Karen Kirst - A Lawman For Christmas

Sliding his chair back, he moved to hug Jessica, who surreptitiously swiped at her eyes. Grant stood and accepted his bear hug and hearty pats on the back. Still gripping his friend’s shoulders, Ben eased back. “I’m thrilled for you both.”

A flicker of concern temporarily dampened Grant’s expression. Before the other man could voice his thoughts, Ben returned to his seat.

“When’s the bundle of joy set to arrive?”

“Midsummer.” Grant held Jessica close. “Probably late July.”

Wonder and excitement made her eyes shine. The couple had been married more than two years. They must’ve wondered if they’d be able to have children. It occurred to Ben that they’d been happy without children, but then, they hadn’t entered the marriage aware that having a baby wasn’t even a possibility. He couldn’t think of a single woman who’d willingly agree to a childless union.

The summer before his twentieth birthday, he’d suffered a terrible illness that many had feared he’d succumb to. His parents and sisters, along with his fiancée, Marianne Ogden, had kept vigil at his bedside. And while he’d eventually recovered, it hadn’t been without cost. The long bout of mumps had led to complications. Rare ones, his doctor had implied, but they did occur. Ben would not be able to father a child.

He dug into his cake with false enthusiasm. “You’ll be pleased to know I’m available to be the official baby spoiler,” he quipped, winking at Jessica.

“I imagine you’d take quite well to that task,” she responded. “And one day, when the right woman lassoes your heart, I’ll return the favor with your kids.”

Grant grimaced. Ben shot him a quelling look. Of Gatlinburg’s population, Grant Parker was the only soul who knew Ben’s secret. And he was determined to keep it that way.

Chapter Three

Isabel was closing the mill the following evening when a male figure separated from the shadows.

“Evenin’, sugarplum.”

She jumped and would’ve screamed if her lantern light hadn’t spilled over his all-too-familiar features.

“You again!” She pressed her hand to her throat. “This is becoming a habit.”

An annoying one, at that.

“I apologize for frightening you.”

Ben was dressed in his Sunday best, a black suit that enhanced his vibrant coloring. His hair was combed neatly off his forehead, and his lean cheeks had recently seen a razor blade. The suit jacket molded to his firm shoulders and hung straight to his hips, where the slight bulge of his weapon was noticeable. A navy-and-black plaid wool scarf was wrapped about his neck.

She resisted the urge to ask him where he was headed. Probably to some young lady’s house to engage in what he did best—making women fall in love with him with very little effort.

“I have news to share.” His breath created white clouds in the still air. “This afternoon, I received a response from the Pigeon Forge sheriff’s office. One of their banks was hit in the wee hours of the morning. The perp’s still in the area.”

Freeing her braid from beneath her cloak, she set out for the cabin. Ben fell into step beside her.

“How can you be sure it’s the same man?”

“I can’t, not for sure. We haven’t had any robberies of this type—attempted or otherwise—for nine months or so. However, given our town’s proximity, I’m inclined to believe it is.”

Ascending the stairs, she paused on the porch and curved her hand around the nearest post. “If I promise to be alert to any hint of danger, will you cease these unexpected visits?”

He’d remained on the bottom step, bringing them on an even level. Mild amusement danced over his features. “Come now, there’s no use pretending you don’t enjoy our exchanges.”

For a moment, she put his incorrigible behavior toward women and her poor view of men in general out of her head. Take away those obstacles and she could maybe see his appeal. Not only was he pleasing to look upon—a girl could get lost in those sea-green eyes—he also had an affable personality. He was well liked and respected by many in the community.

“Surely you must know that a woman like me, whose own father engaged in flagrant indiscretions without a thought to what his behavior was doing to his wife and daughters, would never enjoy spending time with a man like you.” She felt as jaded as she sounded.

His light mood vanished. Was that actual regret passing over his face?

She’d never get to hear his response, because it was cut off by her sisters’ intrusion. Honor and Carmen were the epitome of Christmas cheer in their matching holly-red dresses. They’d each requested and received new fabric for their birthdays. They’d taken great pleasure in designing the outfits. Their excited chatter faltered at the sight of Ben.

“Deputy! What a pleasant surprise,” Carmen gushed, testing the artificial flower tucked amid her brunette tresses. “Are you here to escort Isabel to the serenade?”

Adjusting the half cape covering her shoulders, Honor turned astonished eyes on her. “You’ve decided to attend after all?”

“Of course not.”

Isabel eschewed most social gatherings. Why put herself at the mercy of others’ harsh judgment? As the daughter of the infamous Manuel Flores, her presence drew whispers and speculation about her character. Her sisters argued that it was her reclusive nature that fanned the flames of curiosity. She should make more of an effort, they insisted, allow people to get to know her. Then they’d see she didn’t have anything in common with Manuel besides his last name.

“You should hear Isabel singing around the house,” Honor told Ben. “She has a lovely soprano voice.”

“Is that so?” A new reserve held his charm in check.

She imagined his pride had been wounded by her bluntness. He was accustomed to silvery praise and unwavering adulation. Ben MacGregor wouldn’t ever get that from her.

“You should convince her to come with us,” Carmen exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The four of us can go together. It will be tremendous fun!”

“I’m not certain my opinion will hold much sway,” he allowed, his enigmatic gaze locked on her. “You do work very hard, Isabel. How long has it been since you’ve done something out of the ordinary? An activity unconnected with this farm?”

A rebellious impulse reared its head. Even she had to admit her life was a cycle of ordered routine. “I’d planned on spending the evening before the fire with a good book.”

Carmen rolled her eyes and groaned. “You do that every weekend night!”

Isabel refused to be embarrassed. It was no secret that she was a spinster by choice.

“We get hot cider at most of the homes we visit. If it’s been a profitable year, Mr. Hatfield hands out sacks full of apples, oranges, peppermints and nuts. Laura Hatfield hinted this year’s been a good one.” Honor’s dark eyes gleamed. “It’s time for you to break out of your shell.” Linking their arms, she tugged her toward the door. “You could do with a bit of Christmas spirit.”

“I’ll do your hair.” Carmen’s glee was undeniable. “You will wait for us, right, Deputy?”

Isabel silently willed him to refuse. His slow-growing smile dissolved her hopes.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Isabel’s mood plummeted. Not only would she be attending the serenade, but she’d be arriving with the most popular bachelor in these mountains. This night would be talked about for weeks, possibly months, to come. Her life’s goal to avoid attention had been thwarted by her interfering sisters and one highly vexing lawman.

* * *

“What do you think, Deputy? Doesn’t she look festive?”

Hands in his pockets, Ben turned from studying the somber family photograph on the mantel and caught his breath. Carmen urged Isabel forward while Honor trailed behind, checking their handiwork.