Almost Heaven. Jillian Hart

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Almost Heaven - Jillian Hart

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know where to start. He didn’t want to look like a dummy. After all, a man had his pride.

      But Kendra didn’t strike him as someone who’d made anyone feel dumb. She seemed as sweet as spring, with her long blond hair shimmering down her back like liquid gold in the sunlight. She’d grown up in one of the wealthier families in their humble valley, but was she snooty?

      No. Down to earth, filled with common sense, Kendra was country-girl goodness soul-deep. He could feel it. He’d watched her kindness to her horses every time she’d ridden one of them into town on an errand to the store or to visit her family’s coffee shop.

      She appeared to be real good with the animals. Everyone said she was the best in the area when it came to horsemanship. But he hadn’t gotten up his courage to talk to her.

      Now was his chance. “I know you’re an independent kind of woman. You’re more than capable of changing that tire on your own.”

      “So why are you still standing here?” The hint of her smile grew into a real one.

      “I’ve got an election coming up. What would folks think if they see you stranded here in obvious need of help—”

      “Stranded? I don’t think so!”

      “Still, they’ll watch me drive off and leave you behind and draw their own conclusions. All folks will see is that their elected official abandoned a woman stuck along the side of the road, slacking off on his duties.”

      “Like anyone would think you were a slacker.”

      “I can’t risk it. Folks might vote for my opponent come September. I’d lose my job. Won’t be able to pay my bills. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

      “Sure.” There were more sparkles in her pretty blue eyes.

      She had a quiet kind of beauty, one that wasn’t only skin-deep.

      His chest gave a strange hitch in the vicinity of his heart as he opened the truck’s door for her. That was odd, considering how he hadn’t felt much beside grief since Deb’s death. “Your sister’s sign is still on in the window. Why don’t you go in, say hello and get something cool to drink? Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have this taken care of.”

      “That’s not right. It’s my trailer.”

      “Yeah, well, it’s a slow day. I don’t see a lot of wild speeders or crime sprees on Thursday afternoons. It’s okay to let me do this, Kendra.”

      He could see the argument coming. He’d learned to read people during his fifteen years wearing a badge. He saw a woman used to doing things herself. “If it bothers your conscience, then you can bring a batch of cookies or something by the station. My deputy has a sweet tooth you wouldn’t believe.”

      She swept down from the seat with an easy grace that she didn’t seem aware of.

      He was. It sure threw him for a loop.

      Today she looked summery and girl-next-door fresh in a white tank top, a pair of jean shorts and slip-on tennis shoes. Her blond hair, streaked by time in the sun, was tied back in a long ponytail. She slipped her sunglasses from the top of her head onto her nose and circled around the rig to look at the damage.

      “I think my spare went flat.” She said it wearily, more to herself than to him. Probably expecting some kind of reprimand.

      Why would he do that? Didn’t a woman who worked hard to make her own living deserve a break? He sure thought so. “Zach’s at his garage. I’ll take the tire over for him to patch.”

      “He’s my brother-in-law, and I can do it.”

      “Toll House, no walnuts. I have a soft spot for butterscotch chips.

      He left her standing there, watching him with a slack jaw as he yanked the jack from his cruiser’s trunk. “I’m helping you, no matter what. Just accept it.”

      “I should help you.”

      “Why? It would make me look bad. I’ve got my public image to think about. Voters care about that kind of thing.”

      He didn’t care about his image, he worked hard to do the right thing and he was proud of his record. He had time, and in helping her maybe he’d find a way to approach her. Ask her professional opinion. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Your only option is to let me do my job.”

      She studied him and the jack he was carrying and the nearly flat tire. “Fine. Thank you. The horses—”

      “Will be fine. I’ve done this before.”

      “Okay.”

      She didn’t sound happy, but Cameron bet that she’d let him do it. He wasn’t about to budge, he’d been waiting for this chance forever, that’s what it felt like. If he had a choice, then he’d want her to stay and watch so they could talk while he worked.

      He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t hang around. She kept her distance from men, not just him, and with good reason.

      He felt her sadness every time he was around her. Now maybe he was imagining it, because he’d been there to arrest Jerrod Melcher, and he saw how bad she’d been hurt. That was likely to make any woman wary about men for a long time.

      It was understandable.

      As he watched her cross the road, jaywalking, heading straight to her family’s coffee shop, a streak of pain jabbed through his heart. A widower was used to feeling a certain amount of pain down deep, but this was something different. Something that felt a lot like longing.

      One thing was for sure. When Kendra looked at him, she didn’t feel any positive emotion. Not a chance. When she looked at him she remembered that night. He could feel that, too.

      Perhaps he should just leave her alone. Ask Sally at the Long Horn Stables for help instead.

      Frustrated, he got to work.

      It was her trailer, she ought to be dealing with it. But that stubborn sheriff had refused to leave, so what was she going to do? Stand there and make small talk? She didn’t need his help and she was getting it anyway. It ate at her as the bell over the coffee shop’s door jangled.

      The welcome breeze from the air-conditioning skimmed over her, but it didn’t cool her anger. Men were bossy, every one of them. Who did the sheriff think he was that he could just do what he wanted to her trailer?

      Face it, you appreciate that he’s helping.

      Sure, but it still bugged her. She was hot, exhausted, and dealing with a flat tire in over hundred-degree weather would have put her over the edge. Well, at least close to it.

      Because of Cameron, she was able to rest for a few minutes instead of dealing with one more disaster in a doom-filled day. She didn’t want to be grateful to him. But she was.

      See why it was a good idea to stay far away from men? Even the nice ones?

      “Kendra? You look too hot, are you all right?” Gramma sat at the far end of the otherwise

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