The Lawman's Promise (Buttermilk Valley Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “There’s a burn ban on right now.”

  The deep, tantalizing voice brought her chin up and her attention across the yard to the one man who she swore she’d never forgive as long as she lived. She straightened, opening her mouth, but she realized he held the garden hose. He squeezed the trigger and water sprayed out of the nozzle, squirting the fire ring, drenching the flames that had been exterminating her past.

  “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” She watched as the last bit of flames cracked and fizzled. “You’re not welcome here! Get off my property!” He turned, ever so slightly, aiming the nozzle in her direction and, before she could sputter a word or threat, the water soaked her from the neck down. “You! You jerk!”

  “Didn’t you hear me? No open fires right now.” He turned off the water and dropped the hose, shaking his head. He wore a pair of sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes. Best that she didn’t. The jaded green pools always seemed to work her into submission. Well, not this time.

  She jammed her fists on her hips and cocked her chin, ignoring the fact that beads of water dripped from her chin. “How dare you! What is wrong with your aim?”

  “Oh, trust me, there’s nothing wrong with my aim, sweetheart. I thought you needed a good cooling off before you starting ranting and saying something that’s going to land you behind bars.”

  “Go to hell!” she blurted.

  He stomped toward her, stopping within inches, his jaw hard. He practically tore the sunglasses from his face and his eyes were puddles of triple trouble. She gulped air. He was angry, which only made her angrier. “Heed my warning.”

  “Unless you have a warrant for my arrest, I suggest you turn around and get the hell off my property.” Every emotion came to surface. Her love for him, her past hurt, and feelings of betrayal.

  “Listen, Blake. I could fine you for the fire, so don’t push me, you hear?”

  His face turned two shades of red, but she wouldn’t let him boss her around.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she poked her finger directly in the middle of his chest which reminded her of a wall of steel. “Do what you gotta do, sheriff.” She dropped to the soles of her feet, cocked her chin and waited.

  The corners of his mouth twitched as if, at any second, he could burst into laughter. So, she humored him, huh? She had half a mind to pick up the hose and water him down. She bet he wouldn’t be laughing then.

  His beautiful green eyes squinted and the heat of them trickled into her bloodstream. “Oh, I plan to, sweetheart. Just give me time.”

  His slow drawl was husky and warm, tantalizing her, weakening her knees. This infuriated her, enough that she now felt rectified in burning his things, although several of the items still sat in the box untouched. If she were lucky, he wouldn’t see what she was doing because, in all seriousness, he’d probably give her a ticket, one she couldn’t afford.

  ****

  Duff pushed his hat further up on his forehead and looked down into the violet eyes of the pretty brunette who stared back at him angrily. The set of her jaw told him she was as feisty as she’d ever been in high school, back when she still loved him. She was as beautiful as ever—and as dangerous. She’d grown into her big eyes, her nose still upturned at the end, and she’d developed some curves—the dangerous, voluptuous curves of a woman. Her legs went on for miles before they landed in a pair of worn flip flops that showed off pretty pink painted toes.

  Dressed in cutoff jean shorts and a thin white tank, he should have never sprayed her with water. Braless, her thick, hard nipples looked like ruby peaks pressed against the material, making his zipper stretch about as far as her long legs did in the Daisy Dukes.

  “Great! Just what this town needs. Another bully,” she huffed.

  She stamped her foot and wrapped her arms over her chest—thank God. The movement covered up the very torment of seeing her dang near nude. He’d imagined her naked many times over the years, but nothing stacked up to the real Blake. He didn’t like how his body gave in so easily, just like always. “And just what I need. Ten seconds in front of you and I’m already getting hell. This must beat some record, for sure.” He lifted his hat, ran a hand through his hair and mashed the Stetson back into place in irritation. He’d never known another female who could get him riled so easily, and yet make him want her just as swiftly. She could get under his skin, like an itch he couldn’t scratch or a drug he wanted more and more. Even back when they were kids—back when they were still two snotty-nosed kids chasing each other and daring each other to do the craziest—and sometimes down right stupid—things. He had thought of her as one of the boys until about eleven when her grandpa was rushed to the hospital after he had collapsed in the kitchen. For the first time ever, she’d cried, hard, and like most boys at eleven, he awkwardly tried to comfort her with a pat on the back. When she’d laid her head on his shoulder, he swore that he’d protect her against anything and with all that he had. He never could stand to see a girl, or woman, cry.

  “Oh, so you were expecting a welcome wagon, were you?” She chuckled. “I’m sure you have all of the townspeople spittin’ with glory that the hero has come home.”

  He barely registered her words because when she lifted her head, he caught a glimpse of the silvery-white jagged line along the underside of her jaw where she’d gotten six stitches when she was nine. She’d tripped on a branch in the woods while they were running. He’d never seen so much blood, but he’d bravely taken off his shirt, his Spiderman shirt that he always wore because it was his favorite, and held it against her chin to absorb some of the oozing. By the time they made it back to the McKenzie Farm, the shirt was soaked and so was he.

  He’d also helped her when she fell out of the treehouse at ten and bumped her head. He’d carried her all of the way to the house. He knew at that moment, as he stood watching her grandma tend to the bump, that pretty, unruly Blake would always be his best friend.

  But things changed.

  One evening after she’d gone on a date with a fellow from a town over, she’d come home crying, complaining that the boy had tried to touch her breast. Duff had been more than ready to hunt down the bastard and defend her honor, until Blake had told him that she’d punched him in the nose. Duff figured one bloody body part was enough for the day. As he was comforting her, she’d leaned in so close that he got a whiff of her sweet scent. He’d lost his head and somewhere they’d crossed the lines of being friends to an attraction that he couldn’t deny. He kissed her on the mouth with all of the passion and smoothness of a gawky teenager. He’d half expected her to haul off and give him a bloody nose, but she’d kissed him back. His heart had kicked into high gear and he knew things would never be the same between them—and oddly, he was okay with liking her as a girl and not just a friend who liked fishing and sports. She’d occupied a space in his heart that no other woman had ever managed to reach.

  He gulped air and dragged himself back to the present. Back to the adult Blake who was watching him as if she could tar and feather him.

  She dropped her arms and the sun glinted off her hand—something on her finger. She was wearing the ring, the bubble gum machine ring that he’d bought her with a quarter and placed on her finger the day they’d married behind the barn. Damn, time had passed in a flash.

  “Well, you’ve done your duty as lawman for the day. You’ve put out my fire.” Her scowl deepened. “Now you can head back to town.” She stomped past him and he watched her, the gentle sway of her hips that were a pendulum of torment. The way the breeze caught her hair lifting it like strands of gold. Her long, toned legs that he’d imagined enough times wrapped around his hips. They’d been each other’s first—first kiss, first touch, and first lover. He’d been an unskilled, nervous boy, and she’d been a willing, explorative lover. They’d taught each other passion on those hot, Georgian nights as a young couple. He had a strong urge to make love to her right now, show her how he’d grown into a confident man in bed and out, had learned
to take things slow and bring a woman toe-tingling, jaw-dropping, mind-blowing pleasure. He wanted to erase all memory of other men…whoa! He needed to take a step back.

  The screen door came open with a screeching sound, shattering his thoughts, and slammed shut behind her.

  Hell, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and she couldn’t just boss him around. He followed her and scanned the kitchen. Nothing here had changed. Everything was neat and tidy. The pock-marked oak table he’d sat at and ate dinner many times remained. The framed pictures of roosters still hung on the wallpapered walls. A collection of rolling pins hung on pegs. A row of baskets lined the top of the cabinets. The only modern addition was a bright, red tea kettle that sat atop the white, antique stove. It seemed out of place.

  He found her bent over with her head in the refrigerator, her bottom high in the air showing a good amount of her tight bottom. His cock jerked and every cell in his body took a nosedive straight into a pool of desire. He rubbed his forehead, closed his eyes, and counted to five—

  “I didn’t invite you inside,” she muttered coldly.

  He opened his eyes, finding her narrowed gaze on him. “We’re not finished.”

  “Turn around and see yourself out.” She jutted her chin toward the door.

  “I’m here on official business, Blake.” Why was his voice thick and his chest aching?

  She slammed the fridge door closed and bottles inside clanked loudly. He didn’t budge from his spot. He watched her uncap her water bottle and drink thirstily, all the while steadying his gaze on her lovely lips wrapped around the lid, the length of her neck, the slight movement of her throat. Once she lowered the bottle there was a drop of water next to the corner of her mouth. He took a step forward, his fingers aching to wipe it away, but before he had the chance, she swiped the back of her hand across her lips. The water was gone, but the bittersweet pain in his gut stayed. He couldn’t believe she could still drive him wild. He had to tread carefully. Being the new sheriff in town, he needed to prove to townspeople that he meant business. That included Blake. Especially Blake. If she was still the rowdy, troublemaking lady from the past, then he’d have his hands full. Problem was, he’d like to have his hands full. He slipped his gaze down her body and then back up to hold his attention on her eyes that were glaring at him.

  “In town for less than a week and you’re already in Ethan’s pocket.” She shook her head, sending curls around her flushed cheeks.

  At least she had an idea why he was here. “You can’t go onto people’s property and threaten them. You know better.” He tried for his sternest voice, but it came out more on the gentler side. Honestly, he was a little surprised that Ethan, their old buddy, would bother complaining about something that wasn’t necessarily much more than a pissed off female letting off some steam. Duff didn’t think it required attention. Hell, they knew Blake well enough that they could expect about anything to come out of her mouth. But Duff needed to keep the peace, and not make anyone an exception to the rules.

  She smiled and her eyes turned a shade darker, like a storm was brewing inside of her mind. “I should have known we’d have another sheriff doing Ethan’s dirty work. I thought by now you’d have seen straight through him. He always could convince you to do stupid stunts as a kid.” She rolled her eyes.

  He shifted in his boots that suddenly seemed too small, and tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. Serving four years in the Marines and then a Texas Ranger, he’d always been known as the tough cowboy who could wrangle a criminal before they knew what struck them, but here now with Blake, he felt a part of him soften. He didn’t like it one bit. “Look, Blake, Ethan said you showed up at his place making threats. I’m the sheriff and it’s my duty to keep the peace. I don’t know what the hell is going on between the two of you, but if you can’t be around one another without cursing and using finger gestures, then I suggest you stay far away.”

  She made a disgusted groan deep in her throat. “Are you here to arrest me?” Then something changed in her expression as she sashayed to the scratched up counter and leaned her hip against the edge. Her eyes were lighter and her smile dangerous. “That’s something we never got to try. Handcuffs.”

  Yeah, she was intentionally provoking him, so then why in the hell did the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect along with another part of his body that didn’t seem to want to behave this afternoon. “Real funny, sweetheart. I’m not here to arrest you and Ethan didn’t file a formal complaint. He just wanted me to come and have a talk with you. That’s all.”

  She set her bottle down, then eyed him with a tormented gaze that spoke volumes about her internal trouble. So maybe there was more going on here than a squabble between old friends?

  “No, nothing about this situation is funny. You coming out here was part of Ethan’s plan. He wants to send me a message that he has you on his side.” She tugged at her curls and the red highlights glistened in the sun flowing through the window. Her jaw relaxed some. “There’s a lot here you can’t understand.”

  “I’m not on Ethan’s side. I’m on nobody’s side except the law.” He crossed the linoleum., joining her at the counter. “You’ve got a lot going on. When you’re stressed you tend to make haste decisions.”

  “What makes you think I’m stressed?”

  “I know your grandmother is in the nursing home. You know I cared for her. Your grandparents treated me like one of their own.” His throat constricted. He pushed his hands into his back pockets so that he could resist the urge to drag her into his arms and hug her tightly. He’d like that, but he had a feeling she didn’t want anything close. “It must be difficult.”

  She blinked and her thick lashes skimmed the top of her cheeks. “Difficult doesn’t even begin to explain how things are. Fine, I shouldn’t have gone over to Ethan’s as angry as I was, but a woman has the right to lose her temper on occasion. It’s not the first time he’s pushed my buttons, intentionally, but I guess now he has a new, juicier leverage so I should expect more pestering.”

  “What leverage?”

  “You.” She shifted.

  “Tell me what I don’t know.”

  “You have a few days?”

  “I’ll clear my schedule.”

  He saw a flicker of something in her features, akin to how she used to look at him back when they were in love. The gentleness didn’t last long and it was exchanged for one of reserve. “I’ll make a long story short. Ethan wants this land. Grandpa wasn’t in his grave more than a few hours before Mr. Branson was knocking on the door making candy-coated offers. Grandma stood by her decision that she wasn’t selling, no matter what they offered. She never trusted any of the Branson men. Since grandmother has been in the nursing home, and Ethan’s brother, Cooper, is dead, he’s been hell bent on claiming this place.”

  “That’s your right not to sell, Blake. Stand your ground. I know what this land means to you. What it meant to your grandparents.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m trying, I really am, but Ethan’s using his power to make things difficult. From increasing the price of our supplies to hiring my hands right out from underneath me. I’ve lost three men just this year. Can you do anything about that, Duff?”

  She used his name and it took him a good long second to drag himself back to the moment. “None of those things are illegal.”

  “Exactly.” Spots of color appeared in her cheeks. “When you have a large bank account you can get by with being underhanded, legally.”

  “I’m here to protect—” he caught himself before he made a huge mistake. “I’m here to protect the people of Buttermilk Valley. Corruption and underhandedness won’t go unpunished now. Just promise me you’ll stay off his property and far away from him. I know you, and we don’t need your temper getting the best of you. I’d hate to have to wrap a pair of shiny bracelets around those pretty wrists. The jailhouse ain’t any more comfortable or cleaner than it was when you and I got locked up
for boycotting Mr. Riley getting canned as a teacher.”

  “We didn’t get into trouble for boycotting him getting fired. I guess egging the principal’s car was going a little too far. I do realize that now and I should have never gotten you involved.”

  He scrubbed his jaw. “Well, all good times.” He winked.

  Her eyes flashed something hazardous. “You say you’re here to protect? If I remember correctly, I’ve heard those words before…another useless promise.”

  He swallowed the acid taste in the back of his throat. “That’s unfair.” His throat hurt to talk. “I joined the military, Blake. I didn’t jump off the end of the world.”

  She brought her chin up squarely. “I was angry about you enlisting, yes…but…”

  “What?” He wanted to hear what she had to say, explain why she hated him so much.

  “You and I had plans. You didn’t even think it was necessary to speak to me about your decision.”

  “I knew if I did, I would have done anything you asked. I was a kid who was head over heels.” And maybe I still am, but it’s far more dangerous because I’m no longer a teenager. “I planned to come home.”

  “Mom promised me she would come back, too.” Her soft voice made his spine tingle.

  “Damn, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

  “You did come home. Here you are, just twelve years have passed.” She chuckled, but it was far from one of humor. “That’s the past, so let’s leave it there. I just hope you’re right when you say you’re not under Ethan’s thumb. This town doesn’t need another corrupt sheriff.”

  There was so much more he wanted to say with regard to twelve years ago, but what good would it do? She’d made her mind up and, well, he didn’t come back when he should have. He’d made a mistake and there was no going back.