Patricia Johns - The Lawman's Runaway Bride

“Is he in?” Chance asked.

“Go on through,” Brenda said, turning back to her computer. “He’s waiting for you.”

Chance settled what he hoped was an appropriately professional look on his face, and tapped on the closed office door, then opened it. He could see Mayor Scott behind a mammoth mahogany desk. His bald head had a thin strip of hair swept over the top of it, and his dress shirt was already open at the neck despite the snow on the ground outside.

“Chief Morgan,” the mayor said. “Come on in.”

Chance opened the door the rest of the way, and as he did, it revealed a slim woman sitting in the visitor’s chair. His heart stopped for second, and then did three fast beats to catch up. Sadie Jenkins...

“Hi, Chance.”

She wore a pair of gray dress pants paired with a pink cashmere sweater that brought out the same shade of pink on her cheeks. Did women plan these things? Her knees were pressed together, a pad of paper on her lap. She tried to smile, then gave up. She was the same petite, freckled brunette who had left his brother at the altar five years ago...and Chance wasn’t entirely blameless in that, either. Her hair was longer now—tousled curls that tumbled around her shoulders—and she rose halfway and put out her hand.

“You’re back,” he said woodenly, taking her hand. He’d meant to give her a perfunctory shake, but he didn’t let go in time, and she tugged her fingers free.

“Close the door, would you?” Mayor Scott said, and Chance swung it shut behind him without looking back. It closed louder than necessary, and he shot the mayor an incredulous look. Chance didn’t like surprises—especially the personal kind—and the mayor knew exactly how personal this was. The entire town of Comfort Creek knew—they’d all been at the wedding that didn’t happen.

“Now, I know there’s a bit of history between you,” the mayor went on quickly. “I’m trusting we can get past that. I’ve hired Miss Jenkins to be the events coordinator for the remembrance ceremony.”

Sadie had left town five years ago on the morning she was supposed to marry Chance’s brother, Noah. Chance hadn’t forgiven her for that disappearing act yet.

“Are you serious, sir?”

“She comes highly recommended,” the older man replied. He pulled out a wad of tissues and wiped his nose. “She also has a wealth of experience.”

Chance glanced over at Sadie, eyeing her for a moment. He was angry—that was easier to deal with than the more complex emotions swarming beneath the surface. Because in those five years, she hadn’t contacted him...not that she owed him anything, exactly. He shouldn’t have gone to her house the night before the wedding. He shouldn’t have stood with her on the porch, talking late into the evening. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched that tendril of hair that hung down her neck...

“We’re all professionals here,” the mayor went on, his tone chilling noticeably. “I’m sure we can get a job done. You two will need to work together.”

Mayor Scott was Chance’s boss, and Chance didn’t actually get to quibble over whom the mayor hired for event planning. He knew that, he just couldn’t believe that of all people to choose, the mayor would choose the woman who had broken his brother Noah’s heart—the reason Noah had been so eager to join the army. No one knew the truth, though, that before Sadie took off, Chance had almost kissed her. And he suspected that if it weren’t for that moment of weakness, if he hadn’t confused her, she might have gone through with the wedding and Noah might still be alive. Noah’s death was utterly senseless. He’d left Comfort Creek to go lick his wounds, and while he was stationed overseas, he’d been shot in a routine exercise by friendly fire. Where was the meaning in that?

“Chief?” Both Mayor Scott and Sadie were looking at him now. He’d been silent for a few beats, and he inwardly grimaced.

“Yes, sir, of course,” Chance replied with a nod. “We’re all professionals.”

“Great.” The mayor beamed one of those politically golden smiles of his, and folded his hands in front of him. “Because this remembrance ceremony is important to our entire town. These young men were ours, and we are forever indebted to them for the freedom we enjoy. I want this ceremony to reflect our gratefulness, and our respect. Comfort Creek sent them out with fanfare, and we will never forget—” The older man’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, and blinked back a mist of tears. “I know you feel the same.”

Mayor Scott had three pictures around the office of his son, Ryan, ranging in age from his first day of kindergarten to him as a fully grown man in army dress uniform. Chance had the same kinds of photos around his home: the picture of him and his brother as kids, arms around each other’s shoulders as they squinted into the camera on some family vacation; the snapshot from his graduation from police academy where his brother was giving him a noogie; the picture of Noah in army uniform, duffel bag at his feet. It was hard to encapsulate an entire person in a few pictures, but he’d tried nonetheless. It was as if the pictures helped to hold those memories together, remind the world that this man had mattered.

“I appreciate this opportunity, Mayor Scott,” Sadie said. “We’ll put together a program that honors these men and their families. You’ve lost more than we can comprehend, sir.”

“So has Chance,” the mayor said with a nod. “Ryan and Noah, Terrance and Michael—they all deserve to be remembered.” He glanced at his watch. “I apologize for doing this, but I have a meeting in about ten minutes with the ladies complaining about noisy garbage collection.” He tapped a pen on a pad of paper. “So let’s meet next week and see where we are. I’ve already gone over some of my expectations with Miss Jenkins, and I’m sure she can fill you in, Chance.”

So that’s where things stood—the mayor was now planning this event with Sadie. While he’d never been keen on doing this ceremony, he didn’t like being squeezed out, either.

Chance rose and gave a curt nod. “I’m sure she can.”

He hoped his dry tone wasn’t as obvious to them as it was to himself. Sadie gathered up some papers and tucked them into a leather bag, then rose, too.

“Thank you, sir,” Sadie said with a smile, but it slipped when she saw Chance’s expression. Her hazel gaze met his for a split second, and then she looked away. He could tell that he was making her uncomfortable, but she didn’t deserve all the blame.

“We’ll talk later, sir,” Chance said with a sigh, then pulled open the door and gestured for Sadie to go ahead of him. He wasn’t a complete Neanderthal.

Chance shut the door behind him, and as he passed Brenda’s desk, she mouthed “sorry” at him. She’d known exactly what had been waiting for him in there, and she hadn’t given him any warning. It wasn’t her fault, though. Like Sadie, apparently, her loyalties were with the man who paid her. He gave her a small smile and tapped her desktop lightly with this tips of his fingers in reply as he walked past. It wasn’t full-out forgiveness, just acknowledgment of her tough position.

They paused at the coatrack and took their coats. She had a gray, woolen dress coat that came to her knees, and she pulled a pink scarf from the pocket and wrapped it around her neck twice. All without looking at him. Sadie passed in front of him out of the office and her low-heeled boots echoed against the tile-floored hallway. She didn’t say a word as they made their way back down the wooden staircase side by side.

When they reached the bottom, she turned toward him.

“It’s good to see you, Chance,” she said quietly, but her voice still carried through the empty halls.