of one wall in the dining room.”
“Never mind that,” Mae scolded as she herded him off the porch like a border collie with a not-too-bright sheep. “Bye, now,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Bye.” Robin glanced past them at the neat blue house next door, separated from hers by a freshly painted white picket fence. The lots on this street were big, so the older, mostly small houses weren’t jammed close together.
After her visitors had walked down the driveway, hand in hand, she set the pie on the table that had come with the rental and relocked the door. She’d have to see about a dead bolt. It would make her feel more secure.
Mouth watering, she rustled around until she found a fork. When she cut through the flaky crust, peach filling oozed up like liquid gold. She ate the first serving right from the pan.
With her hunger blunted, she fixed herself a cup of tea. While the water heated, she cut another generous slice of pie and set it on a plate. She’d be having it again for breakfast if she didn’t get to the grocery store tonight. She should have asked Mae where it was, but the town only had one main street, so she doubted she’d get lost.
While the tea brewed, Robin looked around her with a sigh of satisfaction. The house was small, the furniture as outdated as the walnut cabinets and dark green counter, but it was clean and cozy. She would add her own touches: candles, knickknacks, pictures for the walls and pretty kitchen towels to replace the faded ones she’d brought with her.
The teddy bear cookie jar sitting on the counter caught her eye, and she blinked back sudden tears. That, the dishes and a few other keepsakes were all she had from Aunt Dot. Robin’s cousin and his wife had kept everything else.
She lifted the mug of hot tea to her lips and was about to take a sip when she heard footsteps on the porch. The figure of a man appeared in the glass of the back door. Fear shot through Robin and then she recognized the sheriff. With a jerky movement that slopped hot tea onto her fingers, she set down the mug and got to her feet. She hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit of startling her.
Apparently, no one used the front porch. If she wanted any privacy, she’d have to cover the window in the side door. The sheriff peered through it as she crossed the kitchen.
“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” she asked as she opened the door, wondering belatedly whether her face was smudged with newsprint from unwrapping her dishes. Funny, she hadn’t thought of that when the older couple had come by.
In the confines of the covered porch, the sheriff seemed bigger and bulkier than he’d appeared on the open street. The brim of his hat shadowed his expression. “It’s only a problem if that’s your car parked in the driveway,” he replied with a serious expression.
“You know it is,” she snapped. “You saw it earlier. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to change the plates. How long do I have?”
He looked at the car and then back at her. “I’m not here about the plates. I was driving by, and I noticed that the tire is flat.”
“Oh, no!” She tried to push past him, but he was as solid as a mountain and nearly as immovable.
“Whoa, there.” Lightly he caught her shoulders. “Don’t panic. I can change it for you.”
She caught a whiff of masculine cologne before she twisted away from his touch. “That’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.” Realizing how shrill and ungrateful she must sound, she dragged in a steadying breath and met his puzzled gaze. “Thank you for your offer,” she said more quietly, “and for stopping to tell me about it, but I can manage on my own.”
Damn, but she hoped the spare hadn’t gone flat. The last thing she wanted was for the sheriff to notice if it had and to think her incompetent. No, the last thing she wanted was for him to do her a favor and for her to owe him.
“Are you sure?” His dark eyes studied her for a moment, and then he glanced past her into the kitchen where a pile of partially unpacked boxes sat on the floor. “Looks like you’ve got enough to do right here. I wouldn’t mistake you for a helpless female, not this one time.”
Feeling embarrassed and invaded, Robin shifted her body in a futile attempt to block his view. He was tall enough to look over the top of her head if he’d wanted to, but he must have noticed her gesture and interpreted it correctly, because he half turned so he was looking out at the street.
His profile, despite the broken nose, was perfectly chiseled. Not that she noticed.
“I’m fine.” Ignoring his jab, she gripped the edge of the door with one hand, ready to shut it. “Thanks again for stopping.”
He glanced at her as though he was going to say something else, but her expression must have convinced him not to bother. He stepped off the porch instead.
“Okay, then,” he said. “You take care.”
Resisting the urge to watch him walk away, Robin shut the door resolutely. Then she sneaked into the living room, waiting for him to leave so she could deal with the tire. As she stood well back from the window, arms folded across her chest, he got back into the Cherokee and backed onto the street. Her breath stopped in her throat as he stared straight up at the spot where she stood. She was sure he couldn’t see her through the lace curtains, but he raised two fingers to the brim of his hat in a mocking salute before he drove away.
Robin’s arms tightened around her middle. She couldn’t have been more irritated if he’d blown her a kiss. Why couldn’t he be old and fat? If she intended to build a successful practice in Waterloo, she had to get along with people. Even if someone tried to make her feel embarrassed for standing in her own house and looking out her own window!
Before he drove to the corner, Charlie regretted his childish impulse. When he’d seen her figure backlit in the front window, he hadn’t been able to resist letting her know he’d seen her. Especially after her lack of gratitude when he’d taken the trouble to stop and offer to change the tire.
His dented male ego urged him to forget about the prickly new vet. Either she wasn’t interested or she liked playing hard to get, but either way, he didn’t need the aggravation.
Charlie wasn’t so conceited that he expected every woman in town to fall at his feet—even though more than a few of them had. Ever since grade school, he’d been popular with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, in the short time he’d been sheriff he’d come up against that same brittle shell Dr. Robin Marlowe wore on a couple of different occasions. Both of the other women had been victims in one way or another, one raped by a stranger and the other abused by her husband.
Charlie’s fingers tightened on the wheel as he remembered the two women, one hardly more than a girl and the other looking older than she should. Bullies sickened him.
Robin aroused his curiosity, both professional and personal. Was she a victim, too, or was she just in different to the Winchester charm?
Either way, it was nice she had Mae Simms living right next door. Mae had been Charlie’s teacher the year his mother ran off. He’d hurt too much to actually confide in her, but she’d gone out of her way to be kind to him and he’d never forgotten it. She and Ed would look out for their new neighbor, no matter how prickly Robin turned out to be.
Charlie sat at the four-way stop, trying to figure out the best way to approach Robin again.
