by A. J. Pine
He put the key in the ignition and the massive engine roared to life.
“She’d rip a man’s arm off if I asked her to.” He paused for a couple of beats. “Woman’s, too.” He set his sunglasses in the center console. The sun was setting now, and she guessed he wouldn’t need them anymore. Then he shifted into gear and pulled off the shoulder of the road.
She swallowed and decided to sit very still. But then she saw her Bug sitting there as they began to move. “Wait!” she cried. “What about my car?”
He kept his eyes on the road so all she could see was his profile—the strong line of his stubbled jaw, a crooked nose that was somehow perfectly imperfect.
She, however, was just imperfect. At least when it came to relationships. She always found a reason to run. And today she’d run to the one place she thought she could find answers, the tiny town of Oak Bluff.
“I’ll send a couple deputies—licensed drivers—out to get it after I bring you in.”
She let out a relieved breath. At least he wasn’t towing it.
She raised her cuffed hands to the visor above her. “What’s this?” she asked, fingertips brushing the edge of an envelope. “Looks like a wedding invitation.” Seemed like everyone was planning weddings, getting married, or proposing. And she was just flat-out running.
He wrapped a hand around one of her wrists and lowered both hands to her lap. “None of your concern is what it is,” he said gruffly.
She groaned. “Are these really even necessary? It’s not as if I resisted arrest. And I’m hobbled now, so I can’t exactly tuck and roll and make a break for it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he held back the grin. It made her think the burst of laughter she’d just seen from him was something rare. Because a man who fought off a smile was a man who liked others to view him a certain way.
He tugged at a small key ring that was attached to his belt with what looked like a retractable cord. Without looking, he inserted the small key into the base of each cuff and released her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He nodded.
She reached for her swollen ankle and rubbed it gingerly.
“Pain’s pretty bad?” he asked.
She shrugged. She’d broken her arm in eighth grade. That had been the most excruciating physical pain she’d ever experienced. But worse was her parents arguing in the ER about whose fault the accident was when it was their arguing that had initially caused it. But by that point in her life, her parents had found any reason they could to scream at each other, and they’d long since stopped making sure she wasn’t around to hear.
The divorce dragged on for years, finalized just months before she’d left for college. She hadn’t lived with either parent since.
“That all depends. You gonna make me sleep in a cell tonight instead of the cozy bed-and-breakfast I booked?”
He sighed. “You got someone who can fax in a copy of your license and insurance?”
Emily was the night manager tonight—and Olivia’s closest friend. She had a key to Olivia’s room. It would just be a matter of avoiding Michael if he hadn’t gotten his own room after her disappearing act this afternoon.
“Yes!” she said, feeling the tiniest bit triumphant. Because, come on—she needed a small win here.
He sighed. “If you can prove you’re a licensed driver, that the car is registered with your insurance, then I guess that’ll just leave the speeding. And making my dinner cold.”
They pulled to a stop in front of a small two-story brick building that looked about a hundred years old. Yet it was charming as hell, as was every other shop or restaurant that lined the street.
“Sixteen Oak Bluff Way,” she said, remarking on the address that was stenciled on the sign below the more prominent OAK BLUFF SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT. “So the bed-and-breakfast is—”
“Across the street and two doors down, next to Lucinda’s Antiques, which is closed on account of the owner having to go to a funeral.”
“The bed-and-breakfast?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“The bed-and-breakfast is closed?”
He shook his head. “Lucinda’s. Her third husband passed. He lived about an hour outside of town.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “How sad. Wait; did you say third husband?”
He ran a hand through dark brown hair. It was cropped close, but just long enough that fingers could get partially buried. Not that she was thinking of such things about a total stranger who—up until a few minutes ago—had a laundry list of items to arrest her for. It didn’t matter that she’d been with Michael since their last semester of grad school and was now in her first year as event coordinator at Hotel Blue—the hotel his parents owned. She could count on one hand how many times she’d run her fingers through his hair in the past six months—or him through hers.
Eighteen months—her longest relationship to date. She’d thought he was going to ask her to move in. She’d privately entertained the thought of not living in the place where she worked. But then she’d be ten miles from the place where she spent ninety percent of her time.
But he hadn’t asked her to move in. He’d proposed.
“Ms. Belle?” she heard the sheriff say, then realized by his tone it probably wasn’t the first time.
“Huh?” she answered. “What?”
He shook his head. “I was explaining how Lucinda’s third husband wasn’t from Oak Bluff. He wanted to be buried by his parents, and Lucinda respected that. So she’s there for a few days, getting his affairs in order.”
“Oh,” she said absently. “What happened to the other two husbands…if you don’t mind me asking?”
He shrugged. “Lost the first one to lung cancer.” He paused for a second, and she wasn’t sure he was going to say more. But then he continued. “The guy was a stubborn smoker who just couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—quit. Second one got thrown from a horse who got spooked. And Earl? Well, he was older. Had a lot of health issues, but she loved him. And he treated her real good.”
She didn’t know Lucinda but was already fascinated by a woman who could commit to three different men. Even if they all ended in heartache, she kept on keeping on. Walked down that aisle three times. Buried three men she seemed to have loved.
Olivia let out a bitter laugh. If anything happened to one of her parents, the other would probably show up at the funeral just to dance on the grave.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said flatly. “Absolutely nothing about anything is funny.”
He raised a brow, then threw open his door and hopped out of the truck. In seconds he was at her side of the car. The door swung open, but then he stood there, hands on hips.
“What?” she asked.
He crossed his arms now. “I’m just puzzling out how it’s gonna look when I carry you in there and then throw the book at you.”
She rolled her eyes, then slapped on the cuffs. “Does this help?” she asked. “Big bad sheriff worried everyone’s gonna think he’s a marshmallow?” She wiggled out of her good shoe. “And I can walk just fine,” she lied. She swung her legs to the right, then looked down. It was a few feet drop to just hop out. And she’d already screwed herself into losing her balance with her wrists bound again.
“I could help you,” he said dryly.
A rogue curl fell over her eyes, and she tried to tuck it behind her ear, but it wasn’t so easy to do with the cuffs. She blew it out of the way, but it just fell back over her face. Then she groaned.
“Fine,” she relented. “But I’m walking.”
He said nothing as he grabbed her under each arm and then hoisted her out of the vehicle. He set her down carefully, and she put all of her weight on her good foot to start. Then she tested the waters on her injured one.
She hissed in a breath between her teeth, but she was able to do it.
“You are stubborn as hell, aren’t you?” he asked.
; She jutted out her chin and squared her shoulders even though she knew she was a sight. Tattered bridesmaid gown, no shoes, handcuffs, and her hair falling every which way.
“Oh God,” she said as realization struck. “Am I going to have a mug shot?”
There it was again—the corner of his mouth threatening to tilt up.
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that.” He reached past her and grabbed a greasy-looking brown paper bag, then opened the back door to let Dixie out. The dog sniffed at Olivia’s bare feet, then started licking her wounded ankle as if she knew she was hurt.
“Traitor,” he said under his breath.
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “She’s not really an attack dog, is she? You were just messing with me again.”
He said nothing as he strode a couple steps in front of her to get the door, and her eyes instinctively dropped lower than they should have. His belt hung low on his hips, his gun holstered on one side, that ring of keys on the other. The whole uniform was black—not tan like she would have thought—and those pants fit like an absolute glove over a part of the sheriff she certainly shouldn’t be ogling.
“After you,” he said once the door was open.
Her head snapped up, and her cheeks flamed. Had she just been caught? If so, he could just add it to her rap sheet.
She limped past him and into what looked more like a small office than a police station. There were a handful of desks, most of them empty. Only two were occupied—one by a woman in uniform and one by a man who looked several years younger than the sheriff.
“Deputies,” he said, nodding his head in greeting. “Looks like we’ve got some paperwork tonight.”
Chapter Three
“Well, your license checks out. Your insurance checks out, and on account of the fact I don’t want either of the deputies to have to spend the night making sure you’re comfortable and well cared for in our seldom used cell, I’m going to write you your ticket and send you on your way.”
She beamed at him, and damn if that smile of hers didn’t wake something up inside him he’d thought would never come out of hibernation.
“Oh, I could just hug you!” she said, jumping up from the chair beside his desk. “Ow!” she yelped.
“Right,” he said. “The ankle. Wait here a minute.”
She sat back down and he strode off to the kitchen, grabbing a cold pack from the freezer and a clean towel from the counter. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a bottle of ibuprofen, then filled a glass with water from the tap.
What if she would have done it—hugged him?
He shook his head and laughed softly. He’d long considered himself off the market. He had enough to fulfill him with the job, taking care of Dixie, and—the job. Did he say the job? Well, it was election year. That would keep him busy enough. Besides, he certainly wasn’t setting his designs on a strange woman who was only passing through—and breaking a hell of a lot of laws on her way in.
Cash was a permanent staple in Oak Bluff, and he had no interest in anyone who wasn’t.
He handed her the bottle and set the water down on the desk. “A few of those should help take the edge off the pain.” He dragged another chair to face hers, then knelt down beside her. “May I?” he asked.
She nodded, and he lifted her foot and rested it on the seat cushion. First he laid the towel over her swollen ankle. Then the pack. He watched as she tossed four of the small red pills into her mouth and washed them down with a sip of water. And then another until she downed the whole glass of water.
“Thirsty, huh?” he asked.
She wiped her forearm across her mouth. “Yeah. It’s been a day.”
“How long were you driving?”
“I ran out—I mean left—at about two p.m. So a little over four hours?”
He checked his watch. It was after seven now. “You must be hungry, too.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Starved, actually. I didn’t even make it to the hors d’oeuvres.”
He blew out a breath, then grabbed the brown paper bag from his desk. “It’s not hot anymore, but it’ll still be the best barbecue you ever had.”
Her eyes lit up as he handed it to her. She reached inside greedily and practically tore the sandwich free. She paused, though, just before sinking her teeth into that perfectly crusty bread.
“This is your dinner,” she said with realization.
He waved her off. “I know where to get more.” Though he doubted that would be happening tonight. BBQ on the Bluff closed at nine, and by the time he got Olivia settled at the B and B, well, he’d most likely be heading home to a frozen pizza and a six-pack.
His brows furrowed. “You coming from some kind of party? I kind of figured with the dress.”
Her mouth was full with his dinner, a drip of barbecue sauce in the corner where her lips met. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moaned with what he knew was the sheer ecstasy of tasting the best local fare Oak Bluff had to offer.
She swallowed and licked her lips, and there it was again: the hibernating bear waking from its long sleep.
He wanted to brush his thumb across that full bottom lip of hers, which was just about the stupidest thought he’d had since asking Tara to marry him ten years ago.
“A wedding,” she finally said.
He raised a brow. “Not yours, I take it. I mean, I know brides wear all sorts of dresses these days—”
“No!” she interrupted. “God, no. Me? Married? Ha! I…” But she cut herself off by taking another gargantuan bite. “This is so good,” she said around the mouthful of food.
He guessed the whole marriage conversation was over, which was fine by him. They weren’t here to hash out each other’s romantic pasts—or lack thereof. In fact, they didn’t need to be here any longer once she’d polished off the rest of his dinner. And that only took about three more minutes.
He sat on the edge of his desk and watched her dab at the corners of her mouth with her thumb. Then she brushed off her hands just as Deputies Adams and Walters walked back through the station door.
“Bug’s parked behind the B and B, Cash,” Adams said. “Am I clocking out now, or is our guest staying the night?” She nudged Walters with her elbow, and the two deputies glanced from Cash sitting casually on the desk to Olivia stretched out across two chairs. Both of his employees were fighting off grins, which meant they were assuming something they shouldn’t be assuming. Because they’d be wrong.
He stood to his full six feet four inches and crossed his arms. “I’ll be taking her to the B and B in just a couple minutes, so you can both clock out. Who’s on call tonight?”
Adams cleared her throat. “You are, sir.”
Shit. That was right. Scratch the six-pack. There’d just be the frozen pizza.
“Right,” he said. “I’ll see you two in the morning, then.”
Both deputies nodded at him and then Olivia. “Night, Cash,” they said in unison.
“Good night.”
Olivia took the ice pack and towel off her ankle and stood. She looked steadier on her feet. Her bare feet.
“You got an overnight bag?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Do you have a Target around here?”
He groaned. “You don’t even have a wallet.”
“Right. Shoot. I did not think things through.”
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed up Wade at the pharmacy. “You busy? Yeah, I got a customer who needs some of the necessities. Okay if I bring her by in a minute? Thanks, buddy. I owe you.”
He looked her up and down and shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.
“What are you doing in Oak Bluff, Olivia Belle?”
She shrugged. “I came here to find true love.”
Chapter Four
With Michael’s sister’s wedding in the books, there were no other major events happening that week at the hotel. Olivia could pencil in a few vacation days. Emily was sending an
overnight messenger service with her wallet, some of her own clothes, and toiletries. For now, though, as the sheriff walked her to the B and B, she was dressed in a very trendy Oak Bluff sweatshirt and a pair of drugstore yoga pants, because, yes—those were apparently a thing. Pharmacy owner Wade even had a small selection of flip-flops, which meant she wasn’t exactly ready for the cover of Vogue, but she wouldn’t have to spend the night in a ball gown and one glass slipper.
She laughed.
“Did I miss a joke?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Just remembering you calling my shoes glass slippers.” She held up the pharmacy bag that was stuffed with her bridesmaid dress, one-and-a-half shoes, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m most definitely not anything out of a fairy tale.”
It was dark out now, but the streetlights lit the hard lines of his face, and she could see that he was trying to puzzle something out.
“Got anything you want to ask me, Sheriff? Or can I call you Cash now that you bought me dinner and this fancy new outfit?” They stopped in front of the B and B, which was aptly called The Oak Bluff B and B. “You know? Something bigger with a little more pizazz might get your little town some more tourist traffic.”
He crossed his arms. “Our little town doesn’t need big names. We get plenty of traffic. In fact, someone sped right through the outskirts just this afternoon. Coulda gotten into a serious accident if law enforcement hadn’t stepped in.”
She rolled her eyes.
“And I take it you aren’t in town long?” he added. “So we should probably just keep it at Sheriff and Ms. Belle.”
She smiled her best customer service smile—one of the first things they teach you when you major in hospitality management. He was right. They should keep it formal. Formality kept things distant, and distance was exactly what Olivia needed.
Except this stranger of a man could have really arrested her. He could have let her go hungry and left her in her tattered gown until the messenger got here tomorrow. But he hadn’t, and somehow those small gestures felt more intimate than Michael’s proposal, which meant she was not succeeding at distance here.
