Laurel was having a record-setting bad day. First, the shadow behind the tree at Restful Acres had startled her. Secondly, Henry, her neighborhood feral cat had scared the bejesus out of her the minute she’d returned home after her shift. Then, a water moccasin had come at her as she was dragging her kayak toward the water. She could only pray the rule of three applied here and the worst had already happened to her. To think that this was a foreshadowing of how the next few days was going to go, was too depressing.
To make matters worse, she’d not only invited the town’s drop-dead gorgeous sheriff inside her home but she’d kissed him. She was still scratching her head over how she’d decided that that would be a good idea.
Pacing around her kitchen, she’d gotten more than enough steps in for an entire week. She’d been circling the small space, trying to figure out what had motivated her to kiss a man she barely knew. Was she that desperate? Was she that lonely? Was he that good looking?
At least she knew the answer to the last question. Yes. Griff Quinn was the entire package; good looks, intelligence, and an intensity that made her want to go to him and tell him all about her past. There was something about the tall cowboy sheriff that made her want to lean into his strength. There was something about being around someone who she could trust not to let her down, at least not knowingly. And there was something about being with a person who could take care of himself.
She had been aware of his presence over the last three months and had intentionally kept enough distance between them to block any of his natural ability to draw all the attention in the room. The man seemed trustworthy and part of her wanted to confide in someone and really talk. She’d kept all the details of her past locked up inside her, hidden, even from Mrs. Brubaker. And there was a question she failed to have an answer to…how long could she continue to live like this?
Laurel reminded herself to give it more time. It had only been nine months since she’d left everything familiar, to slowly make her way down to Gunner.
She stared at the one-inch by two-inch glossy card that was still sitting on her countertop. All she had to do was walk over to the table where she’d left her cell phone, pick it up, and make the call. A very large part of her wanted to do just that. Why did Griff Quinn have to be law enforcement?
Laurel walked into the adjacent room, her bedroom, and plopped down on the bed. Hands clasped in her lap, she glanced around at the single dresser and the closet that was barely big enough for her to step inside and turn around in. All of her clothing fit inside one dresser and one small closet, and that was all she’d brought with her. She hadn’t even had time to pack up her old space, or rent a storage unit. She kept a small metal box with a couple of papers from her grandmother, mostly keepsakes like her grandmother’s birth certificate and driver’s license from the nineties. Her grandmother had kept a little prayer card in her wallet. The card had been laminated and all the edges were worn. Her grandmother had said the prayer on the card always offered comfort and protection.
She’d given the card to Laurel ‘for safe keeping’ at Laurel’s high school graduation. They’d taken a picture together that day that had always sat on her nightstand. It was one of her most prized possessions.
Here, it was too risky to leave any identifiers around. The person who’d broken into her Chicago apartment could track her down here. Or so the relocation specialist had pointed out. So, it was best to leave the cabin as a blank canvas with nothing to prove one way or the other that she lived here. When she’d asked the specialist how long she would need to stay away, and how much time would need to pass before the grudges died down and something else replaced her as news, the answer had knocked the wind out of her. Years.
Laurel had no idea how anyone could hate another person so much and hold onto that hatred not for days, not for weeks, not even for months. But for years. She realized that she had taken a life. She was painfully aware of the fact. She also acknowledged that she’d had no choice at the time. It had been a horrible accident born out of self-defense. She’d been naïve about the fact people would automatically be on her side. She’d believed surely once the details came out during the trial that folks would see Timothy as the evil person he became and understand her side. Possibly even try to comfort her because the act of taking another life even by self-defense left a mark that she wasn’t sure she could ever recover from.
Needless to say, people had shocked the heck out of her. The fact so many had commented what a great family Timothy had come from, and what an amazing family he’d left behind, when those statements couldn’t be further from the truth, was still a knife to the chest.
Shame on them.
Despite their rejection, she refused to give in to the dark cloud that seemed to follow her and try to engulf her in the two years from the incident to the final, exonerating jury verdict. In those two years, she’d been unable to work and unable to leave town. The horror of being arrested on the scene when she’d been victimized would live in her thoughts forever. At this point, the only thing she truly missed was Marissa and the twins. Marissa’s husband had been a champion and had taken more than a little heat when he’d allowed her to stay at their house, when she couldn’t go home right away after being detained and ‘released pending further investigation.’
Enough. Laurel made up her mind right then to get up and get out. She felt herself falling down that sinkhole of regret and confusion and sadness. And she knew just the thing to distract herself and quite possibly cheer herself up.
Griff was stepping out of the shower when he heard his cell phone buzz in the next room. He quickly jumped into action, wrapping a towel around his waist as he shook his head like a wet dog trying to shake water out of his wavy, but short hair.
One more ring and the call would go into voicemail, so he picked up the pace. His phone sat on top of his bed, right where he left it. He glanced at the screen and saw the unknown number. This was his personal cell which he didn’t really give out other than Sherry, his family, his deputies, and those he knew personally. This wasn’t his public line. For a split second, he almost considered not answering, because the last thing he needed was another offer for an extended warranty on his truck or any other sales pitch for that matter.
But curiosity got the best of him, or perhaps it was just wishful thinking, and he answered.
“Hello?” He did his best to hide the slight edge of irritation in his voice. Then again, this call could be coming from anyone, except that Sherry normally only patched through anything work-related.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” the female voice asked. He recognized it instantly. Laurel. His heart did a little dance. Then he remembered he’d given her the card with his personal cell. The ones he only gave out to folks he thought might need a direct line to him.
“No. Not at all,” he reassured. “In fact, I was just getting out of the shower and was about to get dressed to head on over to the festival.”
It occurred to him she might be in some other form of danger, like another snake or a poisonous spider. Or worse. His chest deflated a little at the thought the call might not be for personal reasons.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Okay is probably a relative term considering I kissed a complete stranger today, but, yes, I’m okay,” she said, and he could hear the tentativeness in her voice. And the embarrassment. “But if your offer still stands to go to the festival together, I can be ready by the time you swing by and pick me up.”
“It’s a date,” he said, trying to hide the shock in his voice. He cleared his throat, hoping it would create a distraction, and continued, “My place is probably twenty-five minutes from your side of the lake. I need another five to finish dressing. How about I plan to pick you up in half an hour?”
“I’ll be ready,” she said, when he feared she might find a way to back out instead. To be fair, she was the one who’d done the calling. He’d done it that way on purpose because he wanted her to feel in control of the next step. It was up to her to call or walk away.
Griff thanked her before ending the call, and was a little lighter in his step. An excitement and anticipation filled him that he hadn’t felt in ages. Laurel was a true mystery, and he was happy that she had decided to stick around. At least for today. Then again, maybe she needed to pick up a paycheck before she could go or some other reason that had nothing to do with him.
Either way, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He chunked his cell phone on top of the bedspread, and made quick work of throwing on boxers, a fresh pair of jeans, and a collared button-down shirt along with clean socks.
As promised, he was out the door in roughly five minutes after running a brush through his hair and throwing on a Stetson. He beat his own time making it to her cabin in a solid twenty-three minutes. Living in the same town for all of his life had made him very good at knowing how long it would take him to get somewhere. More often than not, he was able to find a way to shave off a minute or two here and there based on traffic.
As he cut off the truck engine and threw his shoulder into the door to open it, the front door swung open. His heart skipped a couple of beats when he got a good look at Laurel and saw the nervous shine in her eyes. She had on a coral-colored western minidress that brushed her leg midthigh along with tan and teal cowgirl boots. The top of her dress was a half-moon that showed just enough of her creamy skin, without giving away much more than a hint of the full breasts beneath the material.
Griff did his best to catch his breath as he bolted around the front end of his truck and over to the passenger side to open the door for her. For a brief moment, they locked eyes.
“You take my breath away,” he said to Laurel. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly with an expression that made him feel like he’d caught her off guard with the compliment. Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink and he realized that seemed to be her go-to reaction when she was embarrassed. Someone as beautiful as her should be very used to being complimented but that wasn’t how this situation was reading.
It surprised him that she didn’t seem to be comfortable with it. He made a mental note as he closed the truck door behind her and then came around the front of his vehicle. A few seconds later, he reclaimed the driver’s seat, taking note of just how much his throat had dried up since that front door had opened and Laurel had emerged.
“Where do you hail from?” Griff asked as he cranked the engine. He put the gearshift into reverse, backed out of the drive, and then navigated onto the dirt road leading to the main drive toward the festival.
“From the Midwest,” she said, and he noticed she kept her answer purposely vague.
He was making small talk, not especially trying to drill her for information. So the fact that she wanted to be with him, since she was the one who’d made the call, but was also so guarded about the details of her life and her past told him to tread lightly. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her again.
Besides, she’d made the decision to stick around at least for another day. And he hoped in the next couple of hours to give her reason to stay tomorrow too.
The smell of spice and outdoors mixed with sandalwood filled Laurel’s senses in the cab of the pickup truck that was remarkably clean, for someone who was related to cattle ranchers. Granted, Griff was the town’s sheriff, but she made the mental leap that he went out onto the property, and probably even pitched in when needed. He seemed like the kind of person who’d do just that, if he had a day off. After all, he’d spent this one rescuing her from a snake.
“Thank you, by the way,” she said to him, realizing she hadn’t said those words earlier in the day when she’d meant to.
“For?” he asked. The fact he seemed genuinely confused about where she was going with this endeared him to her even more. He also seemed like the kind of person who lived by a cowboy code of honor and not giving his word unless he meant it. There was something incredibly sexy about that right now in her life.
She also needed to steer the conversation in a new direction because giving up personal details of her past life wasn’t about to happen.
“This morning. For racing over to help when you heard me screaming like a wild woman on the shore,” she continued.
“It nothing. I was glad to help,” he said.
“It wasn’t ‘nothing’ to me,” she stated. “Looking back, I panicked and probably scared the snake a whole lot more by smacking at it with the oar. I’m not exactly going to call it a poor thing, but it was just doing what came naturally to it.”
“That one was aggressive,” he said. “You were right to have the reaction you did. You might have saved yourself a trip to the ER. Those buggers can be nasty when they want to be.”
“I was just thinking maybe it was a mom protecting her babies,” she said. “Aren’t snakes a whole lot more dangerous when they nest?”
“Yes, but this particular breed has live births, so there was no reason for it to be aggressive, other than just being onery and the fact you may have surprised it,” he explained.
Good to know that in addition to an entire town, she’d offended a snake just by her presence as well.
“What kind of festival are we going to?” She figured it was a safer question. Changing the subject from personal questions to their evening in town would make her a whole lot more comfortable on this ride.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it,” Griff said.
“Guess I’ve been locked in my own world,” she admitted.
“It’s a small authentic German sausage festival that draws in a lot of people. A lot of out-of-towners come. There’s a small carousel set up and there are a few other rides like a Ferris wheel. There are some just for little kids. Like I said, folks come from all over Texas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Louisiana for a taste of the authentic German food and beer fest. Folks get dressed up. Some people get really into it,” Griff said.
“Have you?” she asked.
His brow shot up.
“What? Dress up?” he asked.
“I think you just answered my question,” she said with a laugh.
“Not even when I was a kid,” he said with amusement. There was something very appealing about Griff Quinn. The word that came to mind was charming, but it wasn’t quite adequate to describe him.
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t even dress up for trick or treating,” she said.
“Not since I was eight years old,” he said. “How about you? Do you have any desire to dress up in German clothing?”
Laurel laughed.
“I wouldn’t even know what that looked like except the cliché of what is presented on a beer bottle,” she said.
“Yeah? I think they pretty much nailed it on all those ales and steins,” Griff said on a laugh. The deep rumble that came from his chest only made him sexier.
“There,” she pointed, “I think I see the Ferris wheel you mentioned.”
One of the beauties of living in this area of Texas was the wide-open skies and the flat land, that made her feel like she could see forever on a clear day. Also, she noted the traffic had increased considerably in the past couple of minutes.
“We are definitely getting close,” he said. “The festival opened half an hour ago. Usually, the line comes before the opening. I thought we would be fine swooping in after the gates had been open for a little while.”
“If it’s this bad now, I can only imagine what it must’ve looked like an hour ago,” she said.
“You’d be surprised the lengths folks go to in order to be first in line. I’ve been out here for days, watching over the ones who get here early and camp out. It’s been dry, so fires can be an issue and we have to nip those in the bud,” he said. “Folks are well-meaning, most of the time, but things can get out of hand with tailgating parties when alcohol is involved.”
Being here in line would give her more time to get to know the sheriff at least.
“When did you know you wanted to go into law enforcement or become a sheriff?” she asked, wanting to know more about the man sitting in the seat next to her. When she really thought about the fact that she was in a vehicle with a virtual stranger, she surprised herself. Looking back, she had never felt this level of comfort and safety with Timothy. And now that she really thought about it, there had always been a slightly dangerous edge to him that she now realized wasn’t as exciting as it might have felt at the time. If she’d known where that dangerous edge would have led, she would have said, No, thank you.
No use going down that unproductive road again.
“I grew up around a father who was a sheriff, and didn’t know that it was in my blood until I was in high school and had been goofing around like sometimes high schoolers do, testing the boundaries. My father thought it might be a good idea to go out with one of his deputies. Looking back, it was probably more of a babysitting assignment than anything else; Deputy Shaw wasn’t more than ten years older than me at the time, barely out of his rookie year. I went to school with the youngest Shaw brother. We knew each other, played on the same sports team. And then we were on this small road, FM 226…”
He paused for a couple of beats as they inched forward toward the festival.
“I know the road you’re talking about. It’s not far from here at all. In fact, I take it when I’m going to work sometimes if I want to go a more scenic route,” she said.
“Exactly, yes, that’s the one. It was on an afternoon shift, broad daylight on a sunny day in the spring. We’d had a lot of rain recently and Deputy Shaw and I were shooting the breeze about the weather. I can admit that I was probably hard to talk to, because I was sulking about the fact that I had to be out there, when I wanted to be with all my buddies who were on a weekend fishing trip, probably popping open a couple at that exact moment,” he said.
“I can’t imagine a kid who would want to visit his dad’s work rather than go out with his buddies,” she said. “How old were you?”
“I was probably fifteen or sixteen at the time,” he hesitated as they inched forward a little more. “Actually, now that I think about it, I was sixteen because I drove myself to my dad’s office.”
“What happened?” she asked, fearing the direction this was heading.
“We were on what should have been a routine traffic stop. There was this vehicle driving over the speed limit, kicking up dust.” He took another beat of silence. They inched closer to the parking lot that she could actually see at this point. “Officer Shaw got out, like he’d done dozens of times that same week. I can’t remember the last thing he said to me. Some kind of joke.” He shook his head like he was trying to shake off the bad memory. “Shaw walked up to the vehicle with his hand resting on the butt of his gun like I’d seen him do in the times I’d ridden with him in the past. The vehicle was a lime green Dodge Charger.”
“The muscle car,” she said when he paused again.
“Yes, that’s right. It stuck out in my mind because of the bright color. I also remember it had some kind of dragon design on the trunk. I just remember Deputy Shaw, whose wife was six months pregnant, and how young he was. He had his whole life in front of him as he walked up to the driver’s side. Then, the second he turns toward the driver, the blast happened. Time slowed down after that. I’d looked away onto the field and was thinking in that moment how angry I was that I was stuck here on a traffic stop, instead of partying with my buddies. That shotgun blast sent me into what could only be described as shock,” he stated.
“You were so young,” she said, her heart aching for what he’d gone through.
“I saw the flash out of the corner of my eye, and then I saw Deputy Shaw take a couple of steps back after being shot at point-blank range. There was this stunned look on his face that is stamped into my memory. He couldn’t believe what had just happened any more than I could,” Griff continued. “The driver of the vehicle just floored it. He kicked up so much dust it was like being caught inside a tornado with weather coming at you from all sides. The dust storm made it next to impossible to see Deputy Shaw.”
The truck moved forward, more like a steady crawl at this point as the Ferris wheel grew larger through the front window.
“And then I grabbed his shotgun.”