Trent turned his face to the oncoming wind, releasing a deep breath. Out with the anger, in with the … resignation? Cops were often misunderstood. It was a fact he’d accepted long ago. One that he’d even embraced, knowing he had a purpose for what he did. Trent could sleep better at night knowing he was playing his part to improve and even save the lives of others, just as he’d sworn to do.
After a short detour along the outskirts of the parking lot, Trent walked toward the inn, ready to face whatever the night might bring.
A wide set of steps led to an even wider porch. Patio swings and hammocks hung from the awning overhead, giving the place a welcome, homey appeal. As he climbed up the creaky steps, illuminated by a trail of hanging lanterns, the front door burst open and two small children bolted out: a little girl in a pink, frilly dress, and a little boy in a white shirt and bowtie.
“Let’s get on this one,” the girl said, patting a swing chair nearby.
The boy shook his head, a pout distorting his small face. “No. I want this one.”
“Hey,” the little girl said, running up to Trent. “Can you help us onto the swing and give us a push?”
“A push?” Trent raised a brow. “Sure. Maybe just a small one.”
“No, a big one,” the little boy said.
Trent laughed, steadying the patio swing as the girl climbed on. Since the boy was shorter, Trent had to give him a lift, but soon the two were settled in, their faces lit up like Christmas.
“My name’s Callie.”
“Hi, Callie,” he said with a nod.
“My dad calls me Callie Cat.”
Trent chuckled. “Nice nickname.”
The little boy raised his hand in the air. “Did you know this whole party is for my aunt?”
“It is?” Trent asked, surprised. “Do you guys live close by?”
“No.” The girl pushed the curly black locks of hair from her face. “We came on an airplane. Took us forever.”
The little boy nodded. “Yeah.”
The comment sunk deep. Made him realize just how involved this event really was. To see the support of the woman’s extended family—it was humbling.
Trent couldn’t give the small children the kind of push they’d likely get at the park or on a swing set at home, but he gave them a little nudge that made both of them squeal.
Just as he wondered if he dared leave the two out front by themselves, a gangly teenage boy stepped onto the porch. “Come get some food, you two,” he said, walking over to the swing.
Trent gave the kid a nod as he stepped past him, and then stopped in the doorway to take in the sight. A large staircase leading to the guest rooms stood at the center of the massive foyer. A U-shaped balcony cased the chandelier overhead, limiting the vaulted ceiling to the foyer alone.
A swarm of visitors buzzed about, eyeing the items displayed. Removing the flyers hadn’t done much harm.
“Hi there,” a woman said as he entered. She was seated at a chair beside the door. “Thank you for coming. I’m Sheila Dodge, and this is my son, Nate.”
Trent stuck out his hand to shake first the woman’s, then her son’s hand in turn. The guests of honor, he realized, noticing the thin, rather fragile appearance of the woman. “Nice to meet you both. I’m new in town; Sheriff Lockheart. Happy to be here.”
“We appreciate you coming,” Sheila said with a gentle smile. “We can’t believe all of the wonderful support we’ve received.”
Nate nodded in agreement as he ran a hand through his reddish, overgrown hair.
“I met your niece and nephew out front,” Trent said. “They’re cute little squirts.”
Sheila smiled. “It was nice of their dad to bring them. Their mom, my sister, had breast cancer as well. She lost her battle to it just last year.” Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes.
Trent’s heart nearly stopped at the unexpected news. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, my mom totally kicked cancer’s butt,” Nate said. “At least it’s not going to take her, too.” The determination in the kid’s eyes put a familiar burden on Trent’s heart. Flashbacks of being in the emergency room hovered over his younger brother as he struggled for life flooded his mind. Of course, he hadn’t been battling a disease, but he’d been in a fight for his life just the same.
“As it should be,” he managed. “Hopefully we can all help relieve your family of the debt acquired.”
An older couple walked in, and Trent stepped aside so the guests of honor could greet them. His mind felt a hundred pounds heavier after talking to the mother and her son. To hear that the charming little children on the porch had lost their mother not long ago. And the kid who came out to retrieve them. What kind of burden did he hold? Helping his father raise the younger siblings? He rubbed his nose, fighting back the emotion that threatened to take over.
After glancing around to find Benny and coming up empty, Trent trailed behind a group of teen girls who were gushing about each basket. “My mom said I could bid a hundred dollars on anything from Frank & Signs or Fit to be Tied.”
“Pick this one,” another girl said, pointing to a leather necklace with turquoise stones. “Nate will love how it looks on you.”
The remark earned her a slap on the arm from the first girl who spoke up. “Stop it. He doesn’t even know I like him.”
“Not yet …”
The group broke into laughter. Trent looked over the baskets for auction, wondering what his mother might like best. She had a birthday coming up at the end of the month. Should he get her a quilt or a necklace? Jewelry would be easier to ship …
He spent the next few minutes walking past the rest of the baskets, checking the latest bids as he went. After strolling through the kitchen and snagging a few celery sticks dipped in ranch dressing, Trent took a look at the quilts. His eyes about popped out of his head when he saw the latest bid for the first one he came to. Holy Moses! Three hundred dollars? How in the world was he supposed to compete with that? He stepped up to the next one, breathing a little easier when he saw it was only at seventy-five dollars. May as well bid on that one. If someone outbid him, he’d cut his losses and get Mom something else for her birthday.
He scribbled an eighty-dollar bid on the next line, filling in his name and number as requested, then spun back toward the kitchen. With all the commotion, it was hard to know where he could ask about lodging for the next week or two. And why had he agreed to carpool with Benny? Sure, he hadn’t wanted to walk in alone, but after the irritation out in the lot, that’s just what he’d done. And now he was stuck here until the overly social officer was ready to go home.
Feeling like a mad horse in a mouse maze, Trent maneuvered through the kitchen, managing to snag a drink along the way, and headed straight for a set of wide-open double doors. Still no sight of Jessie, not that he was looking.
The fresh air pooling over him felt like an undeserved gift. One he wanted to take advantage of all the same. Would it be wrong if he hid someplace out here until Benny was ready to leave? As much as he wanted to see Jessie again—and the honest part of him could admit that he did—Trent knew that she’d probably make him feel like he was an inch or two tall after the damper he’d put on the event.
The idea angered him. A man had to do his job, didn’t he? Even if it did affect a woman who’d lost her sister to cancer before nearly losing the battle herself and who was swamped with bills on top of it all.
That did it. Who cared if he had to spend over three hundred dollars? Trent would walk out of that place with a quilt, and that was final. Now, if only he wasn’t so irritated with the only two people he knew in the place.
“Why, hello there, stranger. Remember me?”
Trent glanced up from the drink in his hand to see a woman that he—sadly—did not remember at all. “Um, I’m sorry—”
“From the salon. You and Jessie were, well, I think she introduced you as the Grim Reaper? But I’m willing to guess that yo
u’re nothing of the sort.”
He grinned. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. Trent Lockheart.” He reached out to shake her hand.
“Hi, Trent. I’m Connie. I co-own the salon downtown.” She lifted the back of her hand to his mouth.
He hesitated, not wanting to encourage a woman who was plenty forward already. After an awkward pause, he complied, giving the smooth surface a quick peck. “Nice to meet you, Connie.”
“Are you in town long, or just passing through?” She reached for a glass off the table nearby, lifting the straw before dunking it back in the drink.
He pulled his gaze off the strawberry-colored tips of her otherwise platinum blonde hair. “I’m in town to stay. I took over for Sheriff Lakes.”
Connie threw a hand over her heart and gasped. “You don’t say? Well, I happen to love a man in uniform.”
“Is that so?” Trent tucked a finger beneath the collar of his button-up shirt. Was it just him, or was the thing tightening around his neck? And just where in tarnation was Jessie? If he had known she wasn’t going to be here, he probably wouldn’t have shown. “Say, you haven’t seen Jessie around here someplace, have you?” he asked. For crying out loud! What was he doing? He’d just exposed his entire poker hand.
“Oh.” Connie’s face fell flat. “Sure. She’s around here somewhere. But I’ve got to warn you: that woman is not in the market for a man. Jessie’s determined to stay single forever.”
“Oh, no need to warn me. I’m not interested in her in that way. I have an apology to make, is all.” The heck he did. She was the one who should apologize. It was like he’d lost control over his mouth.
Connie leaned in closer. “What for?” she whispered.
All Trent could think about was what Connie had shared before. Was it true that Jessie didn’t plan to marry? And just why was this news disturbing?
“Can I get everyone’s attention?”
Though Trent had his back to the woman who’d spoken, he knew by the sound of her voice just who it was. He spun to see her standing on a platform of sorts along the outer edge of the large porch, a crowd gathering around her.
A knot of heat rolled through his belly. If he’d thought she was pretty before, he hadn’t seen a thing. Jessie Jean Phillips was stunning in a gown that revealed her legs and hugged her curves all at once. Her hair was pulled back, her posture high, and her eyes were showing off as they’d done before. This time the hanging lights reflected in them like diamonds or stars. It was easy enough for her to gain the crowd’s attention. Heck, she could probably demand the attention of the entire nation if she chose to.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight. The silent auctions are going very well so far, and we sincerely appreciate your generosity.” Jessie continued to speak, giving details about the bidding process, and the paying process, too, as the five highest-bid items would go up for live auction. She also announced that this week’s proceeds from the B&B’s gift store would go toward the cause as well, and encouraged people to come back and take a look. Sounded like the owner of the place—whoever it may be—was generous in more ways than one. Offering to host the fundraiser and donate to the cause, too.
“Are you sticking around for the auction?” Connie asked.
He’d nearly forgotten about her existence. Heck, he’d nearly forgotten about his own.
Jessie stopped talking, and all Trent could do was stare at her over the heads of the dispersing crowd. Would she see him, or would he be forced to hunt her down if he wanted a conversation? “I’m not sure,” he mumbled, remembering what’s-her-name’s question.
Jessie’s eyes narrowed as she searched over the crowd as well.
First in front of him.
Then to the left. A bit behind him.
And then their eyes met at last.
It wasn’t some slight glance that could easily be mistaken—the is-she-looking-at-me-or-is-she-eyeing-the-buffet type of look. It was an I-can’t-believe-you-have-the-nerve-to-show-up-here look.
His heart clanked out that panicky rhythm again. She was walking toward him. Why was she walking toward him? Should he stay put or bolt?
“Looks like you’ll get a chance to make that apology after all,” the salon girl said.
Jessie broke through a nearby cluster until she stood before him. “Hello, Sheriff. Did you come to arrest me?” Dang, that voice was dangerous. Smooth and taunting.
“Perhaps,” he mumbled, hoping his ridiculous schoolboy nerves weren’t altering the sound of his voice.
She tilted her head, her hands dropping to her sides. “No, really, why did you come?”
Dang, she was pretty. Was it the dress that enhanced the coloring in her cheeks, or was Jessie more affected than she wanted to show?
Trent glanced at Connie for backup. “Was I not invited? I have plenty of flyers, if that’s what you need.”
Jessie shifted her weight from one cowgirl boot to the next, keeping her shoulders high. “Wow. You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?”
“He came to apologize, for your information,” Connie blurted. “Oh, there’s Anthony. I’ll talk to you later.” The woman slapped him somewhere between his butt and the back of his thigh, causing him to jump.
“You came to apologize?” Jessie’s voice lifted an octave. “Let’s hear it.”
He licked his lips, wondering if he should exit the inn, run to the station by foot, and tell them to give the position to someone else. “I should have gone about things differently,” he muttered. “I realize that folks in this town might be accustomed to a more … lax approach in regards to the law.”
“That’s your apology?” She bit her lip, folded her arms, and narrowed those pretty eyes once more. “Hmm. Let me have a crack at an apology in return. Let’s see …” Her gaze trailed the hanging lights overhead before settling back on him. “I’m sorry that folks like you might be more accustomed to nitpicking the living crud out of every tiny detail of every ridiculous law forgotten by most human beings who operate on more of a common sense approach.”
“Are you saying that protecting lives in nitpicking?”
“No, but crying over staples in already dead trees is.”
“Already dead trees that some people have to climb for a living. Men or women who do maintenance on them might not want their rubber gloves torn by rusty staples or nails—gloves that are meant to protect them from an ill-timed, deadly electric shock. Men or women who rely on tree spurs to sink into the wood while they climb—something made more complicated when the wood’s littered with metal debris.”
The tightness in her lips eased, taking them from an angry line to a pretty pout. “Oh.” After a fleeting droop in her shoulders, Jessie poised herself once again and turned away from him. “Benny,” she hollered as if welcoming a long lost friend. “How are you?”
The sound of their conversation faded as Trent made his way down the porch steps, through the tall grass, and onto a boardwalk over a large pond. Oh. Oh? That’s all she had to say? He shook his head and tipped back his drink. Good thing he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Women were absolutely maddening.
Chapter 7
“Darcy’s real interested in that baby quilt,” Benny said, that youthful grin lighting his face. “I texted her a couple pictures, and she’s willing to bid pretty high.”
Jessie smiled. “I hope you two get it,” she said. “What’s it priced at so far?”
Benny looked over his shoulder before answering, which allowed Jessie’s eyes to wander to the ornery sheriff walking along the dock. He had a good point about the workers and gloves, spikes they use to climb the poles—but she hadn’t been able to admit it.
“I think you’ll find that he’s a pretty decent guy, if you take the time to get to know him.” The sentence snuck into a conscious part of Jessie’s mind, making her realize she’d zoned out for a bit.
She turned back to Benny. “Who is?”
“The sheriff. He told me about the pole incident.”
The vision awakened a nagging little ache in her heart. A longing for something she’d told herself she’d never have. She stopped walking, realized she’d scanned over the last few bidding sheets without really looking at them at all. What was she going to do with her life? Run the bed and breakfast until her dying day, like Grandma? Jessie’s answer was usually an exuberant yes. Yet in the moment, she felt the picture lacked more than she was willing to live without.
She pictured walking out onto the dock and joining the sheriff in the quiet of the night. Away from all the people. Away from all the doubts. Gazing into those gorgeous blue eyes. And before she could get a grip on her thoughts, Jessie envisioned herself running her hands along the back of his neck and kissing his full and wonderfully sculpted lips. A thrill rushed through her, a nearly forgotten sensation that fanned at her interest almost as much as it shamed her.
Kiss him? Why had that come to her mind? She didn’t even like the guy.
She checked the bidding sheets once more, this time paying slightly more attention as she went. The silent auction would end in just ten minutes; then Griff, the best auctioneer in the business, would step up to the mic. The man had a real gift for hiking those bids up to new, impressive heights. Besides running a ranch, he enjoyed wrapping up Jessie’s fundraising events with a flourish.
The Sheriff's Bride: Country Brides & Cowboy Boots (Cobble Creek Romance Book 1) Page 4
