Cathy Thacker - The Texas Lawman's Woman

Slipping into business mode, too, Shelley told him everything she remembered. When they finished, he stood, put his laptop back in the carrying case and then pulled out a thick envelope and a clipboard. “If you could just sign here indicating you’ve received this,” he said.

Puzzled by the extraofficial sound of his voice and the coolness of his manner, Shelley did as requested.

Colt took the clipboard back and looked her right in the eye. “Shelley Meyerson, you’ve just been served.”

Chapter Three

Shelley stared at Colt in confusion. “Is this a joke?”

“No, ma’am, it’s not.” Colt took another paper with the words Notice of Eviction across the top and pasted it to the front door.

Shelley ripped it right back off and stared down at the order demanding she vacate the property ten days from now. “And stop calling me ma’am!” she said, fuming.

Austin toddled over to where Colt stood. He hooked both his arms around Colt’s legs and tilted his head back. “Up!” Austin commanded, giving Colt a toothy grin.

For the first time since the police business started, Colt’s demeanor became more guy next door than lawman. He smiled down at Austin, then looked at Shelley.

“Up!” Austin repeated, even more insistently.

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could hold him for a moment,” Shelley murmured, trying to retain her composure.

His manner as gentle as always, Colt complied.

Anxious to read the papers, she sat down on the wicker chair and fumbled with the clasp on the envelope. Heart pounding, she scanned the legal documents. “This can’t be right! How can I possibly be evicted or my home foreclosed on? There’s no mortgage. That was paid off with the money I inherited. I’ve been paying the taxes and the insurance from the trust. Not that there’s much left in that.” Just enough to serve as a nest egg, until she started getting paychecks for her dance classes at the community center.

Austin patted Colt’s shoulders and chest with the flat of his palms, testing the solid muscle beneath. Despite her distress, she couldn’t help but behold the sight of Colt standing there in his uniform, her toddler cradled in his arms.

“What this?” Austin tugged on the laminated plate above the badge.

Colt gently stayed the tiny fingers, explaining, “It’s my name pin. It says Deputy Colt McCabe.”

“Deppity,” Austin repeated. He grinned at Colt. “Deppity! Deppity!”

Returning to the business at hand, Shelley quickly went through the rest of the papers. “My house is being put up for auction in ten days? On the county courthouse steps? How can they do that when I never even heard of this collection agency?” She threw up her hands in frustration, stood and put the papers aside momentarily.

She met Colt’s implacable gaze. To her disappointment, she found not an ounce of sympathy or emotion, just cool professionalism.

Then again, given the fact he was here to do a job, maybe she shouldn’t expect any. “None of this makes any sense.” Sighing, Shelley held out her arms to Austin. He slid into them happily.

Colt straightened the brim of his Stetson. “Sounds like you need to see a lawyer.”

Shelley shook her head. There was no need for that. “I’m sure I can clear this up,” she stated confidently. Clearly, a pretty big mistake had been made. “All I have to do is make a few phone calls.”

Briefly, his expression betrayed skepticism. “Well...good luck with that.” Colt tipped his hat at her and headed off.

Shelley went back inside the house, into the kitchen she had just unpacked. She settled Austin in the high chair with a bowl of his favorite dry cereal and a sippy cup of milk, and reached for the phone.

Unfortunately, the bank that had made the claim against Shelley’s childhood home wouldn’t talk to her—the matter had already been turned over to collections. The collection company wouldn’t speak to her, either, as the matter had already been settled in court via the claim against her home, and the foreclosure proceedings. As far as they were concerned, it was too little too late.

But as far as Shelley was concerned, it was just the beginning.

She called her attorney friend, Liz Cartwright-Anderson. Liz had a few minutes between appointments and asked Shelley to come in with the paperwork immediately.

Shelley slid the papers into her carryall, scooped up Austin and headed out to her car. And just that quickly, the morning went from bad to worse. Her right front tire was flat as a pancake.

Shelley sighed and clapped her hand against her forehead.

Austin, who was still in her arms, looked over at her, cocked his head seriously and slapped his palm on his forehead, too.

Shelley laughed through her tears.

And that was when Colt McCabe happened to drive by again.

* * *

ALL COLT WANTED AS HE HEADED down Spring Street toward his home was a quick bite and a good six hours’ sleep. After being on duty all night and most of the morning, he was dragging.

He perked up the moment he saw Shelley walk out of her house, her little boy cradled in her arms.

Damn, but she was beautiful with her auburn hair upswept, her lithe dancer’s body clad in a delicate blouse, knee-length khaki skirt and sandals. But...hold on a second. Was she crying? Or laughing? Or a little bit of both?

His glance followed the direction of her gaze. He saw the deflated tire and knew the gentlemanly thing to do was to stop and offer aid. So he steered over to the curb, just short of her driveway, parked and got out. Shirttail of his rumpled Oxford hanging over a pair of old jeans, he ambled toward her. “Car trouble?”

A jerky nod as more tears flowed.

Austin leaned forward and patted Shelley on the cheeks. “Momma crying...” the little boy pronounced to Colt as if that were the most curious thing in the whole world.

“I can see that.” Seeing her tears, it was all Colt could do not to pull Shelley into his arms to offer her the comfort she so desperately needed. He smiled down at her son, and then looked back at her. “Got a spare?”

“Yes.” Shelley sniffed. “In the trunk. But there’s no time.” She sucked in a deep breath that lifted her breasts against the soft cotton of her pale yellow blouse. “I’ve got to get these papers to Liz Cartwright-Anderson’s office now or she’s not going to have time to look at them today.”

The fatigue Colt had been feeling faded. He steered her toward his pickup. “Then let’s go. I’ll drive you.”

Shelley hesitated for a moment and looked as if she wanted to argue, then was forced to give in. “Thanks. I would really appreciate it.”

Colt got the car seat from her Prius and installed it in the rear seat of his pickup truck. She sent him an admiring glance, reminiscent of their high school days. “That was quick. It always takes me forever.”

Colt slid behind the wheel, glad to see Shelley had regained her composure. Trying not to think how comfortable this all felt, he started his truck and headed out. “I teach a class on the proper installation of safety seats over at the community center. It’s part of my duties as a sheriff’s deputy.”

Which was, as it turned out, the wrong thing to say since it quickly reminded her he’d been the one to serve her with the foreclosure and eviction notice that very morning. Lips pursed, she kept her attention focused on the scenery until they reached their destination five minutes later. Shelley leaped out and opened the rear door. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

Reluctant for their time together to end, Colt moved to assist her with her son. “If you want, I could hang out with Austin while you talk to Liz.”

Again, she seemed ready to refuse.