Something About a Sheriff (Wild West Book 2)

by Em Petrova

  “Whale music?” he responded.

  She nodded.

  He looked away and continued sweeping. Great, now he thought she was nuts on top of pathetic.

  When he had a good pile, he used the dustpan to pick up the glass. After he’d dumped it into the wastebasket, she reached out for the broom.

  “I’ll take over.”

  “I’ll get the bigger chunks.” He slipped on a pair of latex gloves and bent to gather a few of the large sections of glass in his hands. She stared in shock. The glass was smeared in hair products, and any type of fingerprints would have been lost anyway.

  While he did his job, she continued to sweep up. Then she and the sheriff worked together for ten comfortable minutes. She was pretty sure cleaning up after a crime was beyond his scope of work, but she was glad for the help and his solid presence. She couldn’t deny she wasn’t feeling that safe here anymore.

  You were violated. His words echoed to her core. He’d nailed it first try, gotten to the root of her tears in three short words.

  She watched his back muscles flex as he lifted more glass and dumped it into the garbage. Sheriff Roshannon was a confusing man. His kindness and domestic abilities warred with his dark glares and straight, unsmiling mouth.

  And she shouldn’t be noticing any of it.

  * * * * *

  “You got some sun.”

  Judd paused mid-work and jerked his head up to pierce Cecily in his gaze. She was noticing such a thing at a time like this?

  “Spent a while outdoors with my pa this morning.”

  “Ah. Does he live around here?”

  “No, he and my mother own a ranch about an hour away called Eagle Crest.”

  “A ranch… that’s nice. I always wanted to grow up on a ranch. My dad was in insurance and my mother’s a nurse. They can barely handle mowing their lawn and the one time they attempted to grow a garden ended badly.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. The crinkle in her brow was still there, but she looked less strained. Her voice—soft and sing-songing—shouldn’t bury itself under his skin this way. Fuck, if he was honest the sound made his cock hard. Thinking of all those soft pleas coming from her sweet, plump lips—

  “My sister lives in Phoenix. She wanted me to open my day spa there.”

  He straightened and dumped the glass he held in the can, lips tightening. One turn south would have put her on the road to Phoenix, and she never would have come to Bracken.

  “Got a mop someplace?” His voice sounded strangled, and he had no idea why. Sure, he was going the extra mile with her by helping her clean up. That didn’t mean he should feel so damn protective of her.

  But he did. It disgusted and embarrassed him that his town had given her such a poor welcome. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to open for business. And the thought of her being asleep upstairs—or listening to whale music?—while someone ransacked her place made him want to shoot something.

  “Mop’s upstairs.”

  He looked to the stairs leading to her apartment. His blood turned to ice.

  Goddammit, every bit of his training had been thrown out the window as soon as he’d spotted those tears.

  “Did Troyer check for prints on the door to your apartment?”

  Cecily’s eyes grew wide and her face paled. He stepped forward to grab her elbow in case she decided to pass out.

  “Sit down here a minute.” He pulled over a crate and settled her on it. “Don’t move, okay?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to mess up your investigation in case there are some fingerprints.”

  “I didn’t mean that—I don’t want you to pass out.”

  The blood rushed back into her cheeks. Damn, she wasn’t just pretty—she was gorgeous.

  “I’m not going to pass out.”

  At her haughty tone, a smile tugged at his mouth. “All right then. Just sit tight while I get more gloves from my truck.”

  Outside, the fresh air didn’t cool off his libido one iota. If anything, the light scents of fall made him think of her more. Cinnamon and a darker incense note that made him think of sweet burning leaves.

  He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, hoping the sting would cut this desire in him. She was too sweet, looked at him too long and in that hungry way.

  No, he definitely could not play with Cecily the way he wanted. That part of his life was over, locked away behind ten dead bolts and some iron chain. Never again would he allow his darker leanings to see the light of day.

  Seconds later he was back in her shop. She looked up, eyes bright and delivering a punch to his gut. Images of her on her knees swam through his head. Fuck, he could practically feel her hair wrapped around his fist, the dark strands straining as he tugged her head back to take his cock in her mouth.

  He had to distract himself—now.

  “Troyer got your statement, I assume. What did you tell him?”

  “Same as I told you. I was asleep with headphones. When I came down, I saw the window broken and everything trashed. The money from the register gone.” Her voice wobbled.

  Great—now he had to distract her.

  She got off the box and lifted her fingertips to catch the tears dribbling from the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t quit crying. So silly. It’s not as if someone I loved has died.”

  “Puts perspective on it, for sure. But it’s the shock. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Have you?”

  He nodded. He wasn’t going to add that with the other victims he’d never wanted to kill someone for bringing this stress into their lives. He waved toward the stairs. “Mind if I go up?”

  She shook her head, stopping as if she wanted to ask something.

  “What is it?”

  “Can I come with you? Sir?”

  Holy fuck.

  His dick jerked in his jeans. Just hearing that one syllable—

  Sir—spread a whole new light on this woman. Could she be…

  No, of course not. She was just using a formality with him, a show of respect to his position.

  Unsure of his voice, he waved for her to follow. Knowing she was close behind made the hairs on his spine prickle. It had been too long since he’d slaked his lust with a woman. Last one had been a country girl two towns over that he’d picked up in a bar. She hadn’t known his name, and he hadn’t worn his sheriff’s star. They’d gone into the deal knowing it was satisfaction for one night only, and he’d never seen her again.

  Still, that had just been sex, pure vanilla. No ropes involved and his palm hadn’t even burned to feel the handle of his whip with her. At the time, he’d thought he’d cured himself once and for all. Now he knew she just hadn’t been the kind of girl to inspire that sort of play.

  Cecily was.

  He dusted her door and collected a few prints, pressing the tape into the contrasting paper.

  She stood on the landing, watching. “Think you’ll find any?”

  “More than likely, yours. Maybe some old prints from the former renter. There was a store that sold crafts and candles and things here before you.”

  “I see.”

  He met her gaze. They stood only a foot apart, the landing being small. On her face, he clearly saw the worry that someone might have come to her door and tried to enter her private space while she was sleeping.

  The thought might scare her, but it made him feel berserk.

  “Might not be a bad idea to have some security cameras. I’ll board up your shop door and make sure the lock’s secure. But I’d recommend more than one lock, maybe with an alarm on it to alert you if it’s forced.”

  “You…” she swallowed hard, “think whoever broke in will come back?”

  “Unlikely. Probably a one-time crime, someone looking for fast money.” He was lying through his teeth just to wipe that look of fear off her pretty face. If they were looking for money, they wouldn’t have smashed the other things.

  He reached for the doorknob. “Mind if I look at your locks o
n this door?” If he found a cheap lock, he might lose his shit altogether.

  She shook her head. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, thick and trailing in natural ringlets at the ends.

  Before he could do anything like grab her and pin her to a wall to find out if she was as soft as she looked, he opened her apartment door. Several shoes fell over, and his kinky side noted the little number seven imprinted inside one.

  Jesus, he wasn’t buying her leather boots to role-play in. He directed his attention to the rest of the apartment.

  So this was where her scent had come from—she’d been burning incense.

  The new bit of the puzzle that was Cecily made him see her a little differently. Suddenly, he understood that she looked at her day spa services as something that would heal and calm and pamper customers right down to their souls, give them an escape from the stresses of life. That she wanted to do that for people only made her more intriguing.

  Damn it to hell.

  He stepped into her apartment to examine her lock. It was far from what he wanted to examine.

  Like her plump lips.

  Plumper ass.

  Or the silken heat of her pussy around his fingers, tongue, cock.

  Stop.

  “The lock doesn’t seem to be in bad shape, but I’d like to see you get a deadbolt installed. I can recommend a guy who does handiwork cheap.”

  “Good. I need cheap, now that my inventory’s ruined and my drawer’s empty. I’ve never filed a claim with renter’s insurance before, but I expect it doesn’t happen overnight.”

  He stared down into her eyes. The spark of anger was there, the initial tears of shock fading. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Cecily.”

  “Me too. Thanks for all your help today. And thank Deputy Troyer for me too, please?”

  He nodded. His chest had that tight burning feeling he was not about to recognize for what it was. He’d felt it once before—with his fucking ex-wife the day they’d met. That alone was enough to propel him out the door at a dead run, but he could see Cecily was nothing like Cassie. His ex had pretended to be a country girl while hiding she wanted to be a baroness. He’d thought he had a ride or die kind of woman… and couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Looking down into Cecily, he saw that grit inside her, the strength that would make her stand up tall, clean up the mess in her shop and begin again.

  Fuck. He had to get out of here fast or he was in big trouble.

  * * * * *

  Cecily leaned against the doorframe and stared at her empty shop. All cleaned up now, the hair products scraped into a bucket and the boards mopped several times to erase the residue. She was back at square one. Ground zero.

  All her efforts of the previous day had been erased, and the morning light was gray and depressing. Some of her heart had gone out of her, but she wasn’t giving up her dream.

  She ran down the street and got the biggest coffee they served. After only a few minutes, the caffeine hit her system. Today she’d set up the salon area. It was fast money, and she could open by lunchtime. Her cash had dwindled, so her idea appealed. Besides, she’d come to Bracken to build a new clientele, and she was eager to start.

  She put some soothing music on the radio and mentally blocked out where she’d have her hair salon area. The corner near the windows would be perfect for the waiting area, though the lighting would be good for hair. In the end, she pushed and maneuvered the two chairs side by side toward the left of the room. Now she could cut the hair of one client while the other was processing with dye.

  Semicircular floor pads to help with back and foot fatigue went around the chairs for her to stand and work. All she needed now were her mirrors. In the back was one sink she could use for the time being, but soon she’d need to give that handyman Sheriff Roshannon had recommended to plumb in a sink.

  She hung the mirrors framed in thick weathered wood and stood back to look at her efforts. The small detail was giving her space the brand she was hoping for. A spot of serenity in the country, the pale blue chairs and worn wood laying the foundation for her other ideas.

  Her wooden sign, taken down from her last shop, was leaning against the wall, stored in plastic and bubble wrap. Cecily found a utility knife and slit the thick materials protecting the wood.

  She smiled at seeing the familiar sign. A big rectangle with raw wood edges and a smear of bright robin’s egg blue paint highlighted the curlicues of gold and black letters. Drift Away Massage and Spa.

  She lugged the sign outside and stood back to consider how to hang it on the storefront. It would look great over the windows, but she needed a ladder, and that wasn’t something she was equipped with. Maybe the shop next door—

  “Wow, I heard you’re opening a day spa. That’s really exciting. We only have a barber shop in Bracken, and they do okay on women’s hair, but it isn’t that inviting, if you know what I mean.”

  Cecily turned to smile in greeting at the young woman standing on the sidewalk. “Yes, I’m opening a day spa. I’m Cecily. Nice to meet you.”

  The blonde woman shook her hand in a light, flimsy grip but smiled. “Oh, we’ve met before.”

  Cecily stared at her, not placing her at all.

  “I was tending bar that first day you were in town. I’m sorry we had a mix-up about your change.”

  Heat climbed Cecily’s neck. She hoped she hadn’t been a real bitch to the woman.

  “It’s all right. I’m sorry if I was a bit testy. I was tired after a long day of moving boxes.”

  “The sheriff kicked out Jake and you really missed a good show.”

  So the pair knew each other—but she probably knew everybody in a small town like Bracken. When Cecily didn’t respond, the woman asked, “What services do you provide?”

  “I’ll have nails, massage, facials, wrap treatments and of course waxing. But right now I only have it set up for hair.”

  The woman’s eyes brightened and she bounced a little on her cowgirl boots. “I’m Audrey. Are you open now? I sure could use these split ends cut off.”

  “Of course. Maybe a good deep conditioning treatment pack too?”

  The woman nodded excitedly, and Cecily gestured to the door. “Please come in. I’m sorry I don’t have things set up more, but I’ve had a setback.”

  “Oh?”

  Cecily wasn’t about to invite gossip about her break-in, but for all she knew, the woman had already heard the news. “Have a seat in one of the chairs and I’ll get a few things from the back.”

  She left the woman to get comfy in the padded vinyl chair while she went to locate some plush towels and the deep conditioning pack she’d mentioned. All her other tools were in place—scissors, curling wands, brushes, combs and hairdryer. The woman sat facing the mirror, and Cecily’s heart lifted.

  This was exactly what she’d wanted. It might not be perfect yet, but it was a start. She had her first customer.

  “Let’s get started.” Cecily ran her fingers through Audrey’s hair to learn the texture and then they were off, talking like a house on fire as Cecily washed, treated and trimmed her hair. When she spun her to face the mirror again, her hair gleamed in golden waves.

  Audrey gasped. “I look like I just stepped off the red carpet. I didn’t even look this good for prom or my sister’s wedding last summer. Wow.” She turned her head side to side, inspecting herself in the mirror.

  Cecily stood back, beaming. “I’m glad you like it. You look beautiful. Now make sure you tell your friends.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m going to call a few right now and tell them you’re open for business. Don’t be surprised if you get a few in here this afternoon.”

  “I’d love that.” Cecily hand-wrote her a receipt and received a generous tip. She placed the bills in her empty register drawer. At least she’d made something happen today, and what she’d told Audrey about a setback was just that, a bump in the country road.

  As she walked Audrey out of the shop and sai
d her farewell, Cecily found herself smiling, happier than she’d expected to be here in Bracken.

  By the time she closed her doors, she’d had three more customers—two ladies and a little boy needing his first haircut. Luckily, Cecily had some lollipops to keep him occupied while his mother held him still in her lap for the trim.

  She had loads of energy and was thinking of what improvements she could make upstairs to her apartment before bedtime, but as soon as she sank cross-legged to the floor to think about what to work on next, fatigue hit.

  A small tap sounded on her shop door. Before she could leap to her feet to answer it, the door opened and a cowboy hat peeked around the frame.

  Judd spotted her on the floor and a grin broke over his face. Well, as much of a grin as the hardened man was capable of.

  “Brought you some dinner.” He extended a pizza box.

  “How sweet of you. I hope you plan on joining me.”

  “Padre’s Pizzas are big, so I hoped you’d say that.”

  “You’re welcome to sit in the salon chair, but it’s a little hairy. I haven’t brushed it off yet.”

  “Floor looks good enough for me.” Judd sank to the floor and stretched out his long denim-clad legs. The muscles bulged in all the right places, and there was a worn spot on one knee that hadn’t been put there by some clothing designer. This man worked for a living, and he had all the roughness to prove it.

  He opened the box and she stared down at the pepperoni and cheese.

  “Um, is this dairy-free cheese?”

  He gawked at her. “Dairy-free cheese. Is there such a thing?”

  She chuckled. “Soy cheese.”

  “I doubt it’s soy, coming from Padre’s. Is that a problem?” Watching his long fingers gather up a slice of pizza shouldn’t make her internal temperature skyrocket, but it did. Perspiration broke out on her throat, and suddenly she didn’t give a crap that the pizza wasn’t Vegan.

  When he brought the tip of the pizza to his lips, she couldn’t look away from his white teeth biting off a piece. Or the way his strong jaw worked as he chewed.

  Damn, the man was a walking ad for hunky lawmen and ooey-gooey pizza. Best of all, he didn’t seem to own an ounce of cockiness.