Curves and the Sheriff (BBW Romance - Coldwater Springs 2)

by Jenn Roseton

  Curves and the Sheriff (BBW Romance - Coldwater Springs 2)

  by

  Jenn Roseton

  Copyright © 2013 by Jenn Roseton

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  This is a sexy contemporary romance novelette.

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  Libby checked her watch as she drove past the sign welcoming her to Coldwater Springs. Three o’clock. Not bad, considering she’d left Laramie at lunchtime and stopped for gas along the way.

  She smiled to herself as the frosty outskirts of the small town whizzed by. A new year and a new beginning were exactly what she needed. And she couldn’t wait to catch up with Sarah.

  She’d missed her cousin since she’d moved back to Coldwater Springs five months ago. It had been fun hanging out with Sarah in Laramie, where they’d both lived and worked. Then Sarah lost her job and had been fortunate enough to find one in her hometown - as well as the man of her dreams. Libby hoped that one day she would be as lucky.

  A siren wailed in the distance and became louder. She checked her rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of her green-flecked hazel eyes and curly blond hair in the process. Her eyes widened as she saw the sheriff’s vehicle on her tail. The driver made no attempt to pass her, instead dogging her small SUV with an intensity that unnerved her. Libby checked her speed - just under the speed limit, thank goodness. So why was the sheriff right behind her?

  Sighing, she slowed down and pulled over. Once she’d come to a complete stop, she turned off the ignition and placed her hands on the steering wheel. And waited.

  Libby glanced in her rear-view mirror. The officer spoke into a hand-held radio and she clenched her hands around the steering wheel, telling herself to be patient. “Come on,” she muttered. She’d planned to move in to her furnished cottage today and Sarah was coming by to help.

  The officer stepped out of his vehicle and approached. Tall, with dark brown hair under his western hat, his measured strides told her he meant business. His broad shoulders filled out a zipped up tan jacket, while dark trousers and boots completed his outfit.

  Libby reluctantly wound down the window. Why on earth had he stopped her?

  “Ma’am, I need you to step out of the car.” His deep voice held a hint of gravel.

  “What’s wrong, officer?” She frowned as she waited for his answer.

  “Just step out of the car, ma’am.”

  Libby looked into his dark brown eyes. Hard. Implacable. Her heart started to pound. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so why was she feeling scared?

  Unfastening her seatbelt, she reluctantly opened the door and exited the vehicle. Standing on the hard-packed gravel shoulder, she looked up at him. He dwarfed her height of five foot five by a good six or seven inches.

  “Where have you come from today, ma’am?” he asked curtly.

  “Laramie.” She guessed he called every female he met ma’am, but it grated. Did she look like a ma’am at twenty-six? Considering he looked to be in his mid-thirties, it seemed particularly galling. Smoothing down her sky blue swing car coat over her curves, she waited for his response.

  “Two hundred miles away.” He pointed at her car. “Is this your vehicle?”

  “Yes.” She spied the gold star emblazoned with SHERIFF on his chest. “Sheriff.” Maybe if she was super polite to him, she’d be on her way in a minute or so.

  “Where are you headed to?”

  “Coldwater Springs.” She decided to ask him a question. “Was I speeding?”

  “No.”

  “Then why--”

  “I’ll ask the questions, ma’am.” A muscle ticked in his strong jaw. His nose looked like it had been broken at one stage, but it suited his tough good looks.

  Libby raised an eyebrow at his tone. Fine. She’d let him ask the questions. But she wished he would hurry up.

  “Do you have the paperwork to prove you’re the owner of this vehicle?”

  “Yes.” She wrinkled her brow, trying to think where the registration papers were.

  “I’ll need to see it.”

  His gruff voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She bit her lip, trying to think where the registration papers were. In the dash? Or in her file folder where she kept important papers - the file folder now bundled in one of the boxes in the backseat.

  “They might be in the glove compartment.” Libby hoped they were - it would be too embarrassing if she had to search through the boxes in the back while he watched her every move.

  “Stay here, ma’am.” The lawman pierced her with a hard stare before opening the driver’s door of her vehicle. He took the keys out of the ignition and then opened the glove compartment, conveying the impression that although he was focused on his search, he would know the instant she moved a muscle.

  Her shoulders tensed as she watched him search for the paperwork. Why had he pulled her over?

  “Are you Libby Grant?” He looked up from the piece of paper he held in his hand.

  “Yes.” She swallowed - hard. He looked at her as if she were a criminal.

  “I’m going to have to take you in for questioning.”

  “What?” She forced the words past her parched throat. What on earth was going on?

  Not a flicker of emotion passed over his face. “This vehicle is the same make and model as one reported stolen from Laramie this morning.”

  Libby paled. “You - you can’t be serious.” Her legs trembled and she badly wanted to sit down. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I’ll take you down to the sheriff’s department and we can get this straightened out.” His words might sound reasonable but she knew just from the way he looked at her that he’d already judged and convicted her.

  “But I have ID in my wallet,” she protested.

  “We’ll look at that once we’re at the station,” he informed her. He grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, then slid his hand under her elbow to escort her to his vehicle.

  Her stomach fluttered at the slight contact and she felt him hesitate for a split second before he shepherded her to his SUV.

  “I don’t understand.” She reluctantly sat in the back seat, thankful that at least he hadn’t handcuffed her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “We can talk about it once we’re back at the station.” He checked that she had her seatbelt on and turned on the ignition.

  “But what about my car? It’s got all my stuff in it!”

  “It’s secure for now.” Libby decided to save her breath at his clipped tone. Once they got to the station, she would demand to call Sarah, and hopefully this ridiculous misunderstanding would get straightened out right away.

  Twenty minutes later, Libby found herself sitting in a drab gray interrogation room. At least, that’s what she supposed you would call it, the only furniture being a scratched table and two chairs. She wriggled around on the hard metal seat, trying to get comfortable. The sheriff had deposited her in here and told her he would be back in a few minutes. Those minutes felt like hours.

  The door finally opened and he walked in. She couldn’t help but look up at him. It was so unfair. How could he be so hunkalicious when he had a big stick up his butt?

  He took the seat on the opposite side of the desk. Her eyes focused on his broad chest before movi
ng upwards to study his face. She couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. If only they had met in different circumstances - and he wasn’t so uptight. She signed inwardly, telling herself not to go there. Over the years, she’d found out from experience that most men preferred skinny girls. Why would this man be any different?

  “Miss Grant, I need to ask you some questions.”

  His brusque tone pulled her out of her thoughts. Should she answer his questions? Or should she ask for a lawyer? She was innocent of whatever he thought she’d done. Would asking for a lawyer make her look guilty?

  “You’re not under arrest at this stage.”

  “Good,” she blurted out. She saw a tiny flicker on his face that could be classed as the beginning of a smile. He quickly masked it.

  “How long have you had the car you were driving today?”

  “Two years. I have the loan paperwork in one of my boxes in the backseat.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to see that paperwork.”

  “Sure.” If he could see for a fact that the car wasn’t stolen, he’d let her go. Wouldn’t he?

  “Why did you come to Coldwater Springs?” His eyes watched her carefully, as if he would know the instant she thought of lying to him.

  “I’m moving here. The library where I worked at in Laramie had its funding cut, so when my cousin told me about the assistant librarian position here, I applied for it.”

  “And you got the job?”

  “I start work at the library on Monday.” She began to smile at the thought of hanging out with Sarah again before remembering that he was the enemy.

  He shifted in his seat and she realized her reply had surprised him. “I’ll have to verify that.”

  “Of course,” she replied sweetly.

  “Just so you know, this morning we received an APB for a stolen car of your make and model. A notorious female con-artist is said to be driving it. I’ll be checking out your story very carefully.”

  “Go ahead, sheriff.” Libby folded her arms in front of her chest. Did he really think she was a con-artist? A notorious con-artist? Seriously?

  He rose from the table. “You’ll be staying in here while I make my enquiries.”

  How long would it take him to do that? She‘d just bet he would take longer than necessary, just because he could. Libby didn‘t want to stay in that room one second longer than she had to. “When do I get my phone call?”

  He paused at the door. “Phone call?”

  “Aren’t I entitled to one?”

  He arched a brow. “Once I check out the information you’ve given me.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I just called my cousin? She’s helping me move in today.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s your cousin’s name?”

  “Sarah Grant. She teaches elementary school here.”

  The sheriff froze. “You’ll get your phone call,” he growled.

  ###

  “Sarah!” Libby rushed over to her cousin and hugged her tightly, blinking back tears of relief. It was so good to see a familiar face.

  Sarah Grant returned the hug. “Libby.” She stepped back, turning to the tall, dark haired man who had entered the room with her. “This is Chase, my fiancée.” She shared an intimate smile with him.

  “What?” Libby almost squealed.

  Sarah beamed and held out her hand. Libby gazed at the large solitaire diamond on her cousin’s left hand ring finger and then turned her gaze to the man standing next to Sarah.

  “The Chase McCord?” Libby couldn’t help the cheeky grin that lit up her face. “Sarah’s told me a lot about you. Except for the fact that you‘re engaged.”

  “It only happened last week.” Sarah blushed. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

  Chase’s lips tugged upwards and he wrapped an arm around his fiancée. “And she’s told me about you, too. But she didn’t mention that you’re an alleged con-artist and car thief.”

  “He’s an idiot.” Libby scowled. “A total jackass. Anyone can see I’m not a criminal.” She was not going to think about the sheriff’s dark brown eyes or tall, muscular frame. Or lips that looked perfectly kissable. Nope.

  “Jake Morgan happens to be a friend of mine.” Chase raised his hands to ward off Libby’s death-ray glare. “I didn’t say I agreed with what happened here. But Jake probably thinks you can’t be too careful.”

  Sheriff Jake Morgan. The name definitely suited him. What a shame he was so - so--

  Libby blinked as he appeared in the doorway. “Miss Grant, you’re free to go,” the sheriff said gruffly. “Sorry for the mix-up.”

  Mix-up? Practically being arrested and interrogated was now being called “a mix-up”? She blew out a deep breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.

  Sarah must have seen the expression on her face because she hastily said, “Thank you, Jake. Come on, Lib.”

  Libby raised her chin as she strode past the sheriff. If she ever saw him again, it would be too soon.

  “Miss Grant.” She paused, hating the fact that she did so. Reluctantly turning around, she raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” She forced her tone to be completely businesslike.

  “Your purse.” He held out her handbag. “Your car is in the parking lot.”

  A flush stole over her cheeks. “Thank you.” She took it from him gingerly, careful not to let her fingers touch his. She remembered the tingle she’d felt when he’d escorted her to his vehicle on the highway. She didn’t want to experience that again. No way.

  She walked out of the station into the dusky January twilight, Sarah behind her. Libby heard Chase say, “Thanks Jake,” before he caught up with them.

  Libby breathed in the frosty air, her breath forming a white cloud in front of her face. “Oooh!”

  “I take it Jake isn’t your favorite person right now.”

  “You’ve got that right, Chase.” Libby ran her hand through her blond curls. “And I don’t want to think about him or what happened this afternoon ever again.”

  Sarah put her arm around Libby. “Let’s get you settled in at the cottage. Chase can get us some pizzas.”

  “And wine?”

  Both women looked hopefully at Chase.

  He chuckled. “Pizza and wine coming right up.”

  ###

  Libby hummed under her breath, placing returned books on the trolley. She’d been working at the library for almost a week now, and seemed to be getting on well with Mrs Bird, the head librarian and only other employee.

  She’d quickly settled in her cute two bedroom furnished cottage, three blocks away from the library. One of the perks of living in Coldwater Springs, besides hanging out with Sarah, would be the chance to walk to work in the warmer weather.

  Libby glanced down at her soft peach sweater and gray slacks. Somehow her outfit managed to highlight her figure in all the right places and the colors flattered her hair and pale skin. According to magazine articles, there were tons of guys out there who liked a woman with a voluptuous figure. So where was her guy?

  “Libby!” The hiss jolted her out of her thoughts and she whipped around.

  “Yes, Mrs Bird?” She kept her voice low. Mrs Bird was aptly named. She wore slightly old-fashioned clothes on her tall, thin frame and arranged her gray hair in a neat bun at the back of her head.

  In Laramie, the library where Libby had worked encouraged people to bring their tablets, laptops, ear-buds and cell phones. Sometimes kids even ran rampant around the aisles. No one would dare do any of those things in the Coldwater Springs library. Mrs Bird made sure that peace and quiet reigned. All day. Except for the melodious chimes of the self-checkout machine.

  “The sheriff is here.” Mrs Bird frowned.

  “What?”

  “He hasn’t been in here for eleven months. Not since I fined him for having an overdue book.”

  “I bet he didn’t like that.” Libby tried not to smirk. It seemed that even the sheriff had to obey the library r
ules.

  “Be a dear and go see what he wants.” The older woman patted her bun. “I have to check on the mothers’ group next door and make sure they know about the new parenting books that arrived last week.”

  Libby grimaced. She did not want to see Sheriff Jake Morgan. She had successfully - some of the time at least - kept thoughts of him at bay. Except at night, when images of his tall, muscular body and dark brown eyes invaded her dreams.

  “Don’t think about that now,” she murmured to herself, walking slowly to the other side of the room. Be polite and professional, polite and professional, she chanted silently as she spied him standing in front of one of the shelves.

  “May I help you, sheriff?” Keeping a neutral expression on her face was difficult when she stood this close to him. Why did he have to be so gruff and tough?

  She took a calming breath. His scent of clean, fresh leather filled her senses. Why was she attracted to him? It just didn’t make sense.

  “Just looking for something to read, Miss Grant.” He turned from the bookshelf. His hooded gaze swept over her, taking in her appearance. He stared at her for so long that Libby’s cheeks burned and she wondered if he was going to accuse her of stealing another car.

  “Well, let me know if I can help.” Libby edged away.

  “I will,” he murmured.

  Walking back to the book trolley, she wondered at the soft tone of his last two words. That man was not attractive at all. Not when he suspected her of being a notorious con-artist. And a car thief.

  Libby tried to keep her mind on her work, concentrating on placing books back correctly on the shelf. However, after working as an assistant librarian for the last three years, shelving books was something she could do in her sleep and she found herself thinking of him.

  She fought the urge to peek around the end of the aisle. Was he still browsing the shelves? Or had he already left?

  Libby wheeled the empty trolley back to the desk. The scolding chimes of the self-checkout machine reached her ears. She rounded the corner, ready to assist the patron to check out their books correctly. But when she reached the self-checkout, she saw the sheriff departing the library, a book under his arm.

  She couldn’t see Mrs Bird anywhere. Libby took a deep breath. “Sheriff!” Hurrying after him, she managed to catch up with him at the library door.