Can he rope her in?
Ten years ago Cash Taylor said goodbye to his close-knit hometown and hello to the fast track of big-city success. Now a criminal lawyer with a guilty heart and a lot of soul-searching to do, he’s back in Forever, Texas, for his grandfather’s wedding. Taking a walk down the aisle himself is the last thing on his mind. That is, until he sees Alma Rodriguez, the woman he was crazy about but left behind.
As a deputy, Alma knows how to keep her emotions in check. It’s not easy, especially when Cash looks into her eyes. He hurt her once, yet she can’t resist having him in her life again. Alma sees he’s troubled, and she wants to help—if she can keep love out of the equation. But it just might be the answer they both need!
“Cash, is something wrong?”
He looked at her for a long moment before finally answering. “Other than my realizing how badly I treated you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m just realizing how many wrong turns I’ve taken since I left Forever.”
He was lying to her.
And then he abruptly changed the subject by looking at her, a hint of a smile curving his mouth. “A deputy, huh?”
“Why not? I was always interested in criminology,” she reminded him.
“I know, but I guess I thought that you were ultimately going to go into ranching. That criminology was, you know, like a hobby with you.”
“I guess that maybe you didn’t know me as well as you thought.”
“No,” he agreed sadly. “I guess not.”
To hell with backing off.
And she intended to fix whatever was wrong with Cash. For old times’ sake.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Forever, the little Texas town you first encountered when Sheriff Rick Santiago discovered a baby on his doorstep. A lot has happened to the peace-loving citizens since then, and it’s his deputy Alma Rodriguez’s turn to have her story told.
Ten years ago Alma was in love with Cash Taylor, who went off to college on the west coast to make something of himself so that they could begin their future. However, along the way he was at first seduced by big-city life, and then lost his soul there. He felt he was no longer worthy of someone like Alma, who was feisty, loyal and loving. But when his grandfather, the man who raised him after his own parents died, asks him to be his best man at his wedding, Cash cannot bring himself to say no. When he arrives, Alma is determined to keep a tight rein on her heart, and Cash is just as determined not to open his heart again because the consequences would be just too great. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men (and women)…
As always, I thank you for taking the time to read my book, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
Best,
Marie Ferrarella
Marie Ferrarella
Lassoing the Deputy
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marie Ferrarella is a USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author who has written over two hundred books for Silhouette and Harlequin Books, some under the name of Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com.
Books by Marie Ferrarella
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1329—THE SHERIFF’S CHRISTMAS SURPRISE‡‡
1338—RAMONA AND THE RENEGADE‡‡
1346—THE DOCTOR’S FOREVER FAMILY‡‡
1369—MONTANA SHERIFF
1378—HOLIDAY IN A STETSON
“The Sheriff Who Found Christmas”
SILHOUETTE ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
1503—A DOCTOR’S SECRET**
1511—SECRET AGENT AFFAIR**
1515—PROTECTING HIS WITNESS*
1528—COLTON’S SECRET SERVICE
1556—THE HEIRESS’S 2-WEEK AFFAIR
1571—CAVANAUGH PRIDE*
1575—BECOMING A CAVANAUGH*
1580—THE AGENT’S SECRET BABY
1587—THE CAVANAUGH CODE*
1596—IN BED WITH THE BADGE*
1612—CAVANAUGH JUDGMENT*
1616—COLTON BY MARRIAGE
1623—CAVANAUGH REUNION*
1644—IN HIS PROTECTIVE CUSTODY**
HARLEQUIN ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
1664—PRIVATE JUSTICE
1675—THE DOCTOR’S GUARDIAN**
1683—A CAVANAUGH CHRISTMAS*
1688—SPECIAL AGENT’S PERFECT COVER
1699—CAVANAUGH’S BODYGUARD*
SILHOUETTE SPECIAL EDITION
1910—DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH***
1917—THE BRIDE WITH NO NAME***
1941—MISTLETOE AND MIRACLES***
1946—PLAIN JANE AND THE PLAYBOY†††
1958—TRAVIS’S APPEAL***
1977—LOVING THE RIGHT BROTHER***
1983—THE 39-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN
2006—A LAWMAN FOR CHRISTMAS***
2017—PRESCRIPTION FOR ROMANCE
2031—DOCTORING THE SINGLE DAD†
2041—FIXED UP WITH MR. RIGHT?†
2060—FINDING HAPPILY-EVER-AFTER†
2084—UNWRAPPING THE PLAYBOY†
2107—FORTUNE’S JUST DESSERTS††
HARLEQUIN SPECIAL EDITION
2117—A MATCH FOR THE DOCTOR†
2122—WHAT THE SINGLE DAD WANTS…†
2131—THE BABY WORE A BADGE‡‡‡
2167—FORTUNE’S VALENTINE BRIDE‡
‡‡Forever, Texas
*Cavanaugh Justice
**The Doctors Pulaski
***Kate’s Boys
†††The Fortunes of Texas: Return to Red Rock
†Matchmaking Mamas
††The Fortunes of Texas: Lost…and Found
‡‡‡Montana Mavericks: The Texans are Coming!
‡The Fortunes of Texas: Whirlwind Romance
To
Helen Conrad
Who Has Gone
To A Galaxy
Even Further Away
Than Before.
Miss You.
Contents
Prologue
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
Prologue
He almost hadn’t seen it.
The letter had arrived in his mailbox early this afternoon, tucked in between meaningless advertisements, flyers and catalogs offering him everything from overpriced steaks, uniquely packed and shipped overnight to his Beverly Hills apartment, to useless toys and gadgets only “the discerning professional could appreciate”—or hope to pay for, for that matter.
He’d tossed the lot of them into the garbage, but his aim was off and several pieces of mail fell to the kitchen floor instead of into the silver garbage pail.
He stooped to pick up the fallen pieces in order to throw them away, and that was when he found his grandfather’s letter stuck in between the catalogs.
Even so, he almost hadn’t opened the envelope.
He loved the man dearly. Harry Taylor was his only living relative and the best person—man or woman—that he knew, but the ever-widening dark vortex where he had resided these past four months was growing too large for him to crawl out of anymore.
He wanted his pain, his guilt to finally be over.
Others might have forgiven him for what had happened, but he couldn’t forgive himself, and lately, the burden had gotten to be too much for him to handle.
But t
he letter continued to call to him.
His grandfather, who staunchly refused to have anything to do with “modern nonsense” like computers or the internet, preferred to communicate the old-fashioned way and had written the letter using pen and paper.
Holding the envelope in his hand, Cash Taylor smiled for the first time in weeks, thinking fondly of the man who had written this.
His grandfather had always been there for him, taking him and his mother in when his father was killed in a freak accident on an offshore oil rig. And the man became his sole guardian when his mother died less than a year later, losing her battle with cancer.
A simple, hardworking, decent man, his grandfather knew nothing about what had happened, what was going on presently in his life.
His days on the ranch and living in Forever represented the best years of his life, Cash recalled, not for the first time.
Very slowly, he opened the letter. It wasn’t a long missive, as his grandfather had never been enamored with his own words. Consequently, the letter was incredibly short.
I’m getting hitched again, boy. To Miss Joan! Can you believe it? I finally wore her down. Wedding’s on a Saturday in three weeks. I know you’re real busy, but it would really make me proud to have you there, standing up for me. I miss you, boy.
Grandpa
That was all.
Folding the letter again, Cash tucked it back into the envelope. There was an ache in his soul, a yearning for what had once been.
“I miss you, too, Grandpa,” he whispered. “More than you could possibly know.”
In all the years that he had lived with the man, his grandfather had never come right out and asked him for a favor. But this invitation was clearly a request for a favor—his presence at the ceremony.
Cash looked at the gun he’d purchased just this week. The gun he’d bought to put him out of his misery.
The same gun, it now occurred to him, that would put his grandfather into misery.
He couldn’t pay the old man back for everything he’d done, for all his kindness, love and patience by killing himself. It wouldn’t be right or fair.
Cash picked up the weapon and crossed to his lavish bedroom with its vaulted ceiling and marble-tiled fireplace. He slipped the gun into the back of the bottom drawer of his bureau.
Disappointing his grandfather was not an option.
He was going to the wedding. There was time enough when he got back to do what he felt he had to do.
It wasn’t until later that he realized the invitation was a lifeline he’d grabbed on to and held with both hands.
His grandfather had saved him for a second time.
Chapter One
Sheriff Rick Santiago paused on his way back from the coffee machine, a filled mug in his hand. He looked thoughtfully at one-third of his team, his only female deputy, Alma Rodriguez. There was an odd expression on her face and she appeared to be at least a million miles away.
She’d been like that since yesterday and it just wasn’t her usual, cheerful behavior. He was accustomed to the raven-haired woman smiling and humming to herself.
He wasn’t used to seeing sadness in her brown eyes. “You doing okay, Alma?” he asked, his voice low and confidential.
Surprised at being addressed, Alma dragged her mind back to the sheriff’s office and tried her best to focus on her boss’s voice. It wasn’t easy when her mind was going off in three different directions at once. “Sure. I’m fine. Why?”
“I don’t know, you look a little…off,” he finally said for lack of a better word to describe what he’d been witnessing these past two days.
“No, I’m fine,” she answered with perhaps a tad too much enthusiasm. “But thanks for asking,” she added, hoping that would send Rick back to his broom closet of an office and thus bring an end to further questions.
Ordinarily, she would have loved nothing better than to lean back and talk with the sheriff, a man she not only admired, but liked. Forever being the semi-sleepy little Texas town that it was, there wasn’t all that much to do when the town’s two alcohol devotees weren’t staggering down the street because they’d imbibed just a wee bit too much, or Mrs. Allen’s cat didn’t once more need coaxing out of the tall front-yard tree.
And as for Miss Elizabeth, she hadn’t wandered down Main Street in her nightgown in nearly a year.
Crime, such as it was in Forever, was definitely down, allowing her to have too much time on her hands. And consequently, too much time to think about things she didn’t want to think about.
Like Cash Tyler’s return, however brief.
She wasn’t ready for it.
Harry Monroe had dropped his bombshell on her yesterday, gleefully telling her his grandson, Cash, was coming for the wedding.
Her stomach had been pinched in half ever since.
“Reason I’m asking,” Rick went on, leaning his hip against the side of her desk for a moment, “is because, besides that look of preoccupation on your face, the coffee you made this morning is just this side of lethal.” He paused to take a sip of the hot, inky brew, as if to show her that he had managed to survive the drink. “Now, I don’t mind it that way, and most likely Joe won’t, either,” he said, referring to his deputy brother-in-law, Joe Lone Wolf. “We like our coffee almost solid. But Larry, well, Larry just might threaten to sue you.” Humor curved his mouth as he referred to his third deputy, Larry Conroy, who was not the most mild-mannered man under any circumstances. “After he gets up off the floor and stops sputtering and choking, of course.”
It wasn’t that Larry was delicate exactly, but the man was downright picky about everything. While nothing ever pleased the man, this would definitely set him off on a marathon complaining session, he thought.
“My thinking is that maybe you put in twice as much coffee this time around,” he pointed out kindly, as if her error was the most natural one in the world. “Knowing how meticulous you normally are, I’m thinking that maybe you’ve got something on your mind.”
Rick leveled his dark eyes at her, giving her a look that had been known to make ten-year-old candy thieves confess to their crimes in an instant. It’d worked pretty well on the few suspects he had had to interrogate. Then he got down to what he really wanted to say to his deputy. “Something you’d like to get off your chest, but don’t really feel comfortable talking about at home?”
Alma’s family was comprised of five brothers and her father. It had been that way for a while now and her home life wasn’t really geared toward anything feminine. Normally, that was fine with her, since, for the most part, she’d always been a tomboy. Competitive to a fault, she took great pleasure in beating her brothers at whatever challenge came their way. But there were times, she had to admit, when she longed for another woman to talk to, to confide in. Granted, those times were few and far between, but they did occur.
Like these past couple of days.
Rick had noticed that, for the past two days, his energetic deputy looked anything but. He’d noticed a change, a difference in her demeanor. Her body was here, but her mind was somewhere else. He figured that as her boss—and as someone who cared—he wanted to know exactly where that was.
“What I’m saying,” Rick continued when she didn’t say anything, “is that you can talk to me. Anytime,” he stressed. “In or out of the office.”
A small smile curved the corners of her mouth. “I know that and I appreciate it.” She did her best to look as if she was brightening up. “But there’s nothing wrong, really.”
He knew resistance when he saw it, so for now he didn’t push the matter. “Except for the coffee,” he pointed out, raising his semi-filled mug.
“Except for the coffee,” she echoed in agreement. “Sorry about that.” Pushing her chair away from her desk, Alma rose to her feet. “I’ll go water it down before Larry has a chance to drink it.”
“Good idea.” Rick turned away and headed toward his office. To the best of his recollection, it was the
first time that Alma had ever lied to him. But he wasn’t about to push her. She’d come around in her own time and he intended to be there for her when she did.
It occurred to him, as he sat down at his desk and looked at the framed photograph of his wife and infant daughter, that Alma might feel better talking to Olivia. Sometimes women opened up to other women.
As he took another sip of the leaden coffee, the sheriff thought about sending his wife to Alma on some pretext and then suggesting that the two of them go out for lunch. Maybe his deputy would feel more inclined to talk outside the office. Something was bothering her and he sure as hell intended to get to the bottom of it one way or another. He didn’t like seeing his people troubled.
Alma emptied out the nearly full pot of coffee into the sink in the tiny kitchenette. As she looked at the black mass that she had prepared earlier going down the drain, she had to admit that the coffee could have easily passed for mud. She was surprised that the sheriff was actually drinking it.
She made certain she didn’t let her mind wander as she prepared another pot.
That was stupid of her, Alma upbraided herself. To get so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t paid attention. That just wasn’t like her. She was the one who could always multitask, juggling three or four things at once.
The sheriff had been right, she thought ruefully, measuring out exact amounts of coffee. She’d added twice the amount of coffee per cup when she’d made the coffee this morning. That was completely unacceptable, not because she had made a terrible pot of coffee, but because she’d allowed her mind to wander to that extent.
Okay, so she didn’t have to be constantly on her toes the way her counterparts in the major cities had to be. Here, there were no life-and-death scenarios—outside of fire season, she qualified. But that was no excuse. She was letting Cash mess with her mind and he wasn’t even here yet. What was she going to be like when he was?
You’ll be fine, you hear me? Fine, she told herself fiercely.
It might not actually be fire season yet, she amended, but it sure felt like it to her. Except this was a different kind of fire. It was fire of the heart, she thought with a pang as she mentally counted the number of cups of water she was pouring in. God forbid she wound up doing something else wrong and sending everyone in the office running over to the walk-in clinic run by Dr. Davenport, complaining of stomach cramps.
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