Snowbound with the Sheriff

by Laurel Greer

  She scanned both the revised budget and the schedule Lachlan had made, encompassing the building completion and a proposed ramp-up of classes and programming. It was enough to keep him busy. Enough to keep three people busy.

  And you’re used to working two jobs’ worth in a week.

  “Lach, if you had more money, what would you do with it?”

  He lifted a shoulder, then took the last latte off the counter and drank deeply. “Train more staff. Build larger kennels, provide more programming.”

  “No, Lach. Millions. What would you do with millions?”

  He froze for a second, eyeing her with caution. “Buy the acreage behind us. Build a dormitory. Lease a large chunk of Ned Franklin’s back forty to expand the beginner and advanced training areas to beyond avalanche and wilderness searches. But, Stella, millions of dollars don’t grow on trees.”

  “No, but they do come from the SEC when a whistleblower gets a percentage of the sanctions. If I get a payout, what would you think about growing your school into a foundation?”

  Maggie’s mug clattered on the table. “As if Lach doesn’t have enough to do running the place?”

  “I could help out. I’ve worked with enough people who are involved in running or supporting charities that I’d at least know where to go to ask.”

  Lach crossed his arms. “You’re going to do that and work your job at the same time?”

  Closing her eyes, she blurted, “I don’t want it anymore.”

  She could have sworn she heard the hiss of a pressure valve releasing. The band that had been clamped around her chest since she first called the authorities snapped, letting her take a full gulp of air.

  And with the lungful came a spill of honesty. “When I meet with my lawyers and the investigators tomorrow, I’m going to make it clear that even if the new firm leadership decides I’m not persona non grata, I have no interest in returning. And trying to rebuild trust in the industry—I could do it, but it sounds...” A week ago, she would have said “necessary.” Or described it as a challenge she couldn’t wait to take on. But she couldn’t make herself do it anymore. “It sounds exhausting.” Her palms went clammy and she wiped them on her black wool pants.

  “And you want to run my school as a foundation,” Lachlan mused.

  “I know, it’s a pie-in-the-sky idea. I mean, if I don’t get the payout, that level of funding would be an impossibility. Unless I invested what I already have wisely, contact some people I know and fundraise... I might get the money in other ways?” She caught Maggie and Lachlan blinking at each other incredulously. Right. That sibling connection she’d never have. “Sorry. I’m foisting my own needs onto your business.”

  “Stella. How many times do I have to tell you? It’s your business, too. And if you want to grow it past my own vision, I’m here for that,” Lach said. “We’re both here for you. Is anything—anyone—even close to that waiting for you in New York?”

  “Of course not.” A ball of fear spun in her belly. “But what if I try to create something here and it falls apart? Even if I’m doing the right thing? I did the right thing after I got my promotion, and everything collapsed on me! And if I’m here, and you guys are depending on me, and Ryan’s depending on me, and that falls apart, and I’ve taken not just a bunch of unethical fraudsters with me, but the people I love?”

  Maggie scooted her chair ninety degrees around the table and wrapped her arms around Stella. “Hey. It’s easy to forget how to trust your gut. Getting screwed over will do that to a person. But you’re principled and smart. You’ve kept our business alive and allowed Lachlan to take on something he’s dreamed of doing forever. And we’d love to take risks with you. Grow his dream until it’s yours, too. And we’ll call you on things if we think you’re making a mistake.”

  “Which you are, by the way,” her brother interjected.

  Stella stiffened and looked at Lachlan. “What do you mean? I thought you just said—”

  “With Ryan,” he said. “You think we can’t see that you’ve fallen in love with him again? He’d give you the world if you let him.”

  “I can get myself the world, if I want it,” she said, a knee-jerk defense.

  “Sure,” Maggie agreed, giving Stella one last squeeze before ending the hug. She kept her hand on Stella’s shoulder. “But it’s more fun with company.”

  She studied her hands. “You two are used to that. You’ve always had each other. Full siblings. That bond...” She cleared her suddenly clogged throat. “I’ve always been alone.”

  Maggie scoffed. “Enough of this full or half siblings crap. That’s all in your head. It’s not something either of us think about. Yeah, Lach and I are close. We work together and live near each other and drive each other nuts. It’s great. And if you lived nearby, it would be the same with you.”

  Maybe... Maybe it would. Yeah, making connections involved risk. But she’d been dealing in financial risk her whole career. And the biggest payoffs came when the most was on the line. When she had listened to her gut. She’d been focusing so much on what doing the ethical thing had cost her, that she hadn’t properly counted up what she’d gained.

  Her home. Her family.

  Ryan, if she could earn one more chance...

  Maggie squeezed her shoulder. “That little voice in your head, the one that’s telling you to stay? Listen to it.”

  Stella nodded, mind whirring. “I still have to go back. But I’ll book a return flight as soon as I can. We have work to do.” She groaned. “And groveling. I have so much groveling to do after Ryan laid himself out yesterday—”

  “I’m sure he did,” Lachlan quipped.

  She smacked him upside the head. “Not like that. Emotionally. And he deserves the same back tenfold. Starting with me telling him I freaking love him.” She paused, tension threatening to freeze her vocal cords.

  She could wait until she got everything settled in New York...

  No. She’d do it now. She’d waited half a lifetime—that was long enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ryan had never been so thankful to have a Sunday shift to work. He responded to a call from Adelita Brooks, who was worried about an intruder in her backyard shed that turned out to be a family of raccoons, and then checked out a lead on the livestock thefts that came up empty. He didn’t mind the lack of success as much as usual. Because he needed to do something, keep his hands busy, stop himself from dropping all his principles and pulling over Stella on her way to Bozeman.

  He’d contemplated it—slowing her down enough to make her miss her flight. One last selfish, desperate attempt to get a few more minutes with her to tell her he loved her and hope she finally returned the sentiment. But pulling her over without cause wasn’t going to build trust. And yesterday had been mortifying enough without making a spectacle of himself on the job. He was going to have to let her leave, and hope to hell she got to New York and had a change of heart.

  Ryan sighed. He could learn to live with his heart ripped from his chest, right? Out and bleeding for all the world to see?

  He pulled his patrol truck around the back of Peak Beans on Main Street. He’d eat, but not at the bakery. He did not need the full-court family press.

  He was standing at the counter, waiting for his sandwich and coffee, when a familiar voice jarred him.

  “There you are!”

  Spinning, he leaned his elbows back on the high counter and shot Gran a questioning look. She had Georgie Halloran on her heels, and both women wore sheepish smiles.

  “Did you hide a tracker in my boots?” he grumbled.

  Gran swatted him. “We’ve been looking for you all morning.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  “We saw your truck,” Georgie explained. “And you weren’t at the bakery.”

  “You skipped church?” he said to Gran.

 
; She lifted her chin. “I was worried about you.”

  He pressed the heel of his hand to his sternum. “Unnecessary.”

  “You’re not having chest pains, are you?” Gran barked.

  “I’m thirty-six,” he grumbled.

  “It’s heartache.” Georgie’s smile turned sad. “And in my shortsightedness, I contributed to that.”

  “We both did,” Gran said. “We were trying to protect you. Messed that up but good.”

  “Again, I’m thirty-six.”

  “Sweetheart,” his grandmother chided. “You spend your whole life protecting other people. Sometimes, you need to accept it in return.”

  Ryan drew himself up. The barista handed him his order. He took the travel cup and bagged sandwich, then motioned for the women to retreat toward the front door. “Accept you getting in between me and the woman I love? Can’t say I like your tactics,” he snapped, unable to keep his turmoil to himself.

  Was it really fair to blame Gran and Georgie, though? At the end of the day, it was about Stella not feeling confident enough to be with him. And he had to accept it wasn’t anything he could fix. She’d been hurt as a kid, neglected by her father and shaped by her mother’s bitterness. Achievements were her only security. That was something he couldn’t change, beyond having said what he already had.

  Gran appeared chastised. “We owe you an apology. Which is why we’re here.”

  “Especially me,” Georgie said. “Gertie at least has the excuse of being family. All I can say for myself is I’m stressed about the ranch, and I’ve shifted that on you.”

  “I’m working on fixing your troubles,” he murmured, sipping his coffee. “I know it’s a slow process but—”

  “Not what I mean,” Georgie interrupted. “You’ve been doing your job, Ryan. Better than the last five sheriffs we’ve had. But the fact the ranch is on the razor’s edge of being in the red isn’t your fault. Nor is the fact my heart’s not in it anymore. I’m going to be making some changes, and I’m sorry it took interfering with your life to make me see that nothing external will make me feel good about the ranch anymore.”

  “Changes?” he asked.

  “I’ve been tied to Sutter Creek for decades, putting off all sorts of adventures while trying to keep the ranch afloat. It’s not working, and I need a new plan. Gray and Emma are too busy to be involved. Bea wants nothing to do with it. So it’s only Nora. And I can’t ask her to shoulder the load while her father and I go off on an adventure.”

  He had a feeling that was exactly what Nora would want, but he wasn’t about to tell a mother that she misunderstood her daughter.

  “Rafe might...” He didn’t finish the suggestion. His friend had enough going on with his own property and family to absorb any of the RG Ranch property or livestock.

  “Nora would disown me if I sold a bucket of used nails to Rafael Brooks, let alone part of our ranch,” Georgie said, smiling wryly.

  She opened the coffee-shop door and was about to exit when a blur of black wool and blond hair burst into the shop, colliding with his chest.

  He ringed his arms reflexively around the tall, female body.

  He kept holding on because the blue eyes pleading with his froze him in place. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the aroma of coffee. Lazy Sunday mornings with Stella would smell like that. Lying in bed, letting their beverages get cold while they kept each other warm.

  Not if she’s on the other side of the country.

  But it was more than geography. She didn’t want him. She’d made that clear.

  He stepped back, feeling the gazes of every person in the shop boring into him.

  Her face fell. “We need to talk.”

  “We already did,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Ryan? Is there anything we can do?” Gran asked, watching him with interest.

  “Absolutely nothing. You can do absolutely nothing,” he replied.

  Georgie tipped her hat and took his grandmother by the elbow. “You got it.”

  The two women left.

  “Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” he murmured to Stella.

  Her mouth parted, and a murmur of regret escaped.

  Do not think of kissing those lips. It’s not enough.

  “You told me to ask you for help with my case if I needed it,” she said, voice edging on a plea. “But I think I need your help with something else.”

  The paper bag in his hand crinkled as he gripped it. “Go back to New York, Stella. Figure out your life there, and if you’re willing to believe in what we could be, then we can talk.” He turned and headed for the back door instead. He skirted the counter and glass case and reached for the door handle.

  “Wait!” she called. “Is you coming to New York still a possibility?”

  * * *

  The usual coffee-shop buzz silenced. The clinking of cups and cutlery being put down rang out. A few people started whispering. Stella tried to tune it out, focus only on Ryan, but it was hard to miss.

  “...leaving...?”

  “...election...”

  “Wasn’t she mentioned on CNN last night?”

  Ryan froze, back to her, shoulders rigid.

  Oh, crap. She had not meant to announce him coming to Manhattan in front of the Peak Beans’ clientele. She’d intended to make it known she was ready to make changes, not to ask him to do it.

  “That’s not what I meant!” she projected, using her “calm the chatty boardroom” voice. Making the entire town panic would not win her his heart, nor would living in New York make him happy. It had been an excellent place for her to succeed, and she’d always love it for the bustle and diversity and rich culture, but her family was right—that wasn’t what she needed right now. She couldn’t grow her roots without people she loved around her, and while for some the city could be a wonderful place to find community, that wasn’t what it had been for her. She’d used the busyness and noise to numb herself. It was time to face her past, and look forward to the present. And she wanted to do that with Ryan at her side.

  “I’m not going to steal your sheriff.” She spoke loud enough for the curious crowd to hear. “But I do love him—”

  The desperation crossing Ryan’s handsome face stopped her, a silent plea for her to stop.

  He doesn’t want this... But she had a flight to catch in two hours—she was cutting it way too close to turn away now. Hurrying through the café, she willed him not to retreat farther.

  “Please hear me out.” She could detect the choppiness of her words, but her breath was coming quick and her pulse was racing, and somehow this felt like the most important thing she’d do in her life—

  Because it is.

  Ryan glanced over her head, scanning the room and frowning. Taking her by the elbow, he tugged her down the hall to the washrooms and staff area. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. “Kinda public, Stella.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I have all of five minutes until I have to leave, and I know this sheriff who’s a stickler for speed limits—”

  His eyebrows lifted. “With reason.”

  “Sure. But this sheriff... I love him. And I had to tell him.”

  Mouth gaping, he let out a hissing breath. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything. I’m the one who has ground to make up.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face before crossing his arms again. “I thought you needed to get back to New York and solve your crisis before you make any decisions.”

  She shook her head, wringing her hands to stop from reaching for him. “I figured it out without going.”

  “Didn’t take long.”

  “It’s taken eighteen years, Ryan. That’s plenty long enough. And it’s been a long time coming. It just took getting out of the shell
I’ve built for myself to realize that I wasn’t content with my life. Success isn’t enough anymore. The idea of spending the next few years fighting my way into people’s good graces again—that sounds so freaking lonely. And...I’m tired of being lonely.”

  He wore his caution like a smoke screen, a barrier between them. His mouth pinched, the look on his face grim and uncertain. “People behave badly sometimes. I’ve been that person. But if you’re willing to slough off me baring my soul in public, it’s hard for me to believe that you love me.”

  Her heart wobbled. “I know. You’ll just have to trust me, I guess.”

  He barked out a dry laugh. “Pretty sure we agreed that you trusting me was the problem.”

  She held back a curse. She was losing him, wasn’t doing enough... “I was hoping... In a couple of weeks, after my meeting tomorrow and once I do a whole lot of wrangling with my lawyers and the investigation team, would you come help pack my apartment?”

  His impassive reaction made her eyes sting.

  “Stupid idea,” she said, cursing. “As if you can get holidays at short notice. Forget I asked.”

  He bent toward her and hooked her wrist, pulling her within inches of his body. The thin line of his lips contradicted his leaning posture and the loose, relaxed hold on her hand. Her left hand. He traced the base of her ring finger with the pad of his thumb, as if imagining the wedding ring she’d once hoped he’d place there.

  Her pulse skipped, and she waited. Pressure built in her stomach. Seconds ticked, and the deep blue scrutiny became unbearable.

  “What?” The word burst out. “Please. Tell me something. I have—” she pulled her phone from the pocket of her coat and checked the time “—two minutes. And I need way more time than that with you. A lifetime, really.”

  “A lifetime’s not going to fit into a hundred and twenty seconds, doll,” he said quietly, grip tightening on her hand. “Hell, you telling me how you figure you’ll be able to live here and be happy will take a whole lot longer than that, too.”

  “I know. And I want to give you more. I do. I want to give you all of me. But I can’t reschedule that meeting tomorrow. Not if I’m going to give myself the best chance to walk away with compensation—”