The Sheriff Catches a Bride

by Cora Seton

  She pulled out her phone and checked for messages. None. He hadn’t called or texted her in days, and she hadn’t reached out to him, either. He’d barely crossed her mind this week until Rob yanked his ring off her finger and replaced it with Cab’s. Refusing to think too deeply about what that meant, she called him, waiting as the phone rang and rang.

  Finally Jason answered. “Yeah?”

  Rose frowned. Hadn’t he seen her name on the screen? Why was he being so abrupt? “It’s me.”

  “What is it, Rose?” He sounded impatient. He was somewhere noisy. At a restaurant, maybe?

  “I just wanted to say hi,” she said brightly. “I wondered what you were doing.”

  A pause. “Nothing.”

  He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? This is how their conversations went these days—stilted, with long gaps and awkward questions that betrayed how little they knew about the day-to-day circumstances of each other’s lives. Well, she was trying to bridge those gaps, wasn’t she? Her last-ditch effort to save their sinking ship of an engagement. She tried again. “Where are you?”

  “Jeez, Rose, what are you, my father?”

  Stung, Rose snapped. “No, I’m the one who has to deal with your father. You’re five hundred miles away, remember?”

  “I didn’t tell you to move in with my old man. In fact, I told you to keep living with your parents so we could save more money,” Jason snapped back.

  Rose shut her eyes. There it was, that harping, bossy tone he always directed at her. Jason knew she hated the idea of living at home. She felt like a child under her parents’ roof. When Emory offered her the carriage house three years ago, she jumped at it. The rent was nominal and the place was all her own. At least, that’s what she thought in the beginning. Now she knew better. Still, how many times had she and Jason had this particular fight? They could say the lines in their sleep. Jason was right; moving onto his father’s property had been a mistake. Emory Thayer was overbearing to say the least. Jason had warned her, but she hadn’t truly understood until she moved in.

  “Look, I’m not trying to check up on you,” she began, ignoring the rest of what he’d said.

  “Sure sounds like it. Have you found a new job yet?”

  “There are no jobs,” Rose said. How many times had they had this conversation, too? “And I don’t want another job until I go to school. I’ve told you that.”

  “How the hell are we supposed to save up for a house if you’re going to spend all our money?” Jason said. “Art school is stupid. You spend thousands of dollars to learn a skill that makes you no money back. It’s a bad investment.”

  “Stupid?” Rose echoed, her voice rising. Jason had always been against her going to art school but he’d never used such strong words before.

  “Art is a hobby, Rose. A hobby. Only idiots pay that kind of money for their hobbies.”

  Was he for real? She remembered the days back in high school when Jason drove in the demolition derby. How much money had he blown on that particular hobby?

  “I’m a good artist. I can make money…”

  “No, you can’t.” Jason’s temper flared, too. “It’s time to get real. No artist can make that kind of money. It’s a one in a million shot, and the chance that it would happen to you is nonexistent. Art school is for little rich kids who don’t need to make a living. You need to make a living. What about that nursing course I told you about? A friend of mine here has a wife who’s a nurse and she’s making a killing! You could go to night school. But first you need to get your ass out of my dad’s store and find another job. I gotta go.”

  He clicked off the phone and left her staring out the windshield of her truck in shock. Was that how he really felt? That she had no chance as an artist? And nursing—that was his idea of an alternative? The thought made her shiver in disgust. Thank God other people liked nursing, but it wasn’t for her. She was terrified of illness and death and all the things nurses had to take in stride. She was far too private a person to be comfortable with the intimate tasks nurses faced every day. Whatever she did for a living had to be artistic in some sense of the word. That’s why she stuck to the jewelry store even if it meant working with Emory. The rings were beautiful and the variety of jewelry infinite. While Emory didn’t let her pick the merchandise, he did let her peruse the catalogs and dream over all the designs. She’d tried jewelry making herself, but unfortunately it wasn’t her thing, either. She preferred acrylics. Still, selling rings was better than nothing.

  Why should Jason get to pursue his dream but demand that she give hers up? And if he was so set on saving money, why didn’t he save more of it himself? He had to be earning a ton of money at his oil patch job, but he claimed living expenses ate up most of his wages. After all these years he still didn’t have enough money for them to marry and put a down payment on a house. She was beginning to think he never would.

  Which was probably just as well. Because if she was honest, she didn’t want to marry him anymore. In the cold, dark stillness of the truck cab, she finally faced the truth. She had promised herself one last try at working things out, but she was out of patience. She didn’t want to try anymore. What was the use of it? Jason wasn’t going to change. As she stared out at the hulking shapes of the barns against the night sky, she made up her mind. She was done with Jason. Done with Emory. Done with all of it. She would break off the engagement, find a new place to live and get a new job. That wasn’t going to be easy, though. The minute she phoned Jason and told him the news, he’d be on the phone to Emory, and Emory would be on the phone with her folks. She couldn’t stay in the carriage house or work for Emory anymore once she broke things off with Jason. And she wouldn’t want to be anywhere near her parents, either. They were going to flip their lids.

  First, she needed a place to call her own and a job. Then she could spill the beans to Jason. Luckily, Jason wouldn’t call her back for at least another week, so she had plenty of time to make a plan. She considered going home and getting started on it right away, but decided against that course of action. She’d already had a long day and she needed company to cheer her up. Home alone, she’d have to fully face the mess she’d made of her life so far, and more than likely Emory would drop in and want to stay an hour. At least here she’d be with her friends.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked at the band of silver on her ring finger. In one week she’d take it off for good. She expected a stab of pain, or tears to sting her eyes, but instead she felt a lift of anticipation in her heart and then a squeeze of shame. How could she be happy she was breaking off a six-year engagement? What kind of a woman was she?

  A realist, she decided as she climbed out of the truck. She and Jason weren’t meant to be together. It was time to move on.

  Inside the Cruz Big House some minutes later, she perched on the arm of one of the sofas in the living room. Every Thursday her friends gathered at Ethan and Autumn’s house for an informal get-together. Usually they played poker, but this week the Cruzes had bought a pool table and they were breaking it in with a tournament. Autumn, nearly six months pregnant, told Rose she was slated to play Autumn’s sister-in-law Claire in a while, but right now Ethan and Jamie were up. The rest of the people present stood around, or sat on stools pulled from the kitchen counter to watch. Autumn circulated with appetizers and everyone knew there was beer in the refrigerator.

  Rose had always been jealous of Autumn’s elfin features and long, lustrous hair. Someone had once described her as ethereal, and the word suited. Originally from New York City, Autumn fit into Chance Creek like she’d been born here. Rose, who had been born here, couldn’t remember what the town was like before she came. She’d been the one to transform the Cruz ranch into a guest ranch business. Soon afterward, Jamie and Claire built their home on another part of the spread. Jamie helped with trail rides, but he also was starting a horse breeding business. Claire helped when she could but she was much in demand as an interior decorator. Ethan and Jamie
had grown up together, along with Rob Matheson, whose family owned the next ranch over. Rob was here tonight as well. A tall, blond, handsome cowboy, he owned a property that straddled the two ranches. He and his wife, Morgan, had just started a winery on part of that land. Like Autumn and Claire, Morgan was pregnant, although she was only in her first trimester. Rob also intended to work with Ethan on the guest ranch and Jamie with the horse breeding. The three friends had found a way to interweave their lives, and Rose, frankly, was jealous of the way it all seemed to work so well.

  A cheer went up when Ethan sank a shot and Rose’s attention returned to the room. Everyone else seemed mesmerized by the pool game.

  All except Cab Johnson. He was watching her.

  Rose frowned. Did the sheriff know what he’d done to her when he picked out that ring and Rob slid it on her finger? Immediately, a rush of emotion had overcome her: joy, excitement, a sense of rightness she’d never felt before. She’d always had hunches when she sold couples their engagement rings, but nothing like this—never anything half so strong. If it was any other man and woman she’d feel sure their marriage was bound to succeed.

  But it wasn’t any other couple; it was her and Cab. They weren’t even engaged. They’d never gone on a date.

  What on earth had possessed Rob to drag Cab in there, make him pick a ring and shove it on her finger? She was friends with Rob, sort of. He teased her mercilessly and she did her best to tease him back. How could he have guessed that lately when she saw Cab she felt… interested?

  She crushed that thought with an iron hand. First she needed to extricate herself from her current situation, and then she needed to find a backbone before she considered dating again. She’d let her parents run her life until she was eighteen, and then even though she’d thought she was showing her independence by getting engaged to Jason, it hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, she felt as if she’d gone from two parents to four. Her mother, father, Emory and Jason all told her what to do. She hadn’t stood a chance at ordering her own life.

  This time it was going to be different. This time she wouldn’t answer to anyone. Just as soon as she broke up with Jason she’d be free as a bird, and no one, not even the hottest, most eligible sheriff was going to hold her back.

  Rose sipped her beer, fighting against the breathless feeling Cab’s proximity always conjured in her. What was it about the man that tugged at her in such a primal way? He liked to hang back and let his friends hog the limelight, but to Rose he stood out like a beacon. He was muscular, self-assured, intelligent, and damn him, she wanted to know what he was like between the sheets.

  She glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the direction of Cab’s gaze—or guessed the direction her thoughts had taken. Jamie sunk a ball and Claire cheered, her glossy black bob swinging with her enthusiasm.

  “Hey—what happened to family loyalty?” Ethan said to her.

  “Husbands take preference over brothers,” Claire said. She was glowing tonight, Rose thought with more than a bit of jealousy. She and Jamie couldn’t be more in love. That was hard to stomach when Rose’s own relationship was disintegrating and she was fighting inappropriate feelings for Cab. Still avoiding the sheriff’s gaze, she considered another couple who’d joined them tonight; Bella and Evan Mortimer.

  The billionaires.

  Rose still couldn’t believe that sweet Bella Chatham, the local pet veterinarian who couldn’t say no to any stray animal, had gone on a national reality television show, beat a billionaire to win the five million dollar prize, then married the guy. With his short, dark hair and athletic build, Evan was as hot as any of the local cowboys, Rose had to admit. While she didn’t begrudge Bella her fantastic luck, she also couldn’t help feeling jealous. Again. Evan and Bella were camping out in Bella’s airstream trailer behind her clinic and shelter until they decided where to build their new house.

  Everyone in this room was coupled up and on their way to living their dreams. Even Hannah Ashton, Bella’s receptionist, had a boyfriend, although he wasn’t here tonight. She and the sheriff were the only ones without partners.

  She risked a glance over at him, but quickly looked away when she met his gaze. He was still watching her. Not in an overtly sexual way and not in a weird stalker-ish way. Just watching her. As if he was considering something.

  Considering her reaction to his ring, maybe.

  She glanced down to her left hand where it rested in her lap. The thin silver band Jason Thayer had slipped on her ring finger six years ago still glinted there. After six years of being someone’s fiancée, she needed at least six years of being on her own before she considered marriage again. By that time Cab would be long gone.

  Jamie sunk another ball and Claire cheered again, startling Rose out of her reverie.

  “You won’t be cheering when you go up against Jamie,” Ethan said to her. “If you beat Rose, you play him afterward.”

  “He’ll go easy on me,” Claire said confidently.

  “Oh, yeah?” Jamie straightened up from the table.

  “You will unless you want to sleep on the couch tonight,” she said.

  Jamie chuckled. “I tell you what. When it’s our turn we’ll get rid of the peanut gallery and make it a game of strip pool.”

  “Strip pool?” Rob said from where he perched on one of the stools. “That’s genius.” He gave his wife’s hand a tug and waggled his eyebrows at her. Morgan rolled her eyes.

  Strip pool? Rose glanced involuntarily at Cab and met his gaze again. An image sprang into her mind. The two of them alone in the room. Cue sticks in hand.

  Half undressed.

  She’d seen him without his shirt before when the whole gang went swimming in Chance Creek. Cab was a big guy—really big.

  And not an ounce of fat on him. Powerful shoulders, massive thighs, muscles to die for…

  The sudden intensity in his gaze told her he was thinking about the same possibility she was. Her breath hitched and heat swept through her. What would it be like to unbutton her shirt, peel off her bra and let Cab take a look? Would he touch her…?

  She wrenched her gaze away, the heat in her face telling her she had flushed to the roots of her hair. Quickly she swallowed the rest of her beer and slipped off her stool to make her way to the kitchen. She took her time fetching a second bottle from the refrigerator. Heck, if she could get away with it she’d climb right in the thing to cool herself off.

  She couldn’t feel this way—not about Cab. Not now. It would be lunacy to break off one long-term relationship and jump straight into a new one. She needed space and time to figure out who she was. She needed to figure out what she was going to do next. She needed a home. And a job. There was way too much on her plate to allow her the luxury of dating.

  But when she returned to the living room her gaze sought out Cab like a moth drawn to a flame.

  And he was looking back at her.

  A tremor of desire rippled through her and Rose realized she’d waited far too long to break up with Jason. Not because she should be with Cab, but because she shouldn’t feel like this for anyone. Not when she was about to embark on an important new chapter in her life—one in which she’d hopefully discover exactly who she was. She’d allowed herself to get so lonely and unhappy that she longed to throw herself at the next man who crossed her path. That meant it was doubly important she create a new life for herself—a life that didn’t require her to have a man in order to feel complete. She couldn’t keep putting her dreams on hold. Time to put her plans into action.

  Before it was too late.

  ‡

  Chapter Two

  Two minutes. She had two minutes to change her clothes and transform her life.

  Now on the ground in John F. Kennedy International Airport, Fila locked the handicapped accessible bathroom stall door and drew off her burqa in a public place for the first time in ten years. Taking a deep gulp of air, she didn’t stop to celebrate the moment. Instead, she hung her ungainly
tan pocketbook from the hook on the stall door, withdrew the smaller, brown purse from inside and replaced it with the rolled up burqa. Unzipping the purse, she pulled out a makeup kit. With trembling hands, she swiped bold, red lipstick on her lips, glittery mascara on her eyelashes, and two swoops of color on her lids. She patted powder on her cheeks, followed by rouge and surveyed the results in her compact mirror. She didn’t look at all like herself.

  Perfect.

  Next, she pulled out the coup de grace; a short bobbed blond wig. Placing it expertly over her dark coiled braids—how many times had she practiced this very maneuver at home when her so-called uncles were out to work or at one of their many meetings?—and pinned it tightly in place. Another quick look in the mirror told her she was bold, brassy—a far cry from the Fila anyone knew.

  Stuffing the makeup back into her purse, she next began to peel off layers of clothing. Anna Langway, the Canadian woman who’d come to Afghanistan with a traveling vaccination clinic, and who had been her chief ally in planning this escape, had slipped her the bundle only a week ago.

  “I don’t care what you think of them. Wear them when you reach New York,” she’d whispered. “Your guards won’t believe you capable of it, and you’ll blend in with other young women.”

  As soon as Fila got alone and undid the bundle, she knew exactly what Anna meant, and she knew she couldn’t risk getting caught with these items in her bag, either. She’d stolen moments whenever she could to stitch them inside the modest clothing she would wear for the first part of her journey. Now Fila picked at the threads of her black quilted coat until they unraveled to reveal the pink plastic raincoat inside it. Her long skirt fell away in sheets of cloth to reveal a matte black mini skirt. Her drab, shapeless, heavy blouse came apart to reveal a spaghetti strapped tank top.