Something About a Sheriff (Wild West Book 2)

by Em Petrova

She darted around the pair and ran. Behind her, thuds sounded along with a few grunts. As she burst out the front doors onto the wooden walkway leading to the parking lot, a smashing noise of breaking wood erupted behind her.

  She spotted the sheriff’s vehicle parked in the lot, the black lettering on the side of a white SUV. What the hell? She’d been in town less than twenty-four hours and she was already being arrested.

  Though it seems pretty damn lazy of a sheriff to not even walk his perp to the vehicle.

  She opened the door and slid into the back of the SUV. A screen separated her from the front. Oh God, how had she ended up here?

  Cecily’s breathing came in harsh pants as she stared at her numb fingers. With her luck, she’d land a headline in the Bracken newspaper. Newcomer Arrested for Starting Bar Fight Between Man and Honorable Sheriff. Her momma would be humiliated.

  Long seconds passed. When the door whipped open, she gasped.

  Roshannon stood there looking like an avenging angel, hat pulled low over his eyes and one of his knuckles bleeding. “What are you doing in the back?”

  “You told me to get in.”

  “I told you to wait for me. You’re not being arrested.”

  Okay, now she felt stupid.

  He reached out for her. His warm fingers enveloped her freezing ones—her nerves had gotten the best of her—and he drew her out of the vehicle. Her boots hit the gravel and she tried to focus on anything but the thudding of her heart.

  “Look, Cecily—”

  “How do you know my name?” she blurted.

  His gray eyes warmed a degree. “You told Jake back in the bar. Look, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted you to get out of there so I can see you home safe. That dumb shit doesn’t know when to stop.”

  “I— Thank you.” She felt so stupid. What had made her think she should get into the sheriff’s vehicle? She’d basically just booked herself for no crime at all.

  Roshannon opened the passenger’s door and gestured for her to get in. After she did, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. She watched the way he moved, his long strides like those of a predator, the muscles of his thighs bulging with every step.

  Once he was settled behind the wheel, he shot her a glance. “You okay? Bad luck to meet up with that asshole on your first day in Bracken.”

  “How do you know it’s my first day?”

  The corner of his lips twitched in what might be the beginnings of a smile, but the man looked hard enough to chew nails for breakfast and horseshoes for lunch. Creases extended from his eyes, but they were probably from glaring at people and not from smiling.

  “I know everything that goes on in this town. Jake won’t bother you again.”

  “You hit him? Your knuckle’s bleeding.”

  He looked down at his hand and then stuck the knuckle in his mouth and sucked on it. “Nah, I didn’t hit him back. I just kept him from doing me any damage.”

  She glanced over his strong form in the seat beside her. Her first day in a new town and she was meeting people in all the wrong ways.

  “He’d had too much to drink,” she said.

  “That reminds me.” He grabbed his CB radio and spoke into it. “Birdie, get Troyer out here to the Slug and Chug for a drunk driver.”

  Cecily widened her eyes.

  Female tones projected through the CB. “On it, boss.”

  Roshannon sent Cecily a sidelong look—and yep, there definitely was a hint of a smile toying with the corner of his granite-hard lips. “Just keepin’ the roads safe.”

  She tangled her fingers in her lap. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Jake never does. You aren’t the first woman he’s harassed that way. You can rest assured next time you go into the Slug and Chug he won’t be there. He’s banned.”

  She looked up at him. “You don’t need to do that on my account.”

  “I know. He’s a menace, and I’ve been looking for a reason to toss his ass out for a long time.” He drove down the street and parked in front of her storefront on the corner. “This place could use some fixin’ up.”

  “Oh, I have plans to give the front a new coat of paint and add a cute sign. It will be nice by opening day.”

  He gave her a single nod that shouldn’t make her belly tingle. But it did. “Best of luck to you, Cecily.”

  “Thank you.” For the ride, for stopping that jerk from forcing her into a dance and maybe more? She climbed out and studied Roshannon’s face. His square jaw was set, his mouth seamed in his ruggedly handsome, tanned face.

  “Welcome.” The single word held as much warmth as an avalanche. She stepped onto the curb and watched him drive away.

  * * * * *

  Judd Roshannon strode into the sheriff’s station, feeling the aftereffects of meeting a beautiful woman. No, not beautiful—fucking gorgeous. Cecily Baker was her name, he’d known that from seeing her application for a business license here in Bracken. At the time, he hadn’t given it much thought, but now that he’d seen her, he wanted to know more.

  Birdie looked up from her position behind the huge metal, circa 1955 desk. Her big glasses made her look owlish, which was probably how she’d gotten her the nickname. “Troyer snagged a DUI and is bringing him in.”

  Judd grunted and continued to his office. He shut the door and sank to his seat before a tower of paperwork he needed to work through tonight. Looked like he was ordering in pizza again.

  As he reached for the first file, his cell vibrated. He dug it from his pocket and stared at the screen before bringing it to his ear. “Hey, asshole, what’s up?”

  “You realize whatever traits make me an asshole, you share. That’s how it works with twins.” His brother Aiden’s words made Judd shake his head.

  “Just because we’re twins doesn’t make us exactly the same.”

  “Name one thing you don’t like that I do.”

  “Popcorn,” Judd said at once. He flipped open a file. The paper wasn’t something he was ready to address, so he put it aside and reached for the next.

  “That’s only because you choked on a piece one day. Now you’re afraid of dying.”

  “Who isn’t? What do you want, Aiden?”

  “Ma’s having a big dinner Friday. Wants all of us boys there.” Meaning he and Aiden and their cousin who’d been raised alongside them, Wes.

  “Just us boys or are you bringing Amaryllis?” His brother had gotten hitched a few months back, and Judd never saw them apart. They worked together and were sidekicks in life as well.

  Deep down, Judd was happy for his brother, but it nauseated him at times too. The whole marriage thing wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.

  “Of course Amaryllis is coming. Long and loudly, if I have my way.”

  Judd snorted. “You’re a sick fuck, brother. I don’t need to hear this. And I don’t know if I can make it to Ma’s dinner. Looks like I’ll be doing paperwork for the next…” he shifted more files around, “five years.”

  “Dump it on Birdie’s desk and meet us at Eagle Crest.”

  Just the mention of their home ranch sent a feeling of calm through Judd. He could nearly smell the chicken frying and the whiff of buttermilk biscuits fresh from the oven. On the heels of that were remembered scents he associated with his father—tractor grease and fresh-cut hay.

  He sat back in his seat and glared at his heaping desk. Maybe getting away for a weekend would refresh him enough to dig into this mess of paperwork come Monday.

  “Ma’s making sauerbraten.”

  Judd perked up. “She’s trying to bribe me.” The German dish was his favorite, one he always asked for on his birthday.

  “She knows you wouldn’t show up otherwise. You haven’t been there in months.”

  “Been a bit busy playin’ sheriff.”

  “Let those deputies do their jobs and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Aiden, I can’t make it tomo—” He was cut off by his twin ending
their call.

  Judd tossed his cell onto his desk and removed his Stetson. Running his fingers through his hair, he wondered what was important enough that his mother was making his favorite meal to get him to Eagle Crest. Maybe she did just miss him, but she was a Roshannon, and every Roshannon had a motive.

  He dug into his mountain of paperwork. After thirty minutes, Troyer knocked at his door.

  Judd looked up and settled his hat on his head. “Get Jake all settled in a cell?”

  “Yeah, he’s made his one phone call—to his momma.”

  Judd shook his head. “If she bails him out again, she deserves him.”

  “Can’t fault a momma for wanting to protect her son.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Judd said, “What do you know that you’re not sayin’?”

  Troyer was a big guy, as broad as a bar bouncer and as gentle as they came—unless you crossed him. Then prepare to get your ass kicked. The man pinched his fingers together and made a gesture over his sealed lips to show he wasn’t talking.

  “I’m sure Aiden’s been talkin’. Guy can’t shut his mouth.” Judd returned to his paperwork. If he could blast through a bunch of this tonight, he’d go off to Eagle Crest feeling lighter.

  “Saw your brother and Amaryllis yesterday. They’re working a case with a bunch of steers going missing.”

  “Nobody better than those two to find ’em. You’re on-call this weekend. I’m heading home to Eagle Crest.”

  “Figured as much. Enjoy yourself and try to get that stick out of your ass while you’re at it.”

  Judd snapped his head up and pierced his deputy in his stare. Troyer meant well, but Judd didn’t want to hear from another single person how uptight he was—he’d been listening to it since his wife left.

  “Heard you gave the new shopkeeper a ride home from the Slug and Chug.”

  “Heard that, did you? Word travels fast.”

  “Jake can’t keep his mouth shut if you superglued it. So what’s she like? I heard she’s all chakras and herbal hocus-pocus but a pretty little thing.”

  Judd gripped the pencil he was holding so tight he felt the wood flex. The image of Cecily Baker filled his head, and a strange tightness took up residence in his chest. He didn’t know about the chakras. “Guess you could say she’s pretty.”

  “Hmm, maybe I’ll call over the weekend. Let her know we patrol the main strip regularly to prevent crime.”

  Now why did Judd want to grind his teeth and growl at Troyer stopping in to the new shop? Having a pretty woman in his passenger’s seat didn’t mean he had dibs on her.

  Not that he wanted to stake a claim to any woman. After dealing with Cassie leaving, and the resulting wreck of a divorce where he’d lost his ass, he wasn’t interested in anybody.

  Let alone a beautiful little ringlet-curled brunette who was far too obedient for her own good. Hell, she was so obedient she’d booked herself like she was a criminal, like she’d done something wrong.

  Hell, that unwarranted trust in him was so right, he couldn’t even think on it.

  The tightness in his chest swelled, filling him completely with a desire he could not—would not—own right now.

  Or ever again.

  That part of his life was gone, dead and buried. Hell, he’d sealed the lid of the coffin shut with his own muttered vow. Never again would he let that dominant—kinky as hell—side of his personality out.

  He’d let Cassie see his true inner need to dominate in the bedroom and promptly scared her away. After one night, she’d run home to her parents and called him a monster. He’d kept things vanilla after that, but they’d never been okay. Not really.

  Then she’d fucked their lawyer and filed for divorce, taking half of his holdings, possessions and hell, his gold cufflinks from the wedding.

  Not to mention gotten a socking amount of alimony for mental pain and suffering she associated with that night he’d tied her up.

  If he’d unleashed his real beast, she would have everything he owned and he’d be committed.

  Troyer was speaking. “A day spa. Wonder what services she gives.”

  Judd leveled a glare at his deputy.

  Troyer held up his hands and backed toward the door. “Was just thinking about getting a cut and shave, boss.”

  “You need it. Get the hell out of my office and let me work in peace.”

  His deputy went away with a flash of a grin, leaving Judd to mull over their conversation.

  And Ms. Cecily Baker.

  When he’d opened the back door of his SUV and seen her sitting there with her hands knotted in her lap, believing she was under arrest, Judd had wanted to pick her up and cuddle her like a damn puppy. She was soft and vulnerable and the urge to protect was a huge thing in the Roshannon men. Those big green eyes of hers hadn’t helped matters either.

  What he wouldn’t give to have those eyes trained on him as he ordered her to strip—

  He cut off the thought and stomped on it until it was dead. No way could he let his thoughts roam to those darkest depths, where he ruled a woman in the bedroom and she followed his every command. That part of his life was in the past.

  Besides, he had no room for women these days. His damn ex had made sure of that.

  Chapter Two

  One good thing about Cecily’s apartment over her new shop—it had fantastic east-facing windows. Perfect for her morning meditation.

  She wasn’t a good sleeper and often woke up cranky and exhausted. Only with the help of headphones and a whale music playlist did she even snag a few hours’ sleep. Why she was cursed with sleepless nights stumped her. She lived a healthy lifestyle and did regular yoga and meditated, but what could she do?

  She switched off the whale music and removed her padded headphones. Then she spent a few minutes pushing her wild curls into place and brushing her teeth. After that, she sank cross-legged to the mat she’d placed on the hardwood, eyes closed as the warmth of the sun bathed her bare shoulders and face. Breathing in for a count of five, out for a count of five. She let her mind drift, searching for that calm place she went to when she was totally at peace.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t finding it easily today. Her brain kept worrying over how to bring her business to the next level. She’d left a booming business in Jackson Hole. Moving to Bracken hadn’t been a snap decision—she’d done her research. But she couldn’t dwell on a full appointment book quite yet.

  She’d built her spa up last time and she could do it again. First, she needed customers. Regulars who wanted manis, pedis, haircuts and facials. Massage clients typically booked regularly and gave her steady income.

  She pulled in a deep breath of the incense-scented air and fought for tranquility. She couldn’t begin this day like the last. Yesterday had ended in disaster and the sheriff coming to her rescue.

  A dog barking outside interrupted her calm. She tried to ignore the yipping sound and drew in another deep breath. The notes of incense teased her senses. She envisioned country fields with wildflowers waving in the breeze. Teasing her long hair off her face and filling her soul with serenity.

  Bark, bark.

  “That’s it.” She sighed and opened her eyes to look at the mess in her apartment. She’d been working so hard on her shop, she hadn’t bothered with her living space. Boxes were stacked in the corner and the floor was dusty. Not at all good for her energies. The balance was all off.

  At least she’d taken the time to put sheets and blankets on her mattress on the floor the previous night. The sleeping bag hadn’t done much for her back or her disposition.

  She stood and stretched her arms overhead, closing her spiritual eye. Her muscles groaned and a vertebrae popped into place—or out of place. In bare feet, she padded to the bathroom and put her hair into a messy top-knot.

  For a moment, she considered a dash of lipstick, but who would see her today? She planned to be inside her shop working until she dropped. Ideally, she’d like to open for business in the next day or
two. Her money situation demanded it. Sure, she had a little put aside, but that didn’t mean she could ignore earning more.

  The back stairs leading to the store were wooden and creaky. They invited visions of spooky ghosts or ax murderers coming in the night, but that was silliness. She was a grown-ass woman and not much scared her, let alone things in her imagination.

  When she hit the bottom tread, she caught a whiff of the outdoors. Mountain air that should not be coming inside, because she hadn’t left any windows open.

  She flipped on the light and stared at the wreckage of her store.

  The window broken out of her door, smashed by a hand that had reached in and twisted the lock.

  Her place was trashed.

  With a gasp, she ran to her cash register. The last thing she’d done the previous evening was to fill the drawer with the small piles of bills she’d need to kick off for business.

  “Oh my God,” she rasped, staring into the empty drawer. Not even a penny remained in the small plastic compartment. Her throat burned, and tears rushed up. “No. No, no, no.”

  Unable to look at her empty cash drawer another second, she whirled to look at the mess of glass shelves she’d carefully hung. All smashed on the floor into a thousand shards. All her products she’d so neatly lined up stomped on the floor, many jars broken, hair gels squirted thickly on the floor.

  Who would do this?

  She’d been here one day, and already her dreams were being dashed. Was this the cosmic energy of the world telling her this was not her place? Maybe she belonged in Phoenix with her sister.

  She began to mutter to herself. “Have to buy new ones. Can I fix the brackets? No. What about all this product on the floor? Maybe the bottles can be wiped off. What do I do first?”

  Call the authorities.

  She dug out her cell and dialed 911. The immediate response came in a female voice. “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “S-someone broke into my store.”

  “Is your location…?”

  Cecily only half-listened to her stating the shop’s address. She responded in a wobbly voice and listened to the operator give her instructions on getting to safety in case the perpetrator was still inside.