The Law and Ginny Marlow

by Marie Ferrarella

  Not for a minute was she about to be taken in by those wide, innocent eyes of his, Ginny thought. Probably had never had an innocent day in his life. He knew exactly what she was talking about. That she was forced to reiterate it only served to further anger her.

  “That you arrest innocent young women and then force them to do unspeakable things.”

  Had to be the fast living, Quint decided. It fried a person’s brain if they stayed in the big city long enough. He glanced at his cousin. Carly looked to have even less of a clue than he did.

  “I never heard of eating my mother’s cooking referred to as an unspeakable thing, have you, Carly?”

  Carly winced when he thought of how Aunt Zoe would react to a statement like that. “Nope.”

  Ginny curled her fingers around her shoe, beginning to feel just the slightest bit uncertain. She lowered the heel a fraction, though her tone remained unchanged.

  “Don’t play innocent with me—”

  For just a split second, Quint’s mind hung on the word play, spinning a fantasy. Small, tight and complete in the blink of an eye. It had no place here and now.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. But speaking of innocent, your sister isn’t. She was caught red-handed. And as for you—”

  Ginny knew exactly what he thought or supposedly thought he had against her, and they both knew it didn’t carry weight. “None of that warrants being sold into white slavery.”

  For one moment, there was only the sound of her words, dying away in the still, late-afternoon air. Quint didn’t even think he heard Carly breathing.

  Quint’s eyes narrowed. “Now I know things move rather slowly here in Serendipity and maybe we’re not the fastest thinkers the country’s got, but—what the hell are you talking about, woman?” Had she completely lost her mind, or were things really so out-of-control where she came from? Just what kind of law enforcement officers did they have wherever she came from? “I’m offering you a hot meal and a comfortable bed. From the looks of your sister—” he nodded toward Jenny “—she could use both.”

  Taking offense, Jenny straightened.

  “And in exchange for those essentials, we do what?” Ginny challenged.

  “Eat and sleep,” he replied simply. “Why, what else would you want to do?”

  Momentarily lost, Ginny wasn’t sure just what to believe. She let her hand drop to her side. “Then you’re not—?” She drew a deep breath. The only way to say this was to say it. “I mean, you don’t want to make slaves of us?”

  There was no way Quint could keep the amusement from his eyes. He’d held it back as long as he was physically able as it was.

  “I make it a policy to keep my fantasies separated from my job, Ginny.” He could see the indecision in her eyes. He tipped the scale with his best weapon—logic. “And if I wanted to have my way with you, I certainly wouldn’t take you to my parents’ ranch. Mrs. Cutler didn’t raise any foolish children, Ginny.”

  He glanced at his watch. It would take them a while to get to the ranch. If they were going to go, they had to leave now.

  “Now the choice is yours, but I’d suggest you make it soon because Ma’s really strict about how long she’ll keep food waiting on the table.” Zoe Cutler had the biggest heart in the state, but she thought of herself as a benevolent dictator whose every word was to be obeyed. “Take it from me, you don’t want to get on her wrong side.”

  Ginny didn’t care about his mother’s wrong side or her right one. As far as she was concerned, any woman who had spawned Sheriff Quint Cutler was not a woman she wanted to meet. “I won’t be here long enough to get on any of her sides.”

  Quint let the words pass without comment. His only response was a smile.

  It was worse than a retort, Ginny realized. The expression instantly seeped under her skin, annoying her. At the same time, it seemed to unsettle her, though how and why she couldn’t pinpoint. But it did and that was enough to set her off. And worry her.

  He unlocked the door, then barred her exit, waiting. “So, what’ll it be, Ginny? Yes or no?”

  Jenny knew what her response was. She jumped to her feet, crossing to the newly opened door. “I don’t care what her answer is,” she told him without bothering to glance at her sister. She knew the reproving look by heart. “Mine’s yes. Anything to get out of this crummy cell.”

  Quint nodded, seeing beyond the bravado. His middle brother had gone through a period like this. Thumbing his nose at the world to prove how blasé he was just so no one would know how truly shaky he felt. So had Morgan.

  “Smart move. Ma’s making a chicken casserole tonight. That’s a whole lot better than the diner’s specialty of the day,” he assured her. Quint stepped out of the way and let the younger girl pass. But his words instantly slowed her pace. “Now I’m putting you on the honor system, Jenny. I’m trusting you not to run off if you give me your word that you won’t.”

  Standing toe-to-toe with him, Jenny opened her mouth, a ready retort on her lips. But the wisecrack failed to materialize. Instead, she could only look up at him. It’d been a while since anyone had professed to trust her. And that he did, without any basis, left her with an odd feeling she didn’t quite understand.

  Her defiance mellowed just a shade as she lowered her eyes, and mumbled, “Okay.”

  Quint believed her. In his experience, most people tended to live up or down to the expectations that were placed on them. Jenny deserved a chance to turn around.

  “How about you?” Quint turned his attention to Ginny. “Can I trust you?” He raised the handcuffs that hung off his belt. “Or would you rather wear a pair of silver bracelets?”

  Ginny’s chin rose, though she kept her eyes on the handcuffs. Her chest rose as well, drawing his attention to the fact that she had one of the best figures he’d ever seen.

  “What do you think?”

  Right now, he figured she really didn’t want to know what he actually thought, so he acted as his own censor. “I think that you can be quite a handful when you want to be, Geneva Marlow.” He carelessly twirled the handcuffs around his raised index finger. “Question is, do you want to be?”

  Ginny didn’t like the way he spun the handcuffs around, as if he were just waiting for an excuse to slap them on her wrists. Being handcuffed would definitely complicate things for her. If she read that look in his eyes right, he’d probably wind up handcuffing her to him and then there’d be no chance of escaping.

  So she did what she had to do. She put on her shoe and lied again. “I’ll behave.”

  He stepped back and out of her way, holding the door open for her. “Glad to hear that.”

  Quint didn’t believe her for a minute.

  The grandfather clock that had been a wedding present from her in-laws over thirty years ago chimed six o’clock just as the front door opened. Zoe Cutler breathed a sigh of relief. Finally.

  “Well, it’s about time you showed up,” she declared as her second son walked in through the door. “The casserole was beginning to turn to stone.” She saw that, as promised, Quint had brought company. Zoe loved a full table. “Carly, you’re always welcome.”

  She nodded at her nephew, but her attention was focused on the two women Quint was ushering in before him. Her mother’s heart stirred with compassion when she looked at the younger of the two. She was reminded of a bedraggled kitten she’d once saved from drowning in the river.

  “Nice of you to join us. I’m Zoe Cutler.” Zoe clasped Jenny’s hands in both of hers, patting them more than shaking. She did the same with Ginny. Zoe’s hands were warm, as was her smile.

  A distant, nascent yearning rippled through Ginny as Zoe’s hands released hers.

  Jenny looked around the large, spacious living room that smacked of Western decor. There was a sense of freedom and spaciousness about the room that seemed to echo and reflect the land upon which it sat. She couldn’t quite understand how it could seem cozy at the same time.

  It wasn’t like any home
she’d ever been in.

  “Nice place you have here,” Jenny murmured half under her breath.

  Zoe loved hearing Will’s handiwork praised. “The compliment belongs to my son since he was the one who remodeled it.”

  Ginny looked at Quint in surprise. Though still suspicious of his motives, her initial opinion of him was beginning to shift just a little. “You do remodeling when you’re not busy arresting people?”

  “Not me, my older brother, Will. He’s an architect.” Quint dropped his hat on the credenza. “He kept adding on to the house and then had to redo what was originally here.” He didn’t add that it was a fire that had necessitated the remodeling, a fire that had destroyed half the house and made them all realize how really precious life was. “He built Kent’s place, too. That’s the house we passed on the way here,” he tacked on. He hadn’t commented on it, but he’d noticed that she had stared at the ranch-style house as they’d driven by it.

  “Kent?” Was the name supposed to mean something to her?

  “My brother,” Quint clarified. Since Serendipity was such a small town where everyone knew everyone else, he tended to forget that outsiders were not privy to that information.

  “Who I’m beginning to think has better manners than you do,” Zoe admonished. She gave up waiting. “Quint, you haven’t introduced me to your guests.”

  “We’re hardly his ‘guests.’” Ginny slanted a look toward Quint. Being in his mother’s company kept the word prisoners from her lips. So instead, she beat Quint to the punch. “I’m Geneva Marlow.” She nodded toward Jenny. “And this is my sister, Jenny.”

  “Jennifer,” Jenny corrected. If Ginny could be Geneva, then she could be formal, too, she thought. Jenny sounded too much like a child anyway, and she was tired of being treated like one.

  Though it was almost after the fact, Zoe acknowledged the introductions.

  “I’m pleased to make both your acquaintances.” Zoe turned toward Quint, trying to gauge just what was going on here. He’d told her all about locking up the sisters and why. What he hadn’t made altogether clear was why he wanted to bring them to the ranch, but that would come out in due time, she judged. Until then, she could wait. From what she saw, both young women could do with a little attention and a good meal.

  “Hank was going to stay,” she told Quint matter-of-factly, “but he wanted to ride on up to Billings to see if he could get Jim Tally to design the wedding rings. Kent decided to go with him. He suddenly realized that with his own wedding following three weeks after Hank’s, he’d better get a move on. Wyatt went along to give them both moral support.” She didn’t add that Hank’s best friend had insisted on paying for all the rings as a wedding present to both brothers.

  The last Quint had heard, his youngest brother had gone back to his home in Southern California. With the wedding breathing down his neck, maybe he was developing itchy feet. “Hank’s here?”

  “Was,” Zoe corrected. “Came here this morning, tearing through like a twister.”

  Just like when they were kids. Quint laughed. “Nothing new there.”

  Hank. Another name. Despite her desire to remain detached from anything that had to do with this man, Ginny found herself trying to keep up. She’d always been competitive to a fault. “Hank?”

  He nodded. “My brother.”

  This man had more brothers than Joseph in the Bible. “Is half the county your brother?”

  Rather than take issue at the touch of sarcasm in her voice, Quint laughed.

  “Sometimes it felt that way when I was growing up, but I’ve only got three.” He slapped Carly on the back in a gesture that smacked of pure affection. “If you don’t count old Carly here who might as well be a brother, he’s here so often.”

  “Don’t pay him any mind, Carly.” Ginny turned to see a tall, trim man walking into the room. The resemblance to Quint hit her immediately. Another brother? If he was, she’d bet that he was the oldest of the clan.

  Jake Cutler crossed to his nephew as he joined them. “He likes having you around as much as the rest of us do. Maybe more. You’re the only one who’ll listen when he talks.”

  The patriarch of the Cutler clan turned his attention to the young women. Zoe had told him that Quint was bringing around two sisters who were temporarily stranded in town. His blue eyes lit appreciatively, the smile on his face making him look almost as young as his sons.

  This was the summer of lovely women, he mused. First Brianne Gainsborough had arrived to take pictures of a working ranch and had developed not only magnificent photographs but also a relationship with his son Kent that would last forever. Then Hank had brought Fiona Reilly up from Southern California, dropping the bombshell that he was finally leaving his boots permanently under one bed. If that wasn’t enough of a surprise, Denise Cavanaugh had come into town, driving a big rig and carting around carnival rides. One look at her had Will wanting to ride the merry-go-round for the rest of his days. And now these two flowers had been plucked down in their midst. Made a man’s head spin. “Hello, I’m Quint’s father, Jake Cutler.”

  “I’m Geneva Marlow, and this is my sister—” Ginny hesitated before saying, “Jennifer.”

  Following protocol, Jake shook the older one’s hand first, then took the younger woman’s hand in his. Hardly more than a baby, he thought. Too young for even Carly. The notion made him chuckle under his breath. He’d taken to being a matchmaker in his old age.

  “If I’d known that the prisoners were this pretty, I would have run for sheriff myself.”

  The label should have made her feel uncomfortable, Ginny thought. Instead, she found herself charmed and amused.

  Zoe sniffed. Carly tried to bite his tongue and not laugh. “Behave yourself, old man, or I’ll hide your vitamins.”

  Jake lifted a shoulder. Ginny could have sworn there was a definite twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t need vitamins, just the right kind of inspiration.” He winked broadly at his wife.

  Zoe sighed, but there was no missing the affection in her voice.

  “Men, they’re incorrigible, the lot of them. You can see why I welcome female companionship,” she told Jenny. The lines about her mouth softened in the wake of her coaxing smile. “Would you like to help me finish setting the table now that I finally know how many will be sitting at it?”

  “Table’s not set, yet?” Stepping up behind her, Quint gave his mother an affectionate squeeze. “Thought you were complaining that we were late.”

  Zoe absorbed the hug before pretending to bristle and disengaging Quint’s arms from about a waist that was still amazingly trim after five children. “Keeps you on your toes—and don’t sass your mother, Quintin. Let’s go, Jennifer.”

  Automatically falling into step behind her, Jenny abruptly stopped to look at Quint.

  He was surprised that she’d think to ask permission. It convinced Quint that she wasn’t a bad seed, just a girl in need of a little straightening out. His hunch was that she even welcomed it. “It’s okay.”

  Ginny watched in amazement as the first hint of what passed for a smile flickered across her sister’s lips. Maybe there was a little hope to be had after all.

  “That’s incredible,” Ginny murmured under her breath.

  “What is?” Quint asked.

  She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud. “My sister doesn’t listen to anyone, let alone do things like set the table.”

  This past year, whenever she was able to be home at a decent hour, she could never get Jenny to do anything for her. The extent of Jenny’s participation was to argue with her about everything.

  “Ma’s got that effect on people,” Quint explained, not without a little pride.

  What was it like, Ginny wondered, to be proud of your parents instead of ashamed?

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Jake offered as his wife disappeared into the kitchen with Jenny. “Soft drink, some wine? I’ve got beer, but—”

  Ginny noted the animated note in
his voice as he made the last offer. She preferred wine, but that didn’t seem to fit in here. “Beer’ll be fine. It’s been a while since I had any.”

  She liked Quint’s parents, she decided. They seemed to be everything hers had never been. Warm, in tune to one another. And present. The last counted for a great deal.

  Jake nodded his approval of her choice. “I like a woman who can appreciate a good bottle of beer.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Be just a minute.” He began to leave the room, then turned to look at his nephew. Since his brother’s untimely death twenty years ago, he’d come to look upon Carly as another son. “Carly, why don’t you help me bring up a few bottles from the cellar?” He added the kicker, though with Carly, there was no need. The boy was always ready to do anything any of them asked him to do. “Got a fresh batch cooling down there.”

  “Don’t have to ask me twice, Uncle Jake.”

  Alone with Quint, Ginny felt a restlessness taking hold. At a loss, she began to examine the array of photographs on the mantel. They were of children in various poses, at various ages, all grinning. Boys, mostly, although there was a very striking girl in their midst, her hair blonder than the others. So he had a sister, as well?

  The touch of envy returned.

  Quint came up behind her as she picked up the group shot that had been taken at the lake last summer. He reached over her shoulder and indicated each individual as he recited their names.

  “That’s Will, Kent, Hank, you already know me and that beauty’s Morgan. You wouldn’t know to look at her that she’s got a temper that makes snakes shrink back into the skins they’ve shed once she gets going.”

  He was close enough for her to feel the tickle of his breath along her neck as he spoke.

  “Not at first glance, no,” she murmured, shifting aside. Desperate for a moment to regroup, she said, “Your parents seem very nice.” Smooth, very smooth, she admonished herself.

  If the statement sounded strained, he didn’t let on. “You sound surprised.” He leaned his elbow against the mantel, studying her. “Were you still expecting me to bring you to some den of iniquity?”