Ruth Herne - Loving the Lawman

Carmen bustled in from the apartment side of the building. “Hello! You’re Seth’s mother?”

Jenny introduced herself. Gianna handed Carmen the overflowing basket and watched as her grandmother led Jenny into the kitchen. But when she turned, worry creased her brow.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Tired, I think.” She made a face at the chair. “Too much sitting work makes me sleepy. I think I’ll take a quick walk.”

“Sleepy equates walk?” Seth stepped closer. “Usually the way to conquer tiredness is to nap.”

“Fresh air works, too.” She grabbed a thick jacket from a hook around the corner and donned it quickly. “I’ll be back soon.”

She was out the door in a flash, and when Carmen poked her head through the connecting door, Seth just shrugged. “She went for a walk.”

Carmen waved it off as if it wasn’t outrageously rude behavior. “She can’t sit too long working. She’s an action-motivated girl.”

“Who sews for a living.” Seth hiked a brow in Carmen’s direction. “Odd, right?”

“Not at all,” Carmen answered smoothly. “Come on in here, I’ve got chicken soup, and your mother brought homemade bread. We’ll have a quick lunch before we get back to work.”

He shouldn’t, even though Gianna had left. He’d promised himself he’d keep their relationship professional. Distanced. Being caught in the shop with Gianna so close showed him the unlikelihood of that. Just knowing she was there, sewing, humming now and again, made him feel at home.

He couldn’t afford to feel at home here.

Why not? His conscience scoffed. She’s nice, funny, talented and creative. Did I mention drop-dead gorgeous?

Seth got all that. What he didn’t get was the vibe she emitted, keeping him at bay. He’d obey his instincts—his other instincts—and maintain degrees of separation, no matter how much his heart softened in her presence. Soft hearts led to one thing: soft heads. And he’d been in the fire too much of late. He had no desire to get burned again.

* * *

Fifth disease.

Gianna hurried across the road, turned left at the first of two traffic lights and climbed the steps to the library. Warmth greeted her.

She barely felt it.

Children laughed in a semicircle off to her right as the librarian held up a funny-looking puppet and squawked, “Hi! I’m Skippy Jon Jones!”

The children giggled as the librarian continued the story. The puppet interrupted regularly, his raucous voice teaching on a kid-friendly level. Their joy of learning without knowing they were learning flooded Gianna with anticipation, but the thought of this childhood disease concerned her.

She sat at one of the computer screens, clicked it on and waited until she could do an internet search, then sighed in relief when she saw that most people contracted the virus as youngsters and carried that immunity into adulthood. A simple blood test would tell her if she was susceptible to the disease or had already had it.

That meant she needed to find a doctor, and that was something she would do first thing Monday morning. She’d relocated her grandmother and herself by promising her family that she’d look after Grandma. None of them were aware that Grandma was currently the caretaker of the two.

They’d know soon enough. She shut down the computer, then grabbed a couple of books so she wouldn’t look like a complete idiot when she walked back into the shop. She signed up for a new library card and headed back down the road, wondering if Seth would think she was totally whacked.

Some days she wondered herself.

“You’re back!” Her grandmother’s bright smile said everything would be fine. Just fine. “Jenny has brought us homemade bread, and I just put on water for tea. And I do believe there’s a tray of chocolate-walnut brownies in that pretty basket.”

“My weakness. Well. One of them,” Gianna admitted as she slung her jacket back onto the hook. She set two books down on the counter, trying to make it look like her trip to the library had been crucial.

“Raised Bed Planting and Turn-of-the-Century Patterns, Volume 2.” Seth surveyed the books once he stood up. He pulled out a chair for her, then carefully slid it in behind her as she sat. “No time like the present to ponder June’s gardens, I guess.”

His gaze skimmed the snow-filled front window.

He wasn’t buying her library excuse for ducking out. He might not know why she’d left in a hurry, but he wasn’t about to believe it was to grab two obscure books before the midafternoon library closing.

He probably thought she was darting away from him. And since that was exactly what she should be doing, she let it go. “This looks wonderful,” she told Jenny as she reached for a thick slice of fresh bread. “And Grandma made herbed oil to dip it in? This is a treat.”

Seth started toward the door.

Gianna turned, surprised. “You’re going back to work already?”

He indicated the wall clock with a jut of his chin. “Play-off game today at four. I’ve got a date with my recliner.”

“Of course.” She smiled, and didn’t think of how nice it would be to spend the late afternoon watching football with him while the current storm blustered outside. She wouldn’t think about the coziness of a shared afghan or steaming hot coffee and a big bowl of chips.

She’d sew.

That was what she’d come here to do after all. To build a business with her grandmother’s help, to work toward summer with one eye on the clock and one foot on the sewing machine treadle. She had goals. Timelines. Objectives. Nothing could get in the way of that. But seeing Seth move into the shop area to continue his work made part of her wish she’d been invited to watch the late-day game with him.

Would she have said yes?

Probably not, although she’d like to.

But she would have enjoyed knowing she’d been welcome.

Chapter Four

“Oh!”

“Easy now.” Seth gripped Gianna’s arm to keep her from falling, fairly certain that if she went down on the icy walk, he and Carmen would most likely follow. “Keep hold of Carmen, there.”

“I’ve got her.” Gianna huffed a breath up to get a stray lock of hair out of her face, one arm clutching her grandmother, the other held tight in Seth’s grip. He used his free hand to tuck the errant curl back behind her ear, and if his hand lingered there a few seconds too long, well...

He smiled down at her because her expression said she got what he was doing and didn’t mind it near as much as she made out, even if she meant to offer total resistance to his charm. “Better?”

He released her arm and indicated the hair by switching his gaze. “It seems to have a mind of its own.”

“I should cut it,” she grumbled as she tested the footing beneath them. “I had no idea this was black ice.”

“Don’t cut it, it’s gorgeous. And this side of the street is notorious for black ice this time of year because the sun hits it just long enough in the late afternoon to melt things and leave the surface slick. Then it takes its own sweet time to melt the following morning.”

“Seth, thank you.” Carmen aimed a bright smile up at him. “We could have fallen.”

“My pleasure.” He fell into step beside them and touched his hand to Gianna’s elbow a couple of times, ready to grab hold if she faltered again. She didn’t, and that made it tough to figure out a reason to hold her in the short minutes before church services began. “Would you ladies like to sit with me?”

“We’d love it!” declared Carmen. Her decisive nature sounded a great deal like his late Grandmother Campbell. Tough, strong, caring, the kind of woman who did what was needed, whatever it took.