How to Land Her Lawman

by Teresa Southwick

  “I guess Will isn’t home yet.”

  “If he was, I’d have made him haul this behemoth up the stairs.” Kim backed into her room, pushing open the door with her shoulder. “It’s the least the man of honor can do.”

  “It was really sweet of him to agree to do that.”

  “I know, right?” Kim waited for April to bring the bottom half of the bag into the room. Instead of sliding doors, her walk-in closet had a closing one with a metal hook on the outside. They managed to put the dress’s heavy-duty hanger on it. She looked at April and blew out a breath. “It just felt appropriate to ask Will to stand up with me. If it can’t be you.”

  “Could have knocked me over with a feather when those words came out of your mouth,” April admitted. “I thought you were kidding.”

  “I was a little. At first. Then I realized I could really use someone. I’m not even sure what for because you’ve been there for me, for everything.”

  April’s gaze drifted to the zippered garment bag. “Can we look at it again?”

  “Twist my arm.” Kim reached up and unzipped the bag, letting the full tulle skirt spill out.

  They stared at the strapless bodice, sparkling with crystals and tapering to a fitted waist, where the full skirt flared out. It oozed femininity.

  April sighed. “I can just picture it all. The roses and lilies, with a few hydrangeas thrown in for color in your bride’s bouquet. Hank, Tim and Will in their black tuxes. Guests gathered for the happy occasion.”

  “Yeah.” Kim’s voice was a little shaky.

  Time for a pep talk. “Then you walk down the aisle, where the man of your dreams is waiting next to the minister who will preside over your vows.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Are you writing them?” April asked. Her friend was most confident with the written word and loved instructing her students in the art of essay writing. “If Blackwater Lake High School’s favorite English teacher doesn’t write her own vows, what kind of message would that send?”

  “Not a good one, I’m guessing.” Doubt crept into her expression.

  “Oh,” April said staring at the stunningly beautiful dress. “You’re going to look so gorgeous in this when you become Mrs. Luke Miller.”

  “Oh, God—” Kim’s eyes widened.

  April thought maybe this was a good time to take the focus off the dress. She spotted several boxes in the corner and walked over to peek inside. “The invitations. They’re beautiful.” She picked one up and ran a hand over the embossed white lily and read the words out loud. “Mr. Henry Fletcher and Mr. and Mrs. Frank Miller request the honor of your presence at the wedding of their children, Miss Kimberly Fletcher and Mr. Luke Miller.”

  “Do you really like them?”

  April had helped her pick them out. “Even better than I thought. These came out so great. It’s going to be official.”

  “Eek—”

  There was a knock on the open bedroom door. “Anyone home?”

  “Will, I didn’t hear you come in.” Kim looked at her wristwatch. “It’s late.”

  “Long day. Some tourists having a little too much fun.” His gaze was on April when he said the last word. There was a smoky look in his eyes and a rough edge to his voice that hinted at the kind of fun a man and woman needed privacy for.

  Or maybe that was just her imagination, April thought, because she’d had that kind of fun on her mind since this dating-and-dumping plan had started.

  “Hi, Will,” she said.

  He nodded, then looked at the dress and whistled. “I guess you got the one you wanted.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kim bit her lip uncertainly.

  “And you rode shotgun,” he said to April.

  “Yeah.” Her gaze was on her friend, who’d turned a little pale.

  “I’m kind of new at this man-of-honor thing. Is it in my job description to stand guard now over this big, poofy ball of white?”

  Apparently those words pushed Kim over the edge because she burst into tears.

  “I was kidding.” Will looked at April and said, “What did I say?”

  “N-nothing. It’s me,” Kim blubbered.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Everything,” she wailed.

  “Like I said, I’ve got no experience with this MOH stuff, but I’m a quick learner.” He took his sister’s hand, led her over to the bed and sat her on the floral spread before going down on one knee in front of her. “It would help me out a lot if you’d be a little more specific about what the problem is.”

  “I think I’m making a big mistake.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Will met April’s gaze with a look that said he would rather do police paperwork in triplicate than deal with a weeping woman. He stared at the floor for several moments, shaking his head. Any second she expected him to bail. Say something about a hysterical woman being above his pay grade. Or advise his sister to walk it off.

  Finally he sighed, then said, “Kimmie—”

  “W-what?”

  He stood, then sat on the bed beside her and settled his strong arm around her shoulders. “Why do you think getting married is a mistake?”

  “It just is.”

  “So you don’t love Luke?”

  “Of course I love him.” She lowered her hands and stared at her brother as if he were crazy. “He’s handsome, funny, kind and loving. Sexy.”

  “Too much information,” Will said.

  “The point is that Luke is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.”

  “Okay. Then your son doesn’t like him?”

  “Tim likes Luke a lot. He played matchmaker for us.”

  “Okay.” One corner of Will’s mouth curved up. “He actually told me that when we went fishing. So, moving on. Obviously his parents think you’re not good enough for their son.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She sniffled. “His family likes me better than him. And they love Tim. Already they’re insisting he call them Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Okay. Then there’s something here that I’m not seeing,” he said.

  Brilliant strategy, April thought. Will was going through everything step-by-step to eliminate her fears instead of just telling her it would be okay.

  “Maybe Luke and I should just go to Vegas,” Kim said.

  “So it’s the big, showy wedding that’s freaking you out,” he deduced.

  “Some,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “There are a lot of details to take care of. What if I forget something? Worse, what if it’s all a huge mistake, and Luke and I end up hating each other?”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Will was adamant.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’ve kissed a lot of frogs and waited for the right guy.” He lifted her hand and put it in his big palm, then folded his fingers around hers. “Take it from someone who didn’t wait and got it wrong.”

  His gaze settled on April when he said the last words. Her legs wobbled and she locked her knees to keep from toppling over. His blue eyes darkened to the color of the lake and more than anything she wanted to drown in them.

  “I never liked the woman you married,” Kim said.

  “Yeah.” He smiled at her declaration. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. More than once.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Does Luke know you’re the queen of saying I told you so?”

  “You’d have to ask him.” But she laughed for the first time. “I guess it’s just everything getting to me. The invitations. The dress. Food and flowers. Writing vows. It’s getting real. And pretty darn scary.”

  “A normal reaction,” he reassured her.

  “Yeah?”

  “No question. An
yone who doesn’t have a meltdown and take inventory of the situation shouldn’t be doing it.”

  “I guess you passed the test,” April said.

  “Tests are good,” Kim agreed.

  “So says the teacher.” Will pulled her in for a bear hug. “You waited for the right guy and deserve to have a big party to celebrate. It’s going to be perfect.”

  Kim nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”

  “What’s a man of honor for?”

  His sister smiled and nodded, then said, “I need to go wash my face.”

  “I was going to say,” he teased. “You look a little puffy.”

  She laughed, then left the room.

  April released a breath. “It happened so fast. I was excited about the dress and the wedding and couldn’t stop talking. When I realized she was starting to panic it was too late.”

  “Bound to happen,” he said.

  “You were amazing with her.” His gentle common sense, reassurance and understanding tugged at April’s heart. “You even used your own experience to convince her she was making the right choice.”

  “That’s me. A horrible warning.” But there was laughter in his eyes when he said the words.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You did really good today, Will Fletcher.”

  And as gooey as she was feeling inside, it was probably just as well she hadn’t gone out with him. This was a sweet side of Will, the side that could break her heart again if she wasn’t careful.

  Just because he admitted that he got it wrong with April before didn’t mean the two of them could get it right now.

  * * *

  April put a low-cal, frozen chicken-enchilada dinner in her microwave to cook and tried to convince herself she wasn’t lonely, bordering on pathetic. She had a successful business and loved her work. Lots of people called her friend. But all were married with the exception of Kim, whose single status would change about six weeks from now before summer ended.

  The truth was that Kim’s approaching marriage hadn’t made her think this way; the engagement had happened months ago. These feelings hadn’t surfaced until Will came back to town. Along with him came old memories that she’d managed to put away. Memories of runs, dinners, movie dates. Memories of not being by herself.

  She was over him. Really. But it had been more than a week since he’d asked her out and she’d turned him down. Kim’s reasoning seemed sort of lame now, all things considered. Only three days ago he’d reasoned his sister out of a meltdown. Then April and Will had had a moment alone in Kim’s bedroom, which she was certain had been a moment. After that...nothing.

  “They don’t call. They don’t write,” she muttered, listening to the hum of the microwave. And for real excitement she watched her frozen dinner turning inside the appliance.

  Then things got exciting. At the same time the microwave beeped a signal that her cheese enchiladas were now warm and probably rubbery, there was a knock on her kitchen door. That made it official. She might be lonely, but pathetic was off the table because someone wanted to see her.

  “Please let it not be a door-to-door salesman,” she pleaded.

  Although they’d ring the bell beside the front door. It was probably one of the Fletchers—Hank, Kim, Tim or Will. Her money was on the first three.

  After turning on the outside light, she saw Will through the sliding glass door and knew she’d have lost her bet. Her heart started thumping. Hard. But that was only because she was so happy to see someone. Anyone. And he had something in his hands that looked suspiciously like a pizza. There weren’t many things that could fit in a big square flat box.

  April unlocked the door and slid it open. “Hi.”

  “I come bearing food. And wine.” There was a bottle of red tucked under his arm. It was starting to rain and the outside light made drops of moisture sparkle in his dark hair. “In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to tell you it’s a bribe.”

  “Oh?” She stepped back to let him in out of the rain, then closed the door behind him.

  “I need asylum.”

  “Did you say an asylum?” she teased.

  “If you don’t let me in, that’s exactly where I’ll be headed.” He almost looked dead serious, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes.

  It was surprising how well she still knew him, could still read him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I guess. As far as I can tell, there’s not a crisis but Kim is making everything wedding into a federal case. It’s driving me nuts.” He set the pizza box and wine on the island and looked at her.

  April remembered the pleading expression from a lifetime ago. It was the one that could get her to do anything. Of course that was a time when it took very little to get her to do whatever he wanted because she’d been blinded by love.

  “So, what do you want? Define asylum.”

  “As God is my witness, I will be the world’s best man of honor my sister ever had, but I can only do that if I can recharge my batteries with someone normal and reasonable.”

  “Where’s Kim now?”

  “Out with Luke.”

  “So, last time I checked your dad and nephew were normal and rational.”

  “They’re not home.”

  So he’d been alone. Did that mean he was lonely, too? Just moments ago she’d been feeling sorry for herself and now those feelings transferred to him.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll throw together a salad. You open the wine.”

  “Roger that.” He saluted, then frowned at the intermittent noise coming from the microwave. “What’s that sound?”

  “My frozen dinner.”

  He made a face and managed to look adorable. “So a case could be made for me rescuing you from a tasteless, plastic meal.”

  “One could say that, but one would be wrong.” She pulled the small, pathetic, individual dinner out of the microwave to stop the annoying sound and dropped it in the trash. “This particular entrée is one of my favorites.”

  “That’s obvious by the way you couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t stop a smile. “You’re the one who set a high bar for full disclosure. Pizza is so much better than what I was going to have. You did rescue me.” She gave him an adoring look and batted her lashes. “My hero.”

  “Aw shucks, ma’am.” He picked up the bottle of wine and asked, “Where’s your corkscrew?”

  “That cylindrical red thing on the counter to the left of the oven.”

  He walked over and picked it up. “You have an electric one?”

  “It’s an investment.”

  “In what?”

  “Independence. Women’s liberation. Whatever you want to call it. I just needed to know I could get a cork out of a wine bottle without a man around to pull it out with brute strength.”

  Was that a flirty remark? It felt a little flirty, but lately she’d been pretending with him. And it had been so long since she’d done it with any man, her flirt-meter was rusty. But she was pretty sure she’d just nailed him with genuine, authentic flirtation material.

  The thing was, no effort had been involved and that was due in no small part to her attraction, which was completely natural and extremely powerful. The challenge wasn’t in flirting with him, but in not letting it be more.

  “Okay,” he said. “Since I’ve got nothing to prove regarding my masculinity, I’m okay using the girly opener.”

  “Good thing. It’s the only one I’ve got. Your other choice would be to get the cork out by hitting the bottle on the edge of the granite and whacking off the top.”

  He laughed and the sound brought back more memories that grabbed at her heart. When they were together, talking had always turned to teasing and that turned
sexy, which led to making love. Since that was her endgame, his need for sanctuary worked to her advantage. But somehow the whole thing felt dishonest.

  “Something wrong, April?”

  His voice snapped her out of the conscience attack. “No. I’ll get the salad made.”

  She turned the oven on low and put the pizza in to keep it warm while getting everything else ready. In ten minutes they were sitting across from each other at the square oak table in the kitchen nook with a meal in front of them. Slices of pizza on paper plates. Salad in bright orange pottery bowls. Stemless glasses containing a deep maroon–colored wine.

  Will held up his glass. “To—” He thought for a moment, then shrugged and said, “I’ve got nothing.”

  “How about to friends who are willing to take you in as long as you bring the pizza and wine?”

  “I like it.” He touched his glass to hers, then took a sip.

  April did the same, set her glass down before digging into the pizza. It was like a party in her mouth, as she savored the blended flavors of cheese, tomato sauce, sausage and black olives. With her mouth full, she said, “This is my favorite.”

  “I know. You think I’d have begged you to take me in with anything less than your beloved first choice?”

  “I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

  “Then prepare to be surprised again.” He thought for a moment. “I remember that you don’t like ketchup on your fries because it camouflages the exquisite taste of a perfectly good potato. Same goes for flavored chips. You’re a traditional-chip girl who doesn’t like it messed up.”

  “Hmm.” This was a little disconcerting. Nice. Flattering, but unsettling.

  “I also remember no ground pepper on your salad. You like guacamole but a naked avocado makes you gag. Toast or English muffin has to be well done and you credit, or blame, your mother for that. When she got distracted, anything in the toaster burned, but money for a single mom raising a daughter was tight. No food in your house got wasted, so she somehow convinced you the black part was good for you. And now you have to have it that way.”