Kathy Altman - Tempting The Sheriff

As his mother talked about the trips she and his dad had taken and all of the places they planned to go, Vaughn peered into his uncle’s bedroom. Score. The bed was empty. No junk, no cat in labor.

He propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and listened to his mother describe the luxury car he could afford if only he earned a decent paycheck.

Most law enforcement parents would worry about their son or daughter getting hurt in the line of duty. Vaughn’s folks worried what the neighbors thought of their blue-collar son.

“So when can we expect you?” his mother asked. “I think you should talk to the man from the securities firm first—he has a personal driver and a summer house in the Hamptons.”

“Not interested, Mom.” Did she ever get tired of hearing it? ’Cause he was sure as hell tired of saying it. “Even if I were, I don’t have the time.”

“You don’t have the time to visit your own parents?”

“Not when they won’t stop campaigning against my job.”

“And anyway, how complicated can it be to put up a For Sale sign?”

Basically what he’d said to Whitby. So why didn’t the suggestion sit well?

“It’s more involved than that.” Just to be difficult, Vaughn added, “Plus they want me to pinch-hit as a deputy while I’m here.”

Her reaction didn’t disappoint. “That’s not going to happen,” she said flatly. “As if wasting your potential chasing hardened criminals around the city isn’t bad enough.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes. “There’s a lot more to the job than that. By the way, crime rate’s a lot lower here.”

“So is the standard of living. What’ll I tell the securities broker, that you’re busy breaking up a moonshine ring? Please be serious. You’ll damage your prospects. You know very well your father and I are not going to let you bury yourself in the country playing cops and robbers with your uncle’s cronies.”

She wouldn’t let her uncle’s arrest go. Never mind that Vaughn was still holding his own grudge. His mother didn’t blame Sheriff By-The-Book Tate, but Vaughn sure as hell did. “I’m twenty-eight, not twelve,” he said. “If I want to play cops and robbers, I’ll play cops and robbers and you can’t stop me.”

He winced at his juvenile tone. After muttering his goodbye, he straightened, drew in a breath and prepared to flush a pregnant cat from her hiding place.

Or maybe he’d just join her there.

* * *

WHEN SPEEDY PETE drove past Lily Tate sedately enough that she had time to register his smirk, she realized she’d been had. Squinting after his faded gray Jeep as it disappeared around the bend, she lowered the radar gun and swore. The last time Pete Lowry had driven that slowly, he’d been bringing up the tail end of the Christmas parade, putt-putting down the center of State Street hauling a flatbed crammed with the high school football team, the cheerleading squad, three dozen bales of hay and a celebrity Holstein named Priscilla Mae.

Somehow the smug so-and-so had known Lily was parked at the entrance to the old logging road. But how? The only vehicles she’d seen that afternoon had all been headed in the same direction, away from Castle Creek.

She lifted her hat and blotted the sweat clinging to her bangs. She blinked against the perspiration that stung her eyes and wriggled her shoulders, desperate to free her skin from the short-sleeved uniform shirt plastered to her back. But that wouldn’t happen until she was back in the air-conditioned courthouse, and that wouldn’t happen until she managed to actually write a citation.

Two hours in the August sun and she hadn’t issued the first ticket. Today’s lack of revenue would not please the mayor. He’d probably auction off her parking space again. Not that she minded the walk, but it always seemed to rain the week she’d been relegated to the back of the lot.

She huffed in exasperation and grabbed at the car door. Time to find out why everyone was driving like the road was coated in ice.

The moment she dropped into her seat, she heard a rattling sound. What the—oh. She plucked her cell free of the plastic cup holder. When had she put it on Vibrate? A glance at the screen had her wincing. Burke. Again. She pressed Ignore. The man had to be as tired of hearing no as she was of saying it.

She started the car, then lightly bounced her forehead against the wheel. All she wanted was to do her job. Stay busy. Enjoy her privacy.

Forget.

But the mayor was determined to make her job harder, Burke Yancey wouldn’t stop asking her out and every time she heard a child laugh—

She pressed her hands against her chest, where sudden pain sliced deep. After a few breathless seconds, she filled her lungs, sat up straight and reached for her seat belt.

Focus. She had a job to do. And doing that job meant finding out why every driver in Castle Creek had suddenly developed a feather foot.

It didn’t take long.

CHAPTER TWO

HALF A MILE past the curve that prevented Lily from seeing oncoming traffic—and prevented oncoming traffic from seeing her—she spotted the problem. Jared Ensler.

She should have known.

The skinny preteen stood on the shoulder, his back to Lily. Wincing at his camouflage pants and dark green T-shirt, she pulled off onto the opposite shoulder. At least the kid’s blazing orange skullcap made him stand out. Well, that and the poster-sized sheet of cardboard he was toting.

The sound of her engine must have finally registered because he turned. His eyes went wide, his mouth went slack and his arms collapsed. The bottom third of the sign buckled against his shins. Lily eyed the bright red, hand-painted letters and suppressed a grudging smile.

Speed Trap Ahead.

Jared chewed his bottom lip and let the sign drop to his side, but he stood his ground. Ignoring the hat she’d tossed on the passenger seat, Lily pushed herself once more into the thick, sticky heat of the afternoon. A farm stand just down the highway was selling peaches, and she breathed in the heady scent. A mental image of a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with juicy slices of the ripe fruit was almost enough to forgive the sun for its enthusiasm today.

Almost, but not quite.

The harsh cry of a crow on the power lines overhead had her rolling her eyes at herself. Food fantasies were so not her thing. That’s what she got for skipping lunch. And leaving her hat in the car one too many times. With a wistful glance at the distant, dark blue wedge of Lake Erie, she adjusted her sunglasses and crossed the road.

Jared kicked at a dandelion sprouting at the pavement’s edge. Bits of white fluff exploded into the air. When the crunch under Lily’s boots signaled she’d moved from asphalt to gravel, he lifted his head. His mouth formed an arrogant slash, but his eyes held a hint of panic.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked gruffly.

“Depends. Your mother know what you’re up to?”

“I’m used to that kind of trouble. I need to know about the jail kind.”

“Why are you out here, if you thought you might be arrested?”

He stacked his hands atop his skullcap. “Am I? Under arrest?”

“Jared.” Lily bit back her impatience as sweat dripped down the back of her neck. “Are you wearing sunscreen?”

He gave her an odd look and shook his head. He wasn’t wearing shades, either, but at least he’d been smart enough to bring something to drink. A battered handheld cooler rested on the shoulder behind him.

Lily sighed. “What are you doing out here?”

He glanced around, as if for inspiration. “Something’s wrong with our Xbox.” When she crossed her arms, he shrugged. “We got bored watching TV. We heard my mom talking on the phone with someone who’d seen you out here—”