Gayle Kaye - Sheriff Takes A Bride

No—he wasn’t. It was the world. The world was crazy. Here, everywhere. He’d only thought he’d escaped it.

Cam didn’t relish the reputation he was sure to get for locking up a seventy-nine-year-old, and a woman, at that. But the law was the law. And Cam didn’t bend it. Not in Chicago—and not here.

“Well, Sheriff?”

Cam ordered Pearl back to her chair, then returned his attention to the voice on the other end. He suspected under other circumstances it could be velvety, caressing a man’s soul, not to mention his well-fired hormones. “The menu tonight is planked steak and green beans, with a side of biscuits. And I might suggest you don’t believe everything your sweet little grandmother tells you, Ms. Cates.”

It was all Cam could say at the moment. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with Pearl Cates. Or with her granddaughter, who would no doubt be showing up soon, wrapped in plenty of fury and indignation, to save Pearl from the town’s heartless sheriff.

Hallie hated driving the winding back roads that led to Greens Hollow. At night they were much more than winding, they were downright dangerous. But the rude, unfeeling sheriff had left her no choice but to drop everything and race to the small town. That was, unless she wanted Granny to be spending a night alone in jail, at the man’s mercy—something of which Sheriff Cam Osborne had little, if any, she suspected.

She’d hastily thrown clothes into a suitcase, wrapped up the cookies she’d baked, deciding to take them to Granny, and headed off down the highway.

School was out for the summer, and her class of second-graders would be going off to camp, swimming, having fun—and Hallie would miss them. She’d planned a full summer schedule for herself as well, one that hadn’t included bailing her grandmother out of jail.

She’d intended to try her hand at tennis lessons, read a few books she’d been saving for a lazy sunny afternoon on the side porch, maybe take a language course—Russian or Eastern Tibetan—whatever struck her fancy.

But Granny Pearl needed her.

It was ten o’clock by the time Hallie drew up in front of the sheriff’s office. It was a small stone building that had been around for at least half a century, newer than most of the places in or around Greens Hollow. Every light inside was blazing, which meant that Cam Osborne hadn’t locked Granny in for the night and gone home, leaving the old woman alone and frightened.

If he had, he’d have had to answer to Hallie.

Hallie slammed the door to her small, overheated red Subaru, trying to keep her mind on rescuing Granny. If only the old girl would move to Fort Worth with her, it would make Hallie’s life simpler, she thought as she hurried toward the front entrance.

“Cheating? I am not cheating! You, Sheriff, are wrong. I never cheat.”

“Or make moonshine either, I suppose?”

Hallie recognized the deep resonant voice following Granny’s as the one she’d heard earlier on the phone.

A checkers game was in hot progress through the cell bars, Granny on the unfortunate side of them. Hallie stood and stared, curious to see if Granny could hold her own against the man who held her captive, both literally and otherwise.

“I saw you move that checker, you sneaky old woman—and you’re not going to get away with it,” came the sheriff’s reply.

“Prove it, Cam Osbome!”

Hallie hid a smile at Granny’s ornery rejoinder and wondered if the man would back down. He didn’t look the type to do any such thing. She took in the width of his shoulders. Unless she missed her guess, the man could wrestle a bear as easily as he could a little old lady who cheated at checkers. Maybe, just maybe, Granny had met her match with Cam Osborne.

His long legs were stretched out in front of him, sheathed in faded denim that fit him like a second skin. His shirt was a dusky blue and fit him just as sensually. Thick dark hair, worn a little long, curled over his shirt collar, and Hallie found herself wondering at its silkiness, what it might be like to delve her fingers into its richness. Quickly she checked that thought.

“Game’s over, Granny.” He folded the game board, sending checkers flying.

There was a spate of cussing from Granny before she spotted Hallie over the man’s broad shoulders.

“Hallie! Thank God you’re here. This brute is no gentleman.”

“And you, Pearl Cates, are no lady.”

Ignoring Granny’s loud harumph, he turned toward Hallie and stuck out a hand. “Sheriff Cam Osborne,” he said.

Hallie glanced at the man’s hand, debating about taking it. It was broad and sensual. Capable. Of what, she didn’t want to think about. It would swallow hers up without a doubt and she’d feel the tingle all the way to her toes. And she wasn’t sure she should risk that—not at the moment. If she were wise, not ever.

“Sheriff,” she said coolly.

The man’s eyes were a beguiling brown, his jaw strong and slightly arrogant, the kind that invited a fight or two on a Saturday night—and she didn’t have to guess who would come out the winner. His smile was slow and tempting when he chose to let it slip.

“I want out of here, Hallie. Tell this man to let me go.” Granny had her wizened face pressed to the bars, and Hallie had the sense that if the woman could get her hands on Cam Osborne at the moment she’d let loose with one good roundhouse punch.

Not that it would have a whole lot of impact on that granite body of his.

“I intend to do just that, Granny,” Hallie said, then ignoring the sheriff, went to give her grandmother a big warm hug, albeit through the cell bars.

“I brought you your favorite cookies, Granny,” she told the woman and saw a smile light her face.

“Bring ’em to me now,” she said. “That supper I got wasn’t enough to feed a carrier pigeon. I’m starved.”

“They’re out in my car. I’ll get them,” Hallie said.

When she returned with the plate of cookies wrapped in aluminum foil the sheriff had other ideas. “I, uh, need to check those before you hand them over to my...prisoner.” he said.

Hallie rolled her eyes. “Aw, come on, Sheriff, you think I baked a hacksaw blade in one of these little chocolate chippers?”

A slight smile touched his sexy mouth. “Where a Cates is concerned, a man can’t be too careful.”

Hallie handed him the plate and waited indignantly while he peeled back the foil. “I suppose they look safe enough.” He took one from the plate and popped it into his mouth.

“Well, Sheriff, if you didn’t bite into anything that will saw through bars, may I give these to my grandmother?”

He waved a hand magnanimously. “Be my guest.”

The nerve of the man, suspecting her of subterfuge, suspecting Granny of...anything, and locking the poor soul up like she was some...common criminal.

“Hallie, you do make the best cookies,” Granny said and took a fistful as if she might never get another morsel of food.

The dear probably thought she’d never again see the light of day, either. And that was a situation Hallie intended to remedy—and fast. “Excuse me, Granny Pearl. I have a few things to say to the sheriff.”

“Go get him, Hallie!” Granny said and snatched the entire plate from Hallie’s hands.

Not the best move. She might have been able to use the cookies as a bargaining tool in demanding Granny’s release. Now she’d have to depend on the man’s reasonable side—providing he had one.

She approached his desk and sat down in the lone chair beside it, crossing one jean-clad leg over the other. Her foot and leg pumped, revealing her nervousness. She’d never tried to bargain with the law before, not even over a speeding ticket.