by Tanya Agler
Broken things can’t be fixed...
Or can they?
Officer and single dad Mike Harrison doesn’t believe in second chances. Ever. That is, until he learns that his former best friend—gorgeous green-eyed car mechanic Georgie Bennett—is back in town. Unfortunately, she’s also a suspect in a recent break-in! But it’ll take an old classic car to show Mike and Georgie that almost anything can be restored with a little patience...and a whole lot of love.
“You’re seeing me at my worst as a father...
“Burns, pet escapes, bathroom emergencies.” Mike didn’t want to see the disappointment in Georgie’s eyes.
Georgie smiled. “I see a little girl who loves her father. Rachel is intelligent and independent.”
“Thank you.”
She picked up the nearby clipboard. “Any questions about the car restoration process?”
“Can I do any of this work myself? Save a few pennies?”
“Actually, yes.” Coming over, she pointed to a couple of the steps. “It’ll all come back to you when the time is right.”
This close, her sweet scent tickled his nose.
Just tell her.
He moved closer. Opening his mouth, he wanted to find the right words to set her straight. Instead, the light of the shop reflected off her, cascading over her in a golden glow, her beauty striking him. Here she was...finally, after all these years. Why had he resisted her for so long?
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Hollydale!
On vacation a couple of summers ago, my family picnicked at a park near a classic-car show. During that week, I couldn’t let go the idea of a heroine who drives a classic car, and that segued into someone who fixes cars, but not her own life. With that came a glimmer of Mike, who owns a Ford Thunderbird in need of repairs, the same as his rusty heart. As the Thunderbird is gutted for another day in the sun, Georgie and Mike discover the power of second chances. Mike’s opportunity comes with a push from his daughter after Rachel and her pink purse make quite an impression on Georgie. Rachel kept me laughing as I wrote this, and I hope you find her as delightful as her dad and Georgie do.
Second chances have played an important role in my life and provide Georgie and Mike with a way to confront their pasts and accept the redemptive power of love.
I hope you love Hollydale as much as I do. You can reach out to me at Facebook.com/authortanyaagler or at tanyaagler.com. I hope to hear from you.
Tanya
The Sheriff’s Second Chance
Tanya Agler
Tanya Agler remembers the first set of Harlequin books her grandmother gifted her, and she’s been in love with romance novels ever since. An award-winning author, Tanya makes her home in Georgia with her wonderful husband, their four children and a lovable basset, who really rules the roost. When she’s not writing, Tanya loves classic movies and a good cup of tea. Visit her at tanyaagler.com or email her at [email protected].
To Jamie, who believed in me as an author before I did.
And thank you to my agent, Dawn Dowdle,
for sticking by me and to my editor,
Kathryn Lye, for taking a chance on me.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM LASSOED BY THE WOULD-BE RANCHER BY MELINDA CURTIS
CHAPTER ONE
“BREAKING AND ENTERING reported at Max’s Auto Repair. Not in progress.”
Two robberies in one morning? A new record for Hollydale. One Mike Harrison would have loved not breaking.
“That makes five this month.” Mike didn’t flick on the siren. Instead, he turned onto Maple Drive and caught sight of the street’s namesakes breaking into glorious shades of red and orange. “Anything else before I arrive?”
“Stay safe. We’re down a patrol team of two officers as it is.” Crackling came over the system, and Mike pulled into Max’s.
Understaffed was an understatement with eleven people doing the work of thirteen. When the tourists flooded his small town in the Smokies, snapping pictures of every tree and ridge in sight, it would make even more work for the department, which was already running on a shoestring frayed on both ends. Mike wanted these burglaries solved, and fast. It was getting so bad that he and his daughter, Rachel, couldn’t even wait for their favorite booth at the Holly Days Diner in peace. Not with the locals coming up and jabbing him in the ribs, asking when he was entering the sheriff’s race. Shrugging, Mike always smiled and set the record straight. Hollydale already had a fine sheriff in Rick Donahue.
The sun’s rays crept over the horizon, the promise of a warm day dampening the chill permeating the September air. Mike parked his squad car near a rusted Ford Taurus and a newer model red Toyota Prius. Using caution, he emerged with his hand on his utility belt and scanned the area. Not a soul greeted him. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. From the corner of the long brick building, a colossal brown shaggy mutt bounded over. A couple of feet behind, a woman held on to a bright blue leash for dear life.
Mike’s gaze met the woman’s too-familiar green eyes. His heart rate accelerated.
Georgie Bennett was back in town.
Her shiny cap of chestnut hair, a slight curl at the ends, was shorter now, highlighting the cheekbones of her heart-shaped face. His gaze flickered over her black T-shirt and dark jeans accentuating her curves, clearly acquired since high school. She’d been cute then, but eleven years after graduation? The girl next door was quite the stunner.
He stopped short of rushing over. For one, he was here on official police business. For another, their friendship had ended on a sour note. All thanks to him. In a split second, Georgie’s eyes flashed warmth, and even forgiveness. Then her jaw clenched, and she tightened her grip on the leash of the massive animal lumbering toward him.
Georgie’s dog loped over the rest of the way. With a soft whine, the mutt settled on his haunches and lolled out his tongue in a friendly greeting. At least someone was happy to see him. Mike relaxed.
“Welcome home, Georgie.” Mike glanced up and cleared his throat. “There’s been a report of a B&E at this location. You and your dog need to leave and come back later.”
“I’m the one who called it in.” Her honey voice hit him hard.
Focus, Michael. If the perp was still in the building, innocent people could get hurt. Not again. Never again.
“Stay out here with...” The animal was too small for a buffalo. “Your dog.”
Wheezing came from off in the distance. A stooped elderly man rounded the corner. Mike did a double take. It’d been a couple of months since he’d last seen his old high school teacher, Mr. Reedy. Never could get used to calling him Fred. Almost seemed sacrilegious somehow. Mr. Reedy crooked his cane on his arm and adjusted the plastic cannula near his nose before wheeling an oxygen canister toward Mike.
“About time you showed up, Officer Harrison. Georgie must have called you a good half hour ago.” Mr. Reedy stomped his cane on the pavement, not five feet away.
“Thirty-two minutes, according to my phone.” Georgie waved it under Mike’s face, her hand shaking like the red leaves of the nearby maples. This close he didn’t miss the quaver in her voice or the pallor of her ashen skin.
He couldn’t blame her. The criminal violation of a person’s private or business space was traumatizing.
Mike blew out a deep breath “You two stay out here. I’ll be right back.”
Raising his trusty old Smith & Wesson, Mike entered the garage’s reception area. Truth be told, he didn’t expect anyone in here. Not with two people and a colossal beast of a dog out front. Still, better safe than sorry.
Flipping on the light switch, he groaned. Copies of Car and Driver littered the concrete floor. Hard pink shells of chewed bubble gum were stuck on the bottom of the upended coffee table. This wasn’t anything like the B&E at Carter’s Sporting Goods, where the crime scene was as neat as his mother’s immaculate kitchen.
A quick scan of the bays in the garage yielded no evidence and looked as though they hadn’t been disturbed. Mike holstered his weapon and went outside.
“All clear.”
As soon as he called out, Georgie rushed over, Mr. Reedy several steps behind. Georgie’s dog nudged him as if asking what Mike intended to do about the mess.
“Plenty.”
“Excuse me?” Georgie’s eyebrows furrowed into a worried line. “Is that some sort of police jargon?”
“No.” Mike rubbed his temples. “How long until Max arrives? I have some questions for him.”
“About three months, give or take a week.”
“Who’s in charge while he’s gone?”
A flicker of annoyance flashed behind Georgie’s eyes, always expressive to say the least. Her shoulders stiffened, and she lifted her chin. No reason for her to be upset with him now. He was just doing his job.
“I am.”
He slipped on his own mask, controlling his surprise. Wasn’t often the town grapevine failed at its job. But if Georgie was back as a mechanic here? Georgie, a whiz with anything mechanical... Grandpa Ted’s Thunderbird, now his, might have a second chance after all.
No. There were no second chances in life. Why he hadn’t sold the car yet, he didn’t know. Stalling, most likely. Best change that as soon as possible. Tonight, even. Money from the sale would pay for those dance lessons Rachel had been begging for. He steeled himself. He had a duty to the citizens of this town. Investigating the scene would serve them better than wispy daydreams.
“Congratulations.” He removed his notepad and pencil from his shirt pocket. “Mind if I ask you some questions?”
“Can I go inside and get Beau some water first?” Her pleading tone helped Mike stifle his laughter. Georgie still had her sense of humor if she named that homely mutt Beau. “I won’t touch anything. The poor dog hasn’t had anything to drink since he arrived. He and Mr. Reedy have been here for a while.”
Georgie always had been a sucker for anything with four legs, although anything with four wheels pushed her over the moon.
Mike held up his hand. “Wait here.”
Remembering the layout, Mike hurried back with a bowl filled with water. Best he could do under the circumstances. Georgie and Mr. Reedy had made their way over to a wrought iron bench. Mike bent and held the bowl out to Beau. The dog lapped up every drop.
Half of small-town police work centered on public relations as much as investigating crimes.
“I’m going to perform a more thorough investigation and take notes. Then I’ll be back to ask you some further questions. I’ll also want to take a look at the surveillance footage before I leave.” Mike waited for Georgie’s nod and then walked away.
Entering, he stopped and examined the lock on the front door. No scratches or other sign of forced entry. Unlike Carter’s Sporting Goods, where the burglars had jimmied open the door, most likely with a crowbar, tripping the alarm. The security company had then contacted the police. A complete one-eighty from everything at this location.
He walked over to the windows. No marks of any kind there or on the locked back door, either. He huffed out a sigh and took out his fingerprinting kit. Dusting proved as futile here as it had at Carter’s. There were simply too many smears to narrow any full prints down to one suspect.
The thieves knew what they were doing. Mike would give them that much. They’d make a mistake, though. When they did, he would solve the string of B&Es and get his dependable life back. The one that didn’t involve people asking him pesky questions about running for sheriff. The one he’d scrabbled together the day Caitlyn sashayed into his dorm room announcing his impending fatherhood and he’d had to grow up quick.
As soon as Georgie provided an inventory of what was missing, he’d write up the report. Back at the station, without her. With the adrenaline of seeing her again wearing off, he needed to step back. Whenever he ran on emotion rather than logic, he ended up in a heap of trouble.
Rachel was more than enough proof of that.
* * *
SOME HOMECOMING. ONLY eighty-five days until her mentor, Max O’Hara, came back, and not an hour too soon. In the past five days, she’d survived her mother’s stent procedure, a burglary and now Mike Harrison.
Of the three, Mike was the worst of the lot.
Georgie Bennett crossed her arms and settled next to Mr. Reedy. Beau, the big brown mutt, ambled over, pawed Georgie’s steel-toed boot and whined. He nudged his wet snout against her hand. Then a huge pink tongue flicked out at her fingers. Glancing down, she gulped. Beau’s brown eyes expressed his desire for something, but what? Georgie didn’t speak dog. Did he want her attention? Did he want to go home? Follow him to a well and rescue a child?
“Keep a strong grip on his leash. Don’t want him to get loose. He could get hurt on the road.”
She lifted a brow. More likely Beau would wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting car and not get so much as his fur ruffled. How a man with a portable oxygen canister could take care of a dog who probably ate a pound of steak a day was beyond her. Where had this hulk of a dog been when the burglar struck? Formidable in size and weight, he’d be a great watchdog. She wiped her hand against her jeans. Either that or he’d lick the criminal until the police arrived.
“Let me take you and Beau home.”
“Need a mechanic to look at my car.” Mr. Reedy’s tinny voice drew Georgie’s attention away from Beau. “It’s screeching something awful whenever I slow down for a red light. Good thing Hollydale only has three of them.” He rubbed his chin with one hand while gripping his cane with his other. “Bad smell, too, after I park the car. Like burnt eggs. Course, I can’t rightly tell if that’s the car or Beau. He likes his hot dogs with a healthy helping of chili on top.”
Beau’s ears perked up. Figured a dog the size of a kid’s bicycle would comprehend the words hot dog and chili.
“Mind if I take a look at it?” Fixing Mr. Reedy’s car would help steady her nerves, rather shot from discovering a burglary first thing on a Tuesday morning.
“Didn’t expect to see you back in these parts again. Especially with Mike Harrison settled down.”
At Mike’s name she jumped off the bench. “I’ll be back.” She tugged at Beau’s leash. Mr. Reedy followed behind, the oxygen canister slowing him down. “No oval rear window. I’d say it was a ’95 model.”
“Not bad.”
“Max trained me well.” She smiled at the memory of the knobby-kneed teenager who had taken advantage of her late father’s godfather, demanding he take her under his wing. “Taught me everything I knew about engines until I became ASE certified. Since then I’ve kept steady hours as a mechanic or an auto-body repair specialist.” And, with luck an
d a good interview, she’d add pit crew member to the list in three months—if Brett Cullinan hired her for the racing newcomer’s team. Until she heard from the veteran crew boss, she worked for Max and would take as much weight off his shoulders as possible during his medical tests. “What about it, Mr. Reedy? I’ll drop you and Beau at home and come back and run diagnostics.”
He frowned and shot her the same glare he had in high school whenever he caught her studying an engine schematic or sharing a laugh with Mike rather than paying attention to his teaching. “How much will that cost? Can’t afford much. Not with Beau’s nightly hot dog.”
Mr. Reedy put up a good front, always hiding his big heart under that gruff exterior. If it weren’t for him, she’d still be at her high school desk, taking history for the twelfth year in a row. Nudging her grade up two points, he might as well have signed her high school diploma. It was way past time for her to return the favor.
“The cost of the diagnostic test is free if you get your car repaired on premises.” Based on what he’d described, the repair wouldn’t be cheap. Brakes and maybe a new catalytic converter. She wouldn’t know for certain until the results were in. “And today’s senior citizen special is twelve months, no interest.”
So she was bending the rules to their breaking point. Max would do the same.
“Might not be anything bad. Might be something a quart of oil can fix.”
Not likely. Georgie bit her tongue, holding her response in check. “Only one way to know for sure.”
“Fine. Run the test.” His lips pursed into a straight line, too blue for Georgie’s comfort. “If the cost is too much, I’ll lose my car. Lose my independence.” He shuffled away, Beau following him. He stopped and looked back. “Don’t mind me. Once I get a strong cup of coffee inside me, I’ll be my usual geezer self instead of this miserly grinch.”
Independence. That was one word Georgie understood well. She caught up with him at the bench. “I’ll need your keys.”
