True-Blue Cowboy

by Sara Richardson

  “I could help you,” he said dryly.

  A rogue curl fell over her eyes, and she tried to tuck it behind her ear, but it wasn’t so easy to do with the cuffs. She blew it out of the way, but it just fell back over her face. Then she groaned.

  “Fine,” she relented. “But I’m walking.”

  He said nothing as he grabbed her under each arm and then hoisted her out of the vehicle. He set her down carefully, and she put all of her weight on her good foot to start. Then she tested the waters on her injured one.

  She hissed in a breath between her teeth, but she was able to do it.

  “You are stubborn as hell, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She jutted out her chin and squared her shoulders even though she knew she was a sight. Tattered bridesmaid gown, no shoes, handcuffs, and her hair falling every which way.

  “Oh God,” she said as realization struck. “Am I going to have a mug shot?”

  There it was again—the corner of his mouth threatening to tilt up.

  “I guess we’ll just have to see about that.” He reached past her and grabbed a greasy-looking brown paper bag, then opened the back door to let Dixie out. The dog sniffed at Olivia’s bare feet, then started licking her wounded ankle as if she knew she was hurt.

  “Traitor,” he said under his breath.

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “She’s not really an attack dog, is she? You were just messing with me again.”

  He said nothing as he strode a couple steps in front of her to get the door, and her eyes instinctively dropped lower than they should have. His belt hung low on his hips, his gun holstered on one side, that ring of keys on the other. The whole uniform was black—not tan like she would have thought—and those pants fit like an absolute glove over a part of the sheriff she certainly shouldn’t be ogling.

  “After you,” he said once the door was open.

  Her head snapped up, and her cheeks flamed. Had she just been caught? If so, he could just add it to her rap sheet.

  She limped past him and into what looked more like a small office than a police station. There were a handful of desks, most of them empty. Only two were occupied—one by a woman in uniform and one by a man who looked several years younger than the sheriff.

  “Deputies,” he said, nodding his head in greeting. “Looks like we’ve got some paperwork tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Well, your license checks out. Your insurance checks out, and on account of the fact I don’t want either of the deputies to have to spend the night making sure you’re comfortable and well cared for in our seldom used cell, I’m going to write you your ticket and send you on your way.”

  She beamed at him, and damn if that smile of hers didn’t wake something up inside him he’d thought would never come out of hibernation.

  “Oh, I could just hug you!” she said, jumping up from the chair beside his desk. “Ow!” she yelped.

  “Right,” he said. “The ankle. Wait here a minute.”

  She sat back down and he strode off to the kitchen, grabbing a cold pack from the freezer and a clean towel from the counter. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a bottle of ibuprofen, then filled a glass with water from the tap.

  What if she would have done it—hugged him?

  He shook his head and laughed softly. He’d long considered himself off the market. He had enough to fulfill him with the job, taking care of Dixie, and—the job. Did he say the job? Well, it was election year. That would keep him busy enough. Besides, he certainly wasn’t setting his designs on a strange woman who was only passing through—and breaking a hell of a lot of laws on her way in.

  Cash was a permanent staple in Oak Bluff, and he had no interest in anyone who wasn’t.

  He handed her the bottle and set the water down on the desk. “A few of those should help take the edge off the pain.” He dragged another chair to face hers, then knelt down beside her. “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he lifted her foot and rested it on the seat cushion. First he laid the towel over her swollen ankle. Then the pack. He watched as she tossed four of the small red pills into her mouth and washed them down with a sip of water. And then another until she downed the whole glass of water.

  “Thirsty, huh?” he asked.

  She wiped her forearm across her mouth. “Yeah. It’s been a day.”

  “How long were you driving?”

  “I ran out—I mean left—at about two p.m. So a little over four hours?”

  He checked his watch. It was after seven now. “You must be hungry, too.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Starved, actually. I didn’t even make it to the hors d’oeuvres.”

  He blew out a breath, then grabbed the brown paper bag from his desk. “It’s not hot anymore, but it’ll still be the best barbecue you ever had.”

  Her eyes lit up as he handed it to her. She reached inside greedily and practically tore the sandwich free. She paused, though, just before sinking her teeth into that perfectly crusty bread.

  “This is your dinner,” she said with realization.

  He waved her off. “I know where to get more.” Though he doubted that would be happening tonight. BBQ on the Bluff closed at nine, and by the time he got Olivia settled at the B and B, well, he’d most likely be heading home to a frozen pizza and a six-pack.

  His brows furrowed. “You coming from some kind of party? I kind of figured with the dress.”

  Her mouth was full with his dinner, a drip of barbecue sauce in the corner where her lips met. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moaned with what he knew was the sheer ecstasy of tasting the best local fare Oak Bluff had to offer.

  She swallowed and licked her lips, and there it was again: the hibernating bear waking from its long sleep.

  He wanted to brush his thumb across that full bottom lip of hers, which was just about the stupidest thought he’d had since asking Tara to marry him ten years ago.

  “A wedding,” she finally said.

  He raised a brow. “Not yours, I take it. I mean, I know brides wear all sorts of dresses these days—”

  “No!” she interrupted. “God, no. Me? Married? Ha! I…” But she cut herself off by taking another gargantuan bite. “This is so good,” she said around the mouthful of food.

  He guessed the whole marriage conversation was over, which was fine by him. They weren’t here to hash out each other’s romantic pasts—or lack thereof. In fact, they didn’t need to be here any longer once she’d polished off the rest of his dinner. And that only took about three more minutes.

  He sat on the edge of his desk and watched her dab at the corners of her mouth with her thumb. Then she brushed off her hands just as Deputies Adams and Walters walked back through the station door.

  “Bug’s parked behind the B and B, Cash,” Adams said. “Am I clocking out now, or is our guest staying the night?” She nudged Walters with her elbow, and the two deputies glanced from Cash sitting casually on the desk to Olivia stretched out across two chairs. Both of his employees were fighting off grins, which meant they were assuming something they shouldn’t be assuming. Because they’d be wrong.

  He stood to his full six feet four inches and crossed his arms. “I’ll be taking her to the B and B in just a couple minutes, so you can both clock out. Who’s on call tonight?”

  Adams cleared her throat. “You are, sir.”

  Shit. That was right. Scratch the six-pack. There’d just be the frozen pizza.

  “Right,” he said. “I’ll see you two in the morning, then.”

  Both deputies nodded at him and then Olivia. “Night, Cash,” they said in unison.

  “Good night.”

  Olivia took the ice pack and towel off her ankle and stood. She looked steadier on her feet. Her bare feet.

  “You got an overnight bag?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Do you have a Target around here?”

  He groaned. “You don’t even have a wallet.”

  “Ri
ght. Shoot. I did not think things through.”

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed up Wade at the pharmacy. “You busy? Yeah, I got a customer who needs some of the necessities. Okay if I bring her by in a minute? Thanks, buddy. I owe you.”

  He looked her up and down and shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

  “What are you doing in Oak Bluff, Olivia Belle?”

  She shrugged. “I came here to find true love.”

  Chapter Four

  With Michael’s sister’s wedding in the books, there were no other major events happening that week at the hotel. Olivia could pencil in a few vacation days. Emily was sending an overnight messenger service with her wallet, some of her own clothes, and toiletries. For now, though, as the sheriff walked her to the B and B, she was dressed in a very trendy Oak Bluff sweatshirt and a pair of drugstore yoga pants, because, yes—those were apparently a thing. Pharmacy owner Wade even had a small selection of flip-flops, which meant she wasn’t exactly ready for the cover of Vogue, but she wouldn’t have to spend the night in a ball gown and one glass slipper.

  She laughed.

  “Did I miss a joke?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Just remembering you calling my shoes glass slippers.” She held up the pharmacy bag that was stuffed with her bridesmaid dress, one-and-a-half shoes, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m most definitely not anything out of a fairy tale.”

  It was dark out now, but the streetlights lit the hard lines of his face, and she could see that he was trying to puzzle something out.

  “Got anything you want to ask me, Sheriff? Or can I call you Cash now that you bought me dinner and this fancy new outfit?” They stopped in front of the B and B, which was aptly called The Oak Bluff B and B. “You know? Something bigger with a little more pizazz might get your little town some more tourist traffic.”

  He crossed his arms. “Our little town doesn’t need big names. We get plenty of traffic. In fact, someone sped right through the outskirts just this afternoon. Coulda gotten into a serious accident if law enforcement hadn’t stepped in.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “And I take it you aren’t in town long?” he added. “So we should probably just keep it at Sheriff and Ms. Belle.”

  She smiled her best customer service smile—one of the first things they teach you when you major in hospitality management. He was right. They should keep it formal. Formality kept things distant, and distance was exactly what Olivia needed.

  Except this stranger of a man could have really arrested her. He could have let her go hungry and left her in her tattered gown until the messenger got here tomorrow. But he hadn’t, and somehow those small gestures felt more intimate than Michael’s proposal, which meant she was not succeeding at distance here.

  “I shouldn’t be here more than a few days,” she said. “Just need to find what I came here for.”

  “Right,” he said. “True love. That should only take a few days.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and replayed Michael’s words in her head.

  It had been just after the ceremony—and just before cocktails. All she’d done was ask him why he’d been acting so weird all morning. Then everything had spun out of control.

  It’s the logical next step, babe. The practice wants a family man as partner. The condo co-op board won’t put your name on the deed unless we’re married. It just makes sense. Only then had he gotten down on one knee—after likening their relationship to a business maneuver. It wasn’t the animosity of her parents’ relationship, but it sure as hell wasn’t love. Not with Michael and not with anyone who’d come before him. What had she been doing wrong?

  Being with him had been safe—their chemistry a slow enough burn to take things at a gradual pace—but it was only now, standing in this ridiculous outfit before a man who’d put her in handcuffs in the first five minutes he’d met her, that she wondered what it would be like to throw caution to the wind.

  Spontaneity had never been her thing—at least with men. Sure, she could run off and drive three-plus hours down the coast the second she got spooked out of a relationship, but she didn’t just jump off the ledge the second a man made her heart go pitter-pat. Or maybe it was that her heart had never reacted like this before, but right now it was pittering and pattering beyond restraint.

  Aw, to hell with it. Caution had gotten her nowhere so far, and it wasn’t like this guy was proposing marriage. She’d already broken the law. How much more trouble could she really get herself into?

  She drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes to find the sheriff unabashedly staring at her, his stoic expression revealing nothing. She dropped the pharmacy bag—and before talking herself out of it—rose up on her tiptoes and kissed the man softly on the lips.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, when his lips didn’t move in the slightest. “I was just testing a theory, and it was the worst judgment ever, and—”

  He shoved his fingers into her hair, his lips crashing against hers. The kiss was strong, insistent—and clumsy. Teeth knocked together, and his fingers got caught in her curls. But he pulled her closer, and she him—unable to get enough of someone who up until a few hours ago hadn’t even existed as far as she knew.

  But he existed now. They existed in this inexplicable moment of lips touching and tongues tangling and what the hell was she doing?

  She stumbled backward, gasping for breath, and he scrubbed a hand across his jaw.

  “Good night, Sheriff.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you—uh—for the sandwich. And clothes. And no jail time.”

  He nodded once. “Good night, Ms. Belle. Try to stay on the right side of the law.”

  She laughed nervously and backed toward the door, reaching behind her to turn the knob and push it open.

  Thank the stars the bed-and-breakfast was still open.

  Seconds later the door was closed again, giving her that distance she craved.

  Never mind that she could still feel the tingle of his lips on hers—or the scratch of his stubble against her chin. Never mind any of it. She was a twenty-five-year-old woman who’d just fled a marriage proposal—a twenty-five-year-old woman who had, in one way or another, fled every relationship she’d ever been in the moment she knew she wasn’t in love.

  Why couldn’t she fall in love? Either she was defective or she just hadn’t learned the secret yet. She liked to think it was the latter. At least, she hoped it was. Otherwise, caution or no, she was in big trouble.

  This visit obviously wasn’t about her own love story. It was about the only one she knew existed in real life. And if she could figure out how they made it work, then maybe, just maybe, she’d have a chance at one day getting it right herself.

  Cash had just given Dixie the last slice of pizza when his cell phone alerted him to the alarm being tripped at Lucinda’s. Not the shop, but the apartment above.

  He picked up his radio from the coffee table. “We got a four-five-nine at Lucinda’s. No request for backup yet but wanted to see which one of you was still awake and sober. Over.”

  “Roger, Sheriff. Available for backup,” Walters said. “I do believe Adams is on a date, sir. Over.”

  “Damn it, Walters. Doesn’t mean I’m not available for backup. Available for backup, sir. Over.”

  Cash shook his head. “Heading there now. Stand by. Out.”

  Breaking and entering? That kind of shit didn’t happen in Oak Bluff. The town wasn’t perfect. The Everett boys had had their share of hell when their drunk of a father had almost killed the oldest one, Jack. But that was over a decade ago, when Cash was studying criminal justice in college. By the time he’d come back home, the Everetts had been permanently removed from Jack Senior’s custody. Now the man was dead and gone, and the three brothers were all running the Crossroads Ranch and soon a new vineyard.

  The bottom line was, there were no major threats—domestic or otherwise—in their sleepy little town. And
hadn’t he dealt with enough on what was supposed to be an uneventful Saturday night?

  When he got to Lucinda’s, he and Dixie climbed stealthily up the back steps to where they found the door perfectly shut.

  Cash gripped the handle and gave it a soft twist to the right, and it opened with ease.

  Perfect. Lucinda had set the alarm but hadn’t locked the door.

  He stepped quietly into the apartment’s kitchen—and almost tripped over a pair of pharmacy-purchased flip-flops. In fact, he’d venture to guess these flip-flops were only a few hours old.

  That’s when he saw Olivia Belle through the open archway into the living room, kneeling on the wood floor with a broken floorboard in her hand.

  And she was crying.

  “I know,” she said, her reddened eyes meeting his. “I’m under arrest.”

  Dixie ran straight to her and collapsed, resting her head in Olivia’s lap.

  She laughed through a sob. “This furry ball of love would never rip someone’s arm off.”

  “Betrayed again,” Cash mumbled. “She is trained to,” he said louder. “Just hasn’t had much occasion to do so, so she’s out of practice.” More like she never had the occasion to do so, but that was beside the point.

  He made his way through the living room to the digital panel on the wall. He typed in the code to disable the alarm, and the silent alert finally left his cell phone alone.

  “The door was unlocked,” she said with a sniffle. “I was just going to look for—I didn’t know there was an alarm.” Her brows pulled together. “Wait. You know Lucinda’s alarm code?”

  He huffed out a breath. “Lucinda is my mother. And when she gets back, we’re going to have a nice long talk about how the alarm doesn’t mean shit if she keeps on leaving her door unlocked. Also, who takes off their shoes when making an unlawful entry?”

  Olivia’s eyes widened as she dropped the floorboard to the ground. “Oh God. I broke into the town sheriff’s mother’s home? And I stepped in a puddle out back. I didn’t want to mess the place up—just find something that isn’t here.”