Slow Dance with the Sheriff

by Nikki Logan

  ‘They might. But that’s just a pleasure thing. They’re actually eating it for the energy.’

  He stared at her. ‘Got something against pleasure?’

  The way the word pleasure rolled off his tongue, the way he leaned in slightly as he said it, sent her skin into a prickly overdrive. And it threw her off her usual cautious track. ‘It took me ten years to believe that food wasn’t my enemy. Just getting to the point of accepting it as fuel is more than I once thought was possible.’

  That shut him up.

  Heat immediately began building at her collar as she realised what a big thing that was to dump on someone who was just making polite conversation. But he didn’t look away. He didn’t shy from the awkwardness that poured off her in waves.

  She watched him put the puzzle together in his mind. And it looked like it genuinely pained him.

  ‘You have some kind of eating disorder?’

  ‘Had.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’m better.’

  This is where he’d hit her with twenty questions, grill her for the gruesome details that people loved to know.

  Can you ever truly be better after anorexia?

  How low did your weight get?

  Is it like alcoholism, something you manage forever?

  Yes, pretty low, and kind of. She readied herself to utter the stock-standard answers. But Jed just flopped back in his seat and considered her.

  ‘Good for you,’ he said, then got stuck back into his pancakes.

  Ellie blinked. ‘That’s it?’

  He glanced back up, thought hard for a moment and carefully reset his fork on his plate. ‘Ellie, I’ve been expecting people to take me at face value since I arrived in Larkville. It would be hypocritical of me to do anything other than accept you for who you are. Or were.’

  Gratitude swelled hard and fast in her ever-tightening chest. Acceptance. Pure acceptance. This is what it looked like.

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Just like that.’ His eyes dropped back to his flapjacks. ‘Although I would like to make you dinner tonight.’

  The ridiculous juxtaposition of that statement with what she’d just revealed caused a perverse ripple of humour. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I reckon someone needs to induct you into the pleasures of a well-cooked, well-presented, just-for-the-hell-of-it meal.’

  The idea should have made her nervous, but it only made her breathless. ‘And you’re that someone?’

  ‘Who do you think does all my cooking?’

  ‘Uh, Gracie May, judging by the number of times you’ve mentioned her.’ And by the fact they knew exactly how he took his coffee, and had his own hat hook by the door.

  ‘Fair call. But Gram taught me how to cook. I might surprise you.’

  He already did, in so many ways. She took a breath. ‘Okay. But make sure it’s been grown in a vacuum.’

  Silence draped like a silken sheet after they’d finished laughing. Jed called for the check. Ellie used the moments that followed to gather her thoughts and to finish her solitary pancake. Dinner was almost a date. It had been a long time since she’d even been on a date, let alone actually wanted to be there.

  She’d done it because it was expected.

  Her mother’s horrified reaction when she gave up dancing was very telling. As if she’d just thrown in the most remarkable and appreciable thing about herself. So she’d done her best to find in herself some other marketable value at the ripe old age of twenty-one, but she’d spent so long in her determined battle to dance she really didn’t have a lot of other skills. Organising fundraisers was something she was good at but it wasn’t going to make her a career. Certainly not a fortune. Not the way a good marriage might. So she’d dated banker after stockbroker after up-and-coming media mogul. Year after year. She’d bluffed her way through an endless series of meals, held her emotional breath at the end of the date lest the good-night kiss become too much more and tactfully extracted herself from the most persistent and slick operators.

  And she’d felt nothing. For any of them.

  To the point that she wondered if all sexual sensation had withered along with her muscle mass. Was that the lasting damage her doctor had warned her so constantly about?

  Yet, here she was going positively breathless at the thought of a man putting on an apron for her. Doing something just for her. Not because he wanted to get into her pants or wanted her name or her money, just because he thought she might enjoy something he had to offer. Something he enjoyed.

  They paused at the entrance to Gracie May’s alfresco courtyard. ‘I’m going to give Deputy a proper run before heading home for some more sleep,’ he said. ‘You’ll be okay to find your own way back?’

  She nodded, intrigued and absurdly breathless. ‘What time should I come round tonight?’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at six.’

  ‘But you’re right next door.’

  ‘Ellie…this is step one in “food is more than just kilojoules.” If we’re going to do this we’re going to do it right.’

  A ridiculous lightness washed through her. ‘At six, then.’

  He smiled, and it soaked clean through her. Then he lowered his voice. ‘Wear something nice.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  JED dropped the heat on the simmering rice and turned to survey his little cottage. Not perfect but tidy enough. He wanted lived-in and welcoming, not spotless and cold. Deputy snoring by the fire sure helped with the lived-in part. So did his pre-loved Texan furnishings and the original 1885 fixtures.

  He glanced at the antique clock face and frowned at how short a distance the little hand had moved since he last looked. Tension had him as tight as an arthritic old-timer.

  What had possessed him this morning to offer to cook Ellie a meal—after what she’d just told him? A lush dinner for two was not exactly the easiest route to arm’s length for him and nor would it be the easiest of experiences for her. She’d be under pressure to eat whatever he prepared. She might end up hating it.

  And him.

  But the words had just tumbled from his lips as she laid her soul bare over pancakes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was the tremulous defiance in her expression after she let it slip about her past. Maybe it was his total inability to think of anything else but helping her while she sat across from him.

  And then the words were out. He was committed.

  Six o’clock crept marginally closer.

  The crushing pressure to do something spectacular weighed down on him. He wondered if she had any idea how long it had been since he cooked for someone. Dates had been sparse enough in the past few years—but to have someone inside his home and to prepare a meal for them…

  Someone like Ellie…

  He felt like a rookie around her. Just a little bit in awe. She wasn’t getting any less striking with the passing days. And she was knocking down his misconceptions one by one.

  Not quite the princess he’d thought.

  Not quite the charmed life he’d imagined.

  In fact, he could only imagine how uncharmed her past must have been. He knew enough about eating disorders to guess which one she’d had and to imagine the damage that would do to a young girl’s body. And mind.

  Not that you’d know it now. She was slim but healthy, toned, curves in enough places, her skin and eyes clear. He only got the briefest of looks at her hair that first morning, dropping off her supplies, but it was natural and golden enough to make him wonder why she punished it by dragging it back all the time. If she’d been sick when she was younger, did she have a clue what a spectacular comeback she’d made? Maybe not, judging by the whole food-is-fuel thing. That was just…

  He wanted to say weird but it was obviously what she’d needed to get healthy. So it had worked for her. And he was the last one to judge anyone for doing what they needed to do to get by. But, boy, what she was missing out on…

  He gave the rice a quick stir in its stock base.

  Ellie Patters
on liked to know where her boundaries were. She liked things as well lined up as those flapjack pieces she’d carved so precisely. Her carefully pressed clothes, her librarian’s hair, her preference for seclusion. Knowing what he knew now, he could only imagine how tough she must have found the whole situation with the steer.

  Yet, she’d been impulsive enough to come to Texas without checking whether Jess Calhoun was going to be home. That meant she was capable of spontaneity. She just needed the right trigger.

  What was your trigger, Ellie?

  She’d still never said what her business with Jess was. Not that he could ask. The whole nosy-cop thing still stung. She just wasn’t used to how they did things in Texas. And why would she be if she’d never left Manhattan?

  The more he got to know her, the less like Maggie she became. Similar on the surface, but Maggie was confident from her cells up—overconfident quite often—whereas he had a sneaking suspicion that Ellie’s perfect facade masked something quite different.

  Quite fragile.

  The two hands of the clock finally lined up and cut the clock into perfect hemispheres.

  Showtime.

  ‘Stay,’ he instructed Deputy, then threw a jacket over his shirt and jeans. Casual enough not to freak her out, dressy enough to show some respect. Two seconds later he was out the door and turning down her laneway. Twelve seconds after that—including some time to make sure his shirt was tucked in—his knuckles announced themselves on her door.

  His door. But amazing how fast he’d come to think of it as hers.

  Like she’d always lived there. Thank goodness she hadn’t. He couldn’t imagine managing this attraction he felt for longer than the few weeks still—

  ‘Hey.’

  The door opened and filled with designer heels and long, bare legs. His eyes trailed up over a knee-length blue cotton dress, hair disappointingly pulled back hard but this time captured in a braid that curled down onto her bare shoulder and curved towards one breast like an arrow. His heart hammered harder than his first day on duty.

  ‘You’ll need a sweater’ was all he could manage.

  ‘Really? Just to run next door?’

  ‘Better safe than sorry.’ And better for him so he could string more than clichés together over dinner. He shook his head to refocus while she reached for the light cardigan hanging by the door. The stretch showed off more of her dancer’s tone.

  ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

  Either the brisk air was getting to her or this felt as weird for her as it did for him, because there was a breathlessness in her voice that gave her away. And made him think of other ways she might get breathless.

  Okay…! Shutting that one down. Was he doomed to behave like a kid around her all night? He sucked in a lungful of evening air and told himself this was just a one-off. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t the start of anything.

  It couldn’t be.

  ‘So… Am I overdressed?’ She glanced at his casual jeans and frowned. ‘I can change.’ She even faltered and half turned back for the house.

  He slipped an arm behind her to prevent her retreat. ‘You’re perfect, Ellie.’ And she was. The dress was so simple and so…fresh.

  So not New York.

  ‘I got this in Austin.’ The woman was a mind reader. ‘I drove in earlier. I didn’t really bring anything appropriate with me.’

  With two bulging suitcases he doubted it, but he liked that she’d gone into a fashion crisis for him. And then as rapidly as the thought came to him he shoved it away.

  This wasn’t a date. This was a…demonstration.

  ‘Good choice,’ he said, and hoped the appreciation didn’t sound as gratuitous in her ears as it did in his.

  They turned the corner and his hand brushed her back as he guided her in front of him. She flinched at the contact. When he was younger he would have chalked that up to a physical spark, but her hasty steps forward told another story. His touch made her uncomfortable. That killed any fantastical notion that she was breathless about this dinner.

  She was just plain nervous.

  He paused on his porch and indicated the outdoor sofa. ‘I’ll just set the risotto to simmer and then we’re heading out. Make yourself comfortable for a few minutes.’

  Deputy dashed out and went straight to Ellie. Her hand went absently to the thick of his fur. So it wasn’t all touch that she was averse to.

  Just his.

  He found the lid for his pot and dropped the heat down to almost nothing. Gram taught him the best way to slow-cook rice but it needed an hour longer than he’d left himself. Hopefully Ellie didn’t mind a late supper. New Yorkers always ate late. It was one of the things that used to bug him about Maggie. He wanted to eat half the furniture on getting home; she wanted to wait until the streets grew more lively.

  ‘Okay, let’s go.’ He pulled his front door shut behind him.

  She stared at him. ‘Wasn’t tonight about a meal?’

  ‘It was about a meal appreciation. Part of appreciation is anticipation.’

  ‘In other words you’re going to make me wait?’

  ‘Not good with delayed gratification?’

  She smiled, tightly. ‘Are you kidding? Self-denial is what I specialised in.’

  ‘Right. Well, then, I’ll ask you to trust me. Would it help if I told you we were heading over to the Double Bar C?’

  She stood. ‘We’re visiting the Calhouns?’

  ‘Just their land. Their foreman, Wes Brogan, is going to meet us at the gate.’

  ‘So we just…roam around on their land? Dressed like this?’

  He smiled as he opened the SUV’s door for her. ‘We won’t be roaming. I have a specific destination in mind. But I figured you might be curious to see a bit of the Double Bar C.’

  ‘Yes. I’d love to. Now I understand the sweater.’ She climbed in, neatly evading his proffered hand.

  Deputy was most put-out to be relegated to the back seat and his harness meant he couldn’t even stretch his head forward for a compensatory scratch. But a car trip was a car trip and he was happy enough to stick his head out the back window and snap at the trees whizzing by.

  Ellie watched him in her side mirror. ‘I can’t imagine him in the canine unit.’

  He glanced over his shoulder at his old friend. ‘The thing with Deputy is that he’s a real obliging animal. That made him easy to train and super-responsive in the field. He loved being on task and he had a fantastic nose.’ He brought his eyes back to the road ahead of them. ‘He was our first choice for tracking. His size was a deterrent for perps, but he was next to useless in close contact. He just didn’t have the aggression we needed.’

  ‘Is that why he flunked?’

  It had to come up sooner or later. Jed chose his words carefully. ‘He never really flunked, it was more of a…retirement situation.’

  She smiled. ‘Really? He got his 401(k) and gold watch?’

  He hissed under his breath. Had he really thought he could only half explain? ‘Actually he had some trauma in the field. He never really recovered from it.’ True yet not entirely true. The truth was too shameful.

  Her smile faded immediately and creases folded her brow. She sat up straighter. ‘He was hurt?’

  ‘He got beaten, Ellie. Pretty bad.’

  She spun around in her seat and looked back at Deputy, so content and relaxed now. Jed’s own mind filled with the images of how they’d found him down by the river.

  Her eyes came back to him, wide and dismayed. ‘Who would do that?’

  ‘Bad guys don’t discriminate. Deputy could have led us to them.’

  ‘What about his…person. Where was he?’

  His stomach tightened into a tiny, angry fist. He cleared his throat. ‘She… His handler.’

  ‘Where was she?’

  Shame burned low and fierce in his gut. ‘She was right there with him. But she was…in no position to stop them. When it was over he dragged himself to her side and wouldn’t leave until she di
d.’

  In a body bag.

  Those clear blue eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, my God…’

  Nice date conversation, stupid! He tried to wind it up, as much for his own sake as hers. Those were not days he let himself revisit. ‘After that he had trouble with close conflict, which made him a liability in the team. He was retired. But he was miserable doing the PR rounds and there were no openings for therapy dogs. I decided to take him in with me.’

  ‘And he’s okay now?’

  ‘About the most action he sees with me is car chases and some casual steer mustering.’ Which brought him nicely back on topic. ‘Wes was grateful you called the fence breach in the other day. Saved his team a lot of time. He was happy to do this return favor.’

  The sadness in her eyes lifted just a bit but he noticed she kept casting her eyes back to Deputy in her mirror. As though his physical trauma was something she could relate to.

  ‘Well, I’m glad those hours on the rooftop were valuable for someone!’

  The gates to the Double Bar C were perpetually open and Jed cruised on through and followed the well-maintained road for about a mile, then threw a right and headed on up a much less groomed track.

  Up ahead the Calhouns’ foreman waited for them near a rusty, wide-open gate. The padlock swung free in his thin fingers.

  ‘Wes.’ Jed pulled the SUV up to the gate opening.

  ‘Sheriff.’ Wes leaned his forearms on the lowered window and dropped the padlock through it into Jed’s hands and smiled. Not his mouth, his eyes. ‘Lock up when you’re through?’

  ‘Sure will. Wes, this is Ellie Patterson from New York City. Ellie, Wes Brogan, he’s been foreman here on the Double Bar C for near as long as either of us has been alive.’

  ‘Right grateful for your help with the stock on Monday, ma’am.’ He dipped his broad, battered hat and did a good job of not looking curious at seeing his sheriff not only out of uniform but with a woman. At night. Alone.

  Ellie leaned forward. ‘You’re welcome. I hope they were all okay?’

  Jed stifled a snort and waited for Wes’s reaction. Brogan was proud of his stock en masse but he didn’t have a lot of time for the intellectual talents of cattle individually.