Her Small-Town Sheriff Read online

  “So, you’re replacing Sheriff Billings, right?” Molly asked.

  “That’s right.” Gerard Billings, an old friend of Carson’s dad, had been sheriff here in Moonlight Cove for over thirty years and had taken his pension and retired to Arizona just a month ago.

  Molly sat on one of the swiveling stools by the counter. “The town was sad to see him go after so long.”

  “I know. I have some big shoes to fill.”

  “What made you want to come to Moonlight Cove?” Molly asked.

  Thank goodness he had a decent cover story. Just as long as people didn’t ask too many whys. “My cousin, Lily Rogers, lives here, and I liked the thought of being near family.” Although anywhere that wasn’t Seattle probably would have been fine with him. Too many heartbreaking memories there.

  “Oh, I hadn’t heard you were related to Lily. I know her from the local church’s singles’ group, which I attended before I got engaged,” Molly said. Her gaze made a trip to his ring finger. “Maybe you should go sometime, meet a few other singles…?”

  He didn’t go to church—hadn’t been raised to, actually—and his schedule usually didn’t allow him time for many social activities. And a singles’ group? Not for him. But he was sure Molly wouldn’t be interested in any of that. So instead he said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Phoebe interrupted them by handing him his cone. “I made it a double,” she said. “You can never get too much Rocky Road.”

  He widened his eyes. “This cone is huge.”

  “A big guy needs a big cone,” Phoebe said with an impish grin, her pretty blue eyes sparkling.

  Male interest shot through him like a bright, undeniable spark, and for just a second, he couldn’t take his eyes off her lovely face.

  Guess I’m not dead after all… .

  Iron walls came down around that thought, ruthlessly cutting it off in its tracks. He had no business even being remotely attracted to a woman. Who’d want that kind of turmoil again? Not him.

  Cone in hand, he said to Phoebe, “What do I owe you?”

  “It’s on the house.”

  “Well, thanks for the ice cream.” He turned to Molly. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” she said, flashing him a bright smile. “Stop by anytime. Phoebe loves visitors.”

  Phoebe gave Molly an obviously significant glare, then regarded him. “Glad you could stop by, Sheriff.”

  Was she blushing? And why did he like the look on her so much?

  His neck burning, he raised his cone in the air. “Me, too. I’ll see you ladies later.”

  He stepped outside, noting that the clouds had rolled in off the Pacific Ocean again. Rain was sure to follow.

  Pausing for a moment, he looked up and down the main street of Moonlight Cove, soaking in the small-town charm and tranquility that had drawn him here. Setting his jaw, he started walking back to the station, one thought foremost in his mind: as long as the town was all he was drawn to, he’d be just fine.

  *

  Her cheeks still warm, Phoebe started wiping off the already clean counter. She surreptitiously watched Sheriff Winters go, liking the confident way he carried himself and his decidedly male way of moving. She didn’t want to let on to Molly that she found him attractive, though. Oh, no. That would be a disaster.

  As the resident matchmaker, Molly would grab ahold of any tidbit of Phoebe’s interest and never let go. When it came to getting people together, Molly was tenacious. Especially since she’d found true love recently and was engaged to be married to Grant Roderick next month. As far as Molly was concerned, everyone needed the happiness she’d found with Grant.

  Especially Phoebe.

  Phoebe was having none of it.

  Molly interrupted her thoughts. “Sooo,” she said, her voice high, as if she were curious and scheming at the same time. “He seemed nice.”

  Very nice, indeed. Phoebe kept wiping the counter, carefully moving and putting back the metal napkin dispensers as she went. “Yes, he did.”

  “Handsome, too.” Molly tapped a finger on the counter. “I’ve always thought dark hair and eyes were a good combination.”

  Actually, Phoebe found the combination very appealing on the sheriff, too. Not that she’d let Molly know that. “Really? Hmm. I guess so.”

  “He’s tall, too,” Molly said. “I like a tall man.”

  “I suppose.” Being tall herself, Phoebe had always preferred bigger guys.

  “In good shape I’d say.”

  Phoebe stopped wiping the counter and frowned at Molly. “How do you know he’s in good shape?” She scoffed. “It wasn’t like he was dressed in workout gear.”

  Molly grinned, her blue eyes sparkling. “Let’s just say he filled out the uniform just right.”

  Phoebe’s cheeks heated again. Yes, he had made the uniform look mighty good. What was it about a man in uniform, anyway?

  Truthfully, when Phoebe had come out of the back and saw him standing in the middle of her store, she’d actually stopped and stared. Sheriff Winters was easy on the eyes, no doubt about it, all tall, dark and handsome. The blue uniform added interest, of course, but she was pretty sure he’d look good in anything he wore.

  “I guess so,” Phoebe said offhandedly, throwing the towel in the bin under the counter. “I wasn’t really paying attention.” Well, maybe a little…

  Molly snorted. “Oh, come on, Phoebe. A woman would have to be blind not to notice how good-looking he was.”

  No kidding. “So he was handsome,” Phoebe said, shrugging. “So are half of the guys in this town.” Actually, maybe a quarter of the guys around Moonlight Cove. On a good day.

  “I didn’t notice a wedding ring,” Molly said, resting her chin on her fist. “I’ve heard he’s single. Divorced, actually.”

  Really? Very interesting. A handsome single dad…

  With a mental admonition, Phoebe jerked her thoughts back to where they belonged—figuring out how to derail Molly the matchmaking train.

  Phoebe held up her hands. “Okay, Moll, let’s just cut to the chase.” Sometimes direct was the way to go when Molly was on a matchmaker tear.

  Molly blinked, the picture of blushing innocence. “About what?”

  “Don’t try to act like you’re not on another one of your matchmaking quests.” Phoebe adjusted the straw holder on the counter to its proper position. “I could see your ploy coming from a mile away.”

  Molly’s chin went up. “So what if I am? Can I help it if I want you to find the same happiness I have?”

  Reminder time. Again. “I’m not interested in dating.” Phoebe hoisted up a brow. “Remember?”

  “But—”

  “You know this, and you know why.” Phoebe drew in a large breath. “I don’t want to date anyone ever again.” She’d found true love once in Justin, and when he’d died two weeks before their long-awaited wedding…well, sadly, inevitably, so had her hopes for love.

  Molly came over, then drew Phoebe into a hug and squeezed her tight. She moved back, her green eyes intent on Phoebe’s face. “But what if there’s someone else out there for you?”

  Phoebe’s eyes burned, and she pulled away, then wiped a waffle-cone crumb off one of the stools. “There isn’t,” she said, covering up the sadness and emptiness her words brought forth with an emphatic tone. “You know I don’t believe in second chances.”

  “I didn’t, either, and I found Grant,” Molly said.

  “I’m not you. Justin was it for me, and I’m okay with that.” What other choice did she have? Jump back into another relationship, just waiting for something bad to happen, for her heart to be ripped out of her chest? No, thank you.

  Molly opened her mouth to speak. To argue, Phoebe was sure.

  She held up a rigid hand again. “No, Molly.” She had to be ruthless here or Molly would go into matchmaker overdrive and have double-wedding plans mapped out in no time flat. “I am not interested in dating anyone, so don’t try and fix me
up with the new sheriff. Besides, he has a kid.” She swept the pile of contraband off the counter into a bowl before Molly noticed it. “A preteen.” She sighed. “I don’t think that’s God’s plan for me.

  “You’d be a great mom,” Molly said.

  Longing pierced Phoebe’s heart, and words stuck in her throat. Sadly, with no chance for a husband, kids weren’t in her future. She simply shook her head.

  “Well, I think you’re making a mistake,” Molly said. “Love comes when you expect it the least.”

  “Love? You’re getting a little ahead of yourself here.” Phoebe laughed, but it sounded hollow.

  Molly’s words had a knot forming in Phoebe’s chest; oh, how she wished she could convert to Molly’s way of thinking. But she couldn’t. Justin had been her one true love, and there wouldn’t be another. Period.

  “No, I’d be making a mistake if I let you fix me up with anyone when I’m sure I’m never going to fall in love again,” Phoebe said. “Total waste of time.”

  “I didn’t want to fall in love, either,” Molly said. “And I was wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong about this,” Phoebe stated. “So please back off and quit trying to convince me otherwise.”

  Molly reluctantly agreed, then said goodbye to go back to work.

  Phoebe headed toward the freezer to check inventory, and her eyes snagged on the candy under the counter she’d confiscated from Heidi Winters. Unbidden, memories of Carson Winters’s dark, chocolate-brown eyes and stunning smile flashed in her brain. He really was a handsome guy.

  On top of that, she had to admit she liked the way he’d dealt with his daughter’s shenanigans. He seemed levelheaded, fair, and as if he took his parenting responsibilities very seriously.

  She’d downplayed her reaction to Carson in order to keep Molly’s matchmaking instincts in check. But, truthfully, the new sheriff had piqued Phoebe’s interest.

  She shook her head. No. Getting caught up in a man—any man—would be heading down a danger-strewn road she was determined to avoid.

  Worse yet, Carson made his living in law enforcement, which ranked right up there with firefighter on the dangerous-jobs list in her mind.

  She had to remember all of those things, no matter how appealing the new sheriff in town might prove himself to be in the days and weeks to come.

  Chapter Two

  After work, Carson headed home, dreading the upcoming conversation with Heidi. Given everything else she was dealing with, he hated having to call her on her behavior. But he couldn’t let what she’d done slide. Shoplifting was a serious offense, and he had to impress on her that stealing was wrong.

  He pulled up to his rented midcentury three-bedroom, two-bath saltbox-style house and parked in the driveway; the garage was still full of moving boxes and extra furniture he hadn’t been able to part with when they’d moved. Someday he’d get to sorting through all of it, but right now, just the thought of the chore overwhelmed him and brought forth too many difficult memories.

  Turning off the ignition, he sat in his SUV cruiser for a moment, relishing the calm before the inevitable storm. Then he climbed out of his vehicle, locked it and headed toward the front door, figuratively putting his “Dad” hat on.

  He let himself in and went directly to the bedroom at the front of the house he used as an office and secured his service weapon in his home lockbox in the closet. He put his sheriff’s hat on his oak desk, and then walked through the small, sparsely furnished living room and went looking for Mrs. Philpot.

  As expected, she was in the eat-in kitchen standing at the stove making what smelled like Salisbury steak. Carson noted that the chipped tile counters were sparkling clean, and the scuffed hardwood floors looked freshly mopped. Carson didn’t require her to do housework, but Mrs. Philpot seemed compelled to keep the place spotless, which he was thankful for. With his schedule, he didn’t have much time for housework, and he hadn’t had the chance to hire someone to come in and clean.

  Today Mrs. Philpot was dressed in a hot-pink tracksuit and white tennis shoes. Her short, bright, unnaturally red hair—colored, he was sure, but, hey, whatever—was, as always, perfectly styled, and her tortoiseshell glasses sat atop her head. Though she was almost seventy, she was as sharp as a tack, and he suspected that today’s events were an anomaly; according to her references, not much usually got past her.

  Except one determined twelve-year-old bent on misbehaving—his daughter, the escape artist/shoplifter. Wonderful. What a distinction.

  “Hello, Mrs. Philpot,” he said. “Smells delicious.” She usually started dinner so Carson and Heidi didn’t end up eating at eight-thirty. That gave Heidi more time to do homework before lights-out at nine. Unless Heidi argued about having to go to bed so early, and then bedtime was more like ten.

  “Hello, Sheriff Winters,” she said, raising a wooden spoon in the air. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  “Great.” He retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.

  Mrs. Philpot turned toward him, her hands knotted together, her brow furrowed. “I am so sorry about what happened with Heidi today. She told me she was going upstairs to do her homework, and I was busy vacuuming. She must have slipped out the front door when I was down the hall and couldn’t hear or see her.” She shook her head. “I heard her music coming from her room, and, silly me, assumed she was still up there.”

  He put his glass down on the counter. “Please don’t worry about this. Apparently Heidi has developed a very sneaky streak, and I’m sure she waited for the opportunity to slip by you and left her music on to throw you off the scent.”

  “I was just on my way upstairs to check on her when you called…”

  “As I said when we talked on the phone, this isn’t your fault, Mrs. P. It’s Heidi’s, and she and I will definitely be talking about her consequence at dinner.”

  “All right, then. Please let me know how you want me to handle keeping track of her from now on. And remember, Sheriff, this isn’t my first rodeo.” She winked at him.

  Carson blinked, but he was left without an answer; it wasn’t as if they could put handcuffs on Heidi.

  He walked Mrs. Philpot to the door and she left.

  Sighing, Carson stood in the middle of the kitchen, hating that he had to wreck the evening with a lecture.

  But there was no help for the serious conversation he and Heidi needed to have.

  He called Heidi down to dinner, then went back in the kitchen and got out plates and silverware. Despite the massive ice cream cone he’d eaten earlier today, compliments of the charming Phoebe Sellers, he was starving; he and Heidi would have to talk while they ate.

  A few moments later, Heidi called down from upstairs, “I’m not very hungry, Dad.”

  Classic avoidance.

  Sighing, he went to the bottom of the stairs. Heidi sat on the top step, looking mighty worried if you asked him; she was a smart kid, and she knew she’d messed up. She had her long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she’d changed into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt as opposed to the jeans or legging thingies she usually wore to school. Her feet were bare, and he noticed she’d painted her toenails a funky blue. Gone were the days she used some demure shade of pink.

  “Well, come on down and at least sit with me,” he said. “You know I don’t like eating alone.” Going from a family of four to a family of two almost overnight did that to a guy.

  Heidi scrunched up her face. “Do I have to?” she groused.

  “Yup, you do.” He headed back to the kitchen. “You’ll probably get hungry when you see what Mrs. P. whipped up.”

  Just as he was loading a plate with food, Heidi appeared at the kitchen door.

  He motioned her in. “Sure you don’t want some?” he asked, holding up the serving spoon. “It looks delicious.”

  Heidi shrugged. “All right, maybe a little.” Guess she was hungry after all if she was willing to step into the fire.

  When they were seated
at the table, he took a few bites, marveling at Mrs. Philpot’s cooking skills. The meal was delicious, and certainly better than the frozen pizza he would have thrown in the oven if she hadn’t made dinner.

  Heidi sat slumped in her chair and simply pushed her food around with her fork without speaking or looking at him.

  He ate and just let the silence sink in for a bit; she needed to stew for while, worry some. When she finally started fidgeting, he cleared his throat and said, “So, as you know, I had a call from Ms. Sellers from the ice cream parlor today.”

  Heidi studied her plate as if it held the magical key to getting out of the inevitable conversation. After a long silence, she huffed and put her fork down with a clank. “Yeah,” she said, her voice defiant. “So?”

  His gut burned. “So? You shoplifted, Heidi. What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but intense. “Ms. Sellers could have pressed charges.”

  Heidi slanted a decidedly worried glance at him, biting her lip. “So did she?”

  “No, she didn’t, luckily for you.” He swiped a hand over his eyes, wishing he could wipe away the scene playing out before him. “She could have, though, and probably should have. But she’s a nice woman, and she wanted to cut you a break.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Heidi asked, giving him the classic eye roll.

  Dropping his jaw, he stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted. “Are you kidding me? The problem is you snuck out of the house and stole candy.”

  She said nothing, did nothing. Just sat there, blank. Unrepentant. Who was this sullen kid? What had happened to his little pigtailed daughter with two missing front teeth? The one who actually cared about what he thought? Suddenly he missed that kid, but feared he’d never have her back. Susan leaving had really knocked a hole in their lives, and he’d lost so much more than a wife that stormy winter day Susan had left.

  He looked at the ceiling, taking a moment to get ahold of the anxiety bubbling through him. Finally, he said, “Don’t you get that what you did was wrong?”

  Heidi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Her nonchalance raised his blood pressure another notch. “So why did you do it?”