Her Cowboy Sheriff

by Leigh Riker

  Finn smiled. “Sounds about perfect.”

  “Come in,” Annabelle said, waving him inside. This was the most she’d ever heard Emmie say at once. “She’s in day care now.”

  Finn gave up trying to protect his shirt, which was soaked and clinging to his chest. “I’d say that deserves a special prize.”

  “What?” Emmie wanted to know, all but dancing in Finn’s arms.

  In the living room he chose the sofa where he’d sat the night Sierra died then sank down with Emmie in his embrace. “Check my shirt pocket.” Puzzled, Annabelle wondered why he was here now. Thanksgiving was still on her mind, the awful tragedy his family had suffered, and of course that kiss. Was he also sorry he’d confided in her about his wife and son?

  “Look, A-bel!” Emmie held out a ring of brightly colored plastic keys. The toy struck Annabelle as more for a young toddler, one more sign that Emmie’s development was lagging, but Finn knew more than she did about children. Hopping off Finn’s lap, Emmie ran to the nearest door, which happened to be the living room closet under the stairs—the site of Annabelle’s worst memories.

  To her horror, Emmie tried to fit a key into the lock and Annabelle cried out sharply, “No!”

  Her mouth set, Emmie tried again. “I open it.”

  Shaking, Annabelle couldn’t take her eyes from the closet. “I said no. We don’t go in there. Come away, Emmie.”

  She felt Finn’s gaze on her before it went to the closet then back to Emmie, her blue eyes wide, lips puckered. “I saw these at the store when I had new keys made for my place. Thought Emmie might like them.” He paused. “Alex played with his until...”

  Finn went silent. Keeping her eyes on Emmie, Annabelle filled the awkwardness by asking, “You found a rental house?”

  “I just bought the old Moran farm.” Finn told her he’d talked to Wanda earlier, and with his Realtor’s help, they’d agreed on a price he could afford. “I’ve moved in—I’ll rent until the closing—and unpacked a few boxes, started throwing out stuff Wanda and Derek didn’t want. You wouldn’t need some old furniture, would you?”

  She chuckled. “I could offer you the same.”

  He frowned a little. “I still have a storage unit in Chicago. I should empty it, decide what to keep and what to get rid of, but I’m not ready.”

  The locker must contain his wife’s and son’s belongings, maybe furniture from the house they had shared. Unwanted memories, like this closet. Annabelle didn’t want to know what was in there. “That won’t be easy, but I was glad to see the last of my family’s personal things go to a better home.”

  Emmie looked at Annabelle then jabbed the plastic key at the door lock again. When it didn’t fit, she marched across the room then flung the set at Annabelle, the ring bouncing off her chest. “Hey,” Finn said. “We don’t throw things at people.”

  Those words had burst from Finn without his having to think, and she supposed he’d said the same to his little boy under similar circumstances. Then he seemed to realize what he’d said and drew Emmie toward him. “Sorry, not my job to scold you.”

  That didn’t seem to faze Emmie. “I come to your house?” she asked, turning her back on Annabelle. “You got a doggie?”

  “His name is Sarge,” Finn said, looking as if he wanted to squirm.

  “Do he bite?”

  “No, he likes kids.”

  Emmie wrapped her arms around Finn’s neck. “I like that doggie.”

  “I’m sure you would,” he said but didn’t issue an invitation. Emmie yawned, and Finn rose to his feet with her in his arms. He looked as if he welcomed an end to the discussion about his new home. “How about I tuck you in bed?”

  Annabelle handed her the keys and Emmie dropped her head onto Finn’s broad shoulder and let him carry her upstairs. By the time he and Annabelle nestled her in the covers, the ring still in her hand, Emmie was fast asleep, curled around the lamb Finn had given her the night of Sierra’s accident. She naturally gravitated to him, probably because she associated him with safety the night of Sierra’s crash. Annabelle feared it was becoming a habit, one she would have to break if Finn didn’t.

  On their way downstairs, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “What was that about? She couldn’t have unlocked that closet.”

  Annabelle couldn’t answer. He might think she was crazy.

  “She’s a good kid,” Finn said.

  “Yes she is.” Annabelle reached the bottom of the steps. “But just when I think Emmie and I are on the right track, something happens—like day care today—and I realize how little I know about caring for her.” Annabelle’s mother would be only too glad to remind her of that. She added, “I couldn’t believe my ears when she told you she’d had a great time at day care. That’s not what I heard.”

  “Parental punishment,” Finn murmured. “Obviously, she wanted you to pay for sticking her in a new situation.”

  Annabelle felt tempted to remind him she wasn’t a mother, but the words wouldn’t come. “You’ve been there.”

  “I have—and I’d give everything to be there again with Alex,” he said then seemed to shake himself from the memory. “Giving Emmie those keys wasn’t the only reason I came by tonight. I finally got through to the MGM Grand resort where the HR person was happy to give me a report on Sierra. Apparently she did plan one event for them. When someone said she was skimming—and security at the Vegas casinos is tight, to put it mildly—they didn’t find any proof but they still fired her maybe as a precaution.”

  “Did HR have a forwarding address for her?”

  Finn shook his head. “No, and it seems she didn’t make many friends there.” His dark-lashed eyes brightened. “Except one, a dealer in their casino who also left the Grand at the same time to take another job at the Bellagio across the Strip.”

  “Do you have her name?”

  “His,” Finn said. “The HR person claimed Sierra and this guy had a brief fling. After suspicion fell on her, it fell on him, too, and when Sierra abruptly left town, their affair ended.”

  Annabelle’s heart drummed. “He’s the connection I need. What did he say?”

  “I haven’t reached him. They gave me a landline number and his cell but he didn’t answer either one. I left a voice mail, but he hasn’t called me back. No one wants to hear from a sheriff. But the affair happened about four years ago, give or take.”

  “Then this man could be Emmie’s father!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. We haven’t found him yet.”

  “Finn, he could be the key—”

  “Or like the ones I gave Emmie—one that doesn’t fit.”

  Annabelle refused to be derailed. “This is the first real lead we’ve had. If he’s wary of speaking to someone in law enforcement, then let me call.”

  He mulled that over. “All right. But try not to spook him.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, Sheriff.”

  His gaze holding hers, Finn smiled. Then, just as quickly, it faded. “Annabelle, the other reason I came is about—”

  “Thanksgiving,” she said for him, certain she knew what came next. “I apologize. I was saddened to hear more about your family and the only comfort I could provide was to...hold you.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “I mean, you did kiss me first but...”

  Finn didn’t go on. There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but without looking at her, he murmured a quick goodbye then bolted for the door.

  He was gone before Annabelle could move, but she hadn’t missed the panicky look in his eyes.

  She could guess what it was he hadn’t said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ANNABELLE KISSED EMMIE’S forehead then closed the book they’d read. In the dimness of the room, by the glow of Emmie’s night-light shaped like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, she lay already a
sleep, her lashes swept across her closed lids like a delicate fan, one arm around the lamb Finn had given her. With her guard down, Emmie looked sweet and innocent, which she was most of the time, and the warm rush of feeling for her nearly buckled Annabelle’s knees.

  When Emmie left to be with her dad, whoever he was, and Annabelle was once again alone in this house until it sold, she would more than miss her. Her heart already ached. In roughly six weeks they’d formed a bond. Who knew Annabelle would be able to cope this long? Hey, Mom, look at me.

  She went into the hall and down the stairs. If she got an answer from either number Finn had given her last night, Annabelle might solve the mystery of Emmie’s dad.

  The first, a landline, belonged to a woman who had no idea who Annabelle was looking for; the person had obviously moved and she now had his former number. When no one picked up at the other, Annabelle left a brief message on the cell. “Hi,” she began then identified herself. “I need to talk to you. It’s very important. Please call me back.” She recited her number and sat back in her chair, wondering what to do next—until the phone she was holding suddenly rang.

  The only people who called her were usually unwanted marketing ploys, so she barely checked the caller ID. She’d tell the person she wasn’t interested in a home security system, a timeshare or a medical alert bracelet then hang up. “Hello?” She expected to hear a long pause typical of such cold calls, but to her surprise a deep male voice spoke.

  “You called me just now? Who are you? What’s this about?”

  Annabelle told him her name again then took a breath and mentioned Sierra. “I’m really hoping you can help me. I understand you knew my cousin in Las Vegas and the only contact from there I have is yours.”

  “Sierra Hartwell?” he echoed as if he’d never heard the name.

  Annabelle’s spirits sank. The landline had been a Las Vegas area code and she’d been so excited. But the cell’s code was different, one Annabelle didn’t recognize. Maybe this was another dead end after all, but she had to see it through. She tried to refresh his memory. “I’m told she worked for the Grand around the same time you did.”

  “Until she got me fired. That was a long time ago. I’m not in Vegas now.”

  Fearing he was about to hang up, Annabelle rushed on. “Please, hear me out.” Another dead end would put her right back where she’d started. “Someone there said you were, uh, more than friends...and when Sierra passed away—”

  “She’s dead?” He hesitated. “Wait, is this why some sheriff tried to reach me?”

  Annabelle’s hands were shaking. This man did know her cousin. “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that first.” Trying to choose her words, she gave him a halting recap of events, ending with “Sierra didn’t leave a will, as far as I can tell, or make any arrangements for her child if something happened to her which is why the county sheriff here in Kansas and I have been trying to reach you. Sierra’s daughter is staying with me—”

  “No will? That sounds like Sierra.” His voice had turned wary. “She had a kid?”

  Annabelle assumed his question was rhetorical. “Yes, but I can’t keep her permanently. If I can find Emmie’s father, she should be with him. Is there a possibility—”

  “Hold on,” he said. “You think I’m the guy?”

  Her palms damp, Annabelle reeled off the dates Finn had given her for Las Vegas. “I understand you had a relationship.”

  He snorted. “That what you call it? Sierra and I had, maybe, one weekend together before she messed up everything. She stole from the resort and because of what they termed ‘our relationship,’ I was in trouble right along with her—like some accomplice. No way,” he said. “It was me who turned her in, anonymously of course. Sierra Hartwell was a looker, but she was also a liar, a cheat and a thief. Didn’t take me, or anyone else, long to figure that out. Don’t try to pin her kid on me.”

  Annabelle stiffened. Her heart was pounding. Was he lying, as Sierra obviously had? This newest accusation against her cousin wasn’t any easier to absorb than Finn’s opinion of Sierra. But what if this man was Emmie’s dad? The timing was right...even when she didn’t like how this was going, and she had to press him further. “A weekend would be more than enough time to father her little girl,” she said, casting a glance up to the second floor where Emmie was sleeping.

  His tone had a sharper edge. “We took precautions, okay? I’m not about to get saddled with a mistake like that.”

  Annabelle bit her tongue to keep from giving him a piece of her mind and saying something she’d regret. Now she hoped he wasn’t Emmie’s biological father. She settled for telling him, “Precautions sometimes fail and I wouldn’t call Emmie a mistake.”

  Had Finn been right? Even if this man agreed, she wouldn’t turn an innocent child over to someone who didn’t want her, someone who might spend his nights in a gambling casino rather than at home. Who would care for Emmie then? And what if he bounced around from place to place as Sierra had? No house, Emmie had told her. Surely, when Sierra extracted Annabelle’s promise, she didn’t want to see her daughter with this man. He couldn’t be Emmie’s dad. She didn’t want him to be now. This wasn’t what she’d hoped for at all.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. In fact,” Annabelle said, her voice brittle, “it makes me wonder why I phoned you in the first place.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” he said. “Good luck, lady. Hope you find the right sucker.”

  Her mouth set, Annabelle struggled to contain her disappointment. Where could her search go next? She’d held such hope those two numbers, one of them in Vegas, would lead her straight to Emmie’s dad.

  Trying to settle her nerves, she turned to her laptop, intending to enter another sweepstakes, but nothing appealed. She hadn’t won the Caribbean cruise—and what if she had? Emmie might have loved to take the trip with her, so that wouldn’t be a problem, but it wasn’t the long-term solution Annabelle was looking for either.

  Yet something else could be. A Google search for all the schools in the US that offered training for tour guides and directors brought up several she hadn’t considered before. Annabelle sat up straighter. The highly regarded institute in Denver didn’t offer the course she wanted for a full year, but the newer International Tour College in Phoenix did—early next spring! Enough time to get Emmie settled.

  With growing excitement, Annabelle keyed in the necessary information. She had enough money left from her parents’ estate to at least pay the registration fee, though, again, she felt a bit guilty. They would expect her to use what they’d left for the diner. Annabelle completed the process anyway then pushed back from her laptop with a happy sigh that seemed magnified in the silent house.

  Surely before spring she would have found Emmie’s real father.

  In spite of tonight’s disappointment about the man she’d called regarding Vegas, she had something to look forward to. In the meantime, she had to tell Finn about the phone call.

  * * *

  STRAIGHTENING FROM A pile of rusty barbed wire, Finn heard the sound of an approaching car. He put one leather-gloved hand to his aching back. The last thing he needed was another visit from Sawyer McCord, who’d come by before to discourage him from fixing up the Moran farm. You sure you’re up to this? he’d said with a gesture at the falling-down fence.

  In Chicago I could mow my whole yard in fifteen minutes, Finn had admitted. Now the farm was his to do with as he pleased and there was no one else around.

  Going to take a lot more time than that here, Sawyer said. More work. Then he’d smiled. Now that you’re a landowner, Grey says he has a nice, easy gelding for you. Sawyer had clapped a hand on his shoulder as they walked toward the house. You up-to-date on your tetanus shot?

  But instead of Sawyer’s truck now, Annabelle’s car rolled up the driveway, stopping in a cloud of dust by the bare spot that had once been the h
enhouse. Finn had leveled it earlier, all the while wondering if she’d managed to reach the guy in Vegas. He felt his whole face light up as she got out of the car.

  It wasn’t only her shiny brown hair or clear, sometimes green eyes that made him want to dive in for another kiss when that would be the wrong thing to do. Still, in the past weeks she’d become a good surrogate mother for Emmie, whether or not Annabelle believed that, and just seeing them together could make Finn smile. If she wasn’t determined to leave Barren...but what if she did stay? No, he was still determined to keep to himself, to never love again. He wouldn’t forget Caro or his vow to get the justice she and Alex deserved.

  Well, now was his chance to tell Annabelle exactly that. He’d chickened out the last time he saw her.

  “Hey,” Finn said, pulling off his leather gloves. “Where’s the munchkin?”

  “Day care.” Annabelle was carrying a package wrapped in paper with a pattern of cowboys on bucking horses and tied with a big blue bow. “I’m struggling with that, and so is she, even though she seems to have made a friend of Harry Barnes’s son.”

  “More tantrums?” He couldn’t help a smile. “You have to give Emmie high marks for spirit.”

  Annabelle rolled her eyes. “I’ll give her an A-plus when she moves out of this phase. Age four has to be better.” As if she intended to keep Emmie.

  “She writes her own rules.” He paused. “My boy did too.”

  Seeing or talking about Emmie often led to memories of Alex, one reason he had to set Annabelle straight. He should have done so before. Instead he’d let her kiss him.

  She handed him the box. “What’s this for?” he asked.

  “A housewarming present, but you don’t have to open it now.”

  Feeling off-balance, Finn tucked the box under one arm. Why had she bought him a gift? He didn’t want to encourage a closeness he couldn’t handle. That wouldn’t be fair to Annabelle. “Come on up to the house. I’m ready for a cold drink and we need to talk.”