The Sheriff's Second Chance

by Tanya Agler

  “Last time you said you wouldn’t wait so long for our next kiss.”

  He smiled, wanting that more than anything. Georgie always put all of herself into whatever she set her mind to. Losing himself in a swirl of lemon meringue pie for a few seconds was all he could allow before he broke off.

  “Georgie.”

  Mere appreciation for all she was doing for him didn’t even begin to scratch the surface. This intensity of what was developing between them almost scared him, but he’d lost her once. He wouldn’t lose her again.

  He caressed the softness of her cheek.

  She leaned into his touch and then jerked away. “Is Caitlyn back?”

  “Never. She relinquished all rights to me a long time ago.” He blinked, shaking his head. “Rachel and I have that in common. Neither of us having our biological mothers in our lives. I’m so thankful for the Harrisons. They made sure I always felt wanted, and I’m making sure Rachel knows how much I love her.”

  “Hmm. Growing up with one parent? It just hit me Rachel and I are alike that way.”

  “Your mother produced one heck of a daughter.”

  His breath whooshed out. Unlike Georgie, though, he hoped Rachel wouldn’t always live with only one parent. But for now, he alone made the choices about what was best for Rachel’s financial welfare.

  That was why he had to give up Miss Brittany.

  “You’re doing a great job with Rachel.” Georgie gave the tiniest hint of a smile and reached for his hand, squeezing it with a lightness that surprised him. “She loves you, and you’re so supportive of her. She’s clever and super bright. She certainly doesn’t think inside the box. My type of girl.”

  “Since Caitlyn left, it’s up to me to make sure Rachel has everything she needs.” He sat on the couch, and Georgie settled next to him, her lemon scent and sweet smile distracting, to say the least. He fought to get back on track. “And a little of what she wants as well.”

  A phone buzzed. It wasn’t his.

  “Sorry. Heidi’s not here so I have to get that.” Georgie ran over to the desk and scooped up the portable handset, returning to his side with an aggravated growl. “It’s Bert Quinn. This is the third time this week he’s called.”

  “Go ahead and answer.”

  She shot him a warning look but went ahead and pressed the accept button. “Hello, Mr. Quinn. Okay, then, Bert. No, I haven’t heard of any new Thunderbirds in need of repair.” She rolled her eyes, along with her hand, in a sweeping circular motion. “Yes, I’m sure Mike Harrison has no intention of selling his grandfather’s Thunderbird.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He stood and reached out for the phone.

  “Mr. Quinn, this is Mike Harrison. Can you give me specifics about what you want and what you’re willing to pay?”

  Mike listened, the blood draining away from his face. Thirty-five thousand dollars for a restored Thunderbird, one in mint condition. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Before he could say anything else, Georgie snatched the phone back. “Talk to you later, Bert.” She crossed her arms. “Why’d you ask him those questions?”

  “I’m a single father.” Blowing out a deep breath, Mike stood next to her. “Right now, I can’t give Rachel any of the things she deserves. Her friends stay after school for dance lessons. I can’t afford that.”

  Georgie held up her hand and waved him off. “She doesn’t want that. She wants time with you. You’re raising a lovely kid. She’s independent and smart and caring. Being with you and your family means the world to her. The Thunderbird is your family’s past. Isn’t that the legacy you want for her?”

  “I want her to experience life, and some things in life require money.”

  “The best things in life don’t.”

  Their gazes met; electricity sizzled in the air. Deep down, Mike knew Georgie was right, yet Carl and Diane Harrison sacrificed for him. He’d do no less for his child.

  “I’m selling the Thunderbird.”

  Georgie had no reaction apart from staring at him. His heart shattered. What he’d feared all along was true. Georgie wouldn’t be able to get past this. Turning his back on Miss Brittany was the same as turning his back on Georgie.

  “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?” Her voice cracked, and she clenched her jaw. “Rachel needs you, not lessons. She needs what that car represents. Tradition, family, love.”

  Who needed those most? Rachel? Or Georgie?

  He wouldn’t lie anymore. If he didn’t accept himself, warts and all, he couldn’t ask anyone else to do so. Son, cop, single father. Pride surged through him.

  “Rachel deserves more. She burned herself because I wasn’t watching her.” His breath caught. “This is the least I can do for her.”

  “And who looks out for you? I’m asking as your friend.” The pleading was there, yet he couldn’t meet her gaze, not now. “Selling the Thunderbird would be a huge mistake. Kids grow up so fast, but you have this treasure underneath your nose. Don’t sell for the wrong reasons.”

  “When I sell, it will be for the right reasons.”

  Mike watched as the bay door swung open and then closed behind her. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t follow. She had called herself his friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He didn’t like it, but he respected her.

  He walked out.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE SINGLE-STORY brick police station was more imposing today than ever. Georgie paused and glanced at the pink cake box in her hands. Chocolate cupcakes from the Night Owl Bakery couldn’t be considered a bribe, could they? Okay, so she was trying to bribe her way back into Mike’s good graces. Nothing else. His weakness for sweets was well documented in the Harrison household, and cupcakes tasted much better than crow.

  Her stomach roiled at how she’d bolted when Mike was only trying to explain. Her mother made it sound as if parenthood were only a duty, whereas Mike loved Rachel. Duty with love behind it was a powerful motivator.

  For her to walk out on Mike last night? Even if she didn’t agree with his decision about the Thunderbird, she shouldn’t have lost her temper.

  Relationships deserved more. The unsettled air between them sizzled for a reason. Mere friends didn’t feel the way she felt inside whenever he was around—all quivery, as if there weren’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere. Mere friends didn’t share amazing kisses that made her legs go weaker than a race car after a lap around the track at two hundred miles per hour.

  She entered the station and shored herself up. The first person she encountered would have to be Sheriff Donahue, the man who wouldn’t let up about the burglary at Max’s.

  “Well, Miss Bennett.” His dry tone didn’t escape her. “What brings you here on this fine fall day? Don’t suppose you’re here to schedule a lie detector test about those comic books?”

  “When you catch the burglars, ask them to take a polygraph test.”

  “Did the burglar sell the comic books online direct? Or did she fence them?”

  If he thought his piercing gaze would make her waffle, when she’d done nothing wrong and had lived with Beverly Bennett most of her life, he was sadly mistaken.

  “Since I didn’t take them, I wouldn’t know. I’d appreciate it if you stopped blaming me for something I didn’t do.” She refused to let him bait her. Instead, she pasted a smile on her face and asked, “Is Officer Harrison here?”

  “In the back.” Donahue jerked his finger to the hallway and frowned. “The department disapproves of visits of a personal nature.”

  At that moment, Melanie Donahue swept inside. “Hello, Georgie.” She walked over and grazed the sheriff’s cheek with her lips. “Hello, you.”

  “As you were saying...” Georgie kept her smirk to herself.

  “Take as long as you need.” His words came out
as mottled as the red blotches spreading over his cheeks.

  Georgie held her head high until she found Mike in the back. Then her confidence wavered.

  He noticed her and blinked, giving a quick shake of his head. “Georgie?”

  She thrust the box forward. “I come bearing gifts.”

  But he stayed where he was. “I’m the one who should be throwing out the olive branch. I should have told you sooner. Once the car was in pieces, I lost my courage. I thought you’d leave, the same as Caitlyn.”

  Georgie wasn’t happy at the comparison before the truth washed over her like a soft blanket of rain. She relaxed her shoulders and her voice. “Only I came back.” With her nerves finally getting to her, she shirked her thumb toward the entrance. “Can we talk outside for a couple of minutes? I won’t keep you long.”

  She couldn’t get over how proud he looked in his navy uniform. Sure, the road home had some potholes, but she was here. There was nowhere else she cared to be.

  He hesitated, and her stomach started sinking toward her ankles. The box in her hands felt as heavy as an anchor, and she started toward the nearest table. “I’ll go ahead and leave these here. They’re for you and Rachel.” She swiveled on her heel, intent he wouldn’t see her upset.

  “Wait.” The honesty in his voice compelled her to stop, even though it took effort.

  She turned around, the pleading in his gaze heartrending.

  “Thanks for whatever’s in the box. You’re right. It’s best we go somewhere private.”

  He opened the back door, extending his arm for her to go first. With a quick nod, she hurried past him, the smell of soap, shampoo and Mike overcoming the strong bleachy scent of the station. The crisp air enveloped her in welcome coolness.

  The wind picked up, and a scurry of leaves scattered into mounds beneath the shade trees lining the street. All around her change was happening as fall surrounded them in all its glory. What changes lay in store for her and Mike? She wasn’t the type to stand by and watch everything happen around her. Taking charge was more her style.

  The zing in her chest stopped her forward progress. She ran her gaze over him, chills overtaking her. This was Mike. Her high school buddy. All grown up with broad shoulders and a kind heart.

  She more than liked everything about him.

  In fact... Whoa. She loved Mike Harrison.

  For too long they’d counted on friendship to express any unspoken words, both too scared of change that might wrench another loved one from their midst. The flutters in her chest quit. This time there was no going back. They’d lost each other once. She didn’t want to lose him again. Shivers ran through her.

  “Georgie. You have the funniest expression on your face.” He reached up and touched her forehead.

  The world spun all around her.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Three, you dolt.”

  Then he flashed two fingers before switching to four, then one.

  She laughed in spite of herself. “I’m fine. Why didn’t you tell me about the Thunderbird sooner?”

  “Most of the time I try to dwell on the positives.” He shrugged and leaned against the brick building. “Lately it’s been one thing after another. I’ve just tried my best to weather every storm.”

  “Aye aye, skipper.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Just what I want to hear from the prettiest woman in Hollydale. I have dog eyes.”

  “Wait a minute.” She jammed her hands into her pockets and met his gaze. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “I know you’re pretty. You just don’t see yourself like I see you.”

  Her mother had always told her she’d be prettier if she wore clothes that fit properly and let her hair grow out. But it didn’t matter what her mother had ever said. What mattered was how Georgie viewed herself. So she sometimes had grease and grime under her fingernails? She liked who she was. Who she is.

  If Mike liked her, too, that was a bonus beyond compare.

  “Thanks.” The left corner of her mouth quirked up as a wry chuckle squirmed out. “You’re not bad looking yourself.”

  “What are we doing, Georgie?”

  “What do you mean? I’m here to bring you a peace offering. I already feel bad. Earlier today Mr. Reedy picked up Beau.” She stopped, her voice giving out. She hadn’t wanted to make this about herself.

  “Oh, Georgie.” He came over and rubbed her cheek.

  “He wasn’t mine to begin with. And Miss Brittany is your car. If you need to sell it to provide for Rachel...” Her throat clogged worse than a rusty fuel line.

  “The Hollydale Hoedown is coming up in two weeks.”

  “The what?” Shrugging, she rubbed her right ear as that sure sounded like a dance. They didn’t have a good track record with dances. “What’s that?”

  “About five years ago, the mayor started a yearly dance as a fund-raiser for our town’s community center. People buy tickets, dress up and have fun.” He smiled and reached for her hands. “I stood you up eleven years ago. Will you give me another chance?”

  His brown eyes twinkled. They danced and dared, waiting for her answer.

  “But yesterday...” She shifted her weight and left other words unsaid.

  “We disagreed and you walked out. Today you came and we talked. You could call it our first fight and make-up session.” He grinned that devilish grin she’d always loved. “I have a feeling it won’t be our last.”

  “But a dance...” She gulped and checked out her jeans, already smudged with a wipe of oil, grease and some other unidentified sticky substance. Her breaths came out fast and unsteady. Of all the first dates, he wanted to take her someplace where she’d have to dress up?

  “I can read you like a book right now.” He stroked her cheek. “I don’t care if you want to wear a gunnysack or jeans or whatever. I want to show up at your door,” he stopped, sighed and stared up at the sky, “announce myself to your mother and dance with you. Once we’re there, it’s up to you how long we stay. Our first date.”

  A date with Mike?

  “A dance is outside of my comfort zone, but as your daughter said, there’s no such thing as a box. The answer is yes.”

  * * *

  MIKE HAD INSISTED on tonight’s hush-hush stakeout after noticing a pattern in the timing of the other burglaries. He yawned and positioned his binoculars toward a block of buildings that hadn’t been burglarized.

  Cramped into his mom’s hatchback with no one for company—not a perfect way to spend an evening.

  Disgusted with the lack of success on this case, he grabbed the last cupcake from the Night Owl Bakery box and wolfed it down. The sweetness of the icing appeased him, and he thought again about how much he appreciated having Edwards as backup, stationed nearby, rather than the sheriff. Donahue was asleep in bed, so Mike’s plan for a cloak of secrecy was now in motion.

  Pouring a cup of coffee, Mike breathed in the rich aroma, then set it to cool. He rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes. He’d been focusing so much on the burglaries themselves he hadn’t considered the lives of locals. Had any Hollydale residents showed significant financial gains in the past three months?

  He picked up his thermos lid full of coffee and blew, dissipating the steam hovering there.

  Max’s Auto Repair. Mike’s breath caught. Heidi and Travis Crowe. According to Georgie, they’d been traveling all over the place. Traveling cost money.

  Could they be behind the robberies?

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mike caught sight of an older model white Ford Explorer rolling to a stop in front of the bakery. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. What sane driver at night didn’t use headlights? Drivers up to no good, that’s who.

  Mike reached for his walkie-talkie and pressed the button. “Edwards?”

  Two fig
ures, one stocky and short, the other taller and lean, jumped out of the car and pulled black ski caps over their faces. Payday.

  “Ten-Four. Over.”

  “Suspects on premises.” He recounted the details and then ran through a mental checklist of his utility belt. Blood pounded in his ears. Even though this was Hollydale, apprehending perps always held an element of risk. He waited for the sense of calm before proceeding. “I’m alerting dispatch and then going in. Ready?”

  Mike approached the bakery with the stealth of a panther ready to pounce. He caught sight of Edwards and nodded. They neared the back entrance, the scratched door and broken lock clear signs of forced entry. With a nod of his head, he and Edwards both readied their weapons.

  Mike took the lead, adrenaline charging through him. “I’ll go first.”

  Elbowing his way in, Mike lunged, his weapon drawn. “Police!”

  The two perps raised their hands.

  “Don’t shoot. We’re not armed.” One cried out, genuine fear in his voice.

  “Oh, man. My grandfather’s gonna kill me.” The other perp moaned.

  Mike recognized that voice and gave an inward groan. Edwards checked the rest of the bakery. “All clear.”

  Stepping toward the second suspect, Mike lowered his gun, patted him down and snapped handcuffs on him while Edwards did the same to the other one. With a deep breath, Mike removed the guy’s ski cap, revealing Sheriff Donahue’s teenage grandson, tears already running down the youth’s face.

  “We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?”

  Mike merely nodded and read Zachary Donahue his rights.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  NO SOONER HAD Georgie set out the usual boxes of cookies than the front door of the repair shop flew open, bringing in a gust of cool air and Natalie.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Natalie rushed over and hugged her before stepping back.

  “Because everyone in town hasn’t been talking about anything else except the robbers’ identities over the weekend?” Georgie shrugged with a smile. Then her gaze flittered down to Natalie’s red cowboy boots. They might be a little conspicuous in Hollydale, but they suited her friend.