Debbi Rawlins - Anywhere With You

“She wants you, not me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Benedicto,” Rachel’s voice carried over the murmurs of the bridal party who’d gathered near the stage. “Get over here.”

“See?” Trace grumbled. “Still bossy as hell.”

Ben had to smile. He gave Rachel a small shake of his head, and her glare turned pleading.

“For what it’s worth, your mom’s busy in the kitchen,” Trace said quietly, then strolled toward the waiting group.

Ben glanced at Katy and the other bridesmaids eyeing him as if he were a juicy steak. Normally, he’d already have decided on his companion for later. But he was restless, edgy.

And there was Grace to consider. Something about her quiet beauty and wit appealed to him. Add the fact that she was a refreshing challenge. She hadn’t flirted with him once. He turned to see if he should pick up another drink for her. She could probably tempt him into...

She wasn’t where he had left her.

He looked toward the house, then panned across a group of women huddled near the bar. Grace wasn’t among them. He could tell they were local women, though none he recognized. A pair of older cowboys carrying guitars emerged from a row of parked trucks.

Ben squinted at a blur of movement behind them and caught a glimpse of her. Only for a second. He waited a moment, watching to see if maybe she’d gone to get something out of her car. A minute later, a silver compact drove out the driveway.

Disappointment settled like a weight on his shoulders. He shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time for a hookup, anyway. Especially not with the local law. He had too much crap swirling in his head. He craned his neck for a look at the Porsche. He’d parked it between the stable and a tree, where another vehicle couldn’t fit. He didn’t need his doors getting dinged.

Arriving late had been by design. He’d wanted everyone to see him driving the Porsche, prove to them he wasn’t a charity case. Yet he’d forgotten all about the damn thing until Trace had mentioned it.

Ben drew air deep into his lungs. Nothing was going the way he’d expected. And he’d prepared for plenty...anger, resentment, even nerves.

But shit.

He’d never expected to feel like he’d come home.

* * *

GRACE GRABBED KEYS out of her desk drawer and holstered her gun. She didn’t have to look at Danny and Roy to know they were smirking like a couple of jackasses. They did every time she brought out her Glock, as if they’d never seen a woman carry a gun before. Scary to think those two were actually deputies.

“So, how did you enjoy the party last night?” Roy asked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers locked behind his head, his round belly straining his uniform shirt.

She’d been waiting for him to mention the reception. Just to cause trouble. “It was great.”

“You left early.”

Grace raised her brows. “I hope your wife didn’t notice you were keeping track of me. She might get the wrong idea.”

Danny chuckled, and Roy shot him a dirty look.

“Tell me something, Grace,” Roy said, “why do you suppose that you, being a newcomer and all, got an invite to the wedding and Danny, Wade and Gus didn’t?”

Of course this was about her being the mayor’s niece. “I guess you’ll have to ask Rachel or Matt that question.” She set her blue ball cap on her head.

“Quit wearing that stupid thing. Get yourself a Stetson so you look like a real deputy,” Danny said and abruptly swung his boots off the desk.

“Oh, I should emulate you two so I can fit in?” She turned for the door, muttering under her breath, “Maybe if I lost fifty IQ points.”

Noah was standing in the open doorway, not six feet away.

That’s why Danny had snapped to attention—

Oh, God. “Hi, boss,” she said, her cheeks burning. Of course Noah had heard her. She’d apologize for the unprofessional remark later. But damned if she’d do it in front of Roy and Danny.

At least the sheriff didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he seemed to be controlling a smile. She liked Noah. An ex-Chicago police detective, he was sharp, professional and moving on to work for the marshal service.

“I thought you were off today, Noah,” Roy said, remaining relaxed in his chair, exercising his familiarity with their boss for Grace’s benefit.

“I just came by to get something.” Noah stopped and eyed Roy. “Do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Order another uniform shirt.”

“But, boss—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Shaking his head, Noah walked to his desk. “We’ve had this discussion twice already.”

Roy moved his hands from behind his head and glared at Grace. So now she was to blame for him blowing his diet?

“Who’s on patrol?” Noah asked.

“I am.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I was just headed out. Need something?”

“Take a few traffic cones with you in case you run into any mudslides. The rain came down fairly hard around midnight.”

Grace nodded, making a mental note to jot down the information. She’d started a notebook to record all the little things the other deputies already knew from growing up here. The doorknob shook. Someone outside was trying to open the door, so she pulled her hand back.

It was Clarence. Oh, great.

“Good morning, Mayor,” she said and stepped aside.

He crossed the threshold, his sour expression changing the instant he noticed the men. “Mornin’ Sheriff Calder, deputies,” he said, nodding at them. He stopped in front of Roy. “Don’t we have money in the budget for uniforms? Get yourself a bigger size, son, before you pop a button and take out someone’s eye.”

Roy’s face turned red. He straightened, sucking in his gut.

Grace sighed. Clarence was a politician. How could he not understand diplomacy? And how on earth had he stayed in office for so long?

“What can I do for you, Mayor?” Noah pulled a folder out of his desk drawer.

“Actually, I stopped by to see Grace.” Clarence turned to look her up and down, frowning first at her jeans, then at her cap. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m on duty.”

“We should discuss a proper uniform for the department. Maybe tan slacks to match the shirt,” he said, glancing at Noah. “What do you think?”

“Waste of money. Peace officers in this county have been wearing jeans as far back as I can remember. The shirt’s enough.”

“Just because something’s always been done a certain way doesn’t make it right,” Clarence said, his tone querulous.

Noah smiled. “No, but tan slacks aren’t going to help the public identify the sheriff or deputies. Anyway, not my call. Hash it out with the new sheriff.”

Clarence grunted. “What do you think, Grace?”

At first, she was speechless. She refused to look at Roy or Danny. “Sheriff Calder is right. Whoever replaces him should help make that decision.”

Her uncle’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll walk you out. I need to have a word with you.”

Nodding, she briefly met Noah’s sympathetic eyes. He was a good sheriff, a good man. Filling his shoes wouldn’t be easy.

“You left the party early,” Clarence said once they were on the sidewalk. His face lit up at the sight of a blonde middle-aged woman walking toward them. He passed a hand over the sparse strands of auburn hair slicked across his pink scalp.

“I wasn’t feeling well.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Between him and Ben, she’d felt a bit off.

“Morning, Laura.” Clarence and the woman exchanged smiles as she passed.

“Do you know where the traffic cones are stored?”

He snapped his attention back to Grace. “How would I know? Don’t try and change the subject.”

“What subject?” She remembered the storage closet behind the office and studied her set of keys. “That I left early? So what?”