by A. J. Pine
“Cash,” she said nervously now. Because this was getting a little too real. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Maybe I could just watch you ride? I’m quite good at spectating. My dad’s a huge Giants fan, and we go to tons of games. I can—”
“Shhh,” Cash said, covering Cleo’s ears. “Cleo here is Jack Everett’s horse, and he’s just about the biggest Dodger fan there is. You don’t want to spook her with talk of another team, do you?”
She forced a smile but backed away from the stall.
“Hey,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to concerned. “What’s wrong?”
She fidgeted with the button on the bottom of her cardigan. “So…My parents actually took me riding once when I was in middle school. They were concerned I didn’t have a thing, you know?”
“A thing?”
“I wasn’t into sports or ballet or playing a musical instrument—by the way, the cello thanked me for quitting. I just hadn’t found what made me tick.”
He raised a brow. “Fast driving.”
She sighed. “No. Event planning.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “Before you make fun, I’ll have you know that I am an excellent party planner, and it all started with my best friend’s thirteenth birthday party. It was Harry Potter themed, and all the kids in school were talking about how amazing it was afterward. But that’s not my point.” She paused, waiting for him to interrupt, but he just stared at her with those gorgeous green eyes all patient and slower paced. “My parents took me to this farm that gives you a half-hour lesson and then lets you set off on this trail. So there we were, the three of us on horses, and my parents get into an argument.”
His brows furrowed. “About what?”
“You name it. Whether we should walk or trot, go right or left at the fork in the trail even though both routes led back to where we started. Then I think it escalated into whether or not my dad’s horse was brown or chestnut. At one point my mom yelled at him so loud that my horse got spooked.”
“Shit,” he hissed quietly.
Olivia nodded. “Threw me right off. I broke my arm in two different places and had to listen to my parents continue arguing in the ER about whose fault it was. So—yeah. Horses did not end up being my thing.”
He followed her out of Cleo’s stall and closed the door.
“You don’t have to get back on the horse, Olivia.”
She laughed at the pun even as the mere thought of the incident made her heart race with the familiar fight-or-flight response that always accompanied one of her parents’ shouting matches.
“But,” he continued, “if you’ll let me, I’ll change your memory of horses to one that’s far less painful.” He pulled her hands from the hem of her sweater where she’d all but torn the bottom button off.
“Are you a cowboy or a sheriff?” she asked, trying to stall her answer.
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m a little bit of both. After my—after Lucinda’s first husband passed, that’s when she sold our farm—and with it the few horses we owned. She bought the antiques shop, and we moved into the apartment above it, and the rest is history. The Everetts let me ride every now and then—whenever I get to missing it.”
“Are you missing it right now?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“I am.” The wistful look in his eyes softened the hard lines of his face.
She sighed. “Why does hearing you talk about horseback riding like that make me want to kiss you?”
And then something wholly unexpected happened. Cash Hawkins grinned.
Her mouth fell open.
He shook his head and chuckled. “You know, I’m not stopping you.”
He let go of her hands, and she used her freedom to run the tips of her fingers over his stubbled jaw. “It’s sexy lawmen cowboys like you that make it awfully hard to concentrate on my unparalleled equine fear.”
He raised a brow. “You talk like we’re a dime a dozen.”
She snaked her hands around his neck, clasping them there as if she’d never let go.
“No,” she said. “I get the feeling they broke the mold when they made you, Sheriff.”
“You gonna keep talking?” he asked.
She skimmed her teeth over her bottom lip. It was dangerous how much and how often she wanted to kiss this man after only just meeting him. Yet there was also a safety in Oak Bluff—in this seemingly far-off place where what she was running from couldn’t catch her.
He dipped his head, and she rose on her toes to meet him the rest of the way. Their mouths met with a soft brush, then a gentle flick of her tongue. His lips parted, and she tasted the bitterness of his black coffee mixed with the sugar of hers.
She let out a hum of pleasure and felt him smile against her.
“Now you’re just showing off,” she teased.
“I told you I smile,” he said, his voice low and sexy. “Just not for everyone.”
He kissed her again, his lips firm yet gentle, and his touch—the sheer nearness of him—made her forget how scared she really was.
“Do you promise you’ll keep me safe if I ride?” she asked.
He straightened to look at her, his green eyes so damn sure.
“You have my word.”
She slid her hands from his neck but left them splayed against his chest.
“Then show me your town, Cash Hawkins. The way it was meant to be seen.”
Chapter Seven
Riding was easy when it was on Jack Everett’s mare, Cleo. But Cash could still see the tension in Olivia’s shoulders, which meant the horse could sense it, too.
“It might help if you breathe,” he said. “She’s not gonna throw you, but if you want her to trust you, you have to do the same with her.”
They were moving at a snail’s pace across the pasture and toward the new Everett vineyard, but at least they’d made it past doing guided laps in the small arena.
“How am I supposed to trust someone I just met?” she asked calmly. He guessed she was keeping her voice even so as not to spook the mare. But Cleo didn’t spook. She was older and set in her ways, and spooking wasn’t one of them.
“That’s a good question,” he said. Because Cash was wary about most people other than Lucinda and his deputies. It went with his line of work. And—he guessed—his personal life, too. “But you trust me, right?”
She studied his face for a moment and then nodded. “Even though we just met, too. Is it weird that I feel like I’ve known you longer than a day?”
He shrugged. “Multiple arrests will do that, you know. Bring a cop and a criminal together.”
She snorted. “Your job must be really boring if I’m your definition of criminal.”
He watched her shoulders relax as she laughed, and Cleo began to move with less trepidation.
“See?” he said, giving Bella a slight nudge with his heels to pick up the pace. “It’s all about trust.”
They crested a small hill, and Cash pulled on the reins. “Whoa, girl,” he said softly, and Olivia did the same. Then she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Not bad, eh?” he asked.
She shook her head, mouth still hanging open.
The Everetts’ vineyard sprawled before them at the bottom of the hill, but to the west they could see the main part of town, and thanks to the clear sky, the ocean beyond.
She swiped under her eye.
“Hell,” he said. “What’s wrong? Tell me I didn’t just make you remember something else you’d rather forget.”
She laughed, then sniffled. “No. It’s not that. It’s just—I mean I’ve seen the ocean before. I grew up in San Francisco. But—”
“It looks different here,” he said.
She nodded, and he understood.
“Small-town living isn’t for everyone,” he said. “But this is one of the many reasons I never really left.”
“I don’t blame you.” She took a deep breath of the crisp air. “But you have been outside the tow
n limits, right?”
He nodded once. “Four years at City University of New York.”
Even behind her sunglasses he could see her eyes widen. “Eighteen years in Oak Bluff to New York City?”
He cleared his throat, then turned his gaze just past her and toward the horizon. “They had a good criminal justice program.”
“Uh-huh.”
He could feel her stare burning a hole straight through him. No one asked him about CUNY anymore, and he didn’t exactly bring it up voluntarily. So what the hell was he doing mentioning it now?
“For someone who doesn’t seem to like much change in the status quo—who has already expressed that there are many reasons why he stayed in his small town—I find it very interesting you went so far away for school.” She gasped. “You followed a girl!”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, grateful they were hidden behind his aviators.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “I told you my story. It’s only fair I get to hear yours.”
He grinned and enjoyed watching her brows raise once more. “Only if you can keep up.” He tapped his heels against Bella’s flanks, not hard enough to make her gallop but just enough to get her moving a bit faster than before.
“Hey!” she called after him as he started descending the hill. “Not funny, Cash!”
He knew she was safe, though, whether she followed or stayed at the top of that hill until he came back up. But he could hear Cleo’s hooves in the grass behind him, so he kept going, just a few paces ahead of her, until he reached the fence that denoted the end of the pasture and the beginning of the vineyard.
He hopped down and tied Bella’s reins to a post. By the time he finished, Olivia was pulling Cleo to a stop beside him.
Her jaw was set, and she was not smiling.
He moved to give her a hand dismounting the horse.
“No, thank you,” she said, chin raised. “If you’re going to leave me to fend for myself, then I’m going to fend for myself.”
He stepped back and crossed his arms. Damn, this woman was stubborn. But he already knew that—and kinda liked it. She was strong and not afraid to challenge him. It had been a good long while since someone had.
She swung one leg over Cleo’s side so she was balancing in just the one stirrup. She yelped and he rushed to her before she fell flat on her back, catching her in his arms.
“Your ankle,” he said. “Shit. I forgot.”
She nodded, her face so close to his—lips near enough to kiss. Again. “I guess I forgot, too. It wasn’t really bothering me until I put all my weight on it. And here you are again, sheriff in shining armor, catching me before I fall. Maybe one of these days I can swoop in on a horse and rescue you.”
He chuckled. “What makes you think I need rescuing?” he asked.
She blew out a breath. “Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to change the subject. You said you’d answer my question if I could keep up. Well, I kept up.” She shimmied out of his arms, biting back a wince when she landed, but she stayed standing. “Now you have to tell me about the girl you chased across the country.”
He showed her how to tie off the reins, then helped her over the fence and into the vineyard. They walked slowly down a row of vines.
“All this land belongs to the Everetts?” she asked, running the tips of her fingers along the budding vines. “I thought the sign on the property said Crossroads Ranch.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said. “And soon they’ll add and Vineyard to that. It’s a long story, but their father passed away recently and left them a failing vineyard in the will. For three guys who grew up knowing nothing but ranching, they’ve really turned this place around.”
She was a few paces ahead of him when she spoke again. “You know, you don’t have to tell me about her if you don’t want to. I get wanting to leave the past in the past.”
He sighed. Because that was exactly where he wanted the past. And he thought he’d left it there until the Saturday morning mail arrived. Now here it was, still lurking in his present.
“Her name was Tara. Is Tara. Shit, it’s not as if she died.” He mumbled that last bit to himself.
Olivia stopped walking, then turned to face him. “High school sweetheart?”
“Yep. But I didn’t follow her to New York. Small-town living can get to you when you’re younger and don’t appreciate it, and I needed to get away to make sure staying was what I wanted. So I researched criminal justice programs on the East Coast. Lucinda had money set aside from the sale of the farm, so when I got in…”
“She followed you,” Olivia said with realization. Then she pushed her glasses to the top of her head so he could see what he knew was coming. The pity. “You came back, but she didn’t.” She gasped and covered her mouth. “It was her wedding invitation in your truck!”
He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m that damned obvious, huh?” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “I swear, Olivia Belle, if you say Oh, Cash, or tilt your head to the side and give me that look…”
She crossed her arms. “What look?”
He raised his glasses, tilted his head to the side, and drew his brows together, mimicking the look of pity everyone gave him when they found out about the post-graduation proposal that got turned down. The look that everyone gave when he rolled back into town on four wheels, an empty tank of gas, and an even emptier heart. The same look Henrietta, the mail carrier, gave him when she walked up the stairs to his apartment and handed him that damned invitation just as he was leaving to take Dixie for her morning walk.
Olivia giggled, and he raised a brow.
“Oh God,” she said, laughing harder now. “That is a terrible look. I promise not to ever give you that look.”
He chuckled, realizing that up until that moment he’d been the one pitying himself. But now he was with this woman. Laughing. Maybe he balked at Olivia calling him on it, but it was something he rarely did these days.
“Much appreciated,” he said. His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket.
“Something wrong?” Olivia asked as his jaw tightened.
He put the phone away and met her gaze. “That was Jack Everett. Wanted to let me know that he tracked down the builder who transformed your grandmother’s house into a retail space and apartment. Says anything they found as far as personal effects got dropped at a local Goodwill.”
Olivia’s expression fell. “They must have thrown the letters out, right? I mean, why would they keep them? To a builder they would have been trash.”
A sheen grew over her eyes. Damn it; he didn’t want to see her cry again.
“Maybe…” he said, and he knew he was grasping here. “But maybe not.”
She sniffed back the threat of tears. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Lucinda sometimes shops the farmer’s market for little odds and ends for the store.” She gave him a look, and he waved her off. “Not food. There’s this woman who sells handmade crafts and stuff like that. But she also deals in found items, and I know Lucinda has picked up some stuff for the store from her before. We can ask her if she’s heard anything about the letters.”
Olivia sucked in a breath and grinned. “Well, let’s go! What are we waiting for?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s the thing. The farmer’s market is only open on the weekends and only until noon on Sundays. It’s a quarter past twelve now. And there’s also the chance that even if we go to the market, she’s not there.”
He expected her shoulders to sag, but instead she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “So I’d have to stay here the week,” she said. “And then run the risk of still coming up empty handed.”
He nodded.
“I have the vacation time,” she said. “But what would I do here all week?”
A surprise gust of wind blew her soft curls over her face. He chuckled and pushed them out of the way and behind her ears. And it must have been the brush of his skin against hers—this crackle of w
hatever was brewing between them—that made him lose all sense of self-preservation.
“I’m on duty the next forty-eight hours,” he said. “Off Wednesday. Then back on Thursday and Friday. If you can keep yourself out of trouble for a couple days, I’d like to take you to dinner Wednesday night.”
Olivia cleared her throat. “Are you—are you asking me on a date?”
He shrugged. “Figure if we keep kissing like we’re doing I could at least buy you a meal. Even though you stole my dinner last night.”
“You offered!” she scoffed. “And…then you brought me a donut.” She scratched the back of her neck. “I kinda feel like I should maybe buy you dinner.”
He laughed. “My town, my rules. Means I get to not only buy you a meal but continue to give you hell for stealing my last one.”
She groaned, but he could tell there was a smile hiding behind her annoyance.
“So…you’ll stay the week?” he asked, a little surprised by how much he wanted her to say yes.
She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Are you gonna kiss me again, Sheriff?”
He dipped his head, his lips a breath away from hers. “Every chance I get, Ms. Belle.”
And then he did.
When his lips touched hers he tried not to think about how much he enjoyed it, or how a sudden warmth spread through him, slow but deliberate. He tried not to admit to himself that Tara’s wedding was starting to bother him less and less. And he tried to ignore that their date was just a date—that Olivia Belle in Oak Bluff was only temporary.
Because if he didn’t try all of these things, he might realize that she was melting his long-frozen heart, which meant he was in danger of the one thing he’d protected himself from for so many years.
Falling in love and getting left again.
Chapter Eight
Cash’s forty-eight hours on the job had been busier than he’d expected.
Monday he’d had to fetch Mrs. Middleton’s fifteen-pound cat from her oak tree. Twice. And he had the scratches on his neck to prove it. He’d made a note to himself to start forwarding Mrs. Middleton’s number to one of his deputy’s phones, even if it was their day off.