The Sheriff and the Innocent Housekeeper

by Lynda Chance

  Miranda leaned back from her friend to ask, "When's the big day? What month would be good for a wedding?" There was a speculative look in her eye.

  Becky grinned. "It's not going to be a long engagement. We're getting married Saturday."

  Miranda shrieked. "Saturday!"

  A satisfied smile crossed Becky's face. "Saturday. I guess Jake doesn't want to wait, and I'm not about to try to get him to. He could drag me in front of the preacher today and I would go with my apron on!"

  ****

  Later that day, Becky stood next to Jake's kitchen table and quietly made the first cut in the cloth her aunt had given her. The bright blue gingham would be perfect against the white windowsills. Jake's mother's china was blue and white and visions of the cheerful splash of added color the curtains would make in the room brought a smile to her face. The moment she and her aunt had come across the large remnant of fabric, Becky knew it was the exact same color.

  A pot of soup bubbled on the stove behind her, scenting the house and adding to the delight of the domestic project before her.

  Becky loved sewing, and making the window coverings was a pleasure, not a chore.

  She looked up when the door clicked shut. Jake leaned against the door, watching her. Before she even had time to form a smile for him, she saw the look on his face. It was a pained expression and was confusing to her. She had never seen it before on him.

  "What are you doing here?" His features were etched with strain as he asked the question.

  "I-I'm m-making your supper." Her mouth shook and she tried to smile.

  "You can't be here 'til Saturday. We're engaged now, sweetheart. Remember?" His voice was low and monotone.

  She put the scissors down and smoothed her suddenly damp hands down her skirt. Her heart pounded in agitation. Maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn't be here now that they were getting married. But she didn't think that was what was bothering him. "What's wrong, J-Jake?"

  He ignored the question. "What's that you're working on, sweetheart?"

  "C-curtains." Her voice trembled.

  His eyes moved around the small, stark room and desolation gripped his features.

  He stood to his full height and took his Stetson off. His hand went through his hair and the muscles in his back clenched. He tossed the hat down, and went to the water pump. He washed his hands and ran cold water over his face. Grabbing a towel, he dried the excess water as he turned. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest.

  She tried again. "What's wrong, Jake? Are you mad at me?"

  "No baby, I'm not mad at you." His voice was gentle as he hesitated. "I ran into Sam Bolton today. He already knew about the wedding on Saturday." His words trailed off. He wanted to share his fears with her, but didn't quite know how to go about it. He had always been a man of few words.

  Becky stood listening to him, a myriad of feelings running through her. The irresistible way he called her baby was tingling down her spine, while the content of his words confused her. She prompted him. "And? Are you upset that I told Miranda?"

  "No. That's not it. Sam told me about the house he built for you and Kyle." He pushed his fingers through his hair in agitation. He reiterated his words. "He told me about the damn house, Becky."

  She could see he was upset, but didn't quite know why. Everybody in the county knew how rich the Bolton's were. It shouldn’t be news to Jake. She tried to explain it to him. "It wasn't supposed to be a secret, Jake. I thought you knew about the house. You know the Bolton's are rich, and that Kyle is their only child."

  Her words pierced his heart. He knew she was only trying to explain things to him and make him understand, but somehow, that didn't make it any better. When Sam had told him about the huge house on the riverfront, everything Becky was giving up became clear to him. It made him see that Kyle Bolton's pursuit of her had been real. It had been carefully orchestrated, and the only thing standing in Kyle's way was Jake's own selfish desires for Becky.

  He felt so damn guilty and selfish for wanting her for his own. He didn't have anything to offer her in comparison. Nothing at all. Only himself.

  Graphic images of Becky living in that brick house by the river ripped through him. Denial tore through him.

  Jealousy and frustration raged through him. Kyle Bolton was everything he was not. Young and whole, not a man broken down and burdened with nightmares from the war. He had a nice, respectable job in his Daddy's bank. He had a close knit family, a mother that doted on him. And more family wealth than the rest of the county combined. He could give Becky everything that Jake couldn't. A snarl of rage and frustration rose up in his blood.

  Still, his conscience made him spell it out for her, one last time.

  "I'll never be able to give you what the Bolton's can, Becky. I'll never be able to have a house like that built for you."

  "I don't want what they have, Jake. That house means nothing to me. I don't want to marry Kyle. I want you."

  Relief washed through him. That was the last chance she was getting. That damn kid had everything going for him. He damn sure wasn't getting Becky. Nobody was getting Becky. Nobody but him.

  His voice turned feral. "Well, you don't have to worry about marrying him. You're marrying me. On Saturday." He threw down the towel and started towards her. "Luckily for me, the whole town knows we're getting married. Those two busybodies from the quilting circle have been spreading it all over. You're stuck. There's no way out for you now."

  Her eyes caressed his face and held him captivated. She sent a soft smile his way. His anger and aggression didn't seem to have an effect on her. She only tempered it and returned it with softness. His guts clenched with need.

  "I don't want a way out. You don't know how long I've wanted you, Jake," she whispered.

  He reached one strong arm completely over the table to where she stood and swiped her wrist with one large hand. "Show me, Becky." He pulled her around to him and slammed her body full length into his. Their eyes clashed. Desire crashed through her. He reached up and took the pins from her hair. "Shake it for me," he demanded.

  The blood was pounding through her veins and her body began to tremble. His masculinity was enough to leave her short of breath, his virility made her stomach knot up and her thighs clenched together. His blatant sexuality was potent. She had no defense against it.

  Her body was pliant in his arms and her breath was coming in ragged gulps. She reached up and pulled her hair down from the half knot and gently shook it as he had demanded until it fell around her shoulders. His grasp tightened on her and turned even more possessive. He pulled her head back and lowered his mouth to her neck. He breathed in deeply of her scent and began to suck.

  Pleasure seared her.

  His head raised and his eyes blazed into hers as her scent and her softness intoxicated him. "How long, Becky?" he bit the words out, his voice gravelly, lust making speech more difficult.

  She moaned in his arms, her body trembling.

  His question pierced the haze of desire circling her. She shook her head back and forth. "What?"

  He reluctantly eased his hold, fighting the primal instinct to take her now and make her his. If he didn't let her go now, they would both end up naked. He was just about to reclaim her and make it so when she wiggled away from him and moved to stand close to the door.

  He looked at her as another pang of need rose up within him. "Tell me, sweetheart. I really want to know."

  His tone mesmerized her. "What d-do you want to know?" Confusion filled her. She couldn't keep her mind on the conversation.

  He watched her as he tried to restrain his physical pursuit. It would have to be enough for now just to get inside her head. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."

  Her face flushed with embarrassment. She shouldn't have told him that secret. Now she was faced with lying or telling him the embarrassing truth. She hadn't been raised to lie. "I don't want to tell you." She tried to evade the question. She backed up until
her hand fell on the doorknob behind her.

  "Please, baby."

  The need in his eyes was her undoing. Her hand twisted the knob behind her. "Don't you know already, Jake?" She softly whispered.

  "Tell me," he demanded.

  She sucked in a stabilizing breath. "Since I was fourteen. Since the first time I laid eyes on you."

  She turned and fled.

  Chapter Four

  Thursday evening Becky was buttering rolls in the kitchen at her aunt's boardinghouse. She heard the front door open and close and the murmur of voices at the front desk. She hadn't seen or heard from the sheriff all day. She'd heeded his warning, and stayed away from his house. The truth of the matter was she was afraid to face him after her confession last night. She had left his house so quickly, she didn't know how he had reacted. Did he think she was a young girl with a crush on him? Or did he realize she had been in love with him all along?

  Her body quivered and her breasts tightened when she remembered the night before. He had actually marked her! There was a red bruise on her neck where he had put his mouth the night before. When she washed this morning and saw it in the mirror, she felt faint. At first she didn't know what it was, and when it dawned on her, liquid heat slammed into her. All day long, she would catch herself, absently touching the spot. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew it, and what it would feel like if she could leave a similar mark on him. Just the thought of that intimate mark on her neck had her insides quivering every time she remembered that it was there.

  "Becky, Becky come in here, sweetie." The sound of her aunt's voice broke her away from her reverie. She wiped her hands and went into the front parlor. "The sheriff has come to see you." Her aunt beamed a smile at them.

  Jake leaned against the front desk, watching her. His eyes were hooded, his expression unreadable. Muscles bulged against his shirt, his forearms tanned and sinewy.

  Her aunt continued, "He says everything's set for Saturday. Now, I'll watch the front while you take him back to the kitchen and ya'll get some supper."

  Jake followed her around to the kitchen as her aunt herded them through the door.

  "Smells good. Did you make it?" he asked as she ladled out chicken and dumplings into a bowl. She nodded confirmation. He pulled out a chair and sat down. She placed the bowl in front of him and turned to get the basket of rolls. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. He pushed the chair out next to him with his boot. It scraped against the floor. "Sit down and eat with me, Becky." She nodded her head again and he released her. She fixed a small helping for herself and sat.

  His eyes never left hers as he picked up the fork and started eating. He swallowed several large bites, then said, "I love your cooking."

  She pushed the rolls in his direction and waited while he picked one up. She hesitated, then began taking small bites. In all the years she had cooked for him, she had never sat down to eat with him. It felt very intimate.

  Jake noticed she hadn't spoken a word since he walked into the boardinghouse. She was back to being her quiet, serene self. The peace he felt for three years when she was with him washed through him. Her hand fluttered toward her neck and smoothed down her hair. She glanced at him, and then away again.

  "What's wrong?" he demanded. The question had her pressing her hand up and against her neck again.

  "N-nothing." She wouldn't meet his eyes. He lifted her hand away from her neck with a firmness she couldn't hope to fight against and moved her hair back. The impact of seeing his mark on her neck jarred him. Blood surged and hardened him. His hand gripped hers.

  "Hurry and finish up there. I want to take you for a walk." She took a last bite and moved their dishes to the counter.

  He reached out and grabbed her hand.

  She pulled on her arm to slow him down. "Don't you w-want dessert?" Her tongue reached out and moistened her lips.

  Desire clenched his guts. Saturday couldn't get here soon enough. He looked at her mouth. "Yeah, I do." He pulled on her arm. "Let's go."

  As he rushed her out the front door, she heard her aunt tell them to have fun. When they got out on the street she tried to keep apace with him. "Where are we going?" Her voice was breathless. Night was falling and they were going to be out in the dark, all alone.

  "Let's go to the bridge." The Waco suspension bridge had opened just two years before, and it was one of the most amazing sites she had ever seen. There were a few other suspension bridges in the United States, but nothing could compare to the bridge that crossed the Brazos River.

  "It's going to be dark, and I don't have any money, Jake." Even though she argued against it, she wanted to go to the bridge; she loved it there.

  "It's not too dark. I'll pay your tolls." He turned to face her. Right there in the street, he lifted her face and twined her hair through his fingers. "You don't ever need to worry about money again, Becky. I'm going to take care of you." Fascinated, she felt the magnetic force of his attraction. He reached for her hand again and pulled her along.

  They hurried through the evening traffic, the temptation of the night to come all around them. Jake held her hand in his, the memory of last night teasing his brain.

  After she ran from him the night before, her words had slammed into him. Becky thought she was in love with him. She had been so quiet all these years, he hadn't known. But even from the very beginning, she must have been infatuated with him.

  He had a lot of stuff to work out in his head about Kyle Bolton. He knew he needed to get over it. It was just his damn ego suffering. He had to believe her. She wanted him. And he was just selfish enough to take her. He needed to be alone with her, to have her to himself for a few minutes. He needed to touch her, to hold her.

  They reached the bottom of the bridge and he gave the coins over to the toll keeper. There were quite a few people milling about, enjoying the evening. Several couples stopped to talk to him and ask him questions, and as he was answering them, their curious eyes kept turning to Becky. When he could get away politely, he moved them a bit off to the side, away from the crowd. He kept her by his side, and let the other evening strollers get ahead of them. He picked up their joined hands. He took her palm away from his and laced his strong fingers between hers in a more intimate clasp. He raised their entwined fingers to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. Her lips were trembling as she tried to smile at him.

  The sun was just beginning to go down as they crossed to the middle of the bridge. They stopped and watched the serenity of the water flowing below. Hauntingly beautiful, it was completely amazing that they could be standing here together, suspended so high up in the air, above the swirling water down below. They stood together and watched for some moments, until the breeze began to bite as the sun sank deeper.

  He felt her shiver beside him. He pulled her body back against his. Her back nestled into his chest and he lightly rested his chin on the top of her head. With his arms wrapped around her, they watched the water together. Becky sighed in sheer bliss. Nothing could ever be better than this. He whispered in her ear. "Are you cold, sweetheart?"

  "Yes, but I don't want to leave. It's so beautiful, Jake. The water is so beautiful."

  Jake thought of that damn brick house on the river and something like pain made his stomach clench. How could he deny her that? Didn't she understand what she could have everyday of her life if she chose Bolton?

  He pushed the gut-wrenching thought aside. He refused to step aside. She was his. She had been his since she was fourteen. No man but him would ever have her. He would see to it.

  He moved his lips against her hair and kissed her gently. "We can come here anytime you want, Becky. We can come one day and have a picnic by the river. Would you like that?"

  She turned in his arms. "Oh yes, Jake. I would. I would like that." Her lips trembled and her eyes glowed into his.

  He knew he shouldn't touch her in a public place. But he couldn't help himself, and it was so dark now, no one would see. He pulled her in and lowered hi
s mouth over hers. Her lips softened as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth. He tasted her sweetness, and let her taste his need. Her lips parted with her ragged breathing. He took advantage and pushed his tongue into her mouth. He felt her go slack in his arms. He held her up and drank deeply of her lips, her tongue, her mouth. She hung, shocked in his embrace.

  He lifted his mouth and spoke. "Kiss me back." He breathed in raggedly. "Please, Becky, kiss me back." His mouth lowered again.

  Shock faded, and desire took its place as fierce excitement speared through her. Her heart slammed against her breastbone as she felt Jake's tongue slide into her mouth again as she absorbed his words. He wanted her to kiss him back.

  Hesitantly, she gave him her tongue. He sucked it into his mouth and swirled it around his. Lights exploded in her brain and her reasoning disappeared. She relinquished all thought and hung in his arms as he continued to savor her mouth. It could have been seconds, or it could have been minutes. But it wasn't long enough.