c66-aef3-1286631c0b20)
Title Page (#u8e09f4af-6bf7-59ff-b72e-0b5863f13bb9)
About the Author (#u02a56004-1ab9-5ec7-9aab-920fd9d4fb59)
Dedication (#u0ca30b44-9ac5-5ae5-bec0-16e18028639c)
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u87771900-785f-5a4a-b95c-f70e1d544b75)
Kate Sullivan had barely spoken on the ride from the middle school to the house. She’d worried that if she opened her mouth to say something, she would start yelling. Or crying. Neither seemed like a good idea while driving.
As they walked in through the garage door that led to the kitchen, her thirteen-year-old son, Luke, broke the tense silence. “I know you’re pis—”
“Language!” She spared him a maternal glare over her shoulder.
“I know you’re mad,” he amended. The patronizing emphasis he put on the word was the verbal equivalent of rolling his eyes. “But it really wasn’t my fault this time.”
Lord, how she wanted to believe him. But the fact that he had to qualify his declaration of innocence with “this time” underscored the severity of his recent behavior problems. As an elementary school music teacher, Kate worked with kids every day. How was it that she could control a roomful of forty students but not her own son? Over the past few months, she’d received phone calls about Luke fighting, lying and cutting classes. And now he’d been suspended!
If Damon were alive...
Her husband, a Houston police officer killed in the line of duty, had been dead for two years. Sometimes, standing here in the familiar red-tiled kitchen, she could still smell the coffee he started every day with, still hear the comforting rumble of his voice. But no amount of wishing him back would change her situation.
She didn’t need the imaginary assistance of a ghost. What she needed was a concrete plan. Maybe something radical, because God knew, nothing she’d tried so far had worked, not even the aid of professional therapists.
“It wasn’t my knife,” Luke continued. “It was Bobby’s.”
Fourteen-year-old Bobby Rowe and his hard-edged, disrespectful peers were part of the problem.
“Which I tried to tell the jackass principal.”
Kate slammed her hand down on the counter. “You will not talk about people like that! And you aren’t going back to that school.” It was a spur of the moment declaration, fraught with logistical complications—she could hardly homeschool and keep her job at the same time—but the minute she heard the words out loud, she knew deep down that a new environment was the right call. She had to get him away from kids like Bobby and away from teachers who were predisposed to believe the worst of Luke because of his recent history.
“Not going back?” His golden-brown eyes widened. He’d inherited what Damon used to call her “lioness coloring,” tawny blond hair and amber eyes. “I only got suspended for two days. I can’t miss the last three weeks of school.”
“Maybe not,” she conceded, “but I don’t have to send you back there next fall.”
“But it’s my last year before high school. All my friends are there!”
“You’ll make new ones. Non-knife-wielding friends.”
“You’re really going to send me somewhere different for eighth grade just because you don’t like Bobby?”
No, kid, this is because I don’t like you—at least, not the person he was on the path to becoming. She loved her son, but on the worst days, she wanted to shake this angry stranger’s shoulders and demand to know what he’d done with her generous-natured, artistic Luke.
“I won’t get in trouble for the rest of the school year,” he vowed desperately.
“Good. But that won’t change my mind.” She glanced around the kitchen with new eyes. Maybe they could both use a fresh start, more than just a school transfer. She’d stayed in this house after Damon was shot because Luke had suffered such a jarring loss; she hadn’t wanted to yank him away from his home and friends. Yet, within six months, he’d found an entirely different group of friends anyway. He no longer associated with the kids who’d known the Sullivans as a whole and intact family. “We’re moving.”
“What? Houston is our home. This was Dad’s home! He wouldn’t want us to leave.”
“He’d want me to do whatever is best for you.” And Damon would have wanted her to have help. She wasn’t too proud to admit she needed some.
Her father, a professor at the University of Houston’s anthropology department, was sweet in a detached, absent way, but he was better with ancient civilizations than living people. Damon’s parents adored her, but they’d retired to an active senior community in Florida a year before their son was killed. Since she and Damon had both been only children, that left her with just one other close relative. Gram. Affection and a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time warmed her.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the memory of summers past. When her father had gone on digs between semesters, she’d stayed with Gram and Grandpa on their small farm. Those idyllic months in the town of Cupid’s Bow, Texas, had soothed her soul. Chasing fireflies, tending tomatoes in the garden, fishing in the pond, helping make homemade ice cream to put on Gram’s award-winning apple pie...
Although Grandpa had died last year, Gram was still in Cupid’s Bow and as feisty as ever. She’d mentioned, though, that it was becoming more difficult to take care of the place by herself and frequently complained that she didn’t get to see enough of Kate and Luke. What if they moved in with her? It could benefit all three of them.
Or maybe it would be a horrible idea.
Kate had to try, though. If things didn’t change, she could too easily imagine Luke growing into the same kind of thug who’d killed his father. It was time for drastic action.
Cupid’s Bow, here we come.
Chapter One (#u87771900-785f-5a4a-b95c-f70e1d544b75)
When Sheriff Cole Trent walked into his house the second Saturday of June, he was met in the living room by three irate females. It was only six in the evening, but from the looks he was getting, one would think he’d been out all night. Mirroring their grandmother, his five-year-old twins had their hands on their slim hips and their lips pursed. The family resemblance was unmistakable, although the girls were blonde like the mother who’d run out on them instead of dark-haired like Gayle and Cole.
He sighed. “I know I’m a little later than anticipated, but—”
“A lot late,” Mandy corrected.
Alyssa’s blue eyes were watery. “You promised to take us swimming.”
“I didn’t promise. I said I’d try.” Lately, not even trying his hardest seemed like enough. Once the girls had started kindergarten, they’d become hyperaware that they didn’t have a mommy like most of their classmates. Last month’s Mother Day had been particularly rough. “Maybe we can go to the pool tomorrow. For now, how about I take you out for barbecue?” He made the offer not just to appease the girls but because he was too worn out to cook.
After a morning testifying in county court and an afternoon of mind-numbing paperwork, Cole’s plans to get home early were derailed by the Breelan brothers, three hotheads who never should have gone into business together. The shopkeeper who worked next to their garage had called Cole with a complaint that the Breelans were trying to kill each other. After throwing a few punches—and an impact wrench—Larry Breelan was spending the night in a cell. Deputy Thomas was on duty to make sure neither of Larry’s younger brothers tried to bust him out. Or tried to sneak in and murder him, depending on their mood.
Gayle Trent shook her head. “Out to eat again? When was the last time these poor girls had a home-cooked meal?”
Lifelong respect for his mother kept him from rolling his eyes at her dramatic tone, but just barely. “I made them fruit-face pancakes for breakfast. And two nights ago we had dinner at your house. With Jace and William,” he reminded her. She’d spent so much conversational energy trying to fix up Cole with various single women that she might not have noticed his brothers were even there.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Speaking of home-cooked meals... Do you remember my friend Joan who owns the little farm down by Whippoorwill Creek? We’re in quilting club together and she’s signed up to help me inventory donations for the festival auction.” The four-day Watermelon Festival every July was one of the town’s biggest annual events.
Cole had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. From the gleam in his mother’s eye, she clearly wanted something, and he doubted it was for him to donate an item to auction.
He cleared his throat. “Girls, why don’t you go brush your hair and find your shoes so we can leave?” As they scampered off to the far-flung corners of the house to search for the shoes that were always mysteriously disappearing, he returned his attention to his mother, as wary as if he were investigating suspicious noises in a dark alley. “So, what’s this about your friend Joan?”
“Her granddaughter, who used to summer here as a kid, is moving to Cupid’s Bow with her son. We thought it would be neighborly if you and the girls joined us at the farm for a nice Sunday dinner tomorrow. Joan’s inviting other people, too. It’s a welcome party,” she added, “not a romantic setup.”
“Would you swear to that during a polygraph test?”
“Are you calling your own mother a liar?” she asked, looking highly wounded while evading his question. “Not everything is about your love life, you know. Joan’s great-grandson won’t have many chances to meet kids until school starts again in the fall. I’m sure he’d love to meet the girls. And they’d have fun, too. They were bored silly cooped up in the house with me all afternoon. Joan’s farm is like a petting zoo.”
“Mom, I—”
The cordless phone on the end table rang, temporarily cutting off his words. Gayle glanced at the display, then smirked in his direction. “Becca Johnston.”
His stomach sank at mention of the PTA president who’d been relentlessly pursuing him since her divorce was finalized. “Tell her I’m not here.”
“And I can also tell Joan you’ll be there for the dinner party tomorrow?” Without waiting for his response, she picked up the phone. “Hello? Oh, hi, Becca.” She paused pointedly, one eyebrow raised.
Later, he and his mom were going to discuss the laws prohibiting extortion. For now, he gave a sharp nod, exiting the room to change into civilian clothes and get his girls out of there before his mother talked him into anything else.
Behind him, he heard Gayle say, “Sorry, dear. You just missed him.”
* * *
“WE’REGOINGTO live out here?” Luke’s voice reverberated with horror as he stared through the passenger window.
The movie he’d been watching on his tablet had ended a few minutes ago and he seemed to be truly registering their surroundings for the first time. During the peaceful stretch when he’d had his earbuds in, Kate had taken the opportunity to remind herself of all the reasons this relocation was going to be wonderful for them. Sure, Kate didn’t have a job yet—and Cupid’s Bow Elementary wasn’t exactly a rapidly growing school—but she still had paychecks coming through the summer. She could give voice lessons or piano lessons if she got Gram’s old upright tuned.
“Yep.” She smiled at the picturesque pastures and blue skies. It was after six o’clock, but the June sun was shining brightly. “No traffic, no constant city construction—”
“No internet connection, no cell phone reception,” Luke predicted.
“That’s not true. Last time I visited Gram, I used my cell phone.” She didn’t volunteer the information that she’d had to stand with one foot in the laundry room and the other on the attached porch, leaning forty-five degrees to the left while holding on to the dryer. Maybe service had improved since then.
“This is the middle of nowhere! Nobody could possibly live here.”
She jerked a thumb toward the side of the road. “The mailboxes suggest otherwise.” She appreciated that the mailboxes they’d passed were spread out at roomy intervals. They’d had a nice enough home in the suburbs, but the yards were so small that when Damon used to throw a football with Luke, they spent half their time knocking on the neighbor’s door to retrieve the ball from the fenced backyard.
“You’re going to love it here,” she told Luke. “Lots of community spirit and camaraderie, plenty of home-cooking and fresh air.”
He rolled down his window, inhaled deeply, then grimaced. “The fresh air smells like cow poop.”
She ground her teeth, refusing to let him spoil her mood. He’ll come around with time. Her first victory might even be as soon as tonight. Gram could cook like nobody’s business, and Luke was a growing boy. A couple of helpings of chicken-fried steak or slow-cooked brisket should improve his outlook on life.
They’d be at the farm in twenty minutes. As eager as Kate was to get there, when she spotted the gas station down the road—the last one before Gram’s place—she knew she should stop. The fuel gauge was dropping perilously close to E. Plus, it might be good for her and Luke to get out of the car and stretch their legs for a few minutes.
While she pumped gas, Luke disappeared inside to use the restroom. Although she’d lived her entire life in Texas, sometimes the heat still caught Kate by surprise. Even in the shade, she broke a sweat. She tugged at the lightweight material of her sleeveless blouse to keep it from sticking to her damp skin, then lifted her hair away from her neck, making a mental note to look for an elastic band when she got back in the car.
While waiting for Luke, she went into the station and bought a couple of cold beverages. She’d barely pocketed her change before twisting the lid off her chilled bottle of water and taking a long drink. If Luke didn’t hurry, she might finish her water and start in on the fountain soda she held in her other hand.
He was taking a long time, and she wouldn’t put it past him to stall in a mulish display of rebellion. She turned with the intention of knocking on the door and hurrying him along, but then stopped herself. Half of parenting was picking one’s battles. They’d be at Gram’s soon, and her grandmother hadn’t seen Luke in months. Was this really the right time to antagonize him? She didn’t want him arriving at the farm surly and hostile. A smooth first night might prove to all of them that this could work.
Quit hovering, go to the car. She pivoted with renewed purpose. And crashed into a wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Okay, technically, the wall was a broad-shouldered man at least six inches taller than she. He wore jeans and a white polo shirt—which was a lot less white with Luke’s soda running down the front of it.
Kate opened her mouth to apologize but, “dammit!” was the first word that escaped. A high-pitched giggle snagged her attention, drawing her gaze downward.
Behind the startled-looking man were two blue-eyed little girls. They were dressed so dissimilarly that it took Kate a moment to realize they were identical. One wore a soccer jersey over camo shorts; tangles of white-blond hair hung in her face, and her sneakers looked as if they were about to disintegrate, held together only by an accumulation of dirt. The other girl was wearing a pink dress that tied at the shoulders and a pair of sparkly sandals. Someone had carefully braided her hair, and she carried a small sequined purse.
Great, she’d doused the guy with a sticky soft drink and cursed in front of his young, impressionable children. She’d been in town less than an hour and already needed a fresh start for her fresh start.
“I am so sorry.” She grabbed a handful of napkins off the counter next to the hot dog rotisserie and began frantically dabbing at his chest.
He covered her hand with his. “Let me.”
She glanced up, taking a good look at his face for the first time. Wow. Like the girls, he had eyes that were as blue as the Texas sky outside, a dramatic contrast to his jet-black hair. And his—
“Mom? What are you doing?”
Perfect. Her son picked now to return, just in time to catch her ogling a total stranger.
Without waiting for an answer, Luke scowled at the man. “Who are you?”
“Cole.” The guy had been handsome already. When he smiled, those eyes crinkling at the corners, the barest hint of a dimple softening that granite jaw, he was breathtaking. “Cole Trent.”
* * *
DESPITETHEEASY, practiced smile that came with being a public official, Cole’s mind was racing as he processed the events of the last few minutes. The jarring chill of icy soda, the rarity of finding himself face-to-face with a stranger when he knew almost everyone in Cupid’s Bow and, the biggest surprise of all, the jolt of attraction he experienced when he looked into the woman’s amber eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an instant reaction to someone.
Was his interest visible in his expression? That could explain the waves of hostility rolling off her son as Cole introduced himself.
From behind him, Alyssa’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Daddy, can I have a candy bar?”
He turned, shaking his head. “A candy bar will ruin your appetite.”
“But I’m hungggrrry.” She drew out the word in a nasal whine.
“Which is why I’m taking you to dinner.” They’d only stopped because Mandy had insisted she needed to go to the bathroom and couldn’t wait another ten minutes to reach the restaurant; apparently, seeing him doused with soda had temporarily distracted her. “If Mandy will—”
“It’s not fair!” Alyssa’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t get to go swimming like you said. They ran out of the color I needed to finish my picture at art camp. I don’t—”
“That’s enough,” he said firmly.
But Mandy, who could barely agree with her sister on the color of the sky, picked now of all times to demonstrate twin solidarity. She took a step closer to Alyssa. “It’s mean you won’t let her have a candy bar.”
He fought the urge to glance back at the woman with sun-streaked hair and beautiful eyes. Did she think he was inept at handling his own children? “You’re supposed to be in the bathroom,” he reminded Mandy. “If you’d hurry, we could be on our way to the Smoky Pig by now. But if the two of you don’t stop talking back, we’re headed straight home. Understand?”
The threat of having to return home and wait for Cole to cook something motivated Mandy. She navigated the tight aisles of chips and road maps in a rush. He returned his gaze to the woman. The gangly boy who’d called her mom had wandered away to refill his soda cup.
“Kids,” Cole said sheepishly. “You have days like this?”
“With a teenager?” She laughed, her dark gold eyes warm and understanding. “Try every day.”
“I keep waiting for single parenting to get easier, but sometimes I question whether I’m making any progress.”
She nodded. “Same here.”
So, she was single, too? That thought cheered him more than it should. He didn’t even know her name. Nonetheless, he grinned broadly.
She returned the smile, but then ducked her gaze to the sodden napkins in her hand. “I, uh, should throw these away.” As she walked toward the trash can, he couldn’t help but appreciate the fit of her denim shorts.
Quit leering—there are children present. Well, one of his children, anyway. He turned to see if Alyssa had forgiven him yet. In his peripheral vision, he caught the blonde’s son pressing a quick finger to his lips as if sharing a secret with Alyssa. The boy quickly dropped his hand and moved away. Alyssa frowned at her purse.
“Sorry again about the soda.” The blonde was back, her tone brisk, as if she wanted to put their encounter behind her. “And good luck with the parenting.”
Cole hated to let her go. He wanted to know who she was and why she was here. Was she visiting someone in Cupid’s Bow or simply passing through on her way elsewhere? Maybe he would have asked if she hadn’t seemed so anxious to go. Or if he weren’t busy puzzling over Alyssa’s strange expression.
“Good luck to you, too,” he said.
With a nod, the blonde walked away, holding the door open for her son.
“Can we go now?” Mandy rejoined them, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m starving!”
“Same here.” He ruffled her hair, but kept his gaze on his other daughter. “What about you, Alyssa?”
She jerked her gaze up from her purse, a flush staining her cheeks. Even someone without Cole’s training in suspicious behavior would have spotted the guilt in her eyes.
“What have you got in your purse?” he asked.
“N-nothing.” She clutched the small sequined bag to her body.
He held out his hand, making it clear he wanted to see for himself.
Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled a candy bar from her purse. “B-but I didn’t take it! That boy gave me it.”
Cole’s blood pressure skyrocketed. Alyssa was, by nature, a sweet, quiet girl, but throughout her kindergarten year—after every field trip or class party where other students had mothers present—she’d grown increasingly unpredictable. The teacher who had once praised his daughter’s reading skill and eager-to-please disposition had started calling Cole about behavior problems, including a memorable graffiti incident. Now some punk was trying to turn Alyssa into a shoplifter, too? Hell, no.
* * *
“HEY!”
Kate jumped at the angry boom, nearly dropping her car keys. She turned to see Cole Trent, the single dad who’d melted her insides with his smile. He wasn’t smiling now.
He strode across the parking lot like a man on a mission. One of his daughters was sobbing. The other looked grimly fascinated, as if she’d never expected a simple pit stop to be so eventful.
“Aw, crap.” Luke’s barely audible words—and the resignation in them—caused Kate’s heart to sink.
Not again. Not here! In her mind, she’d built up Cupid’s Bow as a safe haven. But how could you escape trouble when it was riding shotgun?
“What did you do?” she demanded in a low voice.
He slouched, not meeting her eyes. “It was only an eighty-nine cent candy bar. Jeez.”
Cole reached them in time to hear her son’s careless dismissal, his blue eyes bright with righteous fury. “It’s more than a candy bar, young man. It’s stealing.”
Kate’s stomach churned. “You stole?”
Cole’s gaze momentarily softened as he glanced at her, registering her stress. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer. “Perhaps I should reintroduce myself. I’m Sheriff Cole Trent. What’s your name, son?”
“Luke,” he muttered.
“And did you put that candy bar in Alyssa’s purse?” the sheriff asked in an unyielding, don’t-even-think-about-lying tone.
The boy hunched his shoulders. “I felt bad for her.”
Was that even true, Kate wondered, or had her son simply seized an opportunity for petty defiance?
Cole gave his sniffling daughter a stern look. “Luke may have been the one to take the candy bar, but you should have put it back. Or told me what happened. Other people’s bad behavior is no excuse for acting badly yourself.”
Terrific. Now her son was a cautionary tale for younger children.
“The two of you are going back inside to admit what you did and apologize to Mr. Jacobs,” Cole said.
His daughter gulped. The man behind the counter had smiled pleasantly at Kate, but she could see where his towering height, all black clothing and tattooed arms might intimidate a little girl.
“While you’re there,” Kate told Luke, “ask what you can do to make up for it.” He was too young for an official part-time job, but it was clear Kate needed to find ways to keep him busy and out of trouble. “Maybe they could use a volunteer to come by a few times a week and pick up litter in the parking lot.”
Cole’s gaze swung to her. “A few times a week? So you aren’t just passing through or visiting? You’re sticking around?”
Was that surprise she heard in his voice, or dread? Given his duty to maintain law and order in the county, he probably didn’t relish the idea of a juvenile delinquent moving to town. And Gram deserved better than a great-grandson who caused her problems in the community. Was this experiment doomed to fail?
“We’re staying with family in the area. Indefinitely.” She forced a smile and tried to sound reassuring. “But I plan to stay out of public until I learn how to properly carry sodas, and Luke may be grounded for the rest of the summer. So you don’t have to worry about us menacing the populace, I promise.”
The size of Cupid’s Bow might make it difficult to avoid someone, but she was willing to try. Between the terrible impression her son had made and Kate’s aversion to being around cops since Damon’s death, she rather desperately hoped never to see Sheriff Trent again.
Chapter Two (#u87771900-785f-5a4a-b95c-f70e1d544b75)
After Luke and his unwitting accomplice apologized to the gruff but fair Mr. Jacobs, Kate and her son resumed their journey. He had the good sense not to resume his complaining.
It wasn’t until they were jostling along the private dirt road that led up to Gram’s house that Luke spoke again. “Are you going to tell her about the gas station? And the sheriff?”
She sighed. “Well, it wasn’t going to be my opening. I thought we’d say hi first and thank her profusely for taking us under her roof before we hit her with news of your exciting new criminal activities.”
“I apologized,” Luke grumbled. “I even paid the guy, although no one ended up with the candy bar.”
“‘The guy’ is Mr. Jacobs, and you’re going to treat him with respect when you see him next weekend.” It turned out that the inked man with the gravelly voice visited the pediatric ward of the hospital once a month and gave a magic show. Luke’s penance was that he would sacrifice a Saturday morning to work as the man’s assistant. “And paying for what you took after the fact doesn’t justify what you did. You know better than to steal! Your own father was a policeman, who—”
“My father is gone,” he said flatly.
She parked the car, and turned to look at her son. “I miss him, too. And I get angry—at him, at the man who shot him, at the unfairness of life. But lashing out and doing dumb things won’t bring your dad back. It only drives a wedge between you and me. I’m still here for you, kiddo. Try to remember that?”
Without responding, he climbed out of the car.
She blinked against the sting of tears, preferring to meet her grandmother with a smile. Joan Denby had lost her husband even more recently than Kate. The two women were supposed to bolster each other, not drag each other further down.
Either Gram had been watching for them, or Patch, the eight-year-old German shepherd, had barked notice of their arrival. Kate had barely removed her seatbelt before Gram hurried out onto the wraparound porch to greet them. In a pair of purple capris and a polo shirt striped with hot pink, Joan Denby was a splash of vivid color against the white wood railing. She looked much the same as she had all those summers when Kate visited as a girl, except that the cloud of once-dark hair framing Gram’s face was silver and her lively hazel eyes now peered at the world through a pair of bifocals. Still, few would guess that she was the great-grandmother of a teenager.
“Luke! Katie!” The exuberant welcome in her voice carried on the breeze, and the knot in Kate’s stomach unraveled.
Home. Whatever happened during the next few weeks of transition, Kate was suddenly 100 percent certain this was where she was supposed to be. Her vision blurred again, but this time with happy tears. She jumped out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door before rushing to hug her grandmother.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered fiercely. Even though she now stood taller than the woman who’d been equal parts mom and grandmother to her, Gram’s embrace still made Kate feel safer, just as it had when she’d woken from nightmares as a girl or been rattled by a Texas thunderstorm.
“Missed you, too, Katie. So much.” Gram patted her on the back, then pulled away to reach for Luke. “And you! I can’t believe how tall you’re getting. Strong enough to help with farm chores, I reckon. But don’t worry,” she added with a smile, “I promise to make sure you’re well-compensated with your favorite desserts.”
“Anything but candy bars,” he mumbled.
Kate suppressed a groan at the reminder of their inauspicious entry to town. “We should start bringing in bags,” she told her son. “The car’s not going to unpack itself.”
Gram followed them. “I expected to see you hauling a trailer of stuff.”
“We brought most of our personal items, but the furniture’s in storage back in Houston.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t wanted to move it all twice in case this relocation didn’t work out.
Gram insisted on helping, and Kate gave her the lightest things she could find in the backseat. Kate faltered at the box of Luke’s art supplies. It had been sheer optimism on her part to bring them; he’d told her she could leave them in storage—or throw them away.
There’d been a time when he’d never been without a sketch pad of some kind. A few months before Damon was killed, Luke had started working on a comic book series about a superhero on another planet. The interstellar crime-fighter didn’t have a family and he’d possessed larger than life mystical powers, but the physical resemblance between Luke’s fictional champion and his dad had been unmistakable.
His earlier statement echoed in her mind. My father is gone. But he hadn’t only lost Damon. In the last two years, he seemed to have also lost his inspiration and his direction. Although there was no need to get the heavy box inside before dinner, she vowed to put the supplies in his room later. Maybe, with time and patience, he’d find his direction again.
Shifting a large satchel against her hip, she pulled a rolling suitcase from the trunk. “Am I in my usual room, Gram?” Even during her trips to the farm as an adult, Kate had stayed in the bedroom where she had so many happy childhood memories.
Her grandmother nodded. “Of course. And for Luke, I cleared out the room where Jim used to work on his model planes. It’s not huge, but it’s the least girly space in the house.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Kate said gently, hating the thought of Gram boxing up all of her late husband’s beloved planes alone. She wished her father was more reliable, that he lived close enough to regularly visit his widowed mother. Not that geography was any guarantee he’d pull his head out of his textbooks long enough to remember his family. The cliché “absent-minded professor” aptly described James Sullivan Jr. The last time he’d had dinner with Kate and Luke, he’d seemed sincerely shocked that his grandson wasn’t still nine years old.
Patch met them at the front door with baritone yowls and a tail wagging wildly enough to generate a windstorm. It took a few minutes to get past the excited shepherd and into the living room. Kate took in the familiar surroundings, recalling her grandfather’s good-natured complaints about the pink curtains and throw pillows on the sofa. Gram had told him that, if it made him feel better, the color was technically “country rose.” He’d also pretended to be annoyed by her collection of carousel-horse figurines, but he’d built her the gorgeous display cabinet that housed them.
The room had barely changed in the last decade. Even the warm, inviting scent was the same. Gram’s house always smelled like a combination of the lemony cleaner she used on the hardwood floors and pecan pie.
Luke raised his head, sniffing appreciatively, but it wasn’t floor cleaner and nostalgia that captured his interest. “Food!”
Gram laughed. “I have beef stew in the slow-cooker and made a batch of corn bread muffins.”
He immediately dropped the large duffel bags, as if preparing to bolt for the kitchen.
“We’re not just leaving our stuff all over Gram’s house,” Kate chided, familiar with his habits. Their home in Houston had often been an obstacle course of discarded tennis shoes, an unzipped backpack with class binders spilling out of it and dirty glasses that should have been carried to the sink. “Once you’ve got the bags in your room and washed your hands, we’ll see about dinner.” He must have been genuinely hungry because, rather than flashing one of his mutinous scowls, he dashed down the hallway.
“It’s gratifying to cook for someone other than just myself,” Gram said, a trace of sadness beneath her smile.
Kate’s heart squeezed, but she kept her tone light. “As much food as Luke puts away, you may get tired of it pretty quickly. I insist you let me help with meals. And everything else—cleaning, gardening, whatever needs to be done. I know how seriously you take hospitality, but Luke and I are roommates, not guests who have to be waited on hand and foot.”
Gram’s eyes twinkled. “Well...now that you mention it, I suppose I could use your help with a welcome party I’m hosting. Tomorrow.”
“You planned a party tomorrow?” So much for settling in slowly. Kate had hoped to sleep late, then spend the day unpacking.
“Party is probably too grandiose a term. It’s just a neighborhood cookout. I invited some friends, like the Rosses, who live down the road. You remember they used to let you ride their horses? And I figured you’d want to see Crystal Tucker. Wait—she’s Crystal Walsh now, isn’t she?” Gram shook her head. “Seems like just yesterday the two of you were sharing cotton candy at the Watermelon Festival, a couple of kids with pigtails and sticky hands. Now you’re all grown up with kids of your own!”
Kate and Crystal had bonded quickly after meeting at the community pool and renewed their friendship every summer. An only child, Kate had loved having a playmate in town. Crystal, the middle kid between two sisters, relished the comparative peace and quiet at the Denby farm. The last time they’d seen each other was Jim Denby’s funeral, but Crystal, heavily pregnant with twin boys, hadn’t been able to stay long. It would be nice to catch up with her. Kate tried to recall the age of Crystal’s oldest son, hoping the boy could be a potential friend for Luke. He needed a wholesome peer group—the sooner, the better.
With that goal in mind, she gave her grandmother a grateful smile. “I hate for you to go to trouble on our account, but I’m really glad you’re throwing the welcome party. I’m sure it will be exactly what we need.”
* * *
KATEWASGLADher son had the good sense not to show up at the dinner table wearing earbuds—a mandate she’d had to repeat at least once a week back in Houston—but he wasn’t the most effusive dinner companion. He wolfed down two servings of stew while barely looking up from his plate, then asked to be excused.
She sighed, wishing he showed more curiosity about their new surroundings and learning about Cupid’s Bow. Let him go. It had been a long day, and no doubt tomorrow would bring fresh battles. “You’re excused, but make sure you rinse your dishes.”
He did as asked, then paused in the doorway that led to the hall. “Dinner was awesome,” he mumbled in Gram’s general direction, the words all strung together. Then he disappeared around the corner.
Kate shook her head. “Well, that was a start, I guess. We’ll work on eye contact later.”
Gram smiled. “He’s had a tough time of it. You both have.”
“I know.” Lord, did she know. “But that doesn’t give him a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card. Losing his dad can’t become a habitual excuse for bad choices.” She ran a hand through her hair, recalling the incident at the gas station. She’d meant get-out-of-jail in a figurative sense, but if her son didn’t get off his current path...
“Katie?” Gram’s tone was thick with concern.
Glancing toward the empty doorway, Kate lowered her voice. “We had a mishap on the way to the farm...and by mishap, I mean petty larceny. He stole from Rick Jacobs, got caught shoplifting a candy bar at the gas station. Luke didn’t even want it. We’d been arguing in the car and I can’t help feeling like this was another act of rebellion because he’s mad at me. He took the candy bar for a little girl.”
Kate covered her eyes, her face heating at the mortifying memory. “He got busted stealing candy for one of Cole Trent’s daughters.”
“He stole something for the sheriff’s kid?” Gram made an odd noise that Kate belatedly identified as a snort of amusement.
“Gram! It’s not funny.”
“It sort of is. Cupid’s Bow is small, granted, but there are a couple thousand residents. Of all the people...” She tried unsuccessfully to smother another laugh. “The sheriff! Seriously?”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t joke about this. When we met him inside, we didn’t know he was a cop. Then he chased us out in the parking lot, understandably furious. I was so embarrassed.” And that was after she’d already enjoyed the super-fun humiliation of dumping her drink on him. “Frankly, I’m hoping to avoid Sheriff Trent for the next three or four...ever.”
Gram’s eyes widened. “Oh, but—surely your paths will cross again. Like I said, this is a small town. So, perhaps it would be best to get it over with sooner rather than later. Right?”
Definitely not. But since it seemed rude to argue, Kate smiled weakly. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” Another way to view it was that Kate had enough on her plate already without worrying about alienating a blue-eyed pillar of the community.
* * *
CRAP. LUKE SULLIVAN scowled at the prolonged quiet on the other side of the bedroom door. They’re talking about me. He couldn’t make out any of his mom’s or great-grandmother’s words, but he knew the tense, muffled tone. His mother had used it with his therapist whenever she sent Luke out of the room so the two adults could confer privately. She’d used it a lot on the phone with her friends when she was complaining about Luke’s screw-ups.
Suddenly needing noise and lots of it, Luke shoved in his earbuds and cranked up the volume on a hip-hop song. It was enough to drown out the low drone of conversation in the kitchen, but it didn’t mute the thoughts bouncing around his brain. He didn’t want to be here, in this shoebox of a room that smelled faintly of paint fumes. He liked his great-grandmother, but this was her house, not his. He missed home.
And he missed his friends.
He knew his mom didn’t like them, had specifically heard her describe Bobby as a “hoodlum,” but she didn’t get it. When he hung out with Bobby and the other eighth graders, kids looked at him with respect. Bobby was a known badass. He wasn’t universally liked, but even being regarded with contempt was better than pity. Luke hated students and teachers and neighbors eyeing him like he was a pathetic baby bird who’d fallen out of its nest and effed up its wing.
He was sick of people asking if he was “okay,” like his father’s murder was something to get over, equal to bombing a math quiz. He was tired of his mom’s stubborn attempts to get him to hang out with his old friends. And her attempts to get him to draw again. What did she care? Comic books were dumb stories that had nothing to do with real life.
In the stories Luke used to doodle, his cyborg-enhanced alien helped people by stopping natural disasters and chasing off enemies. In real life, Luke couldn’t even help cheer up a little girl. Stealing the candy had been stupid, and he certainly hadn’t meant to get her in trouble. He hated seeing girls cry.
He knew his mom cried. After his dad got shot, she’d cried a lot. They both had. But then she’d pretended to stop. He wasn’t stupid, though. He noticed when her face was blotchy. Some nights when he couldn’t sleep, he could hear the muffled noise. He hated those nights. He hated that his dad had picked such a dangerous job. He hated that he’d had to leave the only place he’d ever lived. But there wasn’t anything Luke could do about those problems.
Frustration flooded him, and he clenched his fists.
Yeah, stealing the candy bar had been a dumbass thing to do but it had seemed like such a simple solution, an easy way to make that little girl stop crying. Finally, there’d been a problem that seemed fixable! But he hadn’t been able even to fix that. So how was he going to fix the rest of his life?
* * *
AFTERTHEACHESand pains caused by loading the car and hours of driving, Kate expected to toss and turn all night. Instead, only a few minutes after her head hit the pillow, she fell into a dreamless sleep. In the morning, she woke to a wave of déjà vu triggered by the scent of coffee. She herself had never developed a taste for it, but Damon hadn’t been able to form the words good morning without a mug in his hand.
To combat the Texas summer, Gram kept the air-conditioning chugging at a temperature low enough to cool the hardwood floors. Kate slid her feet into music-note slippers given to her by a student at Christmas and padded to the kitchen to help with breakfast. She wasn’t surprised that the door to Luke’s room was still closed; he rarely got out of bed without parental prompting.
Gram, a natural morning person, beamed at her. “Sleep well, dear?”
“Like a rock, actually.” It was the best night’s rest she’d had in recent memory.
“I was just about to scramble myself some eggs. Want some?”
“You made dinner last night. It only seems fair that I make breakfast,” Kate counteroffered.
“All right. Then I can work on my shopping list. I’m running into town to pick up a few last minute items for the cookout this afternoon.”
The two women ate breakfast in companionable silence. Afterward, Gram gathered her purse and keys, saying she wouldn’t be gone long. She was just missing a few ingredients for the desserts she planned to bake.
Alone in the quiet house, Kate began unpacking some of her belongings into the closet and bureau. She’d been too drained last night. After making a substantial dent—and finding a casual green-striped sundress that seemed appropriate for today—she headed for the bathroom and showered. She used the blow-dryer with the door open, hoping the noise would jumpstart the process of waking Luke. When she knocked on his door, however, there was no answer, not even a mumbled “go away.”
She toyed with letting him sleep longer, wondering if that would improve his disposition today, but decided she wanted this opportunity while they were alone in the house to break the news about the welcome party. He might not react with enthusiasm, and she didn’t want him hurting Gram’s feelings.
“Knock, knock,” she said as she pushed the door open.
He was out cold, his breathing slow and even, his shaggy hair going in all different directions, an uneven halo against the pale blue pillowcase. Without the scowl that was rapidly becoming his trademark, he looked a lot like he had as a little boy. Her heart constricted, a tight ball in her chest. She loved her son so much and wanted nothing more than to make his life better, easier. If only he could see that!
She sat on the edge of the bed, saying his name softly, then with more volume, jostling his shoulder.
One eyelid cracked open just enough for him to peer at her in displeasure. “Whaddayawant?”
“To make you breakfast. And to talk. We saved you some bacon,” she said coaxingly.
He hesitated, torn between two of his favorite activities—sleeping and eating. Playing video games was also in his top five, but she hadn’t hooked up his gaming system last night. Maybe that could be his reward for being well-behaved today.
“Why don’t you put on some clothes and brush your teeth,” she suggested, “and I’ll cook you some eggs. Scrambled with cheese?”
He shook his head. “Fried with the squishy yolk, so that the yellow runs everywhere when you cut it.”
“Okay.” She rose, leaving the room and giving him some privacy. But she hesitated in the hallway, listening to make sure he actually got out of the bed instead of rolling over and falling back to sleep.
Just as she was setting his plate on the table, he appeared in the kitchen, wearing a pair of maroon shorts with an elastic waist and a charcoal-colored shirt that had once featured the name of a sports team. The letters had faded to obscurity after about a million washings, and tiny holes in the fabric were beginning to appear at the neckline and around the seams. He claimed the shirt was the softest piece of clothing he owned and wore it about three times a week. She really needed to find him a replacement before this one ultimately disintegrated. Although he’d changed, he hadn’t taken the time to brush his hair. It stuck out around his face in fluffy spikes.
She handed him a glass of orange juice. “You sleep okay?” Considering the coma-like condition she’d found him in, it seemed like a safe opener.
“No. The bed’s lumpy, and the outside noise is weird.”
How did he not consider the gentle hum of crickets and tree frogs an improvement over planes landing and periodic car alarms blaring? “There’s hardly any noise at all!”
“That’s what makes it weird.” He stabbed into an egg, watching the yellow ooze across the plate as requested. “Where’s Gram?”
“She went out for some groceries.” And would probably be home any minute now, so Kate better get to the point. “She invited some people over this afternoon for a cookout.”
Luke scowled around a mouthful of bacon. “You want me to spend my afternoon with a bunch of people I don’t know?”
“That’s the whole point of the gathering, so we can get to know some of our new neighbors. Maybe start making friends.”
“I have friends. In Houston.”
“Well, we aren’t in Houston anymore. Gram was nice enough to take us in, and we owe her. Our actions here reflect on her, too.”
“So you’re saying if we don’t fit in, she might kick us out?”
“Of course not!” Her grandmother would never resort to reverse extortion. Was he asking because he feared not being accepted, after the way most of his teachers had labeled him last year, or was he secretly hopeful, wondering if antics at Gram’s cookout could be his ticket back to Houston?
“I expect you to be on your best behavior,” she stressed. “Do not screw this up.”
Hurt flared in his eyes, but his tone was his default-mode sarcastic when he said, “So you’re saying I shouldn’t hotwire the guests’ cars and do doughnuts in the back pasture?”
“After your stunt yesterday, you don’t get to make jokes like that.”
“How long are you going to stay mad about that? It was just a stupid candy bar!”
No, it was a destructive pattern of behavior. Then again, if she always acted as though she expected the worst of him, was she creating a self-fulfilling prophecy? “Luke, I—”
Outside, a car door closed, and he shot out of his chair. “I’ll see if she needs help bringing in groceries.” His gallantry was clearly motivated by an excuse to end the conversation, but Kate would take what she could get.
The screen door clattered as he hurried out of the house, and Kate heard Gram call good morning to him. Decades ago, Joan Denby had been able to coax Kate out of her shell when she was feeling abandoned by her father. Maybe now Gram could work her magic on a sullen teenage boy.
There were so few bags that Luke got them all in one trip. Kate offered to help put away the groceries, but Gram said to just leave them out for baking. She then made Luke’s day by giving him permission to hook up his game console to the living room TV while the two women worked in the kitchen.
Once he’d happily scampered off to lose himself in a digital quest, Gram raised an eyebrow in Kate’s direction. “Am I wrong, or was there some tension between the two of you?”
“Always.”
Gram patted her arm. “Hang in there. The teen years are difficult. I seem to recall a certain summer where you and Crystal fell for the same lifeguard at the local pool and life as you knew it was over!” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in melodramatic parody.
Kate chuckled in spite of herself. “Okay, I suppose even I had my tantrums.”
“And you grew into a wonderful woman. Luke has a good heart.”
“I know. I just wish he’d share it with people more often.”
Gram disappeared into the walk-in pantry and returned with a sack of flour and an armful of spices. “Do you want an apron to protect your dress? It’s pretty. Brings out the green in your eyes.” She beamed proudly. “You’re sure to make a good impression in it.”
Alarm bells sounded in Kate’s head, as jarring as a classroom of seven-year-olds all playing xylophones for the first time. Suddenly she recalled a phone conversation with Gram a few months ago. Her grandmother had gently hinted that Luke might do better with a male role model in his life and asked if Kate ever dated. When Kate had said no, Gram had dropped the subject. Now, Kate wondered if her grandmother had simply been biding her time.
“Gram, this welcome party... It’s not going to be a lineup of the county’s eligible bachelors, is it? I told you, I’m not ready for romance.”
Her grandmother smiled sadly. “I lost my husband, too. I understand. But you’re in the prime of your life, with a lot of years left ahead of you. Damon wouldn’t want you to be alone.”
That answer did nothing to settle Kate’s apprehension about the party. “Today isn’t going to be you, me, and a dozen single guys between the ages of twenty and fifty, right?”
“You have your grandfather’s active imagination. As I told you last night, I invited some families. Now, can we get started? I’ve got several desserts I want to bake, and my oven will only hold so many things at a time.”
Telling herself to quit being paranoid, Kate lost herself in the comforting rhythm of working alongside the woman who had taught her how to cook. The first dinner she’d ever fixed for Damon had included her grandmother’s chicken and dumplings recipe. The hours passed quickly. In seemingly no time, afternoon sun streamed through the windows and the kitchen smelled like a decadent bakery. Unfortunately, the kitchen was nearly as hot as the inside of a bakery oven.
At least outside there was a breeze. Kate covered long folding tables with vinyl tablecloths, glad she hadn’t bothered with makeup. It would have melted away. They drafted Luke to dump ice into the drink coolers and pretended not to notice all the food he stole off the veggie tray. Beans simmered on the stove, and a vat of potato salad waited in the fridge. The smell of brisket cooking made Kate’s stomach rumble. While she waited for the grill to heat up so she could throw on some sausages, she opened a bag of tortilla chips and taste-tested Gram’s homemade salsa.
Gram handed her a cold water bottle, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You might want this.”
Kate nodded. “It’s a little hotter than I remembered.”
“Well. Everyone needs a little spice in their lives.”
As Kate sipped her water, two vehicles came down the dirt road that led from the street to the farm. The second was a battered pickup; the one in the lead was a sedan that was probably older than she was but gleamed as if it were washed and waxed daily. As soon as it pulled to a stop, the back door opened. While the driver and front passenger were still dealing with their seatbelts, two blonde blurs of energy spilled out. Followed by a tall man with ink-black hair.
Cold water splashed over her fingers, making her realize she was squeezing the bottle in her hand. “Gram!” She couldn’t keep the note of shrill accusation from her voice. “That is Cole Trent.”
Her grandmother ducked her gaze. “Oh. Did I, um, forget to mention he was invited?”
Chapter Three (#u87771900-785f-5a4a-b95c-f70e1d544b75)
A single glance across the shaded front yard confirmed the suspicion that had been growing inside Cole as his father drove. Joan Denby’s granddaughter was indeed the beautiful blonde he’d met yesterday. Two single moms with sons moving to Cupid’s Bow at the same time wasn’t impossible, but it would be an unlikely coincidence. When the possibility had first occurred to him that the woman they were welcoming to town was the same one he’d met at the gas station, he’d discounted it because his mother had made it sound as if the newcomer’s son was closer to the twins’ age.
Then again, his mom had proven that her ethics were flexible when it came to introducing him to single women.
He had to admit, on some level, he was excited to see the blonde again. Judging from her tense body language as she talked to her grandmother, the feeling was not mutual.
“Hey, it’s that lady!” Mandy announced as the adults unloaded folding chairs and covered dishes from the car.
Gayle Trent glanced at her granddaughter. “The older one, or the younger one?”
Mandy frowned, momentarily perplexed that someone over thirty might qualify as young. “The one with the ponytail. We met her yesterday. Her son’s a big kid. He and Alyssa took a—”
“I didn’t take it!” Alyssa interrupted, her face splotched with red.
“Why don’t we leave what happened in the past?” Cole said, steering his girls away from his mother’s blatant curiosity. He had not yet shared the Great Candy Bar Heist with her. “Come on, let’s go meet our hostess.”
He tried to recall whether his mom had mentioned Joan’s granddaughter by name but drew a blank.
“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.”
It was terrible. The legs weren’t the right scale to the rest of the body, the neck was weirdly lumpy, and the nose looked like a crocodile snout. Plus, horses shouldn’t be purple. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. What if she cried again?
“Keep trying. With enough practice, you could get so good you surprise yourself.” He’d heard his mom say that to music students. He hoped it would be enough to make Alyssa feel better about her mutant horse. He stared at the picture, trying to find a positive. “The tail looks right.”
“Thank you.” She brightened a little. “My nana said this is a farm. Do you have horses?”
“No. There are goats, though.” Taking her toward the barn to look for the goats would kill some time until the food was ready and keep Luke away from the sheriff. “Wanna go see them?”
“Okay.” She picked up her backpack, frowning as she zipped it. “But don’t you dare stick candy in my bag.”
He recalled his mom’s stern warning. Do not screw this up. Everyone thought he was too stupid to learn from his mistakes. “I said I was sorry.”
“Then I guess you can be my friend.”
“Gee, thanks.” His first friend in a new town, and it was a five-year-old girl. Still, as they headed to the barn, he had to admit it was kind of nice not to be walking alone.
* * *
COLEHADJUSTretrieved the soccer ball from some rose bushes at the side of the house when his dad clapped him on the back.
“You look like you could use a break, son.” Harvey Trent said. “Mandy, I’m not sure your dad can keep up with you! How about Paw-paw takes a turn while your dad grabs a cold drink?” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “And talks to the pretty girl.”
Cole groaned. “Did Mom put you up to this?”
Harvey took the soccer ball from his son’s hands. “No one has to ‘put me up to’ enjoying time with my granddaughter.”
If Cole’s parents thought Kate Sullivan wanted him to talk to her, they must be blind. The woman’s “stay back” vibe was so strong, he expected to see gnats and butterflies bouncing off the invisible force field that surrounded her. After the casseroles other women in town had baked him over the years and Becca Johnston’s less than subtle pursuit, Kate’s disinterest should be refreshing. Except...he wouldn’t mind seeing those hazel eyes fixed on him with a feminine interest. There’d been a moment at the gas station yesterday, a brief flicker of connection.
Or was that wishful thinking on his part?
Not that it mattered, he thought as he pulled a can of soda from the cooler and popped the tab. Whatever spark might have been there seemed to have been extinguished when he busted her son. Still, this welcome party was in her honor. Not talking to her would be rude. He approached the table where the women were chatting. Mr. Ross stood a few feet off to the side, working the grill.
As Cole neared the group, he overheard Mrs. Ross bragging about her son, Jarrett. “...so good with young people. He spends a few weeks every summer working at a horse-riding camp. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here today.”
Kate’s expression was a discordant cross between placating smile and deer-in-the-headlights stare. Cole experienced a twinge of sympathy. Were they already trying to fix her up with someone? Jarrett Ross was a good guy, but he was gone a lot on the rodeo circuit. Although Mrs. Ross might be eager for her son to settle into a steady relationship, as far as Cole knew, Jarrett was thoroughly enjoying the admiration of his female fans.
“It’s also a shame Crystal couldn’t be here,” Kate interjected, surprising Cole by glancing his way. She was obviously desperate for a change of subject. “If her family had made it, your girls would have had more kids to play with.”
“Luckily for me, the girls are pretty good at entertaining themselves. Mandy’s happy as long as she has a soccer ball, and Alyssa...” He looked toward the tree where his daughter had been sitting. She was often content with quieter hobbies, like coloring or reading her favorite picture books. But she was no longer there.
Following his gaze, Joan Denby said, “She’s with Luke. I watched them walk over that hill a few minutes ago.”
“You’re kidding.” Last Cole had heard, his daughter was still ticked off at the teen. What had enticed her to wander off with him?
Joan nodded. “They headed in the general direction of the barn.”
“Maybe I should round them up.” Kate shot hastily to her feet.
Was she worried the two kids were into mischief? Cole didn’t know Luke Sullivan. Had the kid’s shoplifting been an aberration, or was he a habitual troublemaker?
“I’ll go with you,” Cole volunteered.
Kate bit her lip. Whether she wanted his company or not, it wasn’t as though she could forbid him to check on his own child.
They fell into step with each other, making their way down the small green slope that curved behind the farmhouse. The barn was visible, the distance of a couple of football fields away, but he didn’t see the kids yet. They might have been inside or around the corner, where the overhang provided shade. Kate was quiet as they walked, her gait stiff. He attempted to defuse the situation with humor.
“Could be worse,” he deadpanned. “You could be stuck at the table, sitting through countless pictures of Jarrett Ross’s rodeo buckles on Mrs. Ross’s phone.”
“Did I look as trapped as I felt?”
“So much that I was questioning whether I’d need my hostage negotiation training to rescue you.”
Her lips curved in an impish grin. “Think Mrs. Ross would have let me go in exchange for a fully fueled helicopter and a briefcase of unmarked bills? Not that she was the only guilty party. Before she started regaling me with Jarrett’s many fine qualities, Gram— Oh.” She sucked in a breath as her foot slid sideways, catching a root that jutted out from the hillside.
Cole reached for her automatically, his hands going to her waist so she wouldn’t tumble. As soon as his fingers settled above her hips, a potent sense of awareness jolted through him. The only thing separating her skin from his was the soft thin cotton of her dress. It was an absurdly tantalizing thought, given the hands-on nature of his job. From shaking hands with voters to demonstrating first-aid techniques in community classes, his days were full of physical contact. Yet he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so deeply affected.
Kate, however, didn’t seem to share his enjoyment of the moment. Her eyes were wide, as if she found his touch disconcerting. As soon as he noticed, he let go of her so fast she almost lost her balance again.
He winced. When had he become such a bumbling ass? “Sorry.” This time he steadied her with a strictly platonic grip on her elbow.
“No reason to be,” she said, her voice shaky. “You were, um, just trying to be helpful.”
Exactly. Helpful. Not lustful.
Well, maybe a bit of both. “I didn’t mean to startle you, grabbing you like that.” The expression on her face had been damned near panicky.
“It’s been a really long—” Her cheeks reddened. “I guess I shouldn’t be tromping around the farm in wedge sandals. They’re not exactly all-terrain. What was I saying? Before?”
The better question was, what had she been about to say now, before she’d interrupted herself to denounce her shoes?
She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I remember! Just that Jarrett Ross wasn’t the only man Gram and her friends mentioned. There was also prolonged discussion of one of Crystal’s cousins, an accountant named Greg Tucker? Your mother can’t imagine why someone who would be ‘such a good provider’ is still single.”
“Possibly because Greg hates kids,” Cole guessed. “Well, hate may be too strong a word. But not by much.” From what Cole had seen when the Tuckers were together en masse, Greg barely tolerated his legion of nieces and nephews. He was a completely illogical match for a single mom.
“I definitely can’t get involved with anyone who dislikes kids. Luke’s challenging enough to people who are crazy about them.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Lord, that sounded awful. I didn’t mean... I know he didn’t make a stellar first impression on you, but deep down he’s a good boy.”
“All kids make mistakes,” he reassured her, remembering his own scalding embarrassment when he was called into the principal’s office to discuss Alyssa’s marker-on-the-bathroom-wall misadventure. “Even a cop’s kids.”
Kate’s laugh was hollow. “That’s exactly what Luke is.”
He swung his gaze to her in surprise. “Your ex-husband is a policeman?”
“Was,” she corrected softly. “My late husband was a policeman.”
He was too shocked to respond. Why hadn’t his mother mentioned Kate was a widow? “I—”
“There they are.” She gestured toward the left of the barn. The two kids sat with their heads close together as they looked down, too focused to notice the approaching adults. As Cole and Kate got closer, the breeze carried Alyssa’s exclamations of delight.
“It’s perfect!” she cried. “Except it needs wings.”
Luke chuckled. “First you said you wanted a horse, then you said unicorn. Now a Pegasus? What’s next, a whole herd?”
“No. I just want one winged unicorn. But she’d look better if she was glittery. Do you have any sparkly crayons?” she asked hopefully.
“Hell, no.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed at the kid’s language, but Kate’s fingers on his forearms stopped his intended reprimand. He glanced up, his annoyance fading in the wake of her beseeching expression.
Besides, his little girl was already taking the teenager to task. “You aren’t supposed to say the H word. Unless you’re at church and they’re talking about the Bad Place.”
“Sorry. I’ll try not to say it again,” Luke promised.
“That’s okay. Sometimes my daddy says it, too.”
Kate snickered, and Cole gave her a sheepish smile. “Busted,” she said softly.
Luke’s head shot up. “Mom?”
“Hey.” She stepped away from Cole, putting an almost comical amount of distance between them.
Cole remembered the boy’s hostility yesterday when he’d seen the two adults smiling at each other. How long had it been since Luke’s father died? As someone who was still close to both of his parents, even as an adult, Cole couldn’t imagine what that loss was like for the kid.
“We were just coming to get you guys for lunch,” Kate said. “Who’s hungry?”
“Me!” Alyssa shot up as though she was spring-loaded. Although Luke showed more restraint, his eyes gleamed at the mention of food.
Both kids hurried back toward the house.
“Be careful,” Cole called after his daughter. Her flip-flops weren’t any better suited for hiking across rolling pastureland than Kate’s sandals were. He glanced down to check for swelling or a limp. “How’s your foot? You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?”
“I’m fine. Just a little embarrassed. I reacted badly when you tried to keep me from falling. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. But it’s been so long since...”
A man had touched her? At all? Cole hadn’t exactly swept her into his arms for a passionate embrace. “Did you lose him recently?” he asked in a murmur, as if his regular speaking voice would make the question disrespectful.
She shook her head. “Couple of years. But I’ve been so busy trying to keep Luke out of trouble that time gets distorted, if that makes any sense.”
“It does. My ex-wife left when the girls were babies—she decided she wasn’t cut out for small-town life or trying to take care of two infants. There are odd moments when our being a whole family feels like yesterday, but other times, it seems like a different existence, altogether. Like remembering a past life.”
Kate nodded, looking relieved by his understanding.
Neither of them spoke again until they were close enough to breathe in the spicy aroma of grilled sausages.
“Cole?”
Her soft voice brushed over his skin like a warm breeze. “Hmm?”
“If Gram starts another recitation of the town’s Most Eligible Men, will you help me change the subject? Please. I know her intentions are good—she worries about me being lonely—but I’m not ready to date.”
After dozens of frustrating conversations with his mom about his own love life, or lack thereof, he empathized all too well. In fact... He stopped abruptly. “Maybe the two of us can help each other. I have a radical idea.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_faf64bfc-7427-5679-9bf8-6ab7c15f2055)
Kate blinked at Cole’s unexpected—and vaguely unsettling—declaration. “How radical are we talking?”
“I’ll explain when we have more time.” He flashed her the same endearingly boyish smile she’d glimpsed when his daughter had ratted him out for occasional use of the H word. “For now, do you trust me enough to follow my lead?”
He was using trust in a casual, conversational sense. Still, trust was a special bond, earned over time. An intimate connection. Errant longing rippled through her.
What is wrong with me today? Her emotional responses were all over the map. From the way she’d nearly bolted when he’d touched her earlier to—
“Katie? Everything all right?” Joan called with a frown. Everyone was seated, and it was obvious they were waiting on the two stragglers.
“Sorry, Gram. We’ll be right there.” Giving Cole a barely perceptible nod to signal that she’d take her cues from him—and hoping she wouldn’t regret it—she strode toward the table.
“Now that we’re all here,” Joan said, “we can bless the food. Harvey, would you do the honors?”
The kids already had plates piled high. Once grace was finished, they dug in as the adults served themselves.
Mrs. Trent smiled in Kate’s direction. “Alyssa tells me your son is quite the artist.”
Alyssa nodded happily. “They don’t have horses here, but he knows how to draw one real good.”
“Do you like horses?” Mrs. Ross asked Luke. She wasn’t deterred by his noncommittal shrug. “Maybe you and your mom can come over sometime and go riding at our ranch. Then you can meet my daughter Vicki, who’s home from college for the summer, and of course, Jarrett.” This last was aimed at Kate.
Kate grimaced. Couldn’t she at least have a moment to savor her grandmother’s award-winning potato salad before the matchmaking brigade started in on her again? Some things were sacred.
Gram must have seen her reaction because she was quick to offer an alternative to Jarrett Ross. “You know who else has a nice stable of horses?”
Kate bit the inside of her cheek, desperately hoping that wasn’t some kind of euphemism.
“Brody Davenport. He—”
“Ah, but Brody’s so busy these days,” Cole interrupted. “With Jasmine Tucker.”
“Crystal’s younger sister?” Kate asked.
“That’s right. I forgot Jasmine moved back to town,” Gram said, looking disgruntled.
“She was in New York for a while,” Mrs. Ross said. “Modeling. Doesn’t that sound glamorous? But she’s back now and owns the most fashionable boutique in Cupid’s Bow. Well...technically the only boutique.”
“I should take you by there this week,” Gram told Kate. “I’m going to town Tuesday afternoon for a festival meeting. You can come with me, maybe get involved with one of the committees. It’s a great way to meet folks.”
“Actually,” Cole said, “Kate and the kids and I are going to the pool Tuesday afternoon.”
“We are?” The words came from Luke but echoed Kate’s surprised thoughts.
Cole nodded. “Since I couldn’t take the girls swimming yesterday, I already texted Deputy Thomas about my taking off Tuesday afternoon. And when Kate asked if the community pool was as impressive as she remembered, I invited her and Luke to join us.”
For a lawman, he was a surprisingly comfortable liar. They’d never discussed the pool. What if she had a terrible phobia of water or something? But the community pool was a huge recreational attraction. Decades ago, a family with more oil money than they knew what to do with had donated the funds to build the pool. It was far bigger than any of the public pools in neighboring towns and included a toddler play area, a spiral slide and two diving boards. Given that it was hot enough in Cupid’s Bow to swim nearly half the year, the town council deemed the pool worth the extensive upkeep. Kate had been planning to take Luke soon, to help make up for the laser tag arenas and twenty-four screen movie theaters they’d left behind.
And now she was going on Tuesday, with a hot single dad whose merest touch made her nerve endings sizzle. Maybe “I’m not ready to date” means something different in Cupid’s Bow. She knew Cole was sincere about the outing, or he wouldn’t have mentioned it in front of their collective children. Was this where she was supposed to follow his lead?
“Thanks again for the invitation,” she told Cole.
It wasn’t until everyone finished and people began cleaning up that she had a chance to talk to him alone. Gram sent Kate to get a box of lawn games from the shed, and Cole followed along.
“I hope you didn’t have pressing plans for Tuesday,” he said sheepishly.
And if she had? She couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed, though. His unexpected fib had saved her from a meeting where she suspected she would have heard about many single male cousins, neighbors, sons and brothers.

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