The Sheriff's Bride: Country Brides & Cowboy Boots (Cobble Creek Romance Book 1)

by Kimberly Krey

  She was off the ground in seconds, patting the butt of her jeans and dusting off her hands as she limped to the row of clay pots by the laundromat. There, she folded her thin arms over her chest like a hug.

  Trent sighed easier once the two were separated, but the heavy bruising on the man’s inner arms—coupled with the odd twitch in his face—said he was likely carrying drugs. Which made him more likely to dodge an interaction with them.

  “I just want to talk to you and your friend here,” Trent assured. “It’ll only take a minute of your time.”

  The man’s gaze darted to a hidden spot by the dumpster and then to the woman who waited by the pots.

  “Step over to the opposite wall,” Trent said, nodding toward the back of the brick-covered restaurant.

  With his hands still in the air, the perpetrator took several quick steps toward the laundromat’s dumpster.

  “Not that wall,” Trent hollered, moving toward the spot as well. “Freeze and get your hands back up where we can see them.”

  The guy looked over his shoulder to where Benny stood, his Taser poised as well. Trent hadn’t meant to reveal his presence, but that’s just what he’d done by saying we instead of I.

  Benny brought the CB up to his mouth, mumbled a few words, then shoved it back in his belt. “Backup is on the way,” he said. “We don’t want to shoot, but we will if you don’t cooperate.”

  With quick, jittery movements, the man lifted his arms back over his head and stayed in place, shifting his weight from one torn-up tennis shoe to the next.

  Trent took a cautious step, but stopped short as a small girl darted out of the back exit of the laundromat. With a series of tiny, hurried steps, she ran right between Trent and the suspect. Her speedy pace took her around the dumpster, along the pots, and finally, to the woman Trent assumed was her mom.

  The woman wasted no time scooping the small child up and hitching her onto her hip. For the slightest moment, the little girl held Trent’s gaze. Hazel eyes, dark hair, and a terrified look on her face. Jessie—this is what she went through.

  The thought had barely taken root when Benny shouted, “Stop! Drop your weapon!”

  Weapon?

  Trent’s heart jumped, his eyes shooting back to the action in time to see the perpetrator lunge at Benny, the butt of a long knife in his fist.

  With the Taser ready in his grip, Trent pulled the trigger, landing the prongs right into the man’s back. He let out a stifled howl as he fell forward hard and fast, his shoulders and arms like stiff, wooden planks.

  “Benny, are you okay?”

  Benny folded forward with a groan.

  Trent’s adrenaline spiked so hard it hurt. In a blur of gangly limbs and greasy hair, Trent put the guy in a pair of zip tie cuffs, noting the blood on his hand.

  He left him on his side on the blacktop and rushed over to Benny. Sirens sounded nearby, which meant Trent would have help soon.

  Benny’s shoulders curled over his chest. He steadied the blade in place with shaky hands, crimson blood dripping down his fingers and wrists.

  A rush of hot fear sunk into Trent’s heart. He’d been trained how to respond, but all of that escaped him in one breath. His head went fuzzy as flashbacks of his brother at the accident flooded his mind.

  Benny grunted out a few breaths before groaning. “I’m going to be okay, aren’t I?” He lifted his chin, opened his eyes, and gulped. “Darcy,” he grunted.

  “You’re going to be fine, Benny, I promise.”

  The medics were there, hustling to work on Benny and the culprit, too.

  Trent sunk to the ground and whispered a fervent prayer for Ben. A wife and a kid on the way … Please, God, let him make it through.

  Chapter 26

  A finished quilt—there weren’t many things more rewarding to Jessie than that. And this one was even more special because it was Sheila’s contribution to the Country Quilt Inn. A gift in honor of her late sister, Mindy.

  Varied shades of white and pink created what might appear to be a fairly ordinary quilt from a distance. But up close, those who knew Mindy would appreciate the tiny cherries (Mindy’s favorite) printed on the slightly darker patches of pink. Among the white patches, shimmery fabric boasted seashells, seen only from an angle in the sunlight, since her favorite place was the beach. Similar touches were found among the other patches, each fabric selected by Mindy’s loved ones. The back piece, picked out by her parents, offered inspirational quotes with encouraging words of strength, persistence, and peace found in trusting the Lord above.

  Sheila and her niece, Callie, had done most of the tying, which, like the other quilts made at the B&B, was done for the sake of adding charm, not to stitch it together. Jessie had stitched it earlier that week and added a silky pink binding along the outer edge. Nate tied a few knots here and there, along with Sheila’s two nephews, Mackie and Greg, and their father, Shawn.

  Jessie circled the quilt carefully, searching for any forgotten pins or needles, then took it off the frame. She held it up ceremoniously as Sheila and six-year-old Callie clapped and cheered.

  The final touch was the pink silk ribbons tied into the quilt, a symbol that helped tell the story behind the piece.

  “It’s perfect,” Sheila said through tears.

  Callie ducked beneath the quilting frame edge and galloped in the space like it was a corral. “I love it!” she cheered. “Can we go ride the horses now?”

  “Your daddy’s going to take you to Griff’s as soon as he gets back,” Sheila assured.

  Jessie eyed the dark clouds through the window. “Looks like there might be a storm brewing …”

  Sheila’s eyes widened. “I hope not. I forgot how much energy they have at this age.”

  Jessie smiled, recalling the excitement she always felt about riding horses on Griff’s ranch. She draped the quilt gently over the couch. “Has Shawn had any luck finding a house?”

  “Sounds like he might have. We should know soon enough.”

  “Hey, Jessie, how come you don’t have a husband?” Callie asked, her voice bouncing as she galloped.

  “That’s not a polite question,” Sheila said. “Not everyone gets married.”

  Callie stopped trotting, her nose crinkling as she looked at them. “Why? Why wouldn’t you want to get married?”

  “Callie …” Sheila hissed again.

  Jessie laughed. “I don’t mind. It’s not that I don’t want to get married. It’s more that I have to find the right guy, you know?” There was truth in that. Jessie had decided to stay open to the idea of marrying one day, even if Trent wasn’t the one.

  “I want for my dad to hurry up and get a new wife,” the little girl mumbled while climbing out from the quilt frame. She hoisted herself onto the couch and snuggled up to the new quilt. Her small fingers twiddling the soft pink ribbons.

  Jessie should have predicted where the girl’s thoughts were headed. No mommy to hug and kiss good night. A dad who’s probably quite lonely since her death. Kids liked to fix things.

  Jessie gave the girl a pat on the leg and straightened up, feeling a unique kinship to her. “How about we go find a treat in the kitchen?”

  Callie nodded furiously, her dark curls bobbing up and down. She clutched Jessie’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “C’mon, Auntie Sheila,” she called.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Sheila stood before the window, running a hand along the quilt with a sad smile.

  It was nice having the extra company around the house, especially at a time when Jessie might easily sink into a state of self-pity over losing Trent. Sheila was a constant reminder of someone who’d weathered plenty of storms and remained positive. Callie seemed to share her aunt’s resilient quality. The small family had only arrived at the inn earlier that week, but already Callie, or Callie Cat as her dad called her, was a walking ray of sunshine in the home.

  Jessie hoisted the little girl onto a tall barstool. “Want to help me make something
yummy?” she asked.

  “Yay!” Callie hollered. “And we’ll surprise Mackie and Greg,” she burst out. “And my dad, too.”

  “And your dad, too,” Jessie agreed. She spun back around to make for the fridge, but started when she ran straight into Nate.

  He was out of breath, the sound of his panting so loud she was surprised she hadn’t heard him coming.

  “Sorry,” he stammered while stepping back. His face turned grave. “I was at Burger Stop with Jeff and Preston, and all of the sudden we heard all these sirens. So we went out back and saw this ambulance drive off, right? And we asked what happened and found out that someone got stabbed. It was either the sheriff or his partner.”

  “Stabbed?” The very idea caused a piercing ache at the pit of her chest. “How do you know? Are you sure?”

  He nodded again. “I’ll take you. They’re at the hospital now.”

  Dread—heavy and sinking—gripped hold of her as she nodded wordlessly. Soon they were out the door, and then into Nate’s green VW, which was still running in front of the inn.

  It wasn’t until they were halfway to the hospital that Jessie realized it was raining. Please don’t let it be bad, she murmured. Whether it was Benny or Trent, she prayed they’d live through it.

  Thoughts of Darcy and the unborn baby flooded her mind as they waited at a red light in town, the gutter grids bubbling to keep up with the pouring rain.

  It was times like these that made people toss pride and past offenses aside. And that’s just what Jessie wanted to do. She wanted to throw her arms around Trent and tell him she loved him. Her friends were right; she was foolish to give up so soon. She should have made more of an effort to talk to Trent after discovering what held him back. Especially after Nate’s encouraging words about taking risks for love. Why had she stopped after just one attempt? One failed attempt, no less. What kind of a role model was that?

  All because she’d been scared of what he might say. Well, there was no more putting it off. No matter who’d been hurt, Benny or Trent, Jessie only hoped she’d have the chance to say what needed to be said.

  Nate pulled up to a set of well-lit doors outside the ER. “You can go on in. I’ll park the car and meet you inside.”

  Jessie took in the concern on Nate’s face. You’d think he was about to lose his own father. “Okay,” she muttered, shoving the car door open. As the cool rain-drenched air greeted her, fear clenched its frantic hands around her neck. What if she lost Trent—really lost him?

  She spun to close the door behind her. “Thanks,” she said, but the sound of it got swallowed up in the rain.

  Chapter 27

  Trent watched through an open crack in the doorway curtain as Darcy cooed over Benny. Stroking his head, kissing his face, and squeezing his hands. She’d been feeding the guy heaps of ice chips since she got there, insisting the cold would help him heal quicker.

  Trent had never heard such a thing, and though Benny didn’t look too convinced, the guy played along, forcing down heap after brain-freezing heap of ice. Still, Trent would be darned if he wasn’t jealous just the same. He pictured being the wounded one, having Jessie show up and care for him in a similar fashion. But why would she do that? He’d pushed her away one too many times. Besides, she deserved better than him.

  It was that very thought that brought Trent back to a place he’d ended up several times over the last few days: There wasn’t a man out there who would treat Jessie better than Trent. It was more than just a random thought or fleeting statement—it was truth. A promise buried deep in his heart. If only he knew what to do.

  “Trent, are you okay?”

  Trent looked up to see his mom’s tear-drenched face, his dad standing beside her. That’s right, he realized, snapping out of his musings. His parents were due to arrive that afternoon.

  “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just, uh, had a close call. My partner’s the one who took the blade, but it didn’t catch any organs. They say he’ll heal up just fine.”

  “Oh, that’s such a relief.” Mom threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “Judy told us what happened. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  Garrett tossed his arms around him, too, his tense arms shaking as he squeezed him tight. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again, you hear?” Dad’s voice was thick with tears. “You owe me a fishing trip, and I plan to collect.”

  Trent nodded and grinned. “I’d say we owe each other several fishing trips, Pops.”

  His mom patted him on the back. “Come on down to the cafeteria and let us buy you some food.”

  Trent hadn’t eaten much of his food at lunch, but he couldn’t exactly say he was hungry either. “That sounds good,” he finally said, sensing his father’s eyes on him. Yet as soon as he glanced at his dad, the man avoided his gaze, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning his back to him. Were his eyes red? Bloodshot?

  “Dad?” he said. “You all right?”

  “Sure, sure, son. Just going to head down to the gift shop and see if they have any umbrellas for this dang rain.” He slumped off, not bothering to wait for a response.

  “He was so worried,” Patricia said. “We were there when the call came in. The woman up front didn’t know if it was you or your partner who’d been injured.” She shook her head, brought a shaky hand to her nose, and sniffed. “We just couldn’t imagine losing you, too.”

  Trent wrapped his arms firmly around his mother, nodding as it sank in. “I know, Mom,” he said under his breath. “I know.”

  After giving Benny a wave through the crack in the curtain, Trent led his mom to the elevator. Two floors down, at the end of the south wing, they spotted Dad, hands in his pockets, eyeing the menu. A wide hall of shiny tile and landscape paintings stood between them.

  “You’ve lost weight,” his mom mumbled. “Is it because you broke things off with Jessie?”

  Trent walked slower, dreading the inevitable conversation ahead of him.

  “Let’s have a seat over here,” she said, “let your dad get himself some ice cream.”

  A shiny grand piano stood in the foyer, surrounded by a few sofa chairs and end tables. Trent nodded his head toward the far wall.

  His mom sat on the corner of a love seat and patted the cushion beside her. “Your dad and I are taking a look at homes in Riverside.”

  Trent lifted a brow. “You are?”

  She nodded.

  “Riverside, huh? That’s about 20 miles east of me, right?”

  “That’s right. You okay with that? We promise not to pester you too much.”

  He considered that. “What if I move again? I mean, I’m not used to staying in one place too long.”

  “I know that.” She looked down at her hands where they rested on her lap, pressing her thumb into a folded tissue. “We plan to settle in Riverside. Stay there till we’re dead,” she added with a laugh.

  “Huh. Well, I’ll help you find a house. Fix it up, if you’d like.”

  Patricia glanced out the window, then back at the tissue in her hands. “I don’t want you to die alone, Trent.”

  Uncomfortable heat filled his lungs, made it hard to pull in his next breath. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean when the woman at the station didn’t know who it was that got stabbed, I realized that if it was you …” Her chin quivered as she rubbed the tissue some more. She clenched her eyes shut, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “If it was you and it was a fatal injury and we didn’t get there in time … you might die alone.” She shrugged and wiped her face. “Maybe you’d have the other officer there, but you wouldn’t have what he does.”

  She didn’t have to say more than that. The heat flared hotter as he considered what Benny had—what his mom was referring to. A wife hovered over his bedside. A baby on the way. Two people depending on him, loving him.

  “I suspect I know what got into you when we were here last time, out by the fire. Dad felt bad when I pointed it out to him late
r. But I kind of figured it would at least give you the chance to talk with Jessie and let her know about your past, which I assumed you hadn’t done at that point. Am I right?”

  His gaze drifted to the window, where streetlamps illuminated sheets of falling rain in the parking lot. “Yeah. I never told her. But she knows now.”

  “But you’re still not back together?”

  Trent shook his head.

  “Do you love her?”

  His eyes stung. “Yes.”

  “Does she feel the same?”

  Trent cleared his throat. “I think so.”

  “Then let go of your guilt, Trent. Let go already and … and enjoy the life Brett would have wanted you to have.”

  The comment tore Trent’s gaze from the rain outside. He looked at his mom.

  She nodded. “You think for one minute that he would have wanted you to be alone? Come on, you were his favorite person in all the world. And you were good to him.”

  Trent smeared the moisture from his eyes. “Was I? Because all I can remember is razzing him about things like shooting hoops and dating girls. How I would always be better at both no matter how old he got.”

  “That’s what brothers do. But remember when Brett had his tonsils removed and he couldn’t go outside to sled with the neighbor kids?” She chuckled. “You stayed inside with him and built a slide in the stairwell with blankets and couch cushions. You took turns sliding down in that green sleeping bag.”

  He laughed. “I remember that. I just forgot why we were doing it in the first place.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s because you didn’t want to leave him. You two were like peas in a pod. I remember talking to other moms about how horrible it was for them when they grounded their kids. They felt like they were being punished, too, dealing with the fits they’d throw over not seeing their friends.” His mom shifted in the seat, turning to face Trent as her eyes lit up.