Gayle Kaye - Sheriff Takes A Bride

His eyes were dark, a deep brown that could fire with passion, but also bespoke an innate honesty. It was the honesty that had her worried, but the passion she was all too aware of, a passion she’d be a fool to fall susceptible to. And she wouldn’t.

She turned back to her task. “I may just take you up on that, Sheriff,” she said quietly, “but first I have raspberries to pick. Granny’s expecting them.”

“Fine by me.”

Cam knew the woman beside him didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t eager to prove her wrong, to shatter that unshakable belief she had in Granny Pearl. Obviously Granny had not seen fit to fill her granddaughter in about her little... sideline. It might have made things easier for Cam if she had. Still, either way, he had the feeling Hallie was not about to warm to him anytime soon.

That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason—one he didn’t want to think about too closely—it did. He reached into the brambles to pick, leaving the more accessible berries for Hallie. Not that she would probably appreciate his chivalry.

She worked busily, gathering her bounty, the sun gently bronzing her arms left bare by her sleeveless white blouse. It was open at the neck three buttons, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Every now and then she swiped at a bead of perspiration that trickled down her neck.

The sun was hot—and growing hotter.

“So tell me about Fort Worth. What do you do there?” Cam was certain talk was better than fantasizing about whether she’d catch the latest bead of perspiration traveling toward that delectable hollow between her breasts.

She glanced up, her green eyes showing surprise that he’d ask a question about her personally. Well, damn, did she doubt he could be interested in one beautiful woman? He shouldn’t be, but he was curious about Hallie Cates.

She plucked another raspberry. “I’m a teacher, elementary school.”

“A teacher?” Cam gave a slow smile. “You don’t look like a schoolteacher to me.”

She raised her head again. “And just what in your estimation does a schoolteacher look like?” she asked.

“They wear their hair in tight little buns and have crow’s feet,” he answered. “At least they did when I was a kid.”

She let a smile slip at his remark, just a small one. “Give me a few years,” she returned. “Second-graders can age you rapidly.”

He liked her smile, wanted to see more of it, wondered what it would take to shake her dislike of him. Short of forgetting all about that still Pearl had been putting to considerable use. “Is that what grade you teach—second?”

She nodded.

He touched a red springy curl that whispered across the fair skin at her temple. “You, pretty lady, don’t have anything to worry about in the age department. And I’d wager all the little boys have a crush on you.” He knew he would if he were in that classroom.

A small laugh bubbled up from her throat. “A few,” she answered.

“I thought so. And how about big boys—any...men in your life, Hallie Cates?”

Why was he waiting for her answer? Why should he care if there was one—or twenty-one? But it seemed he was curious.

“That, Sheriff, is getting nosy—but since you asked, no. Teaching keeps me busy.”

“What a shame.”

“What...?”

That hadn’t been meant for Hallie’s ears. “I, uh, was just wondering how many berries we need,” he answered quickly.

She gave him a long, scrutinizing glance. “Right,” she said.

When she finally allowed that they’d picked enough to satisfy Granny’s recipe, Cam took the basket. “Let’s go take a look at Granny’s little enterprise,” he said. “It’s just at the end of that hollow.”

Hallie gaped. “That close to the cabin? I thought stills were always well hidden.”

“What can I say, the old girl obviously wasn’t worried about getting caught.”

By the sheriff, Hallie thought. She couldn’t imagine what it was the man planned to show her. She’d seen nothing that even vaguely resembled a still hidden anywhere on Granny’s property.

But Granny was just foxy enough to be up to something—and Cam seemed entirely too confident.

Chapter Three

It was cooler here in the hollow. The afternoon breeze whispered through, ruffling the ends of Hallie’s hair, the thick strands of Cam’s. The air was redolent with dogwood and a hint of pine. From above, the birds chattered away noisily.

“So just where is this so-called still you uncovered?” Hallie asked as Cam did his best imitation of a man searching around for a favorite pair of boots, and coming up empty.

Unless the still was small enough to hide under a rock it wasn’t anywhere around—and Hallie began to feel a whole lot better. She didn’t know whether Granny Pearl was innocent of Cam’s charges or up to her eyeballs in mischief, but she sincerely hoped the former was true and not the latter.

Cam let loose with a colorful curse even Granny could appreciate.

Hallie smiled. “Maybe this isn’t the right hollow. Maybe it’s somewhere else and your memory is a teensy bit off.” Her reply was meant more to antagonize than any real offer of explanation—and it hit the mark.

Cam’s eyes blazed. “Oh, no. This is the right spot all right. That sneaky old biddy has moved it, that’s what. She had no intention of shutting down operations. She’s just gone underground.”

“Underground?”

“A figure of speech. These things can be mighty portable in this part of the country. But I didn’t think Pearl had it in her to up and transport—” He stopped short and spun around to gaze dangerously at Hallie. “Unless maybe...”

“Maybe what?”

“You helped the old girl.”

“Me?” Hallie squeaked with indignation...and surprise.

“Oh, yeah—you, and Granny Pearl.” His eyes narrowed. “Last night. Or maybe this morning—before sunup.”

“I had nothing to do with hiding anything, Sheriff. And I’m not a hundred percent convinced there ever was a still. After all, I only have your say-so on that, now don’t I?”

Cam rubbed his jaw for a long moment. “Okay—so maybe I’m jumping the gun a bit here. After all, I don’t have proof you were involved...” The glint in his dark eyes suggested that if he found out she was, there was going to be hell to pay.

The sick feeling she’d had a short time before returned. She’d have to question Granny, have to get some sort of answer out of her. If Granny was, indeed, moonshining...

Just then Cam’s beeper went off. “Damn!” he said. “I gotta get back to the Jeep. But this isn’t finished, Hallie Cates.”

She followed him back through the hollow. His stride was long, eating up ground as he went. The breeze all but disappeared as they entered Granny’s enclosed yard, the air turning hot and still. Hallie swatted at a fly that buzzed around, and hurried to keep pace with Cam.

When he reached the Cherokee he leaned inside and used the radio. Hallie heard the static but not the words, heard Cam’s terse reply. “I’ll be right there,” he said to whoever was on the other end.

He had bigger fish to fry than Granny at the moment, it seemed. Perpetrators more frightening than little old ladies who might, or might not, be dabbling in moonshine. For a moment she was worried for Cam. Being sheriff around these parts had to carry a certain element of risk, of danger, she was sure.

However, she suspected Cam Osborne could take care of himself. His size more than proved that. Just his bark would scare the criminally bent into running for cover. It was only Granny who refused to be intimidated by the big tough man.

“I’ve got some trouble in town to deal with,” he said as he put the Jeep into gear, “but I’ll be black.”