The Sheriff's Secret Wife

by Christyne Butler

  She cleared her throat to rid it of the tightness and said goodbye. After speaking to as many selectmen as she could, especially those who'd voted her way, she shared a quick word with Max on the phone. Joy at her boss's praise bubbled inside her and, when she left the room, the crowd outside caused her to stop as another cheer filled the air.

  "What's going on?"

  Faithful customers gathered around as she accepted hugs and congratulations from many of her staff. Gina was the last to step forward. She gave her a quick squeeze and then handed over a single yellow rose, a small card attached to its stem with a ribbon. "Way to go, boss. This is for you."

  "Thank you." Racy took the rose.

  "We wanted to be here to support you. And the rose isn't from me. Justin was skulking around for a while, but had to head back to the bar to get ready for the lunch crowd."

  Skulking? Yes, that described her brother's behavior of late. They'd hardly spoken in the last week, except when it was job related.

  Racy peeked at the card.

  Knock 'em dead, kid! Love, Justin

  She smiled and breathed in the flower's sweet fragrance. Justin might be spending the majority of his time being seen-but-not-heard, but he was working hard to stay on the straight and narrow.

  "Thanks for coming, everyone. I appreciate it more than you know." Racy caught sight of Gage standing at the back exit of the building, his cream-colored cowboy hat cradled in his hands. "I look forward to seeing you all at The Blue Creek real soon."

  The crowd started to scatter. This was her chance. She walked toward Gage. His eyes narrowed as she got closer, but she kept going until they stood toe to toe.

  "I owe you an apology."

  She kept her voice low, even though they stood apart from everyone. The ambivalence in his eyes had her worried he might walk away, and she was determined to get this over with.

  "You were right," she continued. "Your signature wasn't on the letters. So go ahead. Have at it. Cut me up one side and down the other, but I've got to tell you, I'm riding such a high from winning there is nothing you can say to bring me down."

  "I accept."

  "Huh?"

  "Your apology." Gage put on his Stetson. "I accept."

  "Oh."

  "Isn't there something you want to say in return?"

  Let's get naked? Racy clamped her jaw shut until she was sure the words wouldn't pop out of her mouth. "Such as?"

  "How about, thank you?"

  "Thank you?"

  Gage's gaze traveled the length of her body before he focused on her face again. His eyes now shined with a friendly gleam. "You look amazing."

  Heat filled her face. Damn, she was too old to be blushing. "Thank you."

  He waved the bound packet of paper he held rolled in his hand. "This report was amazing."

  Her smile grew. "Thank you."

  "Your speech was amazing."

  "Gage, stop."

  A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "Ah, not the right two words."

  She didn't speak and he offered a raised eyebrow. She relented. "Thank you."

  He hesitated, then took a step forward, closing the already narrow gap between them. "You working tonight?"

  Racy nodded, heart racing, trying to disregard the crisp, clean scent that clung to his clothes and skin. "I'm headed to the bar from here."

  "What about tomorrow?"

  Why was he asking? Surely he couldn't…"Spending the day in Cheyenne with the girls. We've got a final fitting for our bridesmaids' dresses and other wedding stuff."

  "Tomorrow night?"

  She shook her head, ignoring the thrill at his persistence. "I should be home around dinnertime. I've got some last-minute studying for my finals next week."

  "And your brothers won't get in the way of that?"

  Her heart thumped so hard she swore it was visible beneath her suit jacket. Maybe she should've worn something more than bright purple lace beneath it, but hell, this morning she'd needed the mental oomph that she'd got from her favorite lingerie. "Ah, no, Billy Joe and Justin aren't staying with me anymore."

  "They're not?"

  "Billy Joe moved into one of the apartments over Mason's Garage. You know he's working there, right?"

  Gage nodded and his eyes intensified to a dark blue. She didn't know what that meant, but took his silence as a sign to continue.

  "Justin is staying at The Blue Creek. He's converting a few of the storage areas on the second floor into an apartment."

  The admiration in those blue eyes changed to suspicion. "And Max is okay with that?"

  Racy bristled. "No, but I figured it was okay to allow an ex-con to be less than a hundred feet from the safe without consulting Max."

  "Forget I said that." His fingers reached out to lightly touch her hand. "How about I get some takeout and come over? We can—" The radio on his hip squawked, cutting him off. He grabbed it and pressed a button. "Steele here."

  "Sheriff, you're needed out at MacIntire's place."

  "What's going on?"

  "The bonfire from last night's senior-class party has been reignited." Alison's clear voice came over the radio. "Jesse MacIntire caught his boy and a few others out by his pond. And I hate to say it, boss, but one of them is—"

  "Garrett," Gage interrupted. "Is the fire under control?"

  "Jesse said it's out, but the boys were tearing apart an old shack to use for firewood."

  "I'm on my way."

  Racy bit her lip to keep from smiling at the resigned look on Gage's face. "You know, maybe your brother needs something to keep him busy during his free time."

  "With football season over, he does seem to have a lot of it on his hands."

  "He could take some of that energy and put it toward the after-hours program at the elementary school." Racy offered the first idea that popped into her head. "I'm sure those kids look up to the high school players. They'd get a kick out of having them act as mentors."

  "That might be a good idea. He could recruit some of his fellow pranksters." Gage backed up toward the door. "I've got to run, but I'll call you later?"

  He paused, and Racy realized he was waiting for her to reply. She couldn't help herself. "Sure."

  The smile he gave her was warm and genuine and it heated her right down to her toes. He was going to call her.

  To firm up plans. Just like a real date.

  Yee-haw!

  She watched him disappear out the door, then tucked the rose inside her bag and set it on the floor to tug on her jacket. Spotting a water fountain, she ducked down the back hall for a drink. She pressed the button, the water cold on her lips when she heard Travis Clay's voice.

  "Yep, that pretty little lady made quite a speech."

  "I agree with you one hundred percent."

  Racy heard the other male voice reply and recognized it as Daniel Gates's, the owner of The Destiny Inn. Pride filled her chest at their words. Damn straight she'd done a good job!

  "You know," Travis continued, "I would've voted Miss Dillon's way even if the sheriff hadn't talked to me first."

  Racy froze. Her thumb slipped and the stream of water trickled to a stop.

  What did he just say?

  "So, Gage got a hold of you, too?" Daniel said. "His call came just as I was opening that darn fool letter from the committee yesterday afternoon. Heck, what do I care if a bunch of girls want to shake their butts for a crowd?"

  Travis guffawed. "I admit I enjoy watching them Belles myself from time to time, but it was good to listen to the man be persuasive anyway."

  "What did the good sheriff promise you?"

  "Oh, I vowed to keep that a secret. What about you…"

  The voices faded as the back door opened and closed again. Racy stood motionless, shock nailing her feet to the floor.

  She couldn't believe it. Gage had tried to sway the vote before the meeting? Her detailed report, her passionate and genuine love for her business hadn't made any difference. He'd already convince
d them to vote her way for their own selfish reasons, whatever they were.

  She realized she should be grateful to Gage. So why was she so damn mad at him instead?

  Chapter Ten

  D amn, he hoped his tie was straight.

  Gage entered through the side door and slipped into the empty space at the front of the candlelit church as the music started. He accepted a smile from Bryce, ignored Chase's scowl and returned Landon's wink. All members of the Cartwright-Stevens wedding party were finally present and accounted for.

  Thanks to spending the last two days in Cheyenne testifying at a trial and getting a flat tire on the way home, Gage had only minutes to wash up at his office, change into his tux and head to the church.

  The music swelled and Anna, Maggie's daughter from her first marriage, entered the doorway and started down the aisle. She walked slowly, taking her flower girl duties seriously. With every step, she dropped deep red rose petals that matched the color of her dress. Maryann followed, her gaze centered on her husband, who stood at Gage's right.

  Leeann appeared next. She wore the formal wear with an easy elegance, which surprised him as he rarely saw her in anything but a uniform or jeans. He watched her until she was halfway down the aisle, but then his breath caught and his attention was drawn to the woman standing in the doorway.

  Racy.

  Despite the so-called plans they'd made after the hearing, it was the first time he'd seen her in almost a week. Resentment and desire pinged around inside him like a vintage pinball machine as he took in the deep red dress that clung to her curves and the mass of curls piled high on her head. Her peaches-and-cream skin glowed along with her smile as she followed Leeann and Maryann, her gaze moving over the crowded pews and the men standing with him at the altar.

  Then her gaze locked with his.

  Her chocolate-brown eyes widened for a moment, almost as if she was surprised to see him. He tried to hold her gaze, but she looked away. Her smile remained, but the joy behind it dimmed. She took her place next to Leeann, right in his sights, but she stubbornly refused to glance his way.

  What the hell was going on?

  She'd blown off their dinner plans last weekend and he was clueless as to why. Calls had gone unreturned and when he'd tried to see her in person…

  Everyone rose as the bride entered, but Gage couldn't stop his gaze from going back to Racy. He tried to will her to look at him, but she trained her gaze on Maggie, a wistful look on her face. Maggie arrived at the altar and handed her flowers to Racy, who offered her a quick wink.

  The solemn words of the wedding service started. He was instantly taken back to that moment in Vegas when he and Racy had exchanged vows, complete with strangers for witnesses and Elvis as the preacher. Not much of a ceremony and certainly not what every little girl dreamed of, but still special. The words they had spoken were the same Maggie and Landon repeated to each other as they exchanged rings. He found the fingers on his left hand tingling and rubbed at the sensation, then saw Racy mirror his movements, even with two bunches of flowers in her grasp.

  The bride and groom kissed and the church erupted in applause. Anna ran from the front pew to join her mother and new stepfather. A crowd gathered, with hugs, kisses and well-wishes for the happy couple.

  Now was his chance.

  He slipped around the back of the crowd, stepped on the altar, then headed straight for Racy. She'd just handed Maggie's flowers back to her and he grabbed her hand.

  "Racy, wait."

  The coldness of her skin surprised him, but not as much as the shock in her eyes when she realized who held her. She tugged free and turned away.

  Gage moved in behind her, his mouth at her ear, so the surrounding crowd couldn't overhear them. "What the hell is going on?"

  She jerked her head to the side and hissed, "Shh!"

  "Don't shh me. I want to know—"

  She slid between Leeann and Nana B., Maggie's grandmother, as the bride and groom started up the aisle. The crowd fell in behind them, Gage included. Those were far from the last words between them.

  * * *

  Hours later, he headed for the bar in the back room of The Painted Lady, the local bed-and-breakfast inn Maggie and Landon had chosen for their wedding reception, finally accepting the truth.

  Racy was avoiding him.

  The idea had popped into his head more than once over the last week, but he'd made excuses, refusing to give credence to the notion. He'd waited until the pictures were done and the dinner had started before trying to get close to her again, but her covert moves made sure there were always plenty of people between them. After the first few tries, he got the message.

  Loud and clear.

  The bride and groom had left for their honeymoon almost an hour ago and the reception was winding down. The disc jockey packed up and most of the guests were either heading home or to the inn's pub to continue the party. He wasn't in a party mood. What he needed was a healthy splash of whiskey. He paid for the drink and walked to one of the arched floor-to-ceiling windows to stare into the dark night.

  This wasn't like the fiery redhead. The woman he knew dealt with whatever was bugging her head-on, full force, with no apologies. Not this time. And that caused an uneasy feeling in his gut.

  He lifted his glass for another taste, swallowed and then stilled, catching Racy's warped reflection in the window. He turned, knowing instinctively he was her intended target. Her gaze landed on him and she paused. Gone was the social butterfly he'd watched flirt, laugh and dance with everyone else tonight. Everyone but him. Her bare shoulders were stiff, her eyes devoid of emotion as she started toward him.

  "We need to talk."

  Her voice was low, the tone brittle. Makeup played up her perfect features, smoky dark eyes and shiny pink lips, but it was like she wore a mask for all the feeling he saw there.

  "Now's a good time for you?" Gage tightened his grip on his glass. "I thought we were going to talk last week. I tried to reach you twice at the bar, but Justin intercepted my calls."

  "I was working."

  "I called Sunday about dinner. All I got was your machine."

  She lifted her chin, and her eyes, direct and probing, met his. "I was studying. I told you I had finals."

  Her clipped answers were getting on his nerves.

  "Look, I don't know what's going on." Gage pulled in a deep breath and her familiar vanilla-lime scent filled his head. "Last week we—"

  "I don't want to talk about last week."

  "What do you want to talk about?"

  She yanked a long white envelope from the slim, beaded purse in her hand and held it out to him. "Here."

  "What's that?"

  "Divorce papers."

  The air disappeared from his lungs and bright spots danced in front of his eyes. His skin felt like it was on fire despite the winter chill that seeped through the antique window. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, that wasn't it.

  She shook the envelope, her knuckles pale. "Take it."

  "How—" He gulped a breath of much-needed air. "When—"

  "Last week. I went to see a lawyer when I was in Laramie."

  He focused on the corner of the envelope, recognizing the name of the law firm. "One of the most prestigious."

  Racy offered an unladylike snort. "I wanted to make sure this time we did it right. You know, with a real lawyer?"

  Gage stared at the woman in front of him. As beautiful as ever, but without the flushed-with-victory euphoria that had shined from her after the hearing.

  When he'd entered the meeting room, he'd been shocked at the sight of her in a dark suit, her hair pulled back in a smooth style. Gone was the wild, girl-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks bartender and in her place had stood a confident professional. And when they'd talked afterward, she'd been on top of the world. It'd taken all his strength not to pull her into his arms and cover her mouth with his. He'd settled instead for a date, sort of. She'd been receptive to the idea of gettin
g together. He'd seen it in her eyes.

  "I don't understand. What happened?"

  "What's there to understand? W-we screwed up, twice, and it's time to get out of this mess." Her voice shook as she flung her arms wide. "And that's what this is, a mess, not a marriage. What Maggie and Landon have? That's real. They have love and commitment, passion and caring. Two people who've worked through the adversity of their pasts to believe and trust—"