Mary Sullivan - No Ordinary Sheriff

Beyond the badge…

Shannon Wilson is on the fast track to the top. A DEA agent from the big city, she’s simply passing through Ordinary, Montana, to settle a score. And no small-town sheriff will derail her plans simply because he flashes a badge and a great smile…no matter how sexy he looks in that cowboy hat.

After all, Sheriff Cash Kavenagh is ready to settle into that white-picket-fence ideal. And Shannon isn’t about to swap her fast-paced lifestyle for such an ordinary existence. Only problem is—wrapped in those big masculine arms of his, Shannon can’t seem to shake the feeling that life with Cash may just be the most extraordinary thing that’s ever happened to her.

Cash stood in front of her and countered everything she knew about men

Shannon stopped, arrested by the sight of his massive bed. A faint glow of moonlight spilled through a window. Too many images of her and Cash mobbed her mind, images of them naked, covered only by moonlight and each other.

She wanted him. Now.

She felt his gaze on her. He leaned against the doorjamb, watching her, his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps stretching his white dress shirt.

“Need help with anything?” he asked, as though he knew what she’d been thinking as she stared at his bed.

“I want to go to bed with you.”

“No.”

No? He turned her down? “Why not?”

“We want two different things in life.”

“Like what?”

“I want a relationship. I want kids and a family now.”

He was turning things upside down, making a hash of her assumptions of what men were, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

Dear Reader,

No Ordinary Sheriff is the last in my Ordinary, Montana, series. I’ve enjoyed writing about this fictional town. As with most towns, it had its share of good and bad characters, and happy and sad experiences. As with all romances, stories closed with happy endings.

The town “grew” as I wrote about it. It started as one story about Hank and Amy on the Sheltering Arms Ranch. As I added characters to each story, they asked for their own novels and Ordinary became a series. This is the sixth and final installment.

Cash Kavenagh showed up a number of times as Ordinary’s sheriff. He begged for his own story, his own happily-ever-after. Finishing almost where I started, the heroine, Shannon, is Janey Wilson’s sister. Janey was little Cheryl’s mother. Cheryl starred in the first novel, No Ordinary Cowboy.

Here is Cash and Shannon’s story! Hope you enjoy it. I love to hear from readers, so please contact me through my website, www.marysullivanbooks.com.

Best,

Mary Sullivan

No Ordinary Sheriff

Mary Sullivan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Sullivan likes to turn people’s assumptions on their heads. She believes that all things are possible for those who believe in themselves. Watch for role reversals in No Ordinary Sheriff. Can a man enjoy cooking and creating the comforts of home? You bet. Can a woman be an effective cop and love her job? You bet. Contact Mary through her website, www.marysullivanbooks.com.

To my fabulous siblings—

Pat, Margaret, Dianne, Paddy, Dorothy and John—

thank you for supporting my writing.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER ONE

ON MONDAY MORNING, Shannon Wilson stood in front of her brother Tom’s apartment door with dread running cat’s claws across her nerves. She’d already given him a good ten minutes to answer.

Her sister’s voice came through her cell phone. “I’m concerned about him,” Janey said. “He looked terrible when he was here.”

Two weeks ago, Tom had come to see Shannon, and he had looked awful, emotionally spent.

Go to rehab, she’d said.

Sure, he’d replied with his sweet lopsided smile.

She’d known he wouldn’t.

Instead, last week Tom had visited Janey in Ordinary, Montana.

“Before he left,” Janey said, “he wouldn’t stop hugging me and telling me he loved me.”

Shannon needed her to stay calm. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Promise you’ll check up on him?”

“I’ll head over to his apartment as soon as I hang up.” Liar. You’re already here. “I’ll call if there’s a problem.”

Had those visits been Tom’s way of saying goodbye? Had he planned to hurt himself? Shannon knocked again, rapping so hard her knuckles hurt, covering the phone with her other hand so Janey wouldn’t hear.

Come on, Tom, answer.

“I’m so worried.” Janey was the older, wiser sister, but Shannon had an urge to reassure her.

“I know.” Me, too. Terrified. “You go to Disneyland. You worked your butt off for this trip, sis, and planned it for a year. It’s your family’s dream vacation. Go. I’ll take care of things here.”

“I don’t know—”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll come to Ordinary and drag you to California myself.”

Janey chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

Shannon tried to laugh, but it sounded phony. “Something really tacky?”

“You got it.” Janey’s answering laugh was genuine. Good. Shannon had managed to assuage her fears.

“Call me if you need me.”

Not likely. Her sister really had earned this trip.

Shannon ended the call. She glared at Tom’s apartment door. What about her own unease? Who would reassure her, when she was the one always taking care of others?

When she’d called Tom half an hour ago, he’d sounded out of it, but not drunk. Which drug was it these days? She knocked again, loudly enough to rouse everyone in the building.

He’d said he was home and didn’t plan to go out—why wouldn’t he answer?

Swearing, she hurried down to the first floor through a dirty stairwell that reeked of boiled cabbage. The smell nauseated her, reminded her of the poverty she’d clawed her way out of.

She knocked at the first apartment. The superintendent answered.

“There’s something wrong with my brother in 308. You have to get me into his apartment.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes. Now.” Her panic made an impression and he followed her upstairs with his set of master keys.

On the third floor, he unlocked Tom’s door.

The stench hit her first—garbage and stale cigarette smoke. He’d started smoking again. Despite everything the family had done, was doing for Tom, it wasn’t enough if he wouldn’t take care of himself.

Why couldn’t men handle the problems in their lives?

She stepped over a pizza box.

With the toe of her shoe, she nudged aside a grubby shirt. There was something on it—God, old vomit. Oh Tom.

Afraid of what she would find, she stepped into the living room. Laundry and dishes littered every surface. Dust coated the room.

When she walked across the stained carpet, something crunched under her foot. An unfinished pizza crust.

At first, she looked right past Tom.

He lay on the sofa so folded in on himself she’d mistaken him for a pile of laundry. She approached. His clothing was soaked with sweat, his once hale body ravaged, his stomach concave as though it were eating itself. He’d grown even thinner in just the past week. The deep clefts bracketing his mouth looked deeply ingrained, as though he’d carried them for a lot longer than his thirty years.