Single-Dad Sheriff

by Amy Frazier

  Garrett began to lead the llama back to the pasture.

  “Let’s not put him in there yet,” Samantha decided. “We’ll shut him in the paddock next to the barn.” If someone had let the llamas out, they could have tampered with the pasture itself. Until she could be certain, she wanted her herd safe.

  When Ace was secured to her satisfaction, she turned to find Garrett, Rory and Red waiting. “You’re going to help find the others?”

  “Did you think we’d leave you to fend for yourself?” Garrett asked. She could have kissed him.

  “I’ll take Rory in my truck,” Red offered. “You two go in the car.”

  “When you find the boys, don’t chase them,” Samantha warned, worry making her voice crack. She passed out leads and, remembering Rory had no phone, slipped Red her BlackBerry, reminding herself to buy walkie-talkies for the farm. “Take some feed with you,” she urged. “As you approach them, act as if it’s no big deal they’re out. We don’t want to frighten them.”

  She thought about how her own fear had moderated once she discovered she wasn’t alone in this crisis.

  Scooping grain into his pockets, Garrett noted again the automatic concern Samantha showed for her livestock. Not, it seemed, as an investment, but as living creatures under her care. Surely, she wasn’t faking that consideration.

  “We’ll find them,” he assured her as they got in the cruiser. “Are they microchipped?”

  “Yes.” She looked straight ahead. “I’m always so careful to lock the gates.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said, following Red’s taillights down the drive toward the county road. “Could the llamas open the gate by themselves?”

  “They’re clever enough to. That’s why the latches are special.”

  At the end of her drive, Red turned his truck left, so Garrett headed right. Toward Tanner Harris’s. He had to ask. “Do you think—?”

  “It’s crossed my mind. When I was crossing the outer pasture to find Rory and Red, I spotted his sons. They saw me leaving the farm.” She took a deep breath. “I hate to think they’d stoop so low.”

  This had gone on long enough. When the llamas had been rounded up, he was going to make her sit down and file a formal complaint.

  As he turned onto the Tanner property, the dogs began howling, but there were no other signs of life. The lights were off in the house, and Tanner’s truck, trailer and ATVs were gone. The guy was probably out cementing his alibi.

  “Don’t get out,” he warned as Samantha opened the passenger door. He switched on the dashboard spotlight and fanned the property. Junk spread out across the yard, and the dogs tied to the tree were the only living things highlighted in the intense beam. The barking and growling had reached an earsplitting level.

  “With the dogs here,” Samantha said, “I don’t think the boys would venture in this direction. Can we drive back along my frontage and train the light on the property across the road?”

  “Sure.” He turned the cruiser around. “I’ll drive. You man the spotlight.”

  “Llamas are so curious, and there’s so much vegetation that’s poisonous to them,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Rhododendron, skunk cabbage, milkweed—”

  “Samantha, stop. Don’t make trouble where there is none.”

  “You’re right. But if this had happened in rehab, I’d be off llama duty and back to latrines.”

  He drove slowly close to the shoulder, straining to catch a glimpse of her animals. He wasn’t a religious man, but he said a prayer that they found them before a predator did. He wanted desperately to keep her spirits up. “If you quit blaming yourself,” he said, “I’ll let you in on a fact of life around here. At least once a week the sheriff department’s called upon to round up escaped livestock. Ask Red to tell you about the time he tried raising goats.”

  As she trained the beam beyond the roadside, she sat forward on the seat with her nose almost on the windshield. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

  Sort of. “No. Farmers around here have a lot invested in their animals. But even the most experienced of them get it wrong sometimes. Farming’s hard and by no means foolproof.”

  “Call me sentimental, but the boys aren’t just livestock to me.”

  The other farmers in the area might call her sentimental, but he called her kindhearted. Among other qualities, equally distracting.

  “Over there!” she cried. Halfway up a gentle slope almost directly across from her drive were three forms that, without the spotlight, might have been mistaken for bales of hay. “It’s Humvee, Fred and Mephisto.”

  When he stopped the cruiser, Samantha got out slowly. “Wait here,” she said.

  Her extended hands full of grain, she advanced on the llamas through the tall grass, making a soft kissing sound as she went. The llamas seemed almost relieved to see her and accepted the grain readily. She hooked leads to their halters, then walked them back to the cruiser as he tried to call Rory.

  “I keep getting voice mail,” he complained as Samantha leaned into the open window.

  “Red has my phone—the number is 555-6881. I’m going to walk these three home.”

  He didn’t call right away. Instead he allowed himself the luxury of a few seconds watching her lead the boys across the road. Woman and beasts swayed in a slow, sensuous rhythm as the fireflies began their evening dance above her head. When she disappeared out of the arc formed by his headlights, he wondered if the feeling of longing that rose hot inside him was real. Or if she’d bewitched him.

  He added her phone number to his listings before calling. Red answered. “We have Mr. Jinx. He was in Isolde Stone’s kitchen garden. Scared her nearly to death. Lucky he didn’t get shot. We got him in Jonathan’s horse trailer, and he’s going to drive him back to Whistling Meadows.”

  “We found Humvee, Fred and Mephisto,” Garrett replied. “So that leaves Percy unaccounted for.”

  “We’ll keep looking. Call if you find him.”

  Garrett drove up Samantha’s drive to tell her the latest. By the time he pulled into the yard, the four llamas were safely in the paddock next to the barn and Samantha was latching the gate. “They’re bringing Mr. Jinx home,” he said, getting out of the cruiser.

  He’d hoped to see more relief on her face. “I don’t know where Percy could be,” she replied. “He’s such a homebody. Do you suppose…” she seemed to grow smaller before his eyes “…someone took him?”

  “Don’t even think it.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “We’re not finished searching. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink of water before we head out again.” He was more concerned about her well-being. “You need to stay hydrated, too.”

  She seemed to resist, but he propelled her toward the back of the house. Together, they climbed the steps to the kitchen door. He was distressed to find she’d left the house open. Most residents did around here, but then they hadn’t had a growing spate of unpleasant incidences aimed at them. He went ahead and opened the screen door, then felt the wall for the light switch.

  In the middle of the kitchen stood Percy, blinking. He’d opened all the cupboards and had strewn the contents about the room. Right now he was finishing the last of a package of Fig Newtons.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WHY—NOW—DID HER KNEES GO WEAK? As Percy cast a haughty long-lashed look that seemed to chastise them for their late arrival at his party, Samantha slumped against Garrett and felt uncontrollable laughter bubble up from deep within her. She clung to him and didn’t care that he might think she’d lost it. She felt such relief.

  And such an unexpected sense of belonging.

  This was her house—the new decor had now been christened, personalized. These were her llamas. Her naughty boys. And her new friends had helped her round them up. Keep them safe. Her friends, to whom she felt a rising sense of commitment.

  As her laughter died down to a few intermittent giggles, Garrett supporte
d her in the strong circle of his arms. Oh, my. His chest was so firm and warm against her cheek, it was tempting to close her eyes and dwell in the pure physical moment. But she had to ask herself, was what she felt toward him friendship alone? She looked up and found him staring at her with amusement shot through with longing.

  “I’m not going bonkers, I promise,” she declared, trying to explain her giddiness. “I’m just so relieved. I couldn’t stop worrying about Rory and Red up on the mountain during the storm.”

  “I should be angry with you for going after them and risking your own safety.”

  Aw, he would worry about her? Everything seemed so laughably absurd. Except the steady beat of Garrett’s heartbeat beneath the palm of her hand.

  “Then…then I was so anxious about my AWOL boys.” She glanced over at Percy, who’d settled into a kush position in the middle of the messy kitchen floor and was now humming serenely. “Rory and Red…and you were wonderful to help me. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You can thank me by locking your doors when you take off.”

  She patted his chest. “Always the sheriff.”

  “Not this time, Samantha.” Her name on his lips was quiet. And intimate. And made her push away from him because she suddenly wanted him too much. In a way that would threaten the vulnerable nature of her new identity. Suddenly, the silliness of the situation evaporated, replaced by an unseen spark and sizzle.

  He drew her back to him. “What’s going on between us?” His question was little more than a sensuous growl.

  “You don’t know, either?”

  “Damned if I do. Yet whatever it is, it’s keeping me awake nights.”

  His admission made her smile. “Me, too.”

  “But I have a feeling you have more on your mind at the moment than starting up a new relationship.” He had to be thinking of her admission earlier in the barn. “And my life’s not exactly free and clear right now.”

  “Rory,” she said.

  “Yeah. Custody issues. His mother’s determined to take him with her to London.”

  “Permanently?”

  “Until she gets her next big promotion.” The look in his eyes grew hard, and Samantha could see the intimate moment slipping away.

  Perhaps, considering her own situation, that was for the best. “Speaking of Rory,” she said, “you should call him to tell him we’ve found Percy.”

  She expected him to step away from her, but he didn’t. Instead, his large hands rested lightly on her shoulders. He looked at her as if he might be trying to read her mind.

  “You’re right,” he said abruptly.

  She made the first move to part. “I’ll take Percy to join the others.”

  By the time Red and Rory pulled into the barnyard ahead of Jonathan Stone with Mr. Jinx in his trailer, Samantha had the other boys secured for the night in the paddock, and Garrett appeared to have his emotions firmly under lock and key.

  Thanking everyone profusely, Samantha offered cold lemonade, but only Rory seemed inclined to accept.

  “No thanks,” Garrett said for the two of them and urged his son toward the cruiser. “We need to head out. I have to pick up some papers at the office before we turn in.” His manner was all business now, and Samantha couldn’t catch his eye.

  Red was the last to go. “You and the sheriff have a falling out?”

  “I—I don’t think so. Although he didn’t like the fact I’d left the house unlocked.”

  Red chuckled.

  “What?” Samantha had begun to suspect Red viewed the activity at Whistling Meadows as some entertaining reality show.

  “Nothin’. Nothin’ I couldn’t have seen comin’. Good night, Duchess.” With a backward wave, he hobbled up to the bunkhouse.

  She looked in on the llamas in the paddock once more, doubled-checked the latch on the gate, then glanced at tomorrow’s schedule in the barn. A short trek to Lookout Rock with a group of junior boys from Camp Oseegee. An easy day. Which she suddenly craved. Now a brief shower would have to substitute for that long bath. Those Egyptian cotton sheets beckoned. And, maybe, dreams of how reassuring a certain sheriff’s heartbeat had felt beneath her cheek.

  Trying to keep it real, she did a quick cleanup of Percy’s mess in the kitchen before heading upstairs. If she let him, he’d adapt to being a house pet. No sooner had she stepped into the shower, than there came an awful banging at her front door. Her first thought was of Red or Mack. Shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a terry robe, she hurried downstairs only to find Garrett on her porch, his face clouded with anger.

  When she opened the door, he stepped inside, unasked. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, buying my son a new cell phone?”

  Samantha clasped the robe tightly about her. “He lost his on the mountain.”

  “He lost it. He will earn the money to replace it. I don’t need you aiding and abetting irresponsible adolescent behavior.”

  She ignored the insult. “It may take him all summer to earn the money. He’s only getting paid for four hours a day at minimum wage.”

  “Then it will take all summer.”

  “Until then, what will he use for a phone?” Irritated by his intractability, Samantha tossed her head, and water droplets flew all over the hardwood floor and the sheriff’s uniform. “I think it’s clear the phone’s proven its usefulness as a safety device.”

  “He’ll just have to curb his activities. Stay where he can be reached without a phone.”

  “Essentially, you’re grounding him.”

  “Those are the logical consequences of his actions, sure. Kids screw up. Parents correct them.”

  “Because,” she said, speaking slowly to contain her growing exasperation, “his actions were a result of his job—he was up on the mountain, getting rid of the graffiti at my campsite—I felt responsible. I offered to replace the phone.”

  “When a deputy loses a piece of department equipment, he or she pays for the replacement. As you can imagine, the policy’s very effective at deterring loss.”

  “But we’re not talking about deputies. We’re talking about your son.”

  “All the more reason to teach responsibility early on. Besides, do you know how much it costs to replace that particular phone?”

  “I have an idea. But it’s no big deal.” As soon as she’d said the words, she realized she’d made a huge mistake.

  Garrett sucked in his breath. Samantha couldn’t know how those three words—no big deal—got him riled.

  “I guess that’s where you and I differ,” he replied, keeping his frustration in check. “On a fundamental level. To me, life is a big deal right down to the details.” He looked around the newly decorated room. “But, of course, you wouldn’t understand that concept.”

  “What does that mean?” Scowling, she stood tall, which didn’t seem very tall at all, considering she was barefoot and barely came to his chin.

  For the first time since he’d barged into her house, he noticed her hair was damp. He tried not to think that he’d pulled her from a shower. With the prospect that she had nothing on under the robe, thoughts of her as a spoiled heiress were replaced by thoughts of her as the soft and alluring woman who’d been in his arms less than an hour ago. He shouldn’t be having this conversation. Not here. Not now.

  “Are you going to stand there and glower at me,” she asked, crossing her arms over the front of her robe, creating a very distracting gap. “Or are you going to explain what you mean?”

  “Everything’s easy for you,” he said as he threw a hand out to indicate the expensive surroundings. “You buy an old farmhouse, and in a twenty-four-hour span you have something out of Architectural Digest.”

  “That was my mother’s doing, and you know it. I liked the house just the way it was.”

  “That’s not the point. Money is. I always get an uneasy feeling when people start throwing it around.”

  “Ah. Does my family have wealth? Yes. There, I’ve admitted our
‘dirty little secret.’ Do we waste our resources? Definitely not. My father didn’t become a successful self-made man by squandering his money.”

  Her candor took him aback.

  “I want to compensate Rory for the phone he lost,” she continued. “Will you let me or not?”

  “No.”

  FOR SEVERAL DAYS, when Samantha ran errands in town, she expected to see Garrett around every corner. By the fourth day, she knew he was avoiding her.

  Just as well.

  She certainly didn’t want to pursue the topic he’d unexpectedly cracked open before the blowup. In the kitchen. The topic of attraction. Illogical attraction. And mutual, it had seemed. Until their fight. What a stupid fight. While she’d dealt with guys who were drawn to her because of her money, she’d never come across a guy who was repulsed by it.

  She’d just bet if she called Dr. Kumar, he’d tell her it was too early to begin a relationship, anyway. She had other things to deal with. Avoiding stressful situations being on top of the list.

  Garrett.

  And her parents came to mind.

  As she’d seen more and more of her mother—Helena kept busy applying the finishing touches on her “housewarming gift,” which was now her official title for the extreme-makeover home invasion, and, while she was on the subject, how could Samantha be so heartless and ill–brought up as to turn down such a generous present?—her father had seemed to disappear. When he did have the occasional meal with the two women, he was very secretive. A bad sign, usually portending a significant purchase.

  “Samantha? Hello? You haven’t touched the peach cobbler.” Rachel’s voice came to her from far away. “Is something wrong with it?”

  She blinked and found herself staring into the diner owner’s kind face. Glancing down, she discovered the ice cream had already melted in a puddle over the warm, fragrant dessert sitting forgotten on the counter in front of her.

  “I was just enjoying a minute to myself,” she replied evasively, lifting the spoon and breaking into the crisp crust. It wasn’t quite a lie. She’d come into town this afternoon to buy stamps and to place an order for twelve box lunches for tomorrow’s trek. And to escape Helena’s decorating frenzy. “Mmm. This cobbler is wonderful.”