Him and Coraleen, though? He’d wanted to start something there once, but that had been a long, long time ago.
But from the first moment he’d seen her behind the wheel, obviously scared as all get-out and about to crash into a building, he’d had to fight against his reactions. The way her long, blond hair streamed down her back, flowing when she moved…the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, nipples barely outlined under the light cotton of her T-shirt…the way her barely-there shorts clung to her rear and thighs…the way her smile lit his heart on fire…hell. These were all things he’d do best to forget.
He had a county to protect and an election to win. A former convict—even one as beautiful and vivacious as Coraleen—would muck up both of those duties.
Next to him, Mac finished up his conversation (had to be his fiancée Trudy, on the other end of the line, judging by the goofy grin on Mac’s face and the way he peppered kisses all over the phone) and turned back to him.
“Sorry I can’t help you find someone to take in Coraleen Pettigrew,” Mac said. “Wish Trudy and I could help more.”
Remy shoved a hand through his hair, then realized he was probably making it all spikey. His former sheriff, Harmon Garber, a man who’d held onto the position of sheriff in Deloro County for twenty-four years and who’d even been his father’s boss back in the day, would have had his hide for appearing even the slightest bit unkempt. In truth, Remy respected the uniform but today he could give a rat’s ass about his hairstyle.
A sexy former convict barreling into town could do that to a man.
“It isn’t that you don’t want her at your place because she’s served time, right?” he asked, maybe a bit too sharply.
Mac shook his head. “Nope, it doesn’t matter to me that she’s been in prison. I remember her from when she was young—great kid, full of spunk, always with a smile on her face. To tell you the truth, I never believed her confession. Figured she was protecting her grandfather, but I also found it hard to believe Macer stole that money, too.”
“You and half of Meadowview,” Remy murmured.
Mac patted Remy on the shoulder. “Trudy and I would be fine letting her stay at our place but you said she needs company, someone to wake her up all night. Trudy’s working a modeling contract in San Diego and I’m headed out of town in about an hour—flying to New York to oversee a showing of my work at a gallery there.”
“Congratulations to both of you,” Remy said, glad Mac had once again found public acclaim with his art photography. Trudy Prendergast, former fashion model and now Mac’s muse, had a lot to do with interrupting Mac’s headlong plunge into oblivion and bringing him back to the brink of relevancy.
“Means no one would be there to wake up Coraleen during the night, so our place wouldn’t work,” Mac clarified. “I’m kinda wondering, though, why you’re so gung-ho on helping her out.”
“I knew her pretty well before she, you know, left town.”
Mac frowned. “How well?”
Remy ignored him and leaned against the outside wall of the hospital, one of the few buildings located outside town. Built in the 1960s, it was considered new and modern, according to Deloro County standards. His own office was located in what was called the County Center, an old brick building in the middle of Meadowview, one of the original structures, built during the height of California’s Gold Rush. At well over a hundred years, the building, along with the town, still held onto its historic charm.
And as much as Meadowview held onto its charm, it held onto a grudge even more.
“Remy?” Mac’s voice nudged him.
He dropped his gaze down to his feet and scuffed at a fallen cherry blossom. “Just trying to find someone to babysit her tonight. Some in Meadowview still love Coraleen, but the rest hate her guts for what she did. Seems unfair no one here will help her.”
He believed in paying one’s debt to society, which was what Coraleen had done. Now, she deserved a second chance at life. This time he hoped she’d stay on the straight and narrow.
Truthfully, though, he still had a tough time believing she’d done the crime. But she’d consistently kept to her story, and when she hadn’t cracked once, not even after being locked in prison, he’d finally had to face the fact he simply hadn’t wanted to believe.
That, and she’d provided the one incriminating piece of evidence against her: she knew how to get into Lydell Barnaby’s campaign fund account, a series of codes not even Lydell had access to. Only Coraleen’s grandfather, Macer Pettigrew, who was Lydell’s accountant, knew how to get into that account. Until Coraleen had proven she had access, too. That confession had changed everything.
“I’m not buying that as an excuse,” Mac said. “Something’s going on. Time to ante up. Stop holding your cards so tight to the vest.”
“Seriously. I’m just helping someone in need,” he said, trying to convince himself of the same thing.
But then the memory of the first time he’d seen Coraleen flashed into his mind. There she’d been, just a kid, really, huddled on the ground in the woods, her wide-eyed horse’s head in her lap, a cold wind whipping through cedar and pine branches and stinging her cheeks an even more violent shade of red, tears streaking down her cheeks.
She’d looked up at him, and rather than jumping up and running to the man who’d found her in the woods after being reported two days before as missing, she instead flung herself over her wounded horse’s head and screamed at him to leave her and her horse alone to die together in peace.
He hadn’t left her, of course. His duty had been to protect and serve. He’d tried to do both. But the sight of him pulling out his gun to put the horse out of its misery had Coraleen snarling at Remy like a wild wolf trying to protect her young. He’d been forced to make a choice, one he hadn’t—
“Yeah, right…you’re just helping someone. Stop bluffing.” Mac’s amused voice brought him back to the present.
As did a cute student nurse who flashed him a bleached-teeth smile as she strode down the external corridor. Remy gave her a polite grin.
Mac nudged him. “Who’s the hottie?”
Remy searched his mental database for a name. “Hummingbird…or Butterfly…or Pond or something. No—Nectar. That’s it. She’s Ned Peardale’s granddaughter.” With a population of under five thousand, Deloro County wasn’t the smallest county in California, but it came in a close third. And that meant he knew most of the people in his district.
“She’s interested in you,” Mac noted.
He got that a lot. Not that he minded, but most women who were after him wanted to marry him and no way was he interested in settling down. He had a job to do and a service to perform. Love got in the way of rational thought, and lack of rational thought got in the way of fulfilling one’s duty.
His father’s face flickered into his mind and he tried to draw a mental curtain over the image. No need to journey back to the dark days in his life.
His father, Deputy Richard Toussaint, had made a terrible choice—putting lust over the law. How was it Richard could be so utterly seduced by a woman—although Karen Passer could hardly be called a woman, more like a snake in the grass—that he’d completely believed her when she claimed she hadn’t been transporting meth?
How could a seasoned deputy like Richard believe a woman he barely knew?
The worst part was that he’d believed her enough to suppress an eyewitness report and hide evidence against her. The woman had almost gotten off.
That decision had cost his widowed father his career. And had cost him the respect of his son and entire community. No way would Remy ever make a similar mistake.
He brought his attention back to Mac. “Not interested,” he said, flatly.
“You need to get out more. Hell, you rarely date. And when you do, it’s usually with some city girl from outside the county lines. Girls who would never fit in Meadowview, which gives you a convenient ‘out’.”
Remy furrowed his brow an
d glanced at Mac. “What do you mean, girls who won’t fit in Meadowview?”
Mac chuckled. “Those women you date would shriek at the thought of living hours away from the mall, or in a town that didn’t have a place to get a mani-pedi. Or where they couldn’t get cable.”
Most locals had satellite dishes instead of cable because, well, there just wasn’t cable in a good half of Deloro County. Maybe Mac had a point. The convenient “out.” Not that Coraleen would put up a fuss—she’d grown up swimming in the Maidu River, catching crawdads in Elderberry Creek, and riding her horse bareback through the woods on deer trails. She and her grandpop Macer didn’t even own a satellite dish when she was growing up.
“Yo, Remy.”
He jerked.
“You’re still a million miles away. Thinking about that person you’re only looking out for because she’s ‘in need’?”
“You’re not helping.” What was he doing, thinking about whether Coraleen could handle being in a relationship with him and living in a small town? Hell. He should definitely not be going there in his head. Things were quickly spiraling out of control, even if it was just in his own mind. “What did you call me out here for, anyway?”
“To tell you something about the campaign.”
“That’s the second time someone’s brought up Lydell to me today. Judge Reinhardt’s considering backing one of us in the election. Not sure why either of us would need his push, though. It’s not like Lydell has much of a chance of winning.”
“Rumor has it Lydell is making some campaign promises I’m not sure you’ll be all that happy about.”
Remy frowned. “What’s he been saying?”
“He’s pushing for severe punishment. No leniency. Fines and tickets instead of warnings. Claims he’ll even fine jaywalkers.”
“Huh. Mrs. Peterson won’t like that. Every time I’d catch her jaywalking across Market, she’d claim her walker would get caught on the crosswalk by Hill Street, so why would she walk the thirty yards down to get there?”
Mac laughed, but the sound came out a bit tight. “Yeah, according to Lydell, she’d get hit with a citation and a fine next time she and her walker appear outside a crosswalk.”
Remy shook his head. “Why is Lydell after this position so bad? I hadn’t really seen him as a huge competition.”
No doubt, though, Lydell had political ambitions. Some of those ambitions had stalled a few years before when the man had lost his bid for state assembly—an event most people blamed Coraleen for, given that she’d admitted to embezzling the entire campaign finance fund.
“Lydell’s a wimp. I’ll bet someone else put the idea in his mind to use tough love as a campaign strategy,” Mac added.
“My department is doing an excellent job. Crime rates are down. I don’t get it.”
“Politics, plain and simple. Lydell is collecting votes by making promises.”
He blew out a breath. “Damn. I don’t mind healthy competition, but electing someone with no law enforcement experience, and someone who sees criminals and not citizens wouldn’t be good for Meadowview, or for Deloro County as a whole. Lydell wouldn’t know the first thing about how to handle some of the peculiarities of the locals. Mrs. Peterson needs a hand getting across the street, not a fine.”
That reminded him. He still needed to track down Jacob Bullard, make sure the kid was okay. First, though, he wanted to settle down Jimmy Loftus before he “celebrated” Dump Day any further. Sundown was still many hours away, but it would be best to go out and talk to Jimmy before too many quart jars of homegrown beer ended up in his gullet.
Even when shot up into the air, bullets had been known to travel. And even though Jimmy lived outside town on forty acres, Sherman Wannamaker had just opened up a large horse training facility just west of Bill’s property. Sherman wouldn’t be happy if Jimmy’s inability to deal with rejection caused any of his horses to panic and get hurt. Remy cast a glance at the watch on his wrist. Time to get a move on.
“Need to be somewhere?” Mac asked.
“Jimmy Loftus’s Dump Day anniversary is today. I need to go calm him down. Make sure he doesn’t have any actual bullets in his shotgun.”
“Good idea. That guy’s a bit on the wobbly side of reality. But have you figured out yet what you’re going to do about Coraleen?”
Remy swore quietly, under his breath. No way would he mention Juliet’s suggestion to Mac. The idea was dead in the water. “Not sure. Someone needs to step up, though. I’m pretty sure Coraleen can’t afford the hospital bills to stay in one more night under medical watch.”
“Why don’t you take her in?” Mac asked. “Let her spend the night. Watch over her and do your knight in shining armor thing.”
He barely stopped himself from flinching. What was it with all these people suggesting him as Coraleen’s babysitter?
Although, if he were being honest with himself, he’d admit the idea had crossed his mind earlier, even before Juliet had said anything.
But Coraleen, staying at his place? It just wouldn’t be smart. Every time they got within striking distance of each other, his attraction to her sparked and sizzled and flew high in brilliant colors, like the Fourth of July firework show on Donner Lake.
And one thing he knew for sure: Coraleen had no interest in him. She’d even told him, flat-out and to his face. He’d asked her if she felt anything for him that day in the visitor’s station at AZ/PC when he’d come to visit her. And her response? Yeah, not what any man ever wanted to hear.
“I may find you attractive, Remy,” she’d said, “but when I get out of here I’ll never go out with cop. Police, judges, investigators, prosecutors…you’re all the same. You all suck.”
He hated that he could never forget how she looked in AZ/PC’s visitor room, wearing a dingy grey jumpsuit, sitting across the table from him, looking down at her hands and saying words that triggered a flare of red-hot anger in him. He followed the law. She’d broken it. And yet she’d blamed him and the entire legal system for her actions.
But he couldn’t get her face out of his mind or his body to stop getting all aroused whenever she was near or get his need to help her to stop.
No, having Coraleen in his home, all sexy and vulnerable and sweet and sassy, wasn’t a good idea.
Not a good idea, by far.
Mac continued to stare at Remy, apparently waiting for him to answer whether he was going to let Coraleen stay with him or not. The more Remy thought about it, the more his palms kept sweating. He wanted her with him. In his home. Hell, in his bed.
But he had to be smart. Logical.
As the youngest sheriff ever elected in California, he was under constant scrutiny. And now that Lydell was putting pressure on to win votes, Remy knew he had to be even more diligent—with the upcoming election, his job, and his personal life. Linking himself to a law-breaker wouldn’t exactly win him votes in the small community. After all, look what had happened to his father.
He’d never be like Richard. He’d never let love compromise his values.
Not that what his father had felt for Karen had been love, and not that what Remy felt for Coraleen was love, either. Desire, sure. But love? Nope.
And it wasn’t like Coraleen loved him, or anything. So what would it hurt if she stayed with him for a day or two?
It could hurt plenty if he got attached to her again. Plenty.
“Coraleen can’t stay with me,” Remy finally said. “It wouldn’t be seemly.”
Mac snorted. “You did not just say the word ‘seemly’ to me.”
Remy raised an eyebrow at his friend.
“I don’t get it, though,” Mac continued. “You’re helping her, looking out for her. Makes sense that you’d let her stay at your place. Wake her up a few times tonight.”
He scrambled for a reason he couldn’t do it. Last thing he wanted Mac to know was the truth—the man would hound him until tomorrow if he suspected Remy had a ‘thing’ for a woman. “She has a certain
…uh…reputation as a troublemaker. I’d probably better steer clear, for the sake of the campaign.”
“Give me a break. It’s just one night, Remy. Who’s going to find out? Besides, how much trouble can someone get into in twenty-four hours?”
For a moment, he imagined Coraleen staying with him. Visions of them in bed immediately rushed into his head. He shook his head, hard, to clear his mind, hoping Mac couldn’t read his thoughts. This morning, once he knew she wasn’t in dire straights, those sexy short-shorts and the long expanse of thigh had done a number on him. He absolutely did not need to be envisioning Coraleen removing those shorts. Nope, his imagination needed to keep her fully clothed, and that was that.
“Look, if you’re going to be a dick about this”—Mac nudged him hard in the ribs—“Trudy and I can put a posting on Facebook and see if anyone can take her in. I’m sure we can find somewhere for her to stay until her car is repaired and she’s cleared to drive. But as for tonight…”
Remy blew out a breath. Mac was right. He was being ridiculous. Coraleen needed a place to stay and a friend to watch over her. He could certainly keep his attraction under wraps for a night or two.
Then an image of Coraleen in those shorts rolled through his mind and his body responded. Down, boy, he mentally ordered.
“Keep trying, Mac.” He made his voice firm. “See if any locals have a place for her to stay the rest of the week, and I’ll keep asking around, too. Someone needs to watch over her for tonight.” But even as he said the words, he knew the chances of finding any such person were slim.
Movement caught his attention. Mac’s sister Doe—and was that Tad Evans?—walked past them, headed to the hospital entrance, Tad dressed in student’s scrubs. Remy was about to say hello, only Doe ducked, hiding her head, clearly avoiding conversation, but flipped her brother the bird behind an oblivious Tad’s back. Remy frowned, taking in Doe’s way too normal outfit—a sunny yellow T-shirt dress, sandals, and her hair in a smooth ponytail. No hoodie or knee-high Doc Martens or hair flying around…or piercings.
Always the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 2) (The Meadowview Series Book 6) (Meadowview Heat) Page 6
