of crap you’re driving.”
She flipped open her ticket book. “You want to add gambling and harassment to the traffic violation? Be my guest.”
“Come on...can’t you just give me a warning? I’m only going to be here a few days.” He noticed her slight hesitation, toying with her pen and angling her wrist to see her watch. Probably getting off shift soon. “I swear I’ll drive like a nun.”
That almost got a smile out of her. She held up his license for another look. “Mr. Wolf, you weren’t just speeding a few miles over— Do you even know how fast you were going?”
Deciding to plead the fifth, he kept his mouth shut.
“You’re lucky I don’t bump this up to reckless driving.”
His sigh came out low and desperate. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Please.”
It about killed him to get the word out. And she knew it. Which probably told her too much about his lousy driving record.
“Look,” she said, her voice softening. “I’m not trying to jam you up—”
The sound of a rough engine in need of a tune-up made them turn. A truck cruised down the highway toward them. White. Probably another sheriff’s department vehicle. Could be good news for Ben if he knew the driver. But something she’d said had distracted him. Jam you up? She wasn’t from around here.
He watched her mouth tighten and her shoulders go back. Nice high breasts. He couldn’t help noticing. Also, that Deputy Hendrix didn’t look happy.
“I won’t cite you for reckless driving,” she said, clicking her pen and opening her ticket book. “Just speeding.”
Shit. He’d thought he had her...
The truck slowed.
She kept her head bowed, ignoring the driver.
So did Ben. He was too busy watching her nibble her lower lip. She didn’t seem nervous so much as irritated.
Finally, she glanced over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a tight braid, all but a few wisps fluttering in the breeze. “Need something?” she asked.
“Nope.” It was a male voice.
Ben dragged his gaze away from her, but too late to see who was in the truck. All he caught was a glimpse of the driver’s tan uniform shirt as he drove off. Hell, it might’ve been someone Ben knew, and he could’ve saved himself this headache.
Deputy Hendrix resumed filling out the ticket. “I’m writing this for only ten miles over. Consider it a gift.”
“Right.”
She stopped and looked up, her eyes meeting his over the top of her sunglasses. Oh yeah, they were blue. As blue as the Montana sky. And brimming with annoyance at his sarcasm.
He smiled. “Thank you, Deputy.”
She tore the ticket out of her book and handed it to him along with his license and registration.
She smiled back. “You have a real nice day, Mr. Wolf.”
* * *
GRACE HENDRIX STOOD under the shade of a cottonwood tree, knowing she didn’t belong. Not here at the Sundance ranch. Not at the wedding. And not in Blackfoot Falls. Yet here she was, trying to hold on to a smile while staring at all these strange, happy faces.
The bride, Rachel McAllister, had been kind to invite her, but Grace didn’t really know Rachel. Or her three brothers. Or anyone else in the crowd of over four hundred people, all the women wearing dresses except, of course, Grace. If she still owned a dress, it was in storage along with most of her stuff. She’d packed in a hurry before leaving Arizona two weeks ago. Who knew what she’d crammed into the boxes?
Grace cast a quick glance at the two bars set up on either side of the huge white tent erected for the occasion. Her uncle Clarence was around somewhere, irritating someone, no doubt. Of that, Grace was quite certain. He was her mom’s brother, the mayor of Blackfoot Falls, and the main reason Grace had moved to town, even though she didn’t know him well. The last time she’d seen Clarence was at her mom’s funeral. Grace had been ten. And while she appreciated his support, he was embarrassing her with his blatant campaigning to get her elected sheriff in November, so she’d given him the slip about an hour ago.
The shade inched away with the sun, and Grace inched along with it. The weather was perfect. Bright. Warm. People had scattered, gathering wherever they could find shade instead of confining themselves to the tent. This made escaping tricky. But everyone was busy laughing and talking, so it was possible she could dash to her car without being noticed.
She spotted Roy and cringed. He stood with his wife, and luckily was more interested in the bowls of munchies at the bar than anything else, including Grace. Fine by her. She wasn’t interested in socializing with him or the other deputies, though she hadn’t seen any of them at the wedding. They probably hadn’t been invited. Which meant they’d have something else to hold against her. As if being an outsider and a woman weren’t enough.
She could hardly blame them. The sheriff had resigned. Noah would be gone in ten days, and she wasn’t the only deputy who wanted to take his place. In truth, the others had a right to view her as an interloper, regardless of the fact she was the best qualified. Just like she had a right to throw her hat into the ring.
Someone tested the mic, drawing everyone’s attention to the stage. Perfect opportunity for Grace to zip to the parking area. She pulled her cell out of her pocket and checked the time. It was already six. Preparing to bolt, she glanced toward the large three-story family home to make sure she wasn’t being observed.
“Well, look at that.”
The voice startled her. Grace whirled around, ready to make an excuse, when she saw it was three of the bridesmaids talking to each other. They weren’t even looking at her.
“Where? What?” The blonde in the royal-blue dress shaded her eyes, her gaze darting from the stable to the house.
“Right over there,” Katy said, her steady focus almost predatory. Grace had briefly met the tall brunette. She and the other two bridesmaids were Rachel’s sorority sisters, all of them wearing different styles and colors of dresses, which Grace thought was pretty cool. “He just got out of the red Porsche.”
Red Porsche?
Grace’s heart skittered from first to third in two seconds. Silly, since she’d guessed the speed demon was in town for the wedding.
“I still don’t see him.” The shorter blonde wearing emerald green—Grace thought her name might be Chloe—pushed up on tiptoes. “Where?”
“Tall, longish dark hair? He’s gorgeous.” The blonde in blue adjusted her neckline, tugging at it until her cleavage was just so. “I wonder who he is.”
“I bet he’s Hilda’s son,” Katy said. “Ben, I think.”
“Hilda?”
“You know...the McAllisters’
