Lissa Manley - Her Small-Town Sheriff

She would never know.

Pushing aside a hollow feeling of loss she didn’t want to dwell on, Phoebe wiped her hands, then turned her attention to Molly, determined not to let herself wallow. “Hey, you. What’s up?”

Molly held up the flowers in her hand. “What do you think of this color scheme?”

The bouquet held a gorgeous collection of pink, purple and white flowers, interspersed with fluffy greenery and baby’s breath.

“I love it,” Phoebe said. “Meg really outdid herself.” Meg Douglas had recently moved to town to help run the local flower store, Penelope’s Posies, with her mom, Penelope Marbury, who was thinking about retirement now that Matchmaker Molly had found her a man. Happily, Penelope and Hugh Jeffers, a local Realtor, were engaged after Molly had set them up six months ago.

“I like it, too,” Molly said, eyeing the bouquet from all angles. “And the flowers will go really well with the bridesmaid dresses I’ve picked out.”

Phoebe’s lunch gurgled, and the theme to a once popular children’s show starring a big purple dinosaur went skipping through her brain. She shifted on her feet and bit her lip, determined not to tell Molly she wasn’t terribly keen on the dress Molly had chosen for her attendants.

Okay. So she hated the purple satin number with the puffy sleeves. But she would dutifully wear it for her best friend without complaining because that’s what bridal attendants had been doing at weddings since the dawn of time and invention of satin.

“Yes, they will go well with the dresses.” She smiled. Big. Like a huge, toothy dinosaur. “The purple especially,” she added, even though she feared she was going to look like a shiny grape on the altar. Or maybe an eggplant.

Molly beamed. “Oh, good. I’ve been really hung up on the flowers.”

No kidding. This was the fifth bouquet Phoebe had seen in the past two weeks.

Molly continued on. “Grant says to just pick something, but it’s been hard to find just the right combination.”

“Well, looks like you’ve got a winner,” Phoebe said, nodding toward the flowers, which were truly gorgeous. Unlike the dress she’d be wearing, which hovered more around fruitlike than gorgeous.

Nodding, Molly set the flowers down. “I hope so, but now that I’ve picked the flowers, I need to rethink the cake. Any chance you can go to the bakery tonight after work for a tasting?”

“I can’t.” Phoebe moved the tip jar over an inch so it was in its normal place. “Tonight’s the first night of the grief-counseling class I signed up for.”

Molly hoisted up a brow. “So you finally gave in to your mom and agreed to go?”

Phoebe let out a breath. “Yeah. I’m not really that hot on the idea, but she really wants me to, and I’ve never been able to say no to her.” She made a face. “Plus, she signed me up, so it’s a done deal.”

Molly sat on a stool. “Well, I think it’s great you’re going.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how talking about losing Justin can do any good.” Sometimes it felt as if nothing could help soothe her grief.

“You’d rather just ignore the hurt and grief, wouldn’t you?” Molly grimaced. “No offense, of course. I don’t pull punches.”

Phoebe wouldn’t expect her to. “I’m not ignoring it,” she said, making sure the metal ice cream scoops were arranged in their water bins just so.

“Maybe not totally…”

Phoebe paused. “I’m doing the best I can.” But was her best good enough? And without God to help her…well, she was struggling, and she wasn’t a total idiot. Which was why she’d agreed to the counseling class.

Molly came over and hugged her. “I know, hon.”

Phoebe hugged her back, thankful for Molly’s support.

With a squeeze to Phoebe’s arm, Molly pulled away. “So how’s it going with the sheriff’s adventuresome daughter? When I came in yesterday for my ice cream fix, she didn’t seem too happy to be here.”

“Not so good.” Phoebe headed back behind the counter, glad Heidi had filled Molly in on why she’d be working here. Phoebe didn’t like hiding things from her best friend. “She’s shown up the last two days looking as if she’s been sentenced to hard labor for the Grinch, and any attempts I made to draw her out were shut down with sullen silences and huffy looks.”

“Didn’t you say when we talked on the phone the other night that she seemed pretty amenable to working here when you and Carson came up with her punishment?”

“I thought so,” Phoebe said, shrugging. “But she’s got a bee in her bonnet again, and her attitude is making me feel about an inch tall.”

“Did you really expect her to embrace her punishment?” Molly asked with a rueful look as she plopped down in a stool opposite the counter. “C’mon. Be real.”

“No.” Phoebe chewed her lip. “But I thought maybe she’d loosen up a bit.”

“She’s twelve, Phoebs. Loose and relaxed isn’t even in her vocabulary.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I was just hoping…”

Molly quirked a brow. “That she’d instantly like you?”

Phoebe lifted one shoulder and tilted her head sideways. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad. Just unrealistic.”

Molly was right. Heidi was going to be a tough nut to crack. Impossible, maybe. But somehow, Phoebe felt the compelling need to at least try to work a bit of Heidi’s shell loose.

“Probably,” she said. “But I’m a sucker for punishment, so I’ll keep trying to soften her edges.”

“Knowing your kind heart, that doesn’t surprise me,” Molly said with a warm smile.

The bells over the door rang, and a family of tourists bustled in. Phoebe served them, glad for the distraction of the kids’ smiles and beach-induced happiness.

They left with enough scoops of ice cream for three families, and Molly approached from where she’d been standing looking out the window. “I think I just saw Sheriff Winters walking by,” she said, switching gears almost midthought. “He still looks mighty good in that uniform.”

Phoebe’s heart tripped, and before she could stop the reaction, her gaze flew to the window. “Really?”

“Wow.” Molly chuckled. “Are you just a little anxious to see the man?”

Phoebe closed her eyes for a second. She had to be more careful around Molly about letting her ill-advised and unwanted interest in Carson Winters—and his uniform—show. “No. Of course not.” That was the plan, and she was sticking to it.

“Really? Because for just a second it seemed like maybe you had a little…crush going on there.”

The word crush set Phoebe on edge. “I don’t do crushes,” she said, her chin elevated to emphasize her point. Yes, the new sheriff in town was attractive. But his family situation was a mess. Enough said.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Molly said.

“Not my first.”

Molly blinked. “Sorry. Right. Second,” Molly said, recovering quickly.

Phoebe rolled her eyes.

“Hey, he’s a hunk,” Molly said, probably going for levity. “If I weren’t already happily taken, I’d have a crush on the guy.”

Phoebe sighed. “I know where this is going, Little Miss Matchmaker,” she said ruefully.

“Where?” Molly asked, all innocence as usual, and playing dumb about her motives.

“Down your usual matchmaker path,” Phoebe said, glaring. “The one I can’t get you to step off.”

“So what if I am going down that path?” Molly moved closer, then leaned a hip against the counter. “I love that path, and I’m happy where it’s taken me.”

Phoebe gave her a deadpan look.

“I really think you need to start dating again, and I’m sensing Sheriff Winters is the perfect guy,” Molly said, ignoring Phoebe’s nonverbal cue.