by Jillian Hart
As he watched her cross the road, jaywalking, heading straight to her family’s coffee shop, a streak of pain jabbed through his heart. A widower was used to feeling a certain amount of pain down deep, but this was something different. Something that felt a lot like longing.
One thing was for sure. When Kendra looked at him, she didn’t feel any positive emotion. Not a chance. When she looked at him she remembered that night. He could feel that, too.
Perhaps he should just leave her alone. Ask Sally at the Long Horn Stables for help instead.
Frustrated, he got to work.
It was her trailer, she ought to be dealing with it. But that stubborn sheriff had refused to leave, so what was she going to do? Stand there and make small talk? She didn’t need his help and she was getting it anyway. It ate at her as the bell over the coffee shop’s door jangled.
The welcome breeze from the air-conditioning skimmed over her, but it didn’t cool her anger. Men were bossy, every one of them. Who did the sheriff think he was that he could just do what he wanted to her trailer?
Face it, you appreciate that he’s helping.
Sure, but it still bugged her. She was hot, exhausted, and dealing with a flat tire in over hundred-degree weather would have put her over the edge. Well, at least close to it.
Because of Cameron, she was able to rest for a few minutes instead of dealing with one more disaster in a doom-filled day. She didn’t want to be grateful to him. But she was.
See why it was a good idea to stay far away from men? Even the nice ones?
“Kendra? You look too hot, are you all right?” Gramma sat at the far end of the otherwise empty room, behind one of the cloth-covered tables. Ignoring her spread of papers and her open laptop, she examined Kendra over the lines in her bifocals. “Something is wrong. Why are you back so soon?”
“I’m fine and it’s past closing time.” Kendra flicked off the neon sign and turned the Open sign in the window to Closed. “How long have you been in here slaving over the bookkeeping?”
“Goodness, let me see.” She checked her gold wristwatch. “For much longer than I thought!”
“You lose track of time when you’re doing the books. I do the same thing.”
“I suppose so!” Gramma took off her glasses and wiped them on the corner hem of her stylish summer blouse. “I’ve lost two dollars and seventy cents I can’t find anywhere. I’d just finish the deposit and say, forget it. But it’ll be all I think about when I get home. Come, dear, sit down. You look as though you’ve got too much sun.”
“No need to fuss, I’m fine. I’m going to raid the kitchen and pray there are some leftovers in the fridge. I’m too beat to cook when I get home.”
“I knew it. You work too hard, sweetie. You can’t work every minute of every day.”
“I take a few minutes off now and then.”
“Don’t sass me, young lady. You’ve been skipping meals.”
“Not intentionally.”
Kendra ducked into the kitchen to avoid the lecture. She knew what was coming when Gramma got started. She loved her grandmother within an inch of her life, but how Gramma fussed! Kendra yanked open the industrial refrigerator and studied the contents. Jackpot!
Gramma’s sandals tapped on the floor, announcing her approach to the kitchen.
“I can do it myself.” Kendra pulled a bowl of chicken salad from the top shelf. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich, too?”
“Me? You’re the one needing to eat. Give me that. Where’s the mayonnaise?”
“I said I’d do it and I meant it.” Kendra wrapped her grandmother into a hug and breathed in the honeysuckle sweetness of her perfume. “You’ve had a long day, and you don’t need to make it longer by doing one single thing for me. You work too much.”
“I’ve got good help. The girls I’ve hired this summer have been a real blessing. There’s the macaroni salad you like in the bottom shelf. No, let me get it.”
Kendra snatched the big stainless-steel bowl from the shelf. “Out. Go back to your table. Shoo!”
“Nice try, but I wrote the book on bossy.” Gramma dug through the pantry and came up with a wrapped loaf of homemade bread. “We’ll both fix us something to eat while you tell me about your new horses.”
“You’re a tricky woman, Gramma.”
“Thanks, dear, I try. Hand me the serrated knife.”
Kendra did as she was asked and found two plates while she was digging through the dishwasher. “I won the bid for the prettiest mustangs I’ve gotten yet. One is as wild and mean as a bull, but the others have potential.”
“You bought a mean horse?” Gramma’s disapproval wreathed her soft, lovely face, as she cut thick slices of wheat-nut bread. “Is that safe?”
“He’s a stallion.”
“I don’t like the sound of that! Not at all. Boarding and training horses is one thing. But a stallion? How will you handle him? And he’s wild, to boot!”
“I have a little tiny eensy-beensy bit of experience with horses, remember?” Kendra twisted open the jar of mayo. “I’ve been riding since before I could walk.”
“I didn’t approve of that, either, the way your father would put you and your sisters on the backs of horses when you were nothing but toddlers!” Gramma’s eyes twinkled, though. “He must be a good-looking horse, if you bought him.”
“He’s a beauty. Bright chestnut coat. Perfect white socks. A long black mane and tail. And his lines…he’s got some Arabian in him.” Kendra sighed. “Of course, he gives new meaning to the word wild. I’m sure I can tame him, so don’t start worrying. I haven’t been killed by a horse yet.”
“Heavens, I should hope not! You do have a way with them. I don’t doubt that.” Gramma bit her lip as she layered meat mixture and cheese on a slice of bread. As if she were thinking better of saying anything more.
Kendra whipped the knife from her grandmother’s hand. “You go sit down. I’ll finish this up and bring you a cup of iced tea to the table. Go. Away with you.”
“You’re getting just as bossy as me. I like that.” Planting a kiss on Kendra’s cheek, she left the kitchen without further complaint.
That wasn’t like Gramma at all, but Kendra was too exhausted to dwell on it. She put away the sandwich makings, grabbed two bottles of iced tea from the case, shouldered through the swinging doors and into the silent shop.
With the wide bank of windows along the end wall, she had a perfect view of Cameron. He was rolling the tire across the street, apparently whistling as he went, looking like a hero in his navy-blue uniform.
“That Durango boy’s helpin’ you out, I see,” Gramma commented as she tapped keys on her computer. “Funny that you’d let a man do something like that for you.”
“Don’t go reading something into it that’s not there.”
“Is something there?”
How many times had they discussed this? “I’m not going to get married, you know. Ever. So don’t start getting your hopes up. The truth is, I’m so tired I can barely pick up my feet and Cameron offered to help me. He helps with this kind of thing all the time.”
“Which kind of thing would that be? A tire low on air? Or helping a very pretty eligible woman?” Gramma’s eyes twinkled as if she knew something Kendra didn’t.
“If you’re going to torture me about this, I’m taking my food and I’m leaving.” Kendra said it lightly, but she meant it.
The impenetrable titanium walls around her heart were sealed shut. They were going to stay locked tight. “I’m not interested in Cameron.”
“Then why, sweetie, is he fixing that tire for you?”
“Because he’s a sheriff and I had a long day in the hot sun and no lunch.”
She took a big bite of her sandwich to prove it.
“Fine. All right. I believe you.” She held up her hands helplessly. “You can’t blame a poor grandmother for hoping.”
“Oh, yes I can!”
“Only three of my granddaughters are married and have
given me perfect grandchildren. There’s no crime in wanting more. Marge’s youngest girl married just last year and had a new baby boy last week. That makes for four grandchildren for her. I’ve got to keep up.”
Kendra rolled her eyes, her mouth too full to speak. What was the point? As if Gramma listened anyway. She had her definite opinions and nothing short of laser fire was going to change her mind.
“Cameron is certainly a good man, isn’t he? He’s so nice and courteous. Everyone raves on about what a fine sheriff he’s been.”
“Yes, I’m sure he’ll be reelected. Now, can we change the subject?”
“Look how handsome he is in his uniform. I have a weakness for men in uniforms myself. The first time I saw your grandfather in his dress blues…it does make a girl feel safe, doesn’t it?”
“Stop.” Laughter escaped anyway. How could she be mad at her grandmother who so obviously loved the idea of marriage and happily-ever-afters?
But it wasn’t for everyone. It even said so in the Bible. God chose different paths for everyone and some women were meant to be married and mothers.
She wasn’t. It hurt, but there wasn’t anything she could do to change the direction her life had taken.
It wasn’t as if she were alone.
Look at the blessings the good Lord had placed in her life. Her grandmother, her parents, her sisters, her friends and her horses. How many people actually got to do what they loved for a living? She’d always wanted her own riding stable, and that’s what she had. She wasn’t going to complain about her life. Not now. Not ever.
“Oh, where are the books off? This is the most aggravating thing on earth. Who invented bookkeeping, anyway? Whoever he is, he’s a very bad man.” Gramma’s frustration was good-natured as she held up her hand and gave the computer a death-ray glare. “I should just quit, but it’ll keep bothering me if I do.”
“You’re just tired. Let me take a peek.” Kendra pulled the ledger so it faced her. “It’s probably just a transposition.”
“You are simply a wonder, my dear. Thank you.”
As she ate, Kendra squinted at the numbers and tried to make her eyes focus. Minutes ticked by as she studied the long row of numbers and paired them against the deposit slip. It had to be a coincidence that she’d chosen a seat that faced the windows, right? She wouldn’t pick this spot on purpose because she had a perfect view of Cameron Durango kneeling in the hot sun, working alongside Zach, her brother-in-law, who must have come over to help.
He may be handsome and kind and dependable, sure, but the steel doors around her heart stayed locked.
“Where are the checks?” Kendra tore her gaze from the window and noticed her grandmother’s eyes were sparkling, as if she’d noticed where Kendra’s gaze kept straying. “Oh, I get it. You think I’m interested in the sheriff.”
“Oh, no. Of course not.” She was the perfect face of innocent grandmotherly denial. “I was just thinking what a blessing it is that God sends us what we need when we need it most.”
“And that cryptic comment means…”
“Oh, nothing about Cameron coming to help you when you needed it, of course. Heavens, no! I was referring to you walking through the door when I was ready to give up in frustration. The checks are here, in the bank bag.”
Kendra waited while her grandmother slid the small dark bag across the table. Liar. Whether Gramma admitted it or not, she wasn’t fooled one bit.
Why argue about it? There was no point. Her grandmother would come to understand in time and to accept Kendra’s choices in life.
Cameron Durango, no matter how striking and protective and capable he looked in his uniform, would never be one of her choices.
Why did that make her sad? She decided her barricades were weakening, probably because she was still so tired and hungry.
See? A girl needed to keep up her strength so she wasn’t susceptible to random, pointless emotions. It was pointless to feel sad about what could never be made right.
She bit into the second half of her sandwich and went to work comparing the thick pile of checks against the deposit slip.
Chapter Two
“Here’s your problem, Gramma. It’s right here. You’ve transposed a check amount on the deposit slip.” Kendra grabbed the nearby pen and made the corrections. “There. That should do it.”
“Wonderful! My dear, what would I have done without you?”
“You’d have found it without my help. I—”
The bell above the door jingled.
Cameron. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. She felt his presence as surely as the current of August heat radiating through the opened door.
Why was she so aware of this man she hardly knew, as if he’d reached out and laid his hand on her arm? It was odd. She’d never felt this before with him or with anyone.
The door clicked shut, and he stood in the direct blast of the air-conditioning vent. Hat off, eyes closed, his head tilted back in appreciation. He seemed to be enjoying the icy draft as it ruffled his short, dark hair.
“That sure cooled me down.” He clutched his hat in his big, capable hands. There was a streak of grease across the backs of his broad knuckles. “Good afternoon, Helen.”
“Sheriff.” Gramma’s pleasure warmed her voice. “It’s good to see you. Come in and cool down. Kendra will get you something to drink.”
“Oh, I will?”
Leave it to her grandmother to try to matchmake. As if it would do any good. And poor Cameron. He was struggling to be elected, and he had to be desperate if he wanted to change her tire in this heat. He shouldn’t have to keel over from heat stroke because of it.
The chair groaned in the joints as she stood, although it could have been her knees, but she didn’t want to think about the creaks in her joints since she’d turned thirty. Her tennies squeaked on the clean floor as she put as much distance between her and Cameron as she could.
“Iced tea or soda?”
“One of those flavored teas would do just fine.” Cameron followed her, as if he wasn’t about to let her escape until he had her vote. Surely that’s what this was all about.
She wasn’t so sure when she turned around, with the cool metal handle in hand, and didn’t notice the icy draft from the refrigeration unit. He was behind her, and this time she didn’t tremble. She fizzed, like those carbonated bubbles in a glass of cola. She felt bubbly down deep in her soul.
“Lemon-flavored, if you’ve got it.” His voice came warm, deep and as inviting as ever.
The bubbles inside her fizzed upward and she felt lighter than air. As if her soul turned upside down and wasn’t sad anymore. How wrong was that? Get a grip, girl.
She handed him the squat bottle. “Anything else?”
“This is all I need.” He didn’t move away as he covered the mouth of the bottle with his wide palm and twisted the cap. “Zach lent a hand, too, so we did double-time getting it done. You’re all set.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Cameron. I’ve loosened your lug nuts, I think we ought to be on a first-name basis.”
“Aren’t you funny?”
“I try to be. I get that way when I’m sugar-deprived.”
“I can take a hint. You want more of a reward for a job well done? My vote isn’t enough.”
“I could use a snack.”
Was it her imagination, or was he trying to be charming? “Does the town council know what you’re up to?”
“Why? I’m doing nothing wrong. Every cop has the civil right to doughnuts. Or those amazing chocolate cookies your grandmother makes if you happen to have any lying around taking up too much space on your shelves.”
He was definitely trying to be nice. It was hard to shoot down a man complimenting Gramma’s baking. Maybe that was one way to win elections. What did she know about politics?
“It’s your lucky day.” Kendra spied two chocolate cookies left over from the day’s sales, looking lonely on the pastry shelf belo
w the hand-off counter. “Could you do us a favor and take them off our hands?”
“I reckon I could try. Helping the lovely ladies of this town is my beholden duty.”
He sure must want to be reelected, since he was trying so hard. As if he had any real competition anyway. From what everyone said, he’d been one of the best sheriffs the town had ever had. She grabbed the two cookies with a slice of waxed paper and handed them over.
He had a nice smile. Not flashy or too wide, but honest and easy. Sincere. “My stomach thanks you. Helen, every time I see you zipping around in that little red convertible of yours, I think I’ve got to get me one of those.”
“Nah, you’re too stodgy, young man.” Gramma teased as she zipped up the bank’s deposit bag. “You’re better off in that sensible SUV you drive.”
“You’re making me sound middle-aged, Helen. I don’t appreciate that.”
“It’s not my fault you’re stuffy.” Laughing, Gramma slipped the laptop into her shoulder bag and, clutching the deposit, she headed for the door. Much faster than usual.
“Gramma, where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“The bank.”
“It’s already closed.”
As if she’d temporarily gone deaf, Gramma didn’t answer, just smiled sweetly as she backed through the doorway. “You keep up the good work, young man. It’s reassuring to see a man who knows responsibility.”
Her grandmother tossed Kendra a knowing wink before snapping the door shut with a final jangle of the bell. That matchmaker!
“What was that about?” Cameron looked puzzled, which proved he couldn’t be the best detective.
“It wasn’t obvious? My other sisters are married off and providing her with grandchildren, so she’s trying to find me a husband, I guess. Sorry about that.” Kendra rolled her eyes as she grabbed her half-full bottle from the table.
“Hey, I understand. My grandmother is the same way. She asked me for years every time I saw her, which was every Sunday for church, why I couldn’t find a nice girl and settle down.” He ambled toward the door, talking conversationally.
The good-natured banter lifted a weight from her shoulders. Cameron was no threat. He was simply making conversation. He’d treated Gramma the same exact way.
