that was saying something, because Cassie went speechless gaping at the thing.
When the driver hopped to the ground Cassie took a step back and studied at the young man. He was dressed in rumpled jeans, boots and a weathered T-shirt. He’d hopped from behind the steering wheel looking like a guy ready to take on any adventure that came his way. He looked like he was ready to have a good time.
Then Sheriff Brady stepped down from the passenger’s seat, looking every bit the man ready to take charge of this little misadventure. Dottie had to fight her own impulse to step back and gasp. The man was breathtaking. It was enough to make a girl on a mission that was far, far away from Mule Hollow sick to her fluttering stomach. Get a grip, girl.
She shook herself mentally at her ridiculous reaction and focused on the younger man. Ignore the sheriff. She didn’t need the distraction.
The cowboy tipped his hat at her and then at Cassie at whom he also flashed a one-hundred-watt, crooked smile. “Looks like y’all could use a hand. Give me a sec and I’ll have you ladies set up.”
He began pulling chains from the bed of his truck and then practically dived beneath the front of Dottie’s motor home. Not before she saw him sneak another look at Cassie, who was catching flies with her open mouth.
The sheriff sauntered over and stood next to Dottie and she had to fight the urge to walk away. She wasn’t a rude person and it bothered her, this odd rankling of her nerves. “He knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?” she asked, dismayed that it sounded as if she was questioning his good sense.
“Jake can pull anything out of anywhere.”
“How does he know how to do that?” The moment the question was out she wanted it back. Why, the sheriff looked at her like she’d lost her mind!
“He’s not much more than a kid,” he said in an even tone, hiding laughter. He might have tried to hide it but she could see it. His lips were positively quivering. And his eyes had crinkled at the edges.
“And don’t you see the size of the wheels on that truck,” he continued. “Jake and his friends spend the better part of every other night mudding across half this county. Believe me when I say he can pull anything.”
Well, yes, she could see all of that. But still—
“That should do it.” Jake scooted from beneath her vehicle, sprang to his feet and walked jauntily over and attached the chain to the ball of his truck. Dottie heard an audible sigh from Cassie as he hurried to the RV’s open door, leaned in and adjusted the gearshift. By the time he slammed the door and jogged back toward them, Dottie had forgotten her trepidations and was on board with the whole “he can pull anything” campaign. He certainly seemed competent.
“Can I give you a lift over to the site?” he asked.
“Yeah! I mean, sure!” Cassie gushed.
Miss Tough Girl had turned into a breathless shambles. Dottie nearly fell over when the girl practically skipped to the huge truck and hoisted herself up into the high seat!
And then, just like that, Dottie found herself alone with Sheriff Brady. Not at all a situation she was comfortable with.
“Shall we?” he drawled, sweeping his hand to follow the truck.
Dottie hesitated in the dying light, then fell into step beside him.
Dark was nearly upon them as they walked down the road together. Through the shadows she stole a glance at the handsome man. He overpowered everything around him…including her good sense. He made her aware of every step they took. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit!
Out of nowhere her heart trembled and sparked. No! She almost tripped in her surprise—
“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping her elbow to steady her.
“F-fine,” she stuttered, pulling away. This was not good. She was here in this adorable town because of Cassie. Cassie was the one window-shopping for a man. As for her, Dottie Marie “Fickle” Hart, her life was complicated.
She gave the sheriff her best nonchalant glance. It didn’t matter how good-looking a man he was, or how crazy her pulse was jigging at his nearness. It didn’t matter how kind he appeared to be. And it truly, certainly didn’t matter if he made her feel as weak on the inside as her body felt on the outside.
Sheriff Brady Cannon seemed like a great guy, who had no wedding ring on his finger. But none of these facts mattered. And that was the way it would remain. She had an agenda that left no room for infatuations of the personal kind.
Period. She wasn’t that fickle.
She had an agenda of the heavenly sort, a payback for a life changed. And that thought was all it took to get her head on straight again.
Too late, Brady realized he hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d suggested they walk. Dottie seemed a little unsteady. She was obviously weak, a woman didn’t pass out without a reason. What a buffoon he was! And now here they were, walking along and she was limping—stumbling even, and trying hard to hide it. He slowed his pace to match hers, causing her to glance at him, her eyes wide.
“I needed the exercise,” she blurted out as if reading his mind, as if not wanting to admit a weakness. Her words were breathless. “I, well…I get a little stove up when I ride long distances all at once.”
He nodded, noticing how she moved away from him. “You came far?” He glanced at her, curious about her but trying not to be intrusive, a hard thing for a cop.
She nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yes.”
Single-word answers were not what he was looking for. Though his beat was different here in his tiny hometown, his previous life as a cop on the streets of Houston still imprinted everything he did. He wanted details and suddenly he was full of questions. “How far? Where are you from?” Smooth, Brady.
“I started out in Florida five days ago.”
“Ouch! That is a long way.”
“Oh, yes, but most people would’ve made it here in three days. I hurt my hip in an accident and can only travel so far before I’m forced to stop for the day. That is if I want to be able to move the next day.”
“What kind of accident?” What are you doing, Brady?
She locked her arms and looked into the distance, as if she really didn’t want to elaborate, then focused back on him. “I was bullheaded enough to think I could protect my home from a hurricane.”
“Ohhh.”
She grimaced. “Sounds stupid, I know, believe me, and the house collapsed on me, despite my personal efforts at holding it up under category-three winds.”
He could tell, though she gave a quick smile, there was nothing funny about her ordeal. However, he knew only too well in his line of work that sometimes humor took the edge off.
“I spent three months in the hospital. I was a mess. Not a vacation I’d recommend at all, as you can imagine. I spent several months rehabilitating. I’m doing great, considering everything. I can’t run a marathon yet,
