her son beside her.
“Just a quick look to see if it’s what I’m thinking.” He pulled the foil aside. “Mm-mmm.”
The husky murmur threatened to undo her.
“Great deductive skills, huh?”
She rolled her eyes. “You knew you’d find pecan loaf, Tanner. I always brought it everywhere.” She took as much pride in the light response she’d managed as she ever had in her baking.
“Where’s that boy of yours tonight? Leave him home with his daddy?”
“I don’t have a husband,” she said, hoping her terse tone would close the subject. She should’ve known better.
“You’re raising the boy yourself?”
“Yes, I am. Though it’s no business of yours.”
From the front of the room came the pounding of a gavel.
She edged away. “Sounds like Doc’s ready to start. I’ll see you.”
Forcing herself to walk slowly, she headed for the front of the room. She nodded to Charlie Kemper, one of the local ranchers, before taking a first-row seat in front of him. Deliberately, she’d chosen a chair near the wall, as far from Tanner’s sharp gaze as she could get. Yet she could feel the same prickly sensation that used to come over her in class, from grade school right through senior year.
It meant Tanner was watching her.
Beneath the prickliness, she shivered. He’d always seen too much, read her too well, understood too clearly what she was feeling.
Except for that one heart-wrenching night when he didn’t understand anything at all.
At the front of the room, Doc Thompson banged his gavel again. “All right, now, let’s call this meeting to order.”
Gradually the noise in the room faded away, except for the calming hum of the overhead fan.
Then she heard the slap of boots on bare wooden flooring, the rattling of metal, the squeaking of leather. Afraid to turn her head, she looked from the corner of her eye. And saw Tanner sauntering along the front row toward her.
Around her, excited whispering drowned out everything but the rushing of her blood in her ears. Everyone in town knew her and Tanner’s history.
Or most of it, anyway.
When he took the empty seat beside her, she stiffened and ground her teeth together. The gall of the man, when she’d made it plain she didn’t want to sit with him.
“Hey, Tanner, welcome back.” From the row behind them, Charlie Kemper leaned forward.
In the process of shaking Charlie’s hand, Tanner grazed the bare skin of her arm. His touch seemed accidental—harmless?—but that didn’t stop her from choking on her sudden indrawn breath.
“Hey, you okay?”
Full of concern, Tanner turned to her and placed a huge hand on either of her arms. She could have cried.
He had always held her just that way when he meant to kiss her. Years of conditioning sent her eyelids fluttering downward. She caught herself and jerked them open. Pulled herself out of his reach. Those days of sweet kisses had ended long ago.
“I’m fine,” she gasped.
“Sarah,” Doc Thompson called from the front table, “are you needing my services over there?”
She shook her head and coughed. “No, thanks, Doc.”
Shifting in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her cheeks burned.
Tanner’s blue eyes twinkled. Those sea-blue eyes, very like Kevin’s. With Tanner’s so-called deductive ability, how could he have missed noticing the similarity this morning?
What would he do when he finally made the connection? When he finally uncovered the secret she’d spent so many years hiding?
“All right, then,” Doc announced, “we’ve got Deputy Jones here with us, so let’s get this meeting started. The floor’s open for comment,” Doc said. “Who’s first?”
“Me.” Jeb Carter, small and bowlegged in his faded overalls, began shuffling to the front of the room. “I’m concerned about crime in Dillon. I’ve had things turn up missing around my place, like the end of a roll of twine or an empty bushel basket.”
“Can’t blame that on anybody, Jeb,” someone from the audience yelled out. “Not remembering where you put things—shoot, that’s old age.”
Several people laughed.
“I remember well enough,” he argued. “And someone’s leaving pop bottles all over my yard, too. And I don’t drink pop.”
“I think he’s on to something.” Behind them, Charlie Kemper rose. “The hubcaps from my Chevy disappeared.”
“That old car of yours doesn’t run, anyway, Charlie,” the heckler called.
“That don’t make a difference,” Jeb Carter retorted.
“He’s right,” a woman yelled.
And suddenly voices were raised, drowning out Doc’s every effort to calm them. Sarah listened in amazement. She hadn’t known about any of this. While she’d stayed in her beloved bookstore, wrapped up in her own problems, a string of crimes seemed to have plagued Dillon in recent weeks.
Petty, that was the main thing. Nothing they couldn’t handle—and quick.
Because the sooner she and the rest of the towns-folk took care of their troubles, the sooner Deputy Sheriff Tanner Jones could return to his County post.
And the sooner he would be gone from her life.
Again.
THE FOLKS OF Dillon hadn’t changed a bit—any excuse for a potluck. And people had turned out in force tonight.
For a while there, Tanner thought he’d have a revolt on his hands. It had taken some effort to get everyone settled back in their seats, though raised voices still filled the room. Sarah looked shell-shocked.
He turned away. Best to think of her later and, for now, to keep his mind on this meeting.
At the front table, Mrs. G had moved to sit in the empty chair beside Doc Thompson.
He walked to the center of the room. “It sounds as if a petty crime wave is plaguing Dillon. I’ll be looking into this, but I may need some assistance from all of you.”
Doc nodded agreement.
“You’re absolutely right.” Mrs. G stood. “All right, folks,” she announced in her schoolteacher tone. Tanner swallowed his grin. He should’ve let her handle crowd control. “Deputy Jones has offered to help, but he can’t do it all alone.
