CHAPTER ONE
“Well? What does it say?”
It was four days before Christmas and Bobby Roberts sat on the edge of the bed, her hands twisted together in her lap. She’d been too nervous to look at the damn stick. Instead, she’d laid the thing on a towel on the counter and fled the bathroom, leaving her fiancé, Gage Justice, in there to read the results.
A very long minute later, her soon-to-be-husband sauntered out of the bathroom, his blue cotton pajama pants riding low on his hips. He stopped in front of her, his face unreadable. Bending, he scooped her up in his arms.
“Gage?” She squeaked his name as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He sat on the bed, keeping her cradled on his lap. “Let me ask you something.”
“What? Is something wrong? You’re scaring me.” The serious look on his face wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, her worries fading into the dim morning light as the need for more of him consumed her. When she made the move to snuggle in closer to his naked chest, he slowly ended the kiss. “Bobby? Do you love me?”
She leaned back and cupped his face in her hands, staring into the forest green of his eyes. “You know I do.”
“No matter what that little stick says, you’re still going to marry me tomorrow evening and spend the rest of your life with me? Right?”
The slight hesitancy in his question made her heart swell. To think this strong and wonderful mountain of a man could be scared she might reject him made her love him even more. She kissed him softly then smiled at him. “That’s the plan, big guy.”
The lines of worry on his face eased as a grin spread over it, slow and suggestive. “Oh, I’ve got something big planned for you.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” she said with a giggle. Lifting her leg, she wiggled around until she straddled him. She slid forward, feeling the thickness of his erection against her bare bottom. “Mmm, a man of his word.”
“That’s me, a promise is a sacred thing.” He reached down and pulled the hem of her nightshirt up and over her head and arms, flinging it to the floor. “And right now, I promise to love you until you scream my name.”
“And what will Mrs. Munroe have to say?” she asked, scooting closer so her nipples rubbed deliciously against the soft hairs of his chest. Her efforts were rewarded by a growl from deep inside him as he grasped her ass cheeks with his hands to haul her in tighter.
“I doubt she sleeps with her hearing aids in, but I like a challenge.” He grinned in that sexy, I’m-about-to-make-hot-mind-blowing-love-to-you way that already had her growing moist between her thighs.
Before she could ask exactly what he had planned, Gage reached up and gripped the back of her head in one hand, his fingers clenching in her hair. He dragged her down until his mouth claimed hers in a hard, hot kiss, his tongue sliding in between her parted lips. He tasted minty.
She pulled back. He’d had time to brush his teeth while she’d been waiting for him to tell her about the stick?
The stick.
“Gage, the stick?” she asked as he trailed his mouth down the column of her neck, sending shivers and goose flesh all over her.
“Later, I’m busy right now.” He caught her mouth once more, this time in a low, slow, kiss, as if he were devouring the most decadent dessert in the history of desserts. Leaning back, he took her with him, until she was spread over his chest. All the while, one hand gripped her bottom tight against the thick part of him and the other controlled her head, keeping her focused on the things his mouth and tongue were doing to hers.
As always she couldn’t get enough of this man. Couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t taste enough. Couldn’t feel enough. Her hands caressed and kneaded the long, thick muscles of his arms then traveled down to his hips and slowly up his sides, finding every ridge of sinewy muscle and hard plane of rib.
Slowly, he turned them until she was beneath him and her legs parted wide for him to settle between them. He lifted up on his hands, his gaze fastening on hers. “Would it be a bad thing if the stick said we were pregnant?”
Her hands on his lower back, she gazed into his eyes, reading both the question and hope in them. “No,” she said, smiling. “Having a baby with you would be wonderful. And we’re not getting any younger.”
“And if we weren’t yet, would you want to try?” he asked.
This time the smile turned into a happy grin. “Yes, I believe I would.”
He lifted off her and stripped out of his pants.
The wonder that all that male perfection was hers alone never ceased to amaze Bobby or set her own hormones into overdrive.
With a grin as big as hers, he returned to the bed and slowly slid deep into her.
“You’re not wearing a condom,” she said as he stretched and filled her.
“No, no I’m not.”
“Mmm, I think I like this,” she purred as he slowly pulled back to the tip.
“Good thing, because I do, too.” With that, he sank back in again, slowly. His green-eyed gaze locked onto her. Each thrust going deeper.
She lifted her legs to wrap around the taut muscles of his ass as they worked up and down. Grabbing onto his biceps, she held him tight, meeting his body with each thrust. Inside her the tension built, her breathing coming in gasps, until she arched her back up and her shoulders down into the bedding.
“Gage!” she moaned loudly as she split apart with her orgasm.
One arm behind her back, he rode her a few more thrusts, each one eliciting more aftershocks from her before he clenched her to him, crushing her into the mattress and spilling his seed inside her.
For a few minutes she lay beneath him, enjoying the feel of his body on hers, running her fingernails lightly over the sweat-covered muscles of his back. Finally, he lifted up and kissed her again, slow and soft. Gently, he slid out and off her body to lay on his side beside her, running his fingers over her breasts and tweaking the tight buds of her nipples.
“Gage?” she asked.
“Yes, love?”
“What did the stick say?”
He reached for her far hand and entwined his fingers with her, slowly bringing it to his lips.
“The stick,” he said with a kiss to her fingers, “said that,” he moved their hands down to her lower abdomen, “our son or daughter will be attending our wedding.”
* * * * *
Deputy Sheriff Wes Strong leaned against the brick front of the sheriff’s office, watching shoppers meander along the sidewalk in the lightly swirling snow. Many stopped to talk, smiling and often exchanging back slaps or hugs. It had taken him years to get used to the natural friendliness of the people in Westen. Thanks to the former sheriff, they’d accepted him with little question and hadn’t pressed for his life history. His secrets were his alone.
There were whole days now that he wasn’t looking over his shoulder for signs of his enemies. Days like these.
All of Westen’s Main Street was decked out for the holidays. From the county courthouse, with its giant blue spruce wreaths decorated with equally large gold balls and red ribbon hanging in every window, to the small boutiques that lined the streets with lighted windows in blinking white, red or multicolored lights, everyone was in a celebratory mood. In the town square stood a fifteen foot evergreen decorated from top to bottom in multicolored lights. The Peaches ‘N Cream Café was serving eggnog and peppermint shakes. The Dye Right Salon had the hair dressers decked out in elf aprons.
He stepped away from the wall. Yep, it was good to see the town folk so relaxed, too. Heck, even the new newspaperman, Sean Callahan, had been running lots of feel good stories about folks helping folks.
It had been a hard, danger-filled year for the usually quiet little town, but nothing that had to do with his past. They’d survived a murdering meth kingpin and an explosion that could’ve destroyed the town. Except for the actions of his boss, Sheriff Gage Justice, it could have been much worse.
Of course, Gage had nearly lost his life in the tunnel collapse that ensued. It had been the new deputy, Bobby Roberts, with the help of Fire Chief, Deke Reynolds and county engineer Howard Russett that had saved the sheriff.
All that excitement had been back in the spring. A state of mild chaos descended on the town as the state officials came and went, dumped tons of newly appropriated funds into repairing the area, including the roadways near and around the town. They’d also buffed up the socioeconomic infrastructure of the whole county. Impressive how the DEA’s guilt over one of their former employees keeping a known meth lab in this area a secret could benefit the community.
Things had slowly gotten back to normal until the long, hot summer led into a second round of danger when a series of fires sprouted up. A crazed arsonist had put social worker Libby Wilson in his sights and only the heroics of Deke and young football sensation, Kyle Gordon, had saved her from a fiery death.
Funny thing about these two near catastrophes—two weddings had come out of them.
Libby and Deke, who’d been in love ten years earlier, had rekindled their romance, deciding to fly off to Vegas over Thanksgiving to finally tie the knot. Deke had said he’d waited long enough to make Libby his wife and wasn’t taking a chance to lose her again.
Wes chuckled.
Gage had been pissed for days, walking around the office muttering, Wish we’d had the good sense to just go get hitched. All this fuss over invitations, flowers and cakes. Makes my head hurt.
Bobby, Gage’s intended bride, just laughed and patted him on the back good-naturedly. Trust me, all of Westen would be upset if we didn’t give them a wedding to celebrate. Besides, my sisters would never forgive me for not having a church wedding.
He’d sighed and hugged her, casting a mournful look over her shoulder at his deputies. They’d rolled their eyes and given him unsympathetic looks. Unsympathetic, that was, until Bobby insisted that all the deputies would be involved in the wedding in some fashion or other, which required suits and ties.
“Planning your escape?”
Wes looked over his shoulder to see Sean approaching.
“Not yet,” he said, offering his hand to the newspaperman, who shook it firmly. “Bobby’s got us under close observation.”
“Has she resorted to ankle monitors for you guys yet?” Sean asked with a laugh.
“Hey, don’t say that too loudly. She just might.”
“Everything set for tonight?”
Wes nodded. “Poker bachelor party at my cabin. Deke set the rotation so the deputies are all off volunteer fire duty. You gonna make it?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Leaving the laptop at home so nothing we do will hit the paper.”
“Good thing. Sheriff’s just warming up to you, given that you’re a newspaperman.” Wes arched one brown at him, half in mock seriousness, half not. “Anything unflattering or possibly embarrassing appears in the morning papers, he might decide to give you a free overnight tour of the jail.”
Sean laughed. “Don’t worry. While I believe in the freedom of the press, I also believe discretion can be just as important. Especially to my own health.”
Catching movement just over the newsman’s shoulder, Wes whistled as a silver BMW turned through the light and headed towards them.
Sean turned to see what had his interest. “Nice ride. Someone new in town?”
“Not sure,” Wes answered, as he tried to place where he’d seen this car before. As it slowed, then pulled in to parallel park in front of where they stood outside the sheriff’s office, recognition hit. The same unease he’d felt the last time he saw that car crept over him. “Nope. This is a visitor.”
“How do you know?” Sean asked as the driver’s side door opened. Then his mouth fell so far open that Wes thought he’d have to help the guy pick his jaw up off the ground as a tall, willowy-thin woman with short, stylish brunette hair stepped out and leaned her elbows on the car’s roof, travel coffee cup in one hand and cell phone in the other.
The phone rang. She glanced at the screen, made a face, pushed a button and dropped the phone into the passenger’s seat.
Whoever that was, the lady didn’t want to talk to them.
For a moment, she looked down the road as if she expected someone to pull in behind her, but the road was empty. Finally, she refocused her attention on them, especially Wes’s sheriff’s deputy baseball cap.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice low and silky, like fine liquid caramel. “Can you tell me where Roberta Roberts is? She’s not answering her cell.”
“I believe she’s over at the Dye Right,” Wes said, looking into the biggest, darkest eyes he’d ever seen.
The lady lifted her brows in curiosity. “The die right? Is that the funeral home or something?”
Wes shook his head. “Only if you’re male. It’s Dye, as in, D-Y-E. The local hair salon.”
“Figures,” she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, apparently unimpressed with the small town’s sense of humor. “Any chance you can direct me there?” she asked, then took a sip from the coffee cup.
“Keep going to the next light. Turn left. It’s at the end of that block. You can’t miss it,” he said.
“Thanks.” Without another word, she climbed back in and drove down the street.
“Wow,” Sean said as they both watched her go. “Who was that long, cool, drink of water?”
“Settle down, boy. She’s dangerous territory.”
“Some things are worth the scratches. If you know what I mean,” Sean said with a grin.
Wes turned on his heel and headed into the office. “Trust me. You don’t want to mess with that.”
Sean followed him inside. “Why? You got a history with her or something?”
“Nope. That woman has high maintenance written all over her and my mama taught me not to play with trouble.” He took off his leather jacket and slung it onto one of the hooks on the coat tree near the door. Sitting in the rolling chair at his desk, he leaned back and fixed the newsman with a listen-to-what-I’m-telling-you stare. “Besides, that particular woman is one of two you should avoid if you know what’s good for you.”
“Why?” Sean asked as he sat on the empty chair on the other side of the desk.
“Bobby has two sisters. That was Chloe, the lawyer one.”
“Oh.”
Wes almost laughed at the virtual light bulb going on over Sean’s head. “Yeah.”
They’d both heard Bobby complain about Chloe’s insistence in helping her with the wedding plans—sending fashion books for Bobby to read, recommending caterers or florists from out of town, even sending her a box of wedding cake samples from an expensive bakery she thought they should use, instead of the local businesses. It took all of Bobby’s patience to rein in that particular sister and put her foot down.
“So, what’s the other sister like?” Sean asked after a few minutes.
“That one’s a doctor. Surgeon, I think. A little more laid back than the middle sister.”
“A laid-back surgeon? Isn’t that like an oxymoron?”
“You missed the little more in that phrase, journalist.”
“Ah, it’s all in the comparison,” Sean said with a nod. “Look anything like that one? Or more like Bobby?”
“Dylan is tall and thin like Chloe, but very light-colored hair—not blonde, but close. Big smile like Bobby, though.”
“So, you’ve met them both before?”
“Once. They came to town last spring with the idea they were going to force Bobby to leave town and go back to being a boring teacher.”
“Bet that went over big with Gage.”
It was Wes’ turn to grin. “Told Bobby he loved her right in the middle of the Peaches ’N Cream and asked her to stay on as a deputy and marry him.”
“How’d the sisters take that?”
“The lawyer just seemed to sputter.” Wes laughed at the memory of the fashionable woman staring openly at her sister and Gage, then trying to find some words and nothing came out. “The younger one seemed genuinely happy.”
“And I should avoid her, too?”
Wes glanced over at Gage’s empty desk. “Let’s just say, that the boss may get a little put out by his soon-to-be sisters-in-law, but they’re family and whether they like it or not, he’s now their protector. And he’s taking the role pretty damn serious.”
The front door swung open and Gage stomped into the office with snow flurries swirling about him. “Was that Chloe’s car I just saw pull into the Dye Right’s parking lot?”
“Yep. Stopped long enough to get directions and dazzle the Irishman,” Wes said, trying not to laugh at the sideways glance his boss cast Sean’s way.
“Dammit. One minute in town and she’s already causing trouble. You.” He stopped pulling off his coat and pointed right at Sean. “Don’t get any ideas about my sister-in-law.” He paused a moment. “Either one of them. They’re only going to be here long enough to see their sister get married then they’re leaving. Got it?”
Sean held his hands up, palm sides out. “Whoa, big guy. Not planning on going near either one.”
“Good. Hate to have to lock you up or string you up, just when I’m starting to like the way you’re running the newspaper.” He slung his coat over the back of his chair and sank down into the seat, as if a bale of hay were sitting on his shoulders. “Let’s just hope that Chloe doesn’t convince Bobby into doing something stupid with her hair, like chop it all off like hers. I love that woman’s hair just the way it is.”
“I can’t see Bobby letting her do that. She’s a lot tougher than most people think.” Wes said, wisely not mentioning that he kind of liked the sassy short cut the younger sister wore.
“Well, that particular sister could argue the sun rises in the west and convince someone of it. What more can you expect from a lawyer?”
Gage particularly distrusted lawyers, and with good reason. His first wife had been one and set him up to nearly get killed in a drug bust to further her own career.
“Are they staying with you and Bobby?” Wes asked, trying not to laugh at the look of horror that popped onto his boss’ face.
“Oh, hell no,” Gage said without hesitation. “Bobby has them booked into the Westen Inn. With any luck, they’ll grow bored and leave town as soon as the wedding is over.”
“They’re bad as all that?” Sean asked.
Gage let out an exaggerated sigh, leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “Not really. They just seem to bring out the mother hen in Bobby and I don’t like her worrying. It’s not good for her. Especially now.”
“I can see your point. Weddings are pretty stressful on the women,” Sean said.
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. So what brings you into the station, Callahan? Needing something to pad the week’s edition?” Gage asked, quickly leaning forward to pick up the morning report papers on his desk and changing the subject, not quite meeting their eyes.
Something was up. Whatever it was, Gage was keeping it close to his vest.
Sean glanced at Wes. He gave the newsman an I-have-no-clue-but-I-wouldn’t-press-the-issue-with-the-guy look at the same time he let his spidey senses open up—the sixth sense for danger he’d developed years ago while on an op—to see if what had the boss worried was something he needed to be on alert for.
Nope. Nada.
Maybe it was nothing more than Gage being worried about the wedding and Bobby’s sisters.
Still, never hurt to pay a little closer attention to things going on around Westen. Given the year they’d had, who knew when trouble was next to strike?
* * * * *
“I really think you should get a more sophisticated cut, Bobby,” Chloe said for the third time since she swept into the salon.
Bobby counted to ten. “Actually, I think I’d like a more classical upsweep for the wedding, Chloe. Getting my hair cut would mean I’d have to learn a whole new way to style it, frequent cuts and quite frankly, right now I don’t think my life can take the added stress.”
“Besides, Sheriff Justice really likes her hair all soft and curling around her shoulders,” Sylvie Gillis, the little pixie-sized stylist with the multi-shades of orange, red and yellow spiked hair said from behind her. She met Bobby’s gaze in the mirror and gave an impish wink as she wound another hunk of Bobby’s dark hair around the fat roller brush and hit the blow dryer on high.
Chloe huffed and flopped rather inelegantly into one of the Queen Anne chairs, this one upholstered in pink and black checks. Bobby worked hard to hide the smile that threatened. She’d seen this reaction out of her sister more times than a strawberry has seeds. Whenever Chloe had a problem as a little kid or teenager, she’d huff and puff and flop into a chair until Bobby could get her to talk about whatever was bothering her. Often she’d wait to ask, hoping Chloe would figure out a solution or ask to talk to her first.
Once she went to college, the preamble was usually several emails or phone calls about how unjust the world was, followed by silence, followed by a trip home and binge eating. She eyed the small box of iced Christmas cookie-cutter cookies Willie Mae over at the Yeast & West Bakery handed out to all the salon workers and clients earlier. Catching Sylvie’s attention in the mirror to stop the blow dry for a moment, she picked up the pretty holiday package, walked over and plopped it in her sister’s lap.
“What?” Chloe asked, her funk slightly forgotten.
Bobby returned to her seat and signaled Sylvie to continue. “Sample some of the work the Yeast & West Bakery made. They’re the ones doing the wedding cake.”
“Great, just what I need is to put on a few pounds right before wearing a bridesmaid dress tomorrow,” Chloe grumbled, even as she opened the box. She fished out a miniature Christmas tree, complete with green icing and multicolored dots of icing for lights. She read the name on the box. “The Yeast & West Bakery? Who thinks up these names for the local businesses?”
Bobby, Sylvie and everyone else in the salon watched Chloe sink her teeth into the cookie. Her eyes closed. Her face softened as she chewed and swallowed.
Her eyes popped open. “Oh. My. God. That’s sinful,” she whispered almost reverently before taking another bite.
Laughter bubbled up all over the salon at her reaction.
“I know. Everyone has that reaction the first time they taste any of Willie Mae’s confections,” Bobby said with a smile.
“And this is the woman who you insisted had to make your wedding cakes?” her sister asked.
“Yes. I wouldn’t have anyone else.”
“I can see why you’re so insistent.” Chloe reached for a second cookie, this time a holiday wreath, equally as decorated as the little tree. Whatever was bugging her was forgotten or at least put on the backburner while she worked on getting her blood sugar elevated.
Bobby leaned back and enjoyed Sylvie’s gentle pulling as she worked the brush and heat through her hair. She smiled to herself. Being the guardian of her younger sisters had taught her a lot. Some things you’d never forget. Both Cloe and Dylan had been in elementary school when their parents were killed in a car crash. She’d been nineteen, in college at the time, with enough credits to earn a teaching certificate. There hadn’t been any question. She’d been named legal guardian in her parents’ will, so she stepped away from school, became a teacher and full-time parent.
She laid her hand gently over her lower stomach, nonchalantly, as to not draw anyone’s attention to it—especially her sister’s. Now she was going to be a parent again, this time starting from scratch.
It hit her. She’d been a surrogate mother for years, but she knew very little about babies. Her head began to swim. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly.
“You okay, Miz Bobby?” Syvlie asked in her soft southern accent that spoke of her roots in the Blue Ridge area of the Appalachians.
Bobby blinked, reaching for a magazine on the counter of Sylvie’s workstation. “Yes. I think I just got a little overheated,” she said, fanning herself.
Sylvie turned off the dryer. “You want something cold to drink? A tea or something?”
“Maybe just some cold water,” Bobby said.
“Did you eat this morning?” Chloe said, coming over and offering the opened cookie box to her.
As she took a plain iced star cookie, Bobby thought back to how she’d spent the morning making love to Gage. She’d fallen asleep and he’d left for the office. He’d given her the two days before the wedding off earlier in the week so she’d have time to get things done without having to worry about work. The alarm on her phone awakened her in just enough time to shower and get to the salon. There’d been no time for breakfast of any kind.
“No, I didn’t,” she said, taking a bite of the cookie. “That’s probably all it is.”
Chloe laughed. “How many times in my life have you nagged me to always eat breakfast? What was it you used to say? Oh yeah, Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Chloe,” she mimicked Bobby’s morning rant from when she was a teenager.
Bobby shot a glare her way and sank her teeth into the cookie.
“Miss Chloe, y’all shouldn’t pick on your sister this close to her wedding,” Twylla, the owner of the Dye Right, said as she handed Bobby a bottle of cold water. “She has enough on her plate, what with all the details plus wrangling in the sheriff and all his other deputies.”
“Speaking of deputies, who’s the one on duty over there right now?” Chloe asked, sinking back into the pink-and-black chair.
Bobby thought back over the week’s duty schedule. One of her monthly chores was to make out the schedule and make sure every shift was covered. “Cleetus is over at the elementary school playing Santa for their Christmas party. Jason is on patrol in the rural areas, so that would leave Wes in town. Why?”
“No particular reason. He was outside the office when I stopped to get your location. I remember seeing him last spring when Dylan and I came up here to try and convince you to come home.”
Bobby inhaled and counted slowly as she exhaled. “I told you then and I mean it now. Westen is my home. This is where Gage and I are going to live. You’re going to have to get used to it.”
“I know. You can’t blame me for worrying. You’ve always been so close and now, well, it takes me almost three hours to drive up here.” She held up her hand when Bobby started to argue. “Besides, I don’t know if it’s the big guy or the town, but you do seem to be glowing with happiness.”
Bobby blinked and quickly looked down at her hands, hoping no one noticed. Had her pregnancy already given her a glow? Could people see the changes already? She didn’t want to jinx it by telling anyone just yet. Besides, she rather liked the idea of just Gage and her having this special secret to themselves for a while.
“A bride who is truly in love with her man always glows, Miss Chloe,” Sylvie said from behind her as she turned on the dryer. “Besides, anyone can see how much Sheriff Justice loves Miss Bobby.”
“I know that, Sylvie. It’s the only reason I’m forgiving the big lug for taking my sister so far from home,” Chloe said, picking up a magazine and flipping a few pages. “So, what’s this Wes guy’s story? Seems a little on the intense side.”
Bobby studied her sister’s reflection in the salon mirror, wondering why she was trying to act so nonchalant about asking about Wes’ past. And she knew her sister was way more interested in her fellow deputy than she appeared. The woman had a gossip magazine in her hand. Chloe never cared about celebrities, their fashion or their lives.
Chloe stared at the magazine pictures, waiting for Bobby to answer her question. Even though every molecule of her body wanted to slap the stupid gossip rag onto the table and demand an answer, she’d learned as a teen being more patient than Bobby usually got you what you needed. Today she needed information without worrying her sister.
“His last name is Strong and he’s been with the sheriff’s department for about six years. Gage’s daddy hired him before Gage came back to town. He’s a good deputy, kind with the townfolk, but doesn’t take any crap from drunks or troublemakers. He was instrumental in saving Gage’s life,” Bobby said and a catch in her voice caught Chloe’s attention.
“You were instrumental in saving his life,” she said laying the magazine aside and coming over to grasp her sister’s hand. “Anyone else was just giving you an assist. Don’t you ever forget it.”
“I’ll try.”
Tears were in her older sister’s eyes as she clasped her hand, but she laughed, which made Chloe relax a little. She leaned one hip against the pixie hair-stylists’ station and watched her put layers of soft curls in Bobby’s hair. “So, besides being a kind deputy who can step up when mischief makers are in town, what else do you know about this Wes Strong?”
“Cleetus said he thinks he might’ve been in the CIA or something,” Sylvie leaned in to whisper.
“Sylvie,” Bobby said, giving her that I’m-not-putting-up-with-that look she’d perfected as the surrogate mother of two younger sisters and after twenty years of teaching. “We don’t know that, and Cleetus shouldn’t be gossiping about his co-workers.”
“Oh, he wasn’t gossiping, Miss Bobby. He would never do that. It came up after the fires and he said how Deputy Strong always thought outside the box, is all.” Sylvie’s green eyes had grown as big as key limes.
Apparently the little lady had a soft spot for the biggest man in uniform Chloe had ever met. Cleetus could’ve been a lineman on any team in the NFL.
Her face softening once more, Bobby reached up and patted Sylvie’s hand. “It’s okay, Sylvie. I should’ve known Cleetus would never tell tales out of school about his job.” Then she switched her gaze back to Chloe, her voice lowered as to not be heard over the dryers and chatting women. “Gage said his daddy told him that Wes had some military training, but didn’t give him any details. I really don’t know more than that. Wes keeps to himself. Doesn’t date anyone and doesn’t share much of his past with us at work.”
“He is a loner, likes his privacy,” Sylvie, who apparently was incapable of not passing on information, chimed in. “Even has a cabin outside of town near the river.”
Chloe nodded, letting all the information sink in, and considered her options. She’d come to town hoping to escape the tensions at work and whoever was watching her. She knew she’d be safe in Westen with her soon-to-be brother-in-law the town sheriff, but she didn’t want to worry her sister or put either of them in danger. Especially since this was their wedding.
The tall, tightly built, dark-haired deputy with the steel-blue eyes hadn’t said much the two times she’d met him—last spring or today—but for some reason she was drawn to him, found his quiet demeanor fascinating. Apparently, he knew how to handle himself when things got serious. That was a plus. An isolated home, not on the grid. Another plus. If trouble found her this weekend, he might be her answer.