The Sheriff Catches a Bride

by Cora Seton

  “Oh, I don’t think you should lift anything,” Rose said quickly and then winced. Whoops.

  Mia’s gaze flicked to hers and a blush darkened her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… uh… nothing. It’s just, I noticed…” She broke off and waved a hand at Mia’s belly.

  “Shit. How did you know? Is it obvious? I just found out!” Mia hunched over the cash register as if to hide her stomach.

  “It’s not obvious—you just gave yourself away,” Rose said apologetically, lowering her voice to match Mia’s tone. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Mia’s eyes moistened. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. When people realize, I’m going to be in deep trouble.”

  “How far are you along?”

  “Barely a month. I took a test the minute I was late.”

  Rose thought fast. This wasn’t the place for confessions, not if Mia wanted to keep her secret for any length of time. “Do you want to meet me later? We could grab dinner and talk.” She wasn’t sure why she was offering; she barely knew Mia, after all. Still, she had a feeling the girl needed to talk to someone. Maybe it didn’t matter that she didn’t have much advice to give.

  “That would be great,” Mia said. “I get off in half an hour. Meet me at the Burger Shack?”

  Rose would have preferred DelMonaco’s, but Mia couldn’t afford that and she really couldn’t afford it, either. “Sure. See you there.”

  ‡

  Chapter Four

  Fila found she couldn’t give up her group of female escorts once she’d attached herself to them. She followed Carla dutifully at a vigorous clip through the long airport corridors, outside around a building, and up an elevator to the AirTrain platform. She felt nearly stripped bare in these western clothes. Confused by all the twists and turns, she pressed herself closer to Carla.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, raising her voice to carry over the din. Did she sound like an American? She’d spent her first twelve years in this country, but that seemed very, very long ago.

  “Penn Station, then to Washington, D.C. How about you?”

  “The same. For a start,” Fila added when Carla raised her eyebrows at the coincidence. “Then I’m going on to the Midwest.”

  “Well, follow us. I’ll show you where to get your ticket.”

  Surely Carla and her chatty friends were angels in disguise, Fila thought as they helped her navigate each step of the way to secure her ticket and find the AirTrain platform. The five minutes they had to wait for the train was the longest five minutes of her life. She found herself tapping her feet and bouncing on her toes. When Carla cocked her head at her inability to keep still, Fila shrugged. “Sorry, I’m excited to get going.”

  “You and me both, although I’d like to stay longer in the city,” Carla said. “We’re all going to D.C. for a weekend bridal shower getaway. Kayla’s getting married in two weeks.”

  Kayla, hearing her name, turned around and waggled her fingers at Fila. “Don’t you love my ring?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Fila assured her as her heart dipped again. She scanned the area for the three men she knew must be looking for her by now. She would have died if they had managed to deliver her to her husband-to-be. She’d seen a photograph of the young man and he looked like a thug. She’d be nothing more to him than a reward for good behavior, for his patience in moving to an infidel country and waiting there to be of service to his brethren back home. Her flesh crawled to think what life with him would be like. What he might do—to her to and to others.

  But the day she learned her destiny—to go to the United States and marry this would-be martyr—she knew her prayers had been answered; fate was giving her one chance to finally break free.

  She was taking that chance.

  It had almost worked.

  “Here it comes,” Kayla cried and with a whoosh the AirTrain pulled into the station. Fila waited impatiently as the doors opened and passengers began to disembark. Another worried glance around the platform told her she was still safe… No.

  Ice water poured through her veins.

  There they were; three men, dark-haired, soberly dressed. Their faces serious. Angry.

  Intent.

  They walked toward her down the platform, peering at each woman in turn. Fila clutched her purse to her chest, turned to her new friends and said, “Should we board?”

  “In just a minute,” Carla said. They waited for the last passengers to trickle out and Fila forced herself not to look back over her shoulder at the men searching for her. She must not do anything that caught their attention.

  I am just an American girl spending time with my American friends, she thought and tried to laugh at something Kayla said.

  Finally, Carla took her arm. “Our turn now.”

  With relief Fila allowed her to tug her into the train car and down the aisle. She slid into the seat Carla indicated and the other girls sat down around her. Fila risked a look out the window, but couldn’t see the men anymore. “How long until we leave?”

  Another of the girls—Julie, she thought her name was—glanced at her watch. “A couple of minutes, unless there’s a delay.”

  A couple of minutes? She’d never last that long.

  “Hey, want to hear something cool?” Carla asked. “I just downloaded this new song…”

  Fila didn’t hear her next words, for the three men entered the train car and made their way down the center aisle, searching each woman’s face. Fila pressed back in her seat and wished she could crawl beneath it.

  “Something wrong?” Carla asked her. She held out a set of earbuds and gestured for Fila to take them. Fila accepted the unfamiliar apparatus and tentatively put each end to her ears. She’d seen many passengers use them during her long trip, so she knew what they were meant for. As soon as she held them up to her ears, the noise from the train car receded, replaced by upbeat contemporary music. Fila, cut off from such things for over a decade, didn’t recognize the song, but the style and beat reminded her of her youth, her years in the United States before they’d journeyed back to her parents’ homeland. Before the shooting that ended her parents’ lives.

  Before her nightmare began.

  When Cab pulled his old black Chevy into the parking lot of the Burger Shack, he promised himself that tomorrow he would treat himself to a home-cooked meal. With vegetables. Potatoes, at least. He was fully capable of cooking for himself—his mother had made sure of that—but he found it lonely work to do much more than slap a marinated piece of meat on the grill when he was the only one eating.

  A diet of burgers and fries wasn’t going to get him far in life, however, and all too often he found himself in one of the fast food joints these days. He could make the rounds of his friends’ houses; Ethan and Autumn, Jamie and Claire, and Rob and Morgan all ate normal meals at home often and always issued him invitations. Still, after the ring fiasco, he figured he’d steer clear of his so-called friends for a few days.

  He’d been able to keep a lid on his attraction to Rose up until this point by telling himself she was in love with Jason and always would be. When Rob had slipped the ring on her finger the other day and she’d met his gaze, he’d seen the truth. She was aware of him, not just as a friend, but as something more. She’d reacted to his ring’s presence and what it told her. She belonged with him. He’d bet on that.

  So where did that leave them? She was engaged to Jason.

  Jason had better get a move on, was Cab’s opinion, or he couldn’t complain if another man stole his girl. Still, he would hold back out of deference to the man’s prior claim. For now.

  What would Rose want with a county sheriff anyhow? He worked long hours, got decent pay but nothing special. He was a small-town man through and through. Jason was the kind of flashy guy who caught a woman’s heart and didn’t let go. From what he heard about the North Dakota oil patch, Jason could very well be a rich man in a few years.


  Pulling open the door of the Burger Shack, Cab found himself surrounded by conversations, friendly greetings, the smell of burgers and fries and grease wafting through the air. His stomach rumbled with anticipation of the meal to come. Halfway to the counter, however, he stopped short. There was Rose in a window booth, sitting across a small table from Mia Start. Rose was making a point, waving a French fry around for emphasis. Mia watched her with wide eyes. What were they talking about?

  Would they like some company?

  “Does the father know?” Rose asked Mia. They’d only been at the restaurant for fifteen minutes, but they’d already covered a lot of ground. Mia still lived at home. She worked at the hardware store about thirty hours a week. She’d saved enough money to cover the cost of the birth, but she’d have little left over afterward. She had no idea how she’d pay for child care after the baby was born; her parents were in their fifties, and they both still worked, too.

  “Of course,” Mia said and dropped her gaze to her lap. “I told him this weekend. He doesn’t care.”

  “Do you want to tell me whose it is?” Rose asked quietly.

  Mia shook her head and her high ponytail swished back and forth. “I’m so embarrassed,” she said, still not looking up. “He’s married.”

  Rose sat back. “Oh, Mia…”

  “He said he was getting a divorce,” Mia said. “I believed him. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

  Once again Rose found herself biting back the words she really wanted to say. It was far too late now to warn Mia not to go anywhere near a married man. “You can make him pay support, you know. Go to court and they’ll force him to take a paternity test.”

  Mia wiped her eyes with the back of her shirtsleeve. “No way. If he doesn’t want this baby, he doesn’t get to come anywhere near it. Besides,” she said, her shoulders slumping, “his wife doesn’t deserve that. She has no idea any of this happened. They’ve reconciled and it looks like he’s giving his marriage a real go. At least that’s what he said when I told him. I was just… I don’t know… his midlife crisis, I guess.” She hunched miserably over her barely touched meal.

  “Midlife?” Rose went to take a bite of her burger but stopped short when she spotted Cab coming their way, his plastic tray laden with food. He caught her eye and smiled, and her stomach did a funny little flip.

  “He’s kind of older,” Mia admitted.

  “How much older?” She snapped her gaze back to unhappy girl across the table.

  “Forty-two.”

  Rose dropped the burger. “Eww! Forty-two?”

  “Hi Rose, Mia,” Cab said, arriving at their table. “Want some company?”

  Rose glanced at Mia, who nodded, apparently all too happy for an interruption now that she’d confessed the worst. Rose welcomed it, too. She really didn’t know what to tell Mia. Forty-two? That was… ancient.

  “Sure, have a seat.” She scooted over and Cab sat down next to her, taking up most of the plastic bench. She always felt so tiny next to him. It took strength of will not to tuck herself under his arm and snuggle into his delicious sexiness. Boy, she was one to judge Mia’s actions; here she was, still engaged and lusting after another man. She didn’t know what it was about Cab. Many of the men in their group were handsome, many of them were accomplished in their own right, but Cab was the only one she truly admired. Maybe it was the nature of his job, or maybe his stature, but in a pinch, Cab was the one she’d want by her side. Right close by her side preferably.

  She found his proximity disturbing in this case, however. Muscular, masculine, he practically filled the bench seat, squeezing her into the corner. Cab was another man who was used to being in control, just like Jason. Even if her engagement was already over, even if she was considering dating again, he’d be the wrong choice. How could she possibly assert her individuality with a man so absolutely sure of himself?

  “How’s Jason doing?” Cab asked with a glance at her ring finger.

  Touching the thin silver band, she kept her expression neutral. Trust the sheriff to remind her she had a fiancé.

  But not for long.

  “He’s fine. Busy,” she said before the silence stretched out too long.

  “Have you set a date yet?”

  “No,” she said shortly. She hoped Cab would drop the subject.

  “Do you like North Dakota?” The sheriff bit into his burger.

  Did she like North Dakota? What a strange question. “Um… I’ve hardly been there. Only once or twice.”

  Cab glanced her way and swallowed. “Shouldn’t you spend some time there if that’s going to be your new home?”

  “New home? What do you mean?” She watched him polish off the burger in another two bites and then unwrap the second. She glanced down at her own burger, only half-eaten. She was practically full. When she looked up she found Mia watching her, her face alight with interest.

  “Jason’s an oilman, right? I just assumed the two of you would settle where the oil was,” Cab said.

  “Oh. Right. Well, we haven’t made our minds up.” In fact, we never discussed that possibility. Although… Rose realized Jason had tried to discuss it once or twice, early on. “You’d love it over here, Rosie—there’s so much action. It’s wild on the weekends,” and “The price of houses is rising fast. Anyone who wants in better buy up now.”

  She’d always brushed him off. After all, they planned to live in Chance Creek, didn’t they? That’s what she wanted. It’s what Emory wanted for them, too.

  Was that what had caused Jason to go sour on her? Had he thought she’d aligned herself with Emory against him? It wasn’t the case; she simply loved Chance Creek and had no desire to move away. This was her home. The inspiration for all her paintings. This was where she wanted to raise her family.

  But Cab was right—Jason probably didn’t want to come back. Why would he want to leave North Dakota? He loved making money and he loved the work. Jason thrived in the heady mix of testosterone, sweat and danger. What would he do in Chance Creek?

  Sell jewelry?

  Suddenly all the missing pieces clicked into place. Jason had avoided her for the same reason he avoided his father. She must seem just as controlling, just as likely to hold him back with all her talk of settling down here, buying a house and putting down roots. Did he think she wanted him to take over his father’s store?

  “Rose?” Cab prompted.

  “What?”

  “I asked how your work is going.”

  “Fine,” she said faintly, as the realization overtook her. Jason didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. He’d been using his actions to show her that for months. She didn’t have to worry about breaking his heart. All that was left was to return his ring.

  Cab held the door for Rose and Mia, then hesitated as the women said their good-byes.

  “Could we have dinner again soon?” Mia asked Rose.

  “Sure—how’s Friday?” Rose said. “Same time, same place?”

  “Sounds good. Bye, Cab!” Mia headed for her ancient Chevy Impala, and Rose turned to him.

  “Thanks for joining us,” she said, putting her hand out.

  Cab took it, shook, and tried not to hold on for an extra moment. Her hand was so small, his big one swallowed it up. It was soft, too. Womanly.

  He let go. “Thanks for having me,” he said. “Must get lonely sometimes with Jason gone so much.”

  She smiled a little, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Trouble in paradise? His earlier question about North Dakota seemed to throw her off.

  “Yeah, well. You have to do what you have to do, right? I keep busy.”

  “Walk you to your car?”

  She glanced up at him and his heartbeat sped up. Did she know he was hitting on her? He was trying not to, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself. Jason was a damn fool to leave her alone so long.

  “Sure. It’s over here.” They walked through the shadows of the parking lot to Rose’s truck. He couldn’t
help noticing the pile of lumber in the back.

  “What are you building?” he said, peeking over the side.

  “Just fixing something at the carriage house,” she said and bit her lip. Cab narrowed his eyes. That was a tell if he ever saw one. Most people had a tell; a little quirk that broadcast they were lying. Why would Rose lie about a building project?

  “Oh, yeah? A big project?” he pressed.

  “Medium-sized.”

  She wasn’t going to give up anything, was she? Rose didn’t seem the type to get into trouble, but you never knew with women. Men he could usually peg pretty quickly. Women?

  Absolutely inscrutable.

  They didn’t make logical decisions for one thing. Men put two and two together and got four. They bought exactly the right tools to get the job done and they did what was necessary and then stopped. Women, on the other hand, put two and two together and came up with a reason to buy two hundred Hummel angels and store them in a fancy cabinet for the next fifty years. They got in stranger’s cars and ended up dead.

  Rose might be lying because she planned to build a catapult. Or she might simply lie because she didn’t want his interference. Women were like that, too.

  “Got all the tools you need? I’ve got a bunch kicking around if you need to borrow any.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’m all set.” She fumbled in her purse for her keys. “Good to see you again, Cab. Good night.”

  He thought about her driving home alone, parking in the carriage house driveway, walking up the front steps and inserting her key in the lock. There was shrubbery around her front door. Anyone could hide in it.

  “Was there something else?” Rose asked when he didn’t walk away.

  “What? No… nothing. Good night, Rose.”

  He forced himself to walk nonchalantly back to his vehicle, and when Rose pulled out of the parking lot he hung back to let another car pass before he followed. He kept his distance, slowing down to a crawl when she turned in to her place. Pulling off the road several houses down he watched her exit her truck, walk up the steps and let herself inside. Only when her lights came on did he pull out, execute a U-turn and head on home.