Rachel Lee - His Pregnant Courthouse Bride

Wyatt smiled and held out his hand to shake the other man’s. “Amber, this is Gage Dalton, our sheriff. Gage, a lawyer friend of mine from Chicago, Amber Towers.”

Gage’s crooked smile was friendly as he shook Amber’s hand. “Welcome to Conard City, Ms. Towers. If you decide you want to get out of town and visit a ranch, let me know. I’ve got several deputies who’d be glad to oblige. Or you can take a trail ride.” He laughed. “Whole bunches of things to do, if you know where to look.”

She met three more deputies as they departed, one of them a woman who had the same last name as a much older man with a Native American face. They didn’t at all resemble each other, which raised her curiosity.

“The two named Parish,” she began after they sat and the table had been cleared by a scowling woman.

“Micah Parish and his daughter-in-law, Connie.”

Well, that explained a lot. “Family business, law enforcement?”

Wyatt flashed a grin. “Not exactly. Micah has a ranch, too, and his son, Ethan, left the sheriff’s department to help out there. Unfortunately, I think we’re going to see Micah retire before long. It’ll be the end of an era.”

“Meaning?”

Coffee cups slammed down in front of them and were filled by an older version of the woman who had cleared the table. Looking up at that face, Amber almost hesitated. But then she plunged in. “I can’t drink much coffee. Could I please have milk instead?”

She was answered with a grunt as the menus slapped onto the table.

“Was that a yes?” Amber asked Wyatt quietly as the woman stomped away.

“Mavis or Maude will bring your milk.” He winked. “I warned you about the service. Okay, end of an era. Micah’s been a deputy here ever since he mustered out of the army. Nearly a quarter century now. He started working for the old sheriff, Nate Tate, who retired a while back, which was another end-of-an-era event around here. Anyway, at first Micah wasn’t very well accepted.”

“Why? Because he’s Native American?”

“Bingo. A lot of those prejudices still exist. He’s become kind of iconic over the years, like the old sheriff. And folks still call Gage the new sheriff, even though it’s been years.”

“I’m beginning to get the picture.”

He nodded. “Things do change here, they just change slowly.”

She was also adding together her impressions and began to feel very uncomfortable. “Wyatt? Will my staying with you cause problems? Because people are bound to talk and you’re a judge...”

“God, you sound like my father,” he said with a hint of exasperation. “I don’t care what they say. If I did, I wouldn’t have invited you.”

But her stomach sank even more as she realized his father had objected to her visit. Wyatt had often struck her as the knight-errant type, willing to fight for what he thought was right, despite the consequences to himself. That could be an admirable thing at times, but sometimes not. Like possibly now.

She had to force herself to look at the menu and find something she thought she could eat. As self-absorbed as her problems had made her for the last six weeks, she hadn’t lost her ability to care. She didn’t want to cause this man any trouble, so she’d need to figure out something quickly.

At last she chose a grilled cheese sandwich with a side salad. Despite the lack of service, their orders were placed in front of them quickly, and Wyatt dug into what looked like a really juicy steak sandwich.

“You’re rather unconventional in your approach to being a judge,” she remarked. “I’m used to judges who don’t take an interest beyond the law.”

“I don’t know that I’m unconventional. I just know these are real people with real problems, and a lot of them are my neighbors. Some come from the next county over and I may never see them again, but they’re still human beings.”

She looked up from her sandwich with a smile. “You were always like that. I remember how much you wanted to be a defense attorney. And why. Still tilting at windmills, I see.”

He half smiled. “I don’t know if they’re windmills, but while there are some things justice should never see, I think she needs to take off that blindfold once in a while.”

“Mercy.”

“Maybe. Certainly everyone’s entitled to a fair shake, and by the time some of them come in front of me, they’ve hardly had a fair shake in their lives.”

She nodded and reached for the second half of her sandwich, glad her appetite had returned. “I worked in a different world at those big firms.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Most of my clients had gotten more than their share of fair shakes in life. They were just looking for another one. Or maybe for a better-than-fair outcome.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Well-heeled, successful, mostly men who thought they had the world by a string. It came as a real shock when they found out they didn’t.”

Distasteful, she thought. Yes, it was the way up the ladder to maybe becoming a judge herself one day, but a lot of her clients...just because they had money didn’t mean she respected them.

But she did like the pro bono work she did when she could at the free legal clinic. She was going to miss that.

“Do you like chili?” Wyatt asked, drawing her out of her maunderings.

“Sure. Not the beans so much, though.”

“I make it without beans. How about we have that for dinner tonight?”

“You cooking?”

He laughed. “Absolutely. The chef is going to love having an excuse.”

Chapter Three

On the way home, he took a detour to the grocery. Despite having just driven all the way from Chicago, she opted to stay in the car. Instead she pulled her jacket snugly around her to wait, then decided to climb out and stroll around the parking lot.

The wind seemed to be dying a bit. To the west she saw brilliant blue sky right over the mountains, although it remained overcast overhead. The ends of the earth, she thought again, but this time with amusement. The town had some appeal to it, though, and she suspected if you lived your whole life here, you might get to know almost everyone. They wouldn’t necessarily be friends, but you’d recognize them.

Having been anonymous on crowded streets for so long, she wondered how that would feel. Good? Bad? Or maybe people here were so used to it they never even thought about it.

But she thought about it now.

He didn’t keep her waiting long, and as they drove back to his house, she leaned her head back and watched the passing houses. Some better kept than others, a whole mishmash of different designs, but lots of trees lining the streets. Pretty. A grace of its own.

But then they were home, and after he’d put his purchases in the refrigerator, he invited her to join him at the kitchen table.

Now, she thought edgily, he was going to want to talk. He had every right to bring up her mess. Every right to understand better. Hadn’t she basically thrown herself on his mercy by coming out here, by calling him in the first place? Of course she had, and she owed him the whole sordid story. And maybe the story of everything else she’d done since starting her career. It wasn’t like it was all bad.

But he surprised her with the direction he took. “What’s off-limits because of the baby?”

“Off-limits?” she asked, not following.

“Foods, beverages, that kind of thing.”

The question startled her a bit, because she hadn’t been thinking much about that aspect. She knew to avoid alcohol and over-the-counter meds, but other than that...

He frowned faintly. “Have you seen a doctor yet, Amber?”

“Well, my regular doctor. He said to make an appointment with an obstetrician, and he gave me some vitamins to take. He also advised me to limit myself to a couple of cups of coffee but...well, I think he was expecting the obstetrician to give me all the details.”