The Sheriff's Bride_Country Brides & Cowboy Boots

by Kimberly Krey

  Nothing.

  “Are you coming?”

  She sniffed.

  Oh no. He could not have her crying right now. “Listen, I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just …” His shoulders dropped in defeat. He tipped his head back, face toward the sky. “My parents—as well-intended as they might be—can be pretty clueless.”

  A rustling sound near the bench told him he was stepping in the right direction. The small light that kicked on confirmed it. She’d pulled out her phone, was holding the lit screen toward his feet. Was she worried he would fall? He wasn’t sure, only continued to step toward the light. Soon Trent made out the shape of her figure just a few feet ahead. He placed a hand on her shoulder in a tentative, discovering fashion, the light shifting enough for him to see her face.

  Since his youth, Trent had been taught to keep his eyes off the blazing sun. But no one had ever warned him about looking at a woman he was trying to leave. Leave, even though he loved her.

  She sniffed again, shoved her phone into her pocket, and unleashed the questions. “What caused you to get so upset, Trent? And why are you treating me like I’m some … unwelcome guest all of a sudden?”

  If he were experiencing a full-on heart attack, Trent would expect this kind of pain in his chest. But this went even deeper. Seeped into unreachable spaces. He was on dangerous ground here. If he simply brushed off the incident with some excuse, she’d know he was lying. In the end, he couldn’t be with her. Couldn’t be with anyone. That’s what it came down to. So why delay the inevitable?

  He slid his hand down her arm, secured her hands in his. “I think we should take a little time to think things over,” he said, gently rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands. “I have a past that …” He died off there, trying to think of the best way to phrase it.

  Jessie spoke up before he could finish. “You have a past. Is that what you said? A past that was, what—painful?” She yanked her hands from his. “Was it like watching your mother get beaten on a regular basis by the new jerk of the month? Was it like fearing for your life every time you saw a new guy walk into your house? Was it like getting ripped away from your mess of a mom who was too big of a wreck for you to fix?”

  Trent stood there, silent as the echo of her words soaked into the surrounding woods, ready to haunt him in the years to come. And Trent knew well that they would.

  “What is it, Trent? I told you about the crud I went through. So how about telling me yours?”

  Thank heavens it was dark; he couldn’t bear to see her face in the moment or have her see his. Call him a coward, but here in the dark, Trent could make his escape. Let go of something he never deserved in the first place.

  “Talking about my problem isn’t going to make it magically disappear, Jessie.”

  “Wow. Very nice, Trent. I guess I know now why you’re still single.”

  Trent let out a short, humorous laugh; Jessie didn’t know how right she was. “Which is more than I can say about you.” He faltered there, knowing he had to take the low blow as soon as it entered his mind. He sucked in a breath, puffed out his chest, and inwardly thanked the darkness once more; without it, Trent could never say the words that came to his lips. “You think that just because there were a few bad guys in your mom’s life you should distrust every guy?”

  Jessie gasped. “I never said that.”

  “So typical,” he said. “There are a couple bad ones in the bunch, and suddenly all of us are evil.”

  “I told you I was trying—”

  “Trying? Wow, that’s a real tempting offer. You’ll try to give me a chance at maybe having a relationship with you?” The sound of her sniffing once more had him wanting to take it all back.

  “Don’t turn this around on me, Trent. You’re the one ending things here. Not me.”

  He clenched his eyes shut, wishing he could make this all disappear. “I swear to you,” he mumbled, “the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but you’re not the only one who has stuff to get over.” The heart spasms kicked up again as he contemplated one final phrase. “You were the victim of all of that, Jessie. How’d you like to know that you were the villain?”

  Villain? The word coated Jessie’s skin like a million cold snakes.

  She’d known he was too good to be true, hadn’t she? Trent had done something terrible. Something he was hiding from her. Hiding from everyone maybe.

  An inner voice told Jessie it couldn’t be that bad; it was plain to see Trent was—at the very least—a good man. But in that moment under those stars, with the tall trees to shield them, Trent was offering Jessie a way out. And heaven help her, she wanted to take it and run. Run from the horrible things that gripped her now that she’d opened her heart to him. She’d never been so vulnerable. Fearful. Small. Jessie had lost control of her emotions altogether. She was now at the mercy of someone who could crush her heart in a blink.

  Not if I don’t give it to him.

  The walk back to the cabin was a blur. The ride back to the inn was, too.

  It wasn’t until Trent walked her to the door that things came into focus once more. “Good night, Jessie,” he mumbled, opening the car door for her.

  Wild drumbeats rumbled inside her chest as she gave him a nod. No smile. No hug. No kiss goodbye. “Good night, Trent.” And with that, she stepped inside the inn, and out of his life.

  Chapter 20

  Jessie cracked open the container of croissants she’d purchased at the bakery. She’d decided on a black platter today with matching napkins. Normally she prided herself on fresh-baked goods for breakfast, but these would have to do. An assortment of small, packaged jams rested in a copper bowl alongside, the color taking her back to Trent’s kitchen.

  Two days.

  Two full days had passed, and she hadn’t heard so much as a word from Trent. She stared at the window, knowing she needed to whip up some eggs, offer something savory to those who were craving protein, but the truth was, she didn’t have it in her. Just where in heavens name had things gone so wrong?

  Jessie had tortured herself with countless renditions of that horrible night’s events, only to come up empty time and time again.

  She shuffled over to the cabinets, retrieved a frying pan from the sliding drawer, and sought out the eggs after all. Cooking would keep her mind off things. The ridiculous thought earned a sardonic laugh. Yeah, right.

  She cracked one egg after another into a large, glass bowl. Could she have done things differently? Should she have pried more when he’d said what he had about being the villain?

  Jessie was used to letting people come around on their own. Several folks had opened up to her over the years, freely telling their life stories even though she was a near stranger. But perhaps that’s what made it easier, like the whole bartender scenario—what did they have to lose by talking to an innkeeper?

  “Howdy, howdy, little missy,” Charlotte called as she entered. Talk about bright—the woman’s dress boasted all three primary colors in paintball-type splotches from top to bottom. “Black napkins and plates? What is this, a funeral?” She shook her head, motioning for Jessie to spin around.

  Jessie obeyed, turning to face the opposite way while Char untied her apron. Bless Charlotte for not making her talk about it. She’d given the woman a few details the day before, enough that she already knew there was trouble in Trent Paradise. Charlotte seemed very sure things would work themselves out soon enough. Jessie wished she felt the same.

  A swat at her backside said Char was done, and Jessie shuffled over to one of the high barstools and slumped onto it.

  “How long did it take you to open up to Trent?” Charlotte asked while whisking the eggs with a shot of buttermilk to make them extra fluffy.

  “A few weeks, maybe.”

  Char cracked pepper and salt into the egg mixture before adding two shots of Tabasco. “So you go through all these dating years—all the while not looking at a guy twice—only to fall for a man you just barely met.�
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  “I know,” Jessie agreed. “I was stupid to fall for him so quickly.”

  Charlotte gave her a curt tsk. “Come on, darlin’. You’ve only got one oar in the water. Think! You didn’t fall for him because you were being a fool. You fell for him so quickly—and him for you, frankly—because y’all are a match. The good Lord sent him to you.”

  Jessie folded her arms on the counter before flopping her head onto them. “Well, if that’s the case,” she said, her words echoing in the small space against the counter, “then why is Trent running from me? It seems like if it was meant to be, it would work out on its own. It shouldn’t take so much effort if it’s right.”

  “Ever heard of the guy who threw himself on the ground and missed?”

  Jessie’s face scrunched up. She cracked open an eye and lifted her head to peek at Char.

  Her friend lifted one side of the pan off the flame while scraping the spatula over the surface. “You’re acting dumber than him.”

  Now both eyes were open, and her head was up, too. Jessie felt the fan catching a piece of flyaway hair as she glared at Charlotte from across the bar. “Dumber than the guy who threw himself to the ground and missed? Geeze.”

  Char didn’t flinch. “I’m going to tell it to you straight whether you like it or not. And the fact is, sometimes you’ve got to be willing to work at things to get what you want. Even relationships.” She was headed toward the spread of food with the pan, but stopped in her tracks to look at Jessie. “Make that especially in relationships. You think what I have with JD took place overnight?” She chuckled, resting the pan beneath the warming lamps. “Took me years to train that man, but it was well worth it.”

  Years. Who wanted to train somebody for years?

  “’Course I had some learning to do myself, you know. We all do. But Jessie?” Her voice shifted to a softer, more tender tone.

  “Yeah?”

  “Your grandma didn’t want you running this place by yourself until you died.”

  Jessie gulped, feeling as if Grandma had been trying to tell her as much over the last couple of weeks.

  Guests started to trickle down the stairs. Jessie suddenly realized she had tears to wipe away. “Mind if I sneak out back for a moment?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “You go right ahead.”

  Jessie snuck through the French doors as quickly as she could and made her way down to the dock. Bright sunlight warmed her skin as a breeze blew, and Jessie lifted her face upward and breathed it in.

  There was something unique about the sun—it never changed. Far away in the center of the universe it burned the same temperature, stayed the same color. But there was a big difference between a sunset and a sunrise: one cast shadows and the other dispelled them.

  Standing out here, Jessie was ready to look at things with a sunrise in mind. To cast off the shadows and live a life unhindered by her past.

  But what exactly would that look like? Not being a doormat, that was for sure. But she couldn’t let pride get in the way, either. If Jessie were being true to herself, she wouldn’t pretend to be okay with how things ended between her and Trent. She would confront him. Have a discussion with sound minds in the light of day. So what really kept her from showing up at his door?

  A nest of nearby birds chirped wildly as the answer came to mind. Fear. While it was all still a mystery, Jessie could tell herself that Trent just needed time. That he really hadn’t done something horribly wrong that would sever things between them. That he really was as good as she believed.

  But if he told her otherwise …

  The thought was agonizing. Yet it was unavoidable now. Either he’d done something that would ruin her love for him, or he’d simply lost the love he had for her.

  But was it possible there was a third option?

  Maybe his past wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. Maybe Trent was just being hard on himself. A bit of hope rose within her. Charlotte had once told them they looked happier than dead pigs in the sunlight. The expression had given the two something to laugh about, but as silly as it was, Jessie wanted that back. She just needed to find out if Trent—despite his angry outburst the other night—wanted that too. If so, would he be willing to let go of his past?

  Trent watched in silence as Benny swept shattered pieces of windshield glass off the street. The intersection of Parsons and 3rd was a bad one. Real bad. In fact, an accident had been reported in that very spot on his first day, a mere fender bender, but it could have been a whole lot worse.

  He stepped away from the scene to survey the sharp bend on Parsons Street. One of many, really. But this one was particularly dangerous. With the intersection so near, even with the stop sign, those crossing on 3rd wouldn’t know if someone was coming around the eastbound turn. Which was exactly what had happened an hour ago. It was also a lot like what had happened on that dreaded day so many years ago.

  Trent’s phone buzzed, a rescue from the quicksand of his thoughts. Immediately he thought of Jessie. Would it be her? Dread and excitement fused as he scrutinized the small screen in the sunlight. Not Jessie.

  “Hey, Pops. Everything all right at the house?”

  “Yes, son, things are fine. Your mom wanted me to let you know we’re changing our plans just a bit. Instead of leaving for Yellowstone this evening, we’ve decided to get an early start and leave in the next hour or so. We’ll be sure to stop by on our way back to say an official goodbye.”

  Trent nodded, trying very hard not to feel guilty about their decision. First he’d barked at them on their first night here. And then he’d left them alone while he went to work the next two days. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I’m glad you guys came out to visit.”

  “I am, too.”

  Silence.

  “If you give me a heads-up next time you’re heading here, I might be able to take a day or two off, show you around a bit. Maybe we could go fishing.” The sentence seemed to drift off his lips on its own accord. The truth was, Trent had refused to go fishing with his dad after Brett’s death. He’d refused to do a lot of things since then. But something was slowly changing in Trent’s mindset and in his priorities.

  His father cleared his throat. “I’d like that a lot, son.”

  Trent disconnected the line and got into his vehicle, a vision of his parents coming to mind. They’d looked a whole lot older than he recalled, not that it had been so long since he’d seen them; more that he hadn’t noticed how much they were aging. And then there was his mom’s reaction to the quilt he’d bought her. You’d think someone had handed her a ticket to heaven the way she clenched on to that thing. All of it had him thinking that he needed to give them more. More time. More of him. And maybe, just maybe, if he put some effort into his relationship with his folks, Trent wouldn’t feel so awful about giving up on things with Jessie.

  Yeah, right.

  He headed down Parsons Street, struck by the haunting resemblance it held to the one he’d do anything to forget. If he glanced over, he’d be able to see his younger brother, twisting the radio knob and busting moves to the rap song playing, the ever-present toothpick in his mouth.

  Trent removed the toothpick he had in his own mouth and hurled it toward a pile of brush. Talk about triggers. First the stupid game his father brought up, and now this. Seeing the aftermath of the accident just now, watching someone get strapped onto a gurney—forget hitting close to home; it was an all-out invasion. At least the guy who’d been injured today would live. Too bad Brett didn’t have the same fate.

  Trent spun the cruiser around at the top of the hilly road, pulling over at a lookout. Pretty view, he could admit that much. He found himself longing to bring Jessie for such a drive, until he realized that the idea was no good. The road was a pair of wringing hands to his heart. And the truth was, Trent had been right in the first place. He shouldn’t get married, have a family, or consider having someone like Jessie in his life.

  Grief struck him at the acknowledgement, a barbed wir
e running from his throat to his gut. Yet amidst it, something else soothed over him. A welcome wave of relief.

  The less you love, the less you hurt.

  The less you chance, the less you lose.

  Trent could not afford to lose again. He’d barely survived the first time.

  As he let that sink in, the relief began to numb the pain at his core. It was done, then. He didn’t need to go apologize to Jessie or try to help her understand what he’d been going through that night. He’d just keep his distance, let her assume he was the kind of jerk that led women on and dumped them when he got bored.

  Just as a sliver of guilt tried to pry its way in, a bright green VW bug flew around the bend and sped toward the next. Trent checked the speed with the shake of his head. On went the lights, and soon Trent was in pursuit. Giving this guy a ticket would serve two purposes: stop the driver from speeding next time—possibly saving a life—and getting Trent’s mind off Jessie Phillips and that he’d nearly told her he loved her just two days ago.

  Chapter 21

  Jessie slipped into a pair of ankle-high cowgirl boots, the full-length mirror telling her she’d found just the right balance. It wasn’t fancy, but still nice. She’d added a light, button-up blouse with a thin gold chain and matching stud earrings. A not-too-short denim skirt that showed off her curves, and boots that had just enough heel to make her calf muscles pop. She sighed, fiddling with a set of gold bangles on her wrist—something her mother left behind. Jessie had hidden the pieces away in her jewelry box, determined to throw them out one day. But today she would use them as a reminder of what she’d witnessed, what she would never allow in her life.

  Jessie knew that Trent was not like those men. No matter how affected he might be by this supposed villainous part of his past, he’d never lay his hands on a woman to hurt her. Trent Lockheart was a protector; she was sure of it. But that didn’t mean he had to protect her heart.