Will a lawman and a little girl...

Give her a reason to stay?

Annabelle Foster has big plans to leave Barren, Kansas, until an accident makes her guardian to a little girl. Annabelle has zero experience with children and turns to Finn Donovan for help. But while both Annabelle and Emmie start falling for the strong, guarded sheriff, Finn is haunted by his own tragedy. Can one little girl make them believe in their future...as a family?

LEIGH RIKER, like so many dedicated readers, grew up with her nose in a book. This award-winning, USA TODAY bestselling author still can’t imagine a better way to spend her time than to curl up with a good romance novel—unless it’s to write one! She’s a member of the Authors Guild, Novelists, Inc., and Romance Writers of America. When not writing, she’s either out in the garden, indoors watching movies funny and sad, or traveling (for research purposes, of course). With added “help” from her mischievous cat, Daisy, she’s now working on a new novel. She loves to hear from readers. You can find Leigh on her website, leighriker.com, on Facebook at leighrikerauthor, and on Twitter, @lbrwriter.

Also By Leigh Riker

Kansas Cowboys

The Reluctant Rancher

Last Chance Cowboy

Cowboy on Call

A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

“Her Thanksgiving Soldier”

Lost and Found Family

Man of the Family

If I Loved You

Harlequin Intrigue

Agent-in-Charge

Double Take

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Her Cowboy Sheriff

Leigh Riker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09488-7

HER COWBOY SHERIFF

© 2018 Leigh Riker

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Finn slipped an arm around her shoulders to draw her closer.

“I don’t mean to give you mixed messages, but I liked having you and Emmie here. I haven’t liked anything as much since I came to Barren. I don’t know what to make of that, either, but maybe I should stop trying and just try...this.”

His mouth angled to touch hers in a warm kiss that took away the cold night, the falling snow, and turned it into the heat of a summer day.

She kissed him back. She’d dreamed of being in his arms, never thinking it could happen. But where could this lead? He’d made his position clear. He hadn’t recovered from the tragedy in Chicago and his belief in the future. In Barren he might care for Emmie, even care a little for Annabelle, but...

Her thoughts battled with the growing need inside for something more, something lasting and, if she were being honest, for Finn.

Dear Reader,

By the time you see this, I will have moved from Tennessee, where I’ve lived for quite a few years, to Arizona! As I’ve learned all over again, a new start can be exciting but also a bit scary.

That’s certainly true for my heroine in Her Cowboy Sheriff, the fourth Kansas Cowboys book, even though Annabelle Foster is more than ready to move. When she’s finally free of her family’s diner, she plans to find a new career and travel far and wide.

But when Annabelle abruptly becomes the temporary mom to her cousin’s vulnerable child, she soon learns little Emmie could steal anyone’s heart. And then there’s Finn Donovan. She’s had a crush on him ever since he came to town.

Finn tries not to notice. After tragically losing everything in Chicago, he only wants to bury himself in his work as the new sheriff of Stewart County. But he can’t resist Emmie—or Annabelle.

Getting these two wounded people together takes some doing, but nothing good is ever easy (just like a move from one place to another). I hope you’ll like their story and come back for more.

The fifth book in this series isn’t far behind! If you missed the first three, check out The Reluctant Rancher, Last Chance Cowboy and Cowboy on Call. They’re still available, and they’d all love to have you visit their hometown.

For more information, please hop over to my website, leighriker.com, where you can also sign up for my newsletter.

And once again, happy reading!

Leigh

To my dear Chattanooga friends, Laurie, Kelle and Carol. The guest room is waiting!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

FINN DONOVAN CRADLED the small child in his arms. The little girl couldn’t be more than three years old, and her cries went straight to his heart, to the memories that were both happiest and darkest.

“Where’s Mama?” she kept wailing.

Finn hated accident scenes.

The pile of nearby wreckage had once been a car and a pickup truck, the now twisted metal gleaming in the dark each time the flashing lights from the ambulance and his cruiser strobed the area. The hash of red and blue made the whole scene appear purple, and the noxious smell of spilled gasoline hung in the air. Hands down, this was the absolute worst part of his job.

Finn had hoped to leave all that behind in Chicago—the tragedy and loss—but his move to Barren, Kansas, apparently hadn’t changed that after all. He’d thought as the sheriff of sleepy Stewart County he’d rarely have to deal with such scenes. This was his first here, and part of him wished he could hand the child off to his nearest deputy.

The little girl clung, arms tight around his neck, face buried in his shoulder as if she already trusted him to keep her safe. “Mamaaa!”

Her tears soaked through his cotton shirt. Finn could feel his heartbeat drumming in his chest, his ears. Get away, he thought. Put her down. At the same instant, he pressed one hand against her skull, his fingers in the fine silk of her hair. The pint-size blonde sweetheart, who wore only a light cardigan over a T-shirt with a Disney character on it and a pair of tiny jeans, made his heart ache. Her miniature sneakers were the kind with lights that flashed like those of the ambulance. She shivered in his embrace, and Finn’s pulse caught. Cold. Except for a few scrapes she hadn’t been hurt in the accident, but the mid-October night had chilled. Was she going into shock? So small, so helpless...but she shouldn’t rely on him.

She needed a warmer place and a quick removal from the frightening views all around them. On his way to his cruiser, Finn passed the paramedic who’d been breathing life back into the driver of the car. She turned to him, shaking her head.

“It’s bad, Sheriff,” she whispered.

Another EMT was now loading the stretcher onto the ambulance. Finn turned away enough to shield the child from the sight—shield himself, too. The open doors, the harsh light inside and the sight of the gurney, the woman’s body no more than a still lump under the blanket, unnerved him. To his relief the child he held hadn’t even tried to look, but at least her earlier cries had subsided into whimpers.

The paramedic’s gaze met his. “Anyone we know?”

Was she asking about the woman? Or the little girl he still carried?

When he’d pulled up to the scene, Finn had run the victim’s plates, her driver’s license.

“Wyoming ID.” He didn’t supply the name. “Twenty-nine years old.”

He shook his head, saddened by the obvious severity of her condition. As the ambulance doors closed, she didn’t move a muscle. In contrast, the little girl squirmed in his arms, making Finn fear he might drop her, and the crack in his heart opened wider. “We’ll find your mom,” he promised, not that the task would be hard.

There were only two choices, and he prayed—though he wasn’t much prone to prayer these days—that it wasn’t the woman in the ambulance. Finn glanced toward the victim’s car. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

She was shaking. “Em-mie.”

“Can you tell me your last name, Emmie?”

Silence. Maybe she didn’t know. When he spoke at day care centers or visited the local elementary school in Friendly Cop mode, he tried to impress on teachers and aides how important it was for children to know their contact information or to carry it with them. This was why. Had the girl been riding with the woman in the car or in the truck that now leaned in the ditch on the other side of the road? The other, elderly driver had already been taken to the hospital, but Finn hadn’t arrived at the scene in time to try to talk to him. Was he Emmie’s grandfather? Maybe her mother had stayed behind tonight.

He took Emmie to his car, dug in the glove compartment for one of the toys he kept there—this one a stuffed lamb wearing a pink ribbon—then signaled Sharon Garcia, his deputy, to stay with her. But the child refused to let go of him, and he couldn’t talk in front of her, even when he guessed his deputy had more information to share.

He’d take a peek in both vehicles—then he’d know.

Still carrying Emmie, he crunched through broken glass to the side of the road. In the tilted pickup, he saw no clue that a child had been there. Which proved nothing. Maybe the older driver didn’t believe in child seats, but then Emmie would have been injured in the crash. Finn moved on, sidestepping part of a front quarter panel in the road. With one hand cradling Emmie’s head against his shoulder, he leaned over to peer inside the car.

At the instant she said “Hart-well,” he glimpsed a child’s car seat in the rear.

His stomach dropped into his shoes. Finn had his answer.

And, in silence, he swore. He would have to notify the next of kin.

* * *

FINN DONOVAN.

Seeing his reflection in the window, Annabelle Foster glanced away. She (reluctantly) ran the diner on Main Street that had been named for her—and that she had inherited from her parents. She’d turned to put her back to the for sale sign beside the front door when Finn had suddenly appeared behind her.

The sign’s bright red letters on white plastic announced her intention to leave this place, and Barren. Tomorrow would be good for Annabelle, though she doubted that might happen. In this small town there wouldn’t be many prospective buyers, and her Realtor had yet to show the place, though it hadn’t been for sale long.

Annabelle didn’t have time to appreciate the fact that at least she’d finally made, and implemented, what would be a life-changing decision. Free at last. That was what she’d be, and she could all but taste the first of her new opportunities in the air, except—why was Finn here?

“Annabelle,” he said, and like the shy child she’d once been, she flushed. She always did around Finn, who had walked just now out of the dark, wearing his usual jeans and, tonight, instead of a traditional sheriff’s tan shirt, a Henley pullover that stretched across his broad shoulders. Which, in a way, was his uniform.

“Going somewhere?” he asked with a pointed look at the sign. If she remembered right, Finn hadn’t stopped by since the sign had gone up. And where Finn was concerned, she would remember.

“Anywhere,” she said a bit stronger than she intended. Everywhere. At last she would put the diner and this town behind her. Finn, too, and her hopeless crush on him, which wasn’t as happy a prospect for Annabelle as the rest would be.

His gaze slid away. “Not just yet,” he said. Finn shifted his weight. “Sorry to ruin your plans, but I have something to tell you...”

He hesitated for another instant while Annabelle’s pulse sped up and she thought, foolishly, Maybe he’s here to ask me out. Which would be a miracle. Her silly daydreams of a relationship with Finn would end when she finally left town. Besides, the only time she ever saw him was when he stopped at the diner to order a cup of coffee or a burger, often as takeout because he was on his way to a possible break-in at Earl’s Hardware store—where the old alarm system had most likely gone off again for no reason—or to a traffic stop for someone who’d run the only red light in Barren.

Whenever he did stay long enough to eat a meal, he sat in the last booth on the right side of the room, his back to the wall. What was he expecting? A replay of the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre?

In any case, Annabelle always had a fresh pot of coffee waiting, brewed strong and black just the way he liked it, and hurried to fill Finn’s cup, determined to quell the blush that would surely show in her face. If they talked, it was about some neutral topic, an upcoming local event or his preference that day for apple over cherry pie. But now she didn’t have the protection of the glass carafe in her hand like a wall between him and her stubborn awareness of him.

Then she realized from Finn’s sober expression that he’d come by tonight in his official capacity as sheriff, not as an improbable—unlikely—boyfriend. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d said tell not ask. What could be wrong? She hadn’t run the one red light in town and never drove above the speed limit.

Finn widened his stance. “You know a woman named Sierra Hartwell?”

Annabelle froze. She had no family in town now but... “Yes, she’s my cousin. Why? What’s happened?”

“There’s been an accident,” he said, not looking at her. But then, he rarely did, or if he chanced a glance at Annabelle, he tended to look faintly off-balance with a kind of polite indifference in his hazel eyes. At least that wasn’t like her parents who’d so often expressed some criticism or issued a new command. Clean those tables now, Annabelle, or, Don’t even think of leaving early for some high school football game. No one there will miss you. As an adult her motto was If I’m nice, as perfect as can be, I won’t get hurt again. But even with her parents gone, she was still trying to suppress the pain their unkindness had caused.

Her mouth went dry. She could barely ask the question. “Sierra’s hurt?”

Annabelle tried to envision a minor fender bender, but he wouldn’t look as serious about that. Finn touched her shoulder, so briefly she wondered if she’d imagined it, but even his warm hand couldn’t penetrate the ice forming inside her. The growing horror. Was Sierra...dead?

As if she’d spoken aloud, he shook his head and said, “I’m sorry—her condition looks pretty serious. It was a bad accident.”

Annabelle tried to process the news, but all she could say was, “Where?”

“About a mile outside of town she collided with Ned Sutherland’s pickup. We don’t know for sure which driver was responsible. Your cousin is on her way by ambulance to Farrier General.”

Annabelle glanced inside the diner half-full of patrons even this late in the evening. Ned, who owned the NLS Ranch, was getting up in years. His granddaughter was her friend, and Annabelle knew she worried about him. “I didn’t think he was even driving since his stroke. That’s terrible. About Sierra, too. I admit, I haven’t seen her in years—”

She broke off. Once, she and Sierra had been as close as sisters, but in their teens, they had drifted to occasional phone calls. And even those had stopped. Except for one, much more recent, Annabelle remembered with a pang of sorrow. So why had Sierra been close to Barren?

“Did you know about her little girl?” Finn asked.

“Yes, Sierra sent me a text when she was born, a little over three years ago, I think, but that’s all I know. She hadn’t picked a name yet.”

“It’s Emmie,” he informed her.

Annabelle’s throat closed, and something tugged deep at her heart. Emmie. Sierra’s daughter was still hardly more than a baby. Now her mother was in the hospital and this child Annabelle had never met had become real. “Is she okay?”

“Scared, as you’d expect, but unharmed physically,” he said. “Which is a miracle.”

Annabelle looked away from Finn’s dark hair, which under the streetlights appeared brushed with gold. How inappropriate her thoughts of him had been only minutes ago. He had no real interest in her. A relative newcomer to the area, he’d already been labeled a loner.

She shivered but not from the cold. During that last phone call with Sierra a few weeks ago, she hadn’t mentioned Emmie, and when she abruptly hung up, Annabelle’s questions about her had gone unanswered.

With a slight frown Finn eyed the goose bumps on her arms and she rubbed her bare skin. “I only stepped out for a minute,” she said. To see the for sale sign—to pinch herself that, at last, her dream would become real. “My customers are waiting for me. But I’ll have to close the diner.”

“I’m sorry, Annabelle,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to be blunt, but I’m not good at giving news of this kind. In fact, I wish it wasn’t a part of my job. You must be upset. Let me give you a ride to the hospital.”

She couldn’t quell the thought that flashed through her mind. Upset didn’t begin to cover it, and she wasn’t a selfish person, but the timing of this couldn’t be worse. She was a blink away from freaking out, yet anything she might say would make Finn see her in a bad light. And with that, another bolt of guilt shot through her. For now, she couldn’t dwell on her plan to leave Barren before she knew if Sierra would be all right. As for the little girl...

“Where’s...Emmie now?”

“With one of my deputies at the station. Is there someone else I should contact?” Finn asked. “A husband? Or boyfriend? I thought not, since you were listed as the next of kin on the card in her wallet.”

That was a surprise. Another shock, really. She and Sierra hadn’t seen each other in a long time and they hadn’t parted on good terms. “As far as I know, I don’t think she’s ever married. I wouldn’t know about any boyfriends. I’ll take that ride to Farrier General, thanks,” she added. “I know I’m not good to drive right now.” She needed to see Sierra for herself, see that she wasn’t in as bad a condition as Finn had said. But that wasn’t all. “What will happen to her little girl—to Emmie—tonight?”

Finn squared his shoulders. “Maybe you can tell me. Either she goes home with you,” he said, “or I turn her over to child services. I like the first option better.”

CHAPTER TWO

AT THREE O’CLOCK the next morning, little Emmie woke up shrieking.

Bleary-eyed, heart instantly in her throat, Annabelle jerked upright in bed, ears alert to the sound of tears from across the upstairs hallway. This wasn’t the first time Emmie had stirred, and Annabelle was already at her wit’s end. “I know nothing about taking care of a small child,” she’d told Finn earlier.

Yet there was no way she would have let the State take over tonight. Emmie was Annabelle’s, what, first cousin once removed? Second cousin? She wasn’t sure of the proper term. Anyway, a relative, and with Annabelle’s parents gone, Sierra and her daughter were the only—if estranged—family Annabelle had left. Even more, Emmie had witnessed a terrible event last night, and she was a vulnerable child. Without her mother, she must feel utterly alone and obviously frightened, not that Annabelle had seemed able to comfort her fears before. What should I do?

She slipped out of bed and reached for her robe. The night had cooled even more, probably another ten degrees, and her heat wasn’t on yet for the season. The last time Annabelle checked on Emmie, the child’s feet had felt like ice cubes. If she stays more than a night or two here... Annabelle would have to get the HVAC system going.

But surely this arrangement would be brief. She padded across the hall, cracked open the door then eased into the spare room, taking care not to let the hinge squeak—which it had for her entire thirty-one years.

She was simply the babysitter until other plans could be made or Sierra got out of the hospital, not that I know what I’m doing.

As she crossed the bedroom, Annabelle dragged her growing guilt like a ball and chain. Certainly, for reasons of her own she hadn’t been that eager to take Emmie in. Just hours before Sierra had called a few weeks ago, Annabelle had paid the first half of her own tuition to attend a two-week course at a well-regarded academy in Denver that would train her to be an international tour director, a first commitment to the future she wanted for herself. Weeks before that she’d sent in her registration fee and a hefty first deposit, using part of the money her parents had left her. Annabelle tried not to feel guilty that she was using her inheritance to escape the diner. And when Sierra had mentioned coming for a visit after so many years, claiming she had loose ends to tie up in Barren, Annabelle had told her not to come. If Sierra had listened, she wouldn’t be here now lying in a hospital bed.

Emmie lay almost buried under the covers. Only her eyes showed, glowing in the near darkness, looking suspicious and confused. Annabelle had left a night-light on the nearby bureau for her, but obviously Emmie couldn’t sleep. So neither could Annabelle.

“Hey, punkin.” She heard a shuddering intake of breath. “It’s all right.”

Annabelle ventured closer to the bed.

At the hospital she’d asked Finn about a crib for Emmie. “At three she’s probably done with that,” he’d said. “Kids climb out then start roaming. They can fall and hurt themselves.”

How would Finn know? He was reportedly single—much to the delight of many other women in town—a fact helpful for Annabelle’s fantasies. As far as she knew, he had no kids.

Uncertain if he was right about the crib, Annabelle had decided to improvise. Her parents had long ago donated her baby items to charity. Two straight-backed chairs now served as a barrier to keep Emmie from tumbling out of bed and hitting her head. Rubbing her eyes, Emmie cried out. “Want my mama!”

“I know, sweetie, but she’s not here right now.”

Emmie didn’t buy that weak explanation, but Annabelle couldn’t tell her the truth. Again, the child burst into tears.

Annabelle tried her best—which apparently wasn’t enough—to comfort her. Earlier, at the hospital while she and Finn waited for an update on Sierra, neither of them saying much, Emmie had been with Finn’s deputy at the station. By then, Sierra was in surgery. Later in recovery, looking pale and horribly bruised, with tubes snaking everywhere and monitors beeping, she’d still been under the effects of the anesthesia and couldn’t talk. She seemed much worse than Annabelle had expected, and Annabelle had Sierra’s daughter to care for—or try to—tonight. As for tomorrow...what if Sierra didn’t survive?

Finn had driven them home from the sheriff’s office, Emmie in the back seat clutching her stuffed lamb while Annabelle crooned to her without quite knowing what to say. The little girl had finally relaxed in the car seat Finn had provided, and by the time they reached the house Emmie’s eyelids were fluttering.

Annabelle thought of Finn standing by the bed when he’d put a then-sleeping Emmie on the clean sheets, a slight—even wistful?—smile on his lips that made Annabelle feel weak in the knees. Finally, he’d said, “It’s late.”

When he turned from the bed, panic streaked through her. “You’re not leaving?”

She didn’t know what else she wanted then, except not to be alone with Emmie, but another blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I won’t know what to do if she wakes up.”

Her heart kept clanging against her rib cage, but Finn had only touched her shoulder as if to say you can do this then left the room. Ever since then Emmie had slept fitfully, waking every hour in this strange house, probably wondering where she was, to call out for her mama, sometimes pushing Annabelle away.

Emmie’s rosebud mouth puckered in the dim light now. “Where Mama go?”

Annabelle drew a breath, then said, “She had to stay somewhere else tonight, sweetie. She asked me if you could sleep here.”

Emmie shoved two fingers in her mouth, a built-in pacifier. Not wanting to leave her, Annabelle moved a chair aside then sat on the bed. The soft, silvery light of a full moon filtered through the room’s gauzy curtains, and in the hallway her parents’ old grandfather clock ticked in the stillness. It reminded Annabelle of all the terrifying time-outs she’d gotten, her punishment for doing something wrong, listening to the minutes march by until she would be freed. To this day she avoided that now-locked closet under the stairs.

She smoothed a tentative hand over Emmie’s blond hair, wishing she had some other means of comfort to offer, but even though Emmie needed an adult’s reassurance Annabelle had little experience. “It’ll be okay,” she kept whispering, though she wasn’t sure of that. Seeing Sierra in the recovery room hadn’t been encouraging, and Annabelle’s dreams tonight had been as troubled as Emmie’s must be.

Annabelle felt all at sea. She liked children, but she didn’t have any of her own. Still, she often gave kids treats at the diner and loved hearing their laughter. At Christmastime, for her smallest customers, she made Santa cookies with red-and-green sprinkles, but that was the limit of her contact with them.

Annabelle was happy to hand out cookies or give a pat on the head, but for now children were at the bottom of her priority list. Yes, she yearned for a good marriage someday, a family of her own, but not before she was ready. At the moment she had no prospective husband in sight—despite her feelings for him, she couldn’t count Finn since he barely knew she existed. And what if she screwed up her children as Annabelle’s parents had her? Annabelle still bore the emotional scars from that closet. No, it was better to focus first on seeing the world beyond Barren. On escaping her past to make that new future for herself. She had waited long enough.

And wouldn’t Emmie’s father, whoever he was, be a better choice to care for her? Was he a part of the little girl’s life? Emmie had Sierra’s last name, not his, and Sierra hadn’t been carrying his contact information in her wallet. But once she woke she might fill in the blanks.

Or maybe—Annabelle could hope—Sierra would soon be out of danger and on the mend, well again before Annabelle packed her bags to fly to Denver. She’d booked her flight with a hard lump of anxiety in her throat yet a wild feeling of exhilaration. This would be her “maiden voyage,” including the first plane ride of her life, and from there, once the diner did sell...the whole world would, at last, be hers.

“Mama?” Emmie’s small voice sounded panicky again.

And here came the guilt once more, creeping in to overwhelm Annabelle. Emmie must feel terrified in this unfamiliar house with this strange woman who didn’t know what she was doing, just as Annabelle had felt in the closet that had terrified her as a child. She’d been small and frightened then, huddled in the dark, trembling with fear, alone. Abandoned.

Acting on a maternal instinct she hadn’t known she possessed, she drew Emmie closer. “Baby, you’ll see her soon. Let’s try to sleep.”

Annabelle would open her diner by six o’clock, as she did every day, and even sooner than that her prep cook would be in the kitchen slicing onions and peppers for the ever-popular western omelets, mixing buttery biscuit dough and cutting fresh fruit for breakfast. The daily routine was so deeply ingrained in Annabelle that she wondered if she’d ever truly get it out—or stop feeling unappreciated.

She’d never had to think about a three-year-old child. What about diapers? she’d asked Finn, following him into the hall hours ago.

“My deputy tells me Emmie’s potty trained.”

Frozen in place, Annabelle had heard his footsteps along the upstairs hall as he’d departed, his steady tread drowning out the sound of the clock. Feeling more alone than she’d ever been in her life, she’d listened to the front door open, then he was gone, leaving her in charge. If that meant baking a cherry pie or brewing a pot of rich Ethiopian coffee, the diner’s special blend this month, that was what she knew. It was all she knew for now. Until the plane took off for Denver.

But a small child to care for? Emmie was counting on her, and she finally nestled against Annabelle as she had in the car, as if she knew they were each other’s family. Or maybe, half asleep, she’d confused Annabelle with her mother.

Yet as sympathetic as she felt to Emmie’s needs tonight, she didn’t want another person counting on her just when she was about to turn her back on Barren, Kansas, and everything it represented.

* * *

FINN COULDN’T GET the images out of his head: the flashing red lights, the siren, Emmie Hartwell crying in his arms. It was always this way and he’d feel gritty eyed in the morning, which at four was almost here. He wondered if Annabelle was sleeping now or if, like him, she was lying awake.

She’d stayed close to Emmie on the way home, just as he had at the scene, and her heart appeared to be breaking—like his. But at the same time, Annabelle had clearly wanted to hand off the responsibility for Sierra Hartwell’s child to anyone else. Including him. That wouldn’t happen. Annabelle was the best option for Emmie.

Finn didn’t know much about Annabelle. Didn’t want to know, he told himself. Finn had his life here, such as it was, and with the exception of his dog, snuffling in his sleep at the foot of the bed, that didn’t include getting close to someone again. Whether that meant the little girl he’d held at the accident scene...or Annabelle Foster, he didn’t have the heart for it.

Sure, he’d noticed her—had seen the flash of awareness in her eyes, too—but Finn refused to dwell on that. It made him feel...disloyal.

She certainly tried to hide her attractiveness with plain clothes, including that ever-present apron, and carried a coffeepot at the diner as if to announce she was unavailable except to work. But she had rich, brown hair that shone like glass. Her pretty eyes could turn from brown to almost green depending on the light—and on her mood, if she had any variation in them. She was cheerful, relentlessly so. Tonight was the first time he’d seen her look shattered. He’d often wondered: Did she really like being tied to that diner, as if the popular local restaurant had apron strings, too? The for sale sign tonight told him no, like the sometimes not-quite-here look in her eyes.

Still, unlike Finn these days, she’d always seemed to be a happy person, as well as unfailingly kind. More than once he’d watched her pocket someone’s unpaid check then put the money in the drawer herself because she knew they couldn’t pay.

Earlier tonight, for the first—and probably last—time, he’d been inside her house. Finn had noted the overstuffed living room furniture with faded chintz upholstery, and the tired-looking floral wallpaper that made his apartment seem like a showcase of good design. Her place reminded him of his grandmother’s home until he’d caught a glimpse of the bright posters tacked to her bedroom walls. Venice, Paris, Barcelona...holdovers from her girlhood? Her teens? Maybe she just liked pictures of pretty places, and he was reading too much into the decor. Or were those posters an announcement of her intention not only to sell the diner but to get out of town?

Giving up on sleep, Finn got out of bed. Whether she left or stayed didn’t matter to him. He had paperwork about the accident to finish, and that wasn’t his only concern. The fate of a local cattle rustler, Derek Moran, had been churning in his gut like a lousy fast-food meal. Finn’s part in the case was done, but sooner or later Derek would step out of line again, and Finn would be waiting. In his view Moran was a bad actor who reminded him of someone else.

Eduardo Sanchez. He tried to block out the other man’s name but it zapped his brain with all the force of a taser. All Finn wanted was to see him in handcuffs, see justice served as it would be for Derek Moran.

For now, even as sheriff he couldn’t do anything about either of them. Instead, Finn wanted to take another look in Sierra Hartwell’s car. She was something of a mystery to him, one he also hoped to bring to a close.

He padded over to his bureau and yanked open the second drawer. A sudden burst of memory assailed him. More flashing red lights, another siren, two innocent people lying in pools of blood. The members of the Chicago gang that called themselves The Brothers getting away with murder.

Like the rest of his past, the top drawer was his personal no-go zone.

* * *

SOMEONE WAS CRYING.

In the bed beside her, Emmie sat up, weeping before Annabelle had cleared her mind of her latest bad dream. Sleep continued to be hard to come by, and at four thirty, when Emmie had stirred again, Annabelle finally carried her from the guest room to her own bed.

She yawned and stretched. Apparently three-year-olds got up early. Neither of them, she supposed, had gotten much rest.

Emmie was cranky. But then, so was Annabelle.

“Mama, I hungry.”

Annabelle didn’t try to correct her. For these first few minutes awake maybe Emmie thought she was in her own home. “Then let’s find something to eat, sweetie.”

What did little girls like? Holding Emmie’s hand, trying not to take her wary expression personally, she walked downstairs to the green-tiled kitchen. With a glance out the window, she noticed her car, which she’d left at the diner, parked in the driveway. Finn must have delivered it sometime during the night. Yawning, Annabelle decided on cereal for breakfast.

She took milk from the fridge—the same GE model that had been here since she was Emmie’s age—and a box from the pantry. All Annabelle could face right now was a cup of strong coffee. With an encouraging smile, she set the cereal bowl in front of Emmie, but as she turned toward the coffee maker, she caught a flash in her peripheral vision of Emmie’s fine blond hair, in tangles this morning. Without warning, Emmie’s arm swung out, and the bowl flew through the air. It landed on the linoleum floor and shattered. Cheerios and milk sprayed everywhere, provoking more tears from Emmie.

They didn’t last long before, to Annabelle’s further shock, Emmie suddenly grinned and her big blue eyes sparkled as if she were proud of what she’d done. Emmie had deliberately spilled the cereal, probably wanting to see Annabelle’s reaction—which was to drop to her knees and wipe up the mess. And count to ten. Twice. This was definitely not her wheelhouse.

She straightened with the soggy sponge in her hand. Okay, no Cheerios then. On her feet, she poured a glass of orange juice, but as she started to put it on the table, she saw Emmie already scowling.

“Don’t like juice,” she said, pouting.

Annabelle yanked the glass out of reach. She didn’t own any plastic ones, and there was no sense in causing another mishap to start the day off worse than it was. “What do you like?” she asked, trying not to grit her teeth.

“Doughnut.”

“That’s not a healthful breakfast,” Annabelle said, which produced another now-familiar wail of protest from Emmie. Why didn’t I bring home yesterday’s leftover blueberry coffee cake? Better than a doughnut, made of organic flour, and with fruit.

“Mama knows!”

“Of course she does.” The morning was threatening to become a full-blown disaster. How to explain? “But your mom didn’t feel well, and um, the doctor is fixing her. She’ll be fine, Emmie,” she added.

Another tiny frown creased Emmie’s forehead. She didn’t mention the accident but asked, “Where the man go?”

Annabelle thought for a second. “You mean Finn?”

She nodded. “Nice man.”

“He’s probably at his office. You may see him later.”

At dawn, Annabelle had punched the answering machine beside her bed and heard a message from Finn who wanted to see her at her convenience. But how, with Emmie in tow? Annabelle was used to going everywhere alone. Obviously, she’d never needed a sitter, and this wasn’t a young-family neighborhood. She ticked off several options, but her closest neighbor was on a cruise through the Panama Canal this week, which Annabelle envied. The elderly woman across the street might be willing to help, but she’d broken her ankle and was on crutches. Annabelle had delivered a lasagna to her only yesterday. Really, neither woman would be able to keep up with Emmie—from Annabelle’s now limited experience. Leave Emmie at the diner then, while she was at the sheriff’s office? Her staff would already have their hands full with the breakfast crowd. What if Emmie wandered off, out the door and into Main Street? Or threw a fit at being left?

Her pulse stumbled. More to the point, Emmie was traumatized—perhaps one reason she hadn’t even brought up the accident, as if her brain had suppressed it. Annabelle wouldn’t leave her alone. For a day or two, in Sierra’s place, Annabelle would be second best. For now, she was all Emmie had.

She would have to take Emmie with her when she went to see Finn.

CHAPTER THREE

HIS HAND NOT QUITE touching her back, Finn guided Annabelle into his office. His dog, a rescue mutt, part German shepherd, part Labrador with maybe a touch of golden retriever in the mix, lay sprawled on the wooden floor in a square of sunlight, blocking the chairs in front of Finn’s desk. He gently nudged him with one boot, cutting off the dog’s snore. With a start, Sarge raised his head. “Move over, pal. Give the lady some room.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

Why would she? He and Annabelle barely knew each other. They weren’t even friends, and his awareness of her was Finn’s to ignore. If Annabelle felt drawn to him too, that was her problem. The less she knew about him, the better for Finn.

“Saved him from the pound over in Farrier a month or so ago,” he said. “We’re still in the adjustment period.” They watched Sarge come to life again, blinking, before he managed to stand, rearrange his bones then shuffle closer to the window. “The sun’s better there anyway, bud,” Finn told him and pulled out a chair for Annabelle.

“That was nice of you,” she murmured, “to give him a home.”

“Sarge is kind of the office mascot.” He gestured toward the chair. “Take a seat.”

Finn looked toward the outer room where Emmie had been placed on a desk. She was swinging her feet plowing her way through a doughnut with sprinkles and chatting with Sharon, his deputy, whom she’d taken to last night. “How did it go after I left your house?”

“As well as it could, I suppose. We ended up sharing my bed.” Annabelle told him about an incident with some cereal at breakfast. They shared a brief smile before she said, “I couldn’t leave her at the diner and I didn’t know what else to do but bring her with me.”

“Because all cops like doughnuts?” Finn couldn’t resist teasing her if only to see her blush.

She actually laughed, then sobered. “Why did you want to see me?”

Finn looked away. Annabelle’s pink cheeks made her seem more than appealing, like the innocent look in her eyes as if she didn’t quite get his joke. Never mind, he thought. His solitary life suited him, and with luck would help him forget Chicago, as much as he could. It allowed him to focus on what mattered most—nailing Eduardo Sanchez’s hide to the wall, even from a distance—and he had no room for Annabelle. Or, for that matter, little Emmie. The very thought of holding her last night at the accident scene made him sweat, made him remember...

Finn pulled a form from his desk drawer. “I need your statement. Any information you can supply about Sierra.” He searched for a pen then began to fill in the basic stuff. Time, date, interviewee’s name... “I never understand why people don’t wear their seat belts,” he muttered, half to himself.

Annabelle blinked. “Sierra wasn’t wearing hers?”

“No,” he said.

“She never did like doing things that were good for her—at least in my parents’ opinion. Whenever she spent summers with us, she drove them crazy. To me, she was a hero for daring to challenge them.”

It sounded as if Annabelle herself never had. Finn stopped writing. The few times he’d heard her mention her family, Annabelle got that tight sound in her voice and looked past the person she was talking to. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with issues to avoid. He wouldn’t let himself think about that drawer in his bureau, wouldn’t probe his memories like a sore tooth.

“Sierra was thrown from the car,” he told her. “Ned Sutherland’s life was saved by his seat belt.” Finn frowned. “But his granddaughter was right. He shouldn’t have been behind the wheel of that old pickup. In fact, when he took off last night she tried to stop him. Ned’s not talking yet this morning, but—” He cleared his throat. “Annabelle, how well do you know Sierra?”

She studied her hands in her lap. “As girls we were inseparable into our teens, but as adults we’ve had almost no contact. Why?”

He tapped his pen against the desktop. “Number one, her driver’s license, while still valid in the state of Wyoming, has an address that’s no longer hers and I suspect hasn’t been for some time. No forwarding one with the DMV there. Wherever she lives now, she should have changed her license. Most states have reciprocity.”

“Wyoming?” Annabelle bit her lip. “Actually, I don’t know where she lives. Sierra’s a corporate events planner—or she was the last I heard—and because of her job, she travels around a lot.”

That seemed to interest Annabelle but didn’t help Finn now. “Second, in Sierra’s glove compartment I found several notices from the court in a different state, but Missouri doesn’t seem to be her home base either. After she failed to appear, they issued a warrant for her arrest.”

Annabelle leaned forward. “A warrant?” she repeated, as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. “Well, maybe she didn’t pay some parking tickets...”

He had to admire her quick defense of her cousin, but his mouth tightened. “The warrant isn’t for parking violations. It references a felony for fraud and embezzlement. I’m waiting for further details from St. Louis.” The distressed look on Annabelle’s face threatened to melt his resolve. For an instant he wanted to reach across the desk, cover her hand with his. Trying to refocus his attention, he glanced at Sarge who was snoring again in the sun, his once dull coat now a glistening brown, tan and yellow. Thanks to a better diet, his liquid dark eyes were also bright, or would be if they were open. “If Sierra was on the run last night, fleeing from Missouri, feeling desperate—”

“You think the accident was her fault? Not Ned’s?”

“We’re still processing the scene.” Finn offered a theory she probably wouldn’t like. “But consider this: Sometimes a child in the rear seat cries, throws a temper tantrum, a parent gets distracted while driving—”

“Not in this case.” Annabelle sat back in her chair. “Sierra wouldn’t jeopardize her child. I know my cousin.”

“Really? You haven’t seen her in quite a while,” Finn pointed out mildly.

“And you don’t know her at all.” Her eyes clouded. “Sierra couldn’t possibly be in legal trouble like that. There must be some mistake.”

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, as soon as Annabelle slipped into Sierra’s hospital room, her steps faltered. Annabelle had hoped to find Sierra awake, to ask her about Emmie’s father. She’d visited twice now and found little change in her cousin. All around monitors beeped and buzzed, but the information on the displays next to Sierra’s bed might as well have been written in Greek. Annabelle’s brief stop at the nurses’ station hadn’t provided much information beyond the fact that, although she’d been moved from ICU last night, Sierra was still listed as critical.

What if she didn’t survive? What would happen to Emmie?

Her throat feeling tight, Annabelle stood beside the bed then took Sierra’s limp hand. It was like touching, looking, at a stranger. Her blue eyes were swollen closed, her blond hair, usually so like Emmie’s, instead looked dull and stringy and she didn’t move at all. Harsh cuts and bruises covered her face and neck, and a bulky bandage slanted across her forehead. She was thrown from the car, Finn had said.

Annabelle’s spirits sagged. It was a good thing she hadn’t brought Emmie with her. Until Sierra looked better or wakened, the sight of her mother like this might be too much. Emmie was getting to know the staff at the diner so Annabelle had left her there for an hour, giving her fat crayons and a book to color at the counter.

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmured, fighting tears. She tried to warm Sierra’s hand, but after her talk with Finn she had to wonder. The interview had been difficult for her. Annabelle hadn’t cared for his comments about Sierra, but did she really know this woman in the bed anymore? She hadn’t told him about Sierra’s troubled teenage years because they hadn’t seemed relevant. Sierra had since turned her life around, and yet...

She applied slight pressure to Sierra’s hand, hoping she’d wake up, and to her relief Sierra’s eyelids fluttered once before they drifted shut again. And Annabelle took heart. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, remembering summer nights together when they’d stayed up late and giggled, played tricks on each other...until her parents had abruptly put an end to Sierra’s annual visits. “We’ll straighten everything out. You’ll see. I won’t let you down again.” As she’d done when she’d meekly accepted her parents’ command not to mention Sierra again and on the phone not long ago. There would be time later for Annabelle’s full apology. Time to ask about Emmie’s father.

* * *

“YOU SAID YOU had something for me.” Finn cradled his cell phone against his shoulder and tried to stifle his growing resentment at his former partner, who was on the line from Chicago. Finn envisioned Cooper in the squad room, the top button of his uniform shirt undone, one hand running through his surfer-boy hair.

“I’m only human, Donovan. I’ve spent most of my free time since you left town hunting that gang...and, sorry,” he said in the sarcastic tone that Finn knew well, “but every one of them has dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Not likely,” Finn muttered. None of this was Cooper’s responsibility, but Finn still hoped he would help bring Finn’s most personal case to a close. “When you called, you said you had an update so I thought—”

“Didn’t mean to mislead you. But, frankly, there’s not much more I can do here. I guess that’s the heads-up—the something—I had to give you.”

Finn refused to be deterred. “The gang’ll resurface. We only need to wait.”

“Listen, my friend. If I kept taking those little side trips to follow a lead from my snitches—all of whom have now dried up—I’d be looking at disciplinary action.” He added, “That should resonate with you.”

Finn came from a family of cops, and in Chicago he and Cooper Ransom had always toed the line. As a kid Finn had learned that from his uncle Patrick. The opposite of Finn’s father in temperament, with gentle good humor and lots of one-on-one time while his dad was all about The Job, Pat had guided Finn off the dangerous path he’d walked in his teens onto the straight and narrow again—until years later when that Chicago gang known as The Brothers struck close to home. Because of them, especially Eduardo Sanchez, Finn no longer had a wife he loved, a son he adored. A family.

Justice for them had become his chief concern—his obsession.

“I wasn’t fired,” Finn said. “I quit.”

“In the nick of time.” Cooper blew out a breath. “If you’d gone any further in your private quest to send those thugs to prison for the rest of their lives, the department would have taken your badge, your uniform, your gun—and hustled you straight into Internal Affairs. Then where would you be?”

Finn’s mouth hardened. “Free to pursue the gang—full time.”

This was an old argument, begun the day Finn had lost everything. He heard the metallic clang of a desk drawer being slammed shut, and it reminded him of the no-go drawer in his bedroom. Of Sanchez. Cooper’s voice lowered. “If I hadn’t talked you out of turning into some vigilante, you’d be in jail.”

Or lying dead on the South Side pavement. Finn would have traded his life then for one shot at the gang’s leader. He still would but he wasn’t there. Now he just tried to get through each day without his thoughts of the tragedy overwhelming him to the point where he couldn’t do his job here. “So, instead, I took your advice—and you promised to find them for me.”

He could almost see Cooper shaking his head, his gray eyes somber. “I wish I knew what else to do. I hate to disappoint you, Finn—but maybe you need to focus now on being sheriff of Stewart County.”

Finn heard a wistful note in his voice. Cooper had grown up near Farrier, a few miles from Barren, on a cattle ranch. He was the cowboy Finn was not and had no aspirations to be. Finn didn’t like horses, and he’d never been around cows. But when cattle prices had plunged years ago while Cooper was in his teens, his family had been forced to sell out. He claimed he was still trying to adjust to life in the city, but for whatever reason he’d never come back home. He’d sent Finn here instead.

“Being sheriff is a lot less dangerous than Chicago PD. I write a few parking tickets, stop a speeder here and there...oh, and there was a break-in last week at the hardware store. Somebody stole a few bags of pet food.”

He could sense Cooper’s smile. “Not the Foxworth kid again?”

Finn nodded, almost dislodging the phone from between his neck and shoulder. “He’s my chief suspect. Think I’ll go easy on him, though. His mom’s been having a rough time since her husband died. Money’s tight and Joey loves his dog more than he likes to obey the law. But he’s a good boy. Community service seems the right ‘sentence.’”

“And you’ll pay for the dog food.”

Finn didn’t answer that. “I like my job here,” he told Cooper instead. “There’s no gang activity in Barren or the other towns in my jurisdiction. So thanks for that tip about the election.” The old Stewart County sheriff had been running unopposed, giving Finn the opportunity he’d needed at the time to get out of Chicago and save his sanity.

Cooper said, “My mother’s distant cousin. Eighty-two, and his wife was worried about him. Competition in the last election nudged him to give up his badge and move to Florida, just what he needed.”

Finn owed Cooper for that and maybe he hadn’t seemed grateful enough. Hoping to mend the breach between them while they talked more shop, he filled Cooper in on his one real active case, Sierra Hartwell’s accident and the outstanding warrant in St. Louis.

“Have you run a background check on her?” Cooper asked.

“In the works,” he said. “Unfortunately, her closest relative and I don’t agree that this isn’t about some parking ticket.” He paused. “Her cousin is Annabelle Foster.”

Cooper’s desk chair creaked. Finn had his partner’s full attention now. Cooper said, “I knew Annabelle. Used to drop in at the diner now and then with my folks. She was always there helping out—not that her parents ever seemed to appreciate that. I’m surprised to hear about her objections. Annabelle never said boo to anyone.”

“Well, she did with me.” There must be some mistake. The moment when Finn had teased her about doughnuts hadn’t lasted long. Too bad his heightened awareness of her did. The sunlight on her hair, the way she’d approved of his adopting Sarge, her concern for Sierra...he almost didn’t hear what Cooper said.

“Wait a minute. Sierra Hartwell? If I remember right, she and Annabelle were close then. I only met Sierra once or twice, and she could be, well, difficult, but I never heard of her getting into any real trouble. Keep me informed, okay?”

“Sure,” Finn said. “Something will turn up about her and with The Brothers.”

As he ended the call, he missed his partner even more than he had before Cooper phoned. He shoved his cell back in his pocket. At least their less-than-conclusive talk had given him some feedback on Sierra Hartwell, if not taken his mind off Annabelle Foster.

He almost missed Chicago as long as he didn’t let himself think about what had happened...

And the black depths of his own loss. Or Eduardo Sanchez.

* * *

FROM THE SECOND Finn’s car rounded the last corner onto his street in a tree-lined Chicago neighborhood near the station, his nerves had been shooting sparks through his arms and legs. Beside him, his wife Caroline kept glancing at him, as if she sensed his unease. “What, Finn?” she finally asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Feeling jumpy, that’s all.”

“You’ve been like this since you and Cooper raided The Brothers’ headquarters.”

Finn didn’t think the term brother suited. It didn’t sound nearly dangerous enough—as if they were actually harmless. Their low-slung, abandoned warehouse ten minutes from his home was nothing more than broken windows, doors hanging by their hinges and trash everywhere. The place smelled of rotting garbage, and shattered liquor bottles littered the dirt yard. Inside, a few sagging couches, a half dozen wooden straight chairs and a scarred table made up the decor. A single match would have torched the area quicker than the time it had taken him and Cooper to surround the building, bust in and wrestle four gang members into handcuffs. Another two had left in ambulances for the hospital. And The Brothers had vowed revenge.

Finn wasn’t sleeping well, even on his off-shift days.

“You really think they mean to harm you?” Caro asked.

Finn was sure of it. He couldn’t ditch the feeling he was being watched. He’d taken to carrying an extra handgun plus his service pistol and the backup gun that, like most cops, he kept in an ankle holster. But he wasn’t really worried about himself.

“I wish you and Alex would do as I asked. Go to your mother’s for a while. I’d rest easier,” he said, though he wasn’t sure of that and he’d miss her as if a part of him had broken away.

“I can’t stay with Mother,” Caro said, flicking her dark red hair from her face with that uniquely feminine gesture that had drawn him to her the day they met. In the back, three-year-old Alex sat in his car seat, his eyes—the exact match of Caro’s gray green—glued to his mother’s cell phone screen and his latest favorite, a video game with farm animals that squawked and mooed until Finn’s last nerve shredded. “It’s almost Christmas,” Caro went on. “Remember all that shopping we did today? Or were you not there, Finn?”

“I was there.” And looking over his shoulder the whole time they picked out presents for family members, friends and the kid whose name Alex had picked from a hat for his day care gift exchange. The back of his neck still prickling, he pulled into the driveway. “I’ll get Alex for you then unload the packages.”

“That’s my man,” she said, then teasing, “you too, Finn. I love you—and I can’t wait for you to see what Santa’s bringing you.”

“Love you too, babe.” Laughing, thinking I don’t need a gift. I have you, he got out of the car, bent to clear the rear doorframe then reached in to unbuckle his son, taking a moment to ruffle his hair—the same dark color as his own—imagining the glee Alex would feel when he saw his loot piled high under the Christmas tree. The big day was less than a week away. Alex was going to love the fancy trike they’d bought him.

Finn had everything he’d ever wanted in these two people and didn’t need anything else—other than a promotion that would allow them to buy a bigger house, have more children and get out of the city while he was still alive.

He set Alex down then started for the hatch to retrieve the first bags. Caro had outdone herself this holiday season; they’d be paying off the credit cards all next year, but as long as the generous giving made her happy— Wheels screeched around the nearest corner, speeding down his street to stop in a squeal of brakes at the curb. He’d half expected this but...he couldn’t move.

“Finn!” Caro yelled, already running toward Alex.

Whatever he might have said died unspoken in his throat. Two men in dark clothes jumped out of the other car, ski masks hiding their faces. One of them he recognized from his eyes. Eduardo Sanchez. Before Finn could shove Alex out of the way or reach for his guns, it was over.

His worst fears had come true...and he would never love like that again.

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER THE NEXT morning’s breakfast rush ended at the diner, Annabelle went to visit Sierra again, though “visit” was a loose term. Annabelle grew more and more worried about her, and about her own upcoming trip to Denver. In two more days she would fly to Colorado. But Sierra didn’t seem to be making progress.

As much as she fretted about Emmie, she was also trying hard not to resent Sierra. Not an attractive quality, but Annabelle had essentially been forced to take over Sierra’s life, her responsibility to Emmie, and, selfish or not, that hurt.

In the meantime, Emmie was still with her. When Annabelle’s friend Olivia had come to take her to the park today, Emmie had thrown another tantrum worthy of the Incredible Hulk. I won’t, she’d screamed, refusing to put on her sneakers. I want sparkly sandals. Legs thrashing, she didn’t get off the floor until Olivia finally managed to calm her. Sierra’s little girl was handling her mother’s continued absence, and Annabelle’s ineptitude, in the only way she knew.

For now the only thing Annabelle could do was try to be patient, to be present, to keep caring for Emmie and whenever she could to sit by Sierra’s bed, to hold her hand and speak a few comforting words she hoped her cousin would hear. The last time she’d talked about Emmie’s on-again, off-again relationship with Cheerios and the way she fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth and how she asked every day for her mama. Today, praying this subject might rouse Sierra, Annabelle touched on their shared girlhood.

She didn’t mention the closet in her parents’ living room, being shut inside with only Sierra to heed her panicked cries, listening to Sierra’s whispers through the door. To hold her fear at bay, Annabelle had dreamed then, her eyes squeezed shut, of faraway places...a sandy shore, a big city with people everywhere so she wasn’t alone, a peaceful lake surrounded by white-capped mountains.

With Sierra now, she stayed close in memory to the good times they’d had.

“Remember the day you and I rode our bikes down to the creek?” She stroked the back of Sierra’s hand. The monitors beeped and whirred, and the flowers she’d brought smelled too sweet in the stuffy room. “When we left, my mom was already looking for us. She wanted our help at the diner, peeling potatoes and dicing carrots for her veal stew.” Annabelle gave a mock shudder. “Oh, we wanted to be anywhere else but there.” She still did. “You hated that steamy kitchen, too. The humidity ruined your hair, you said.” Annabelle brushed her other hand along Sierra’s tangled blond curls. “I couldn’t stand being there,” she said, “knowing I couldn’t leave until breakfast, lunch or dinner service was over. Remember, Sierra? I still feel that way. I felt so free playing hooky then.” And I’m going to again. Permanently this time.

Their getaway had been Sierra’s idea. “We shouldn’t have gone, I guess. Remember the storms we’d had all summer, day after day until the creek came over its banks? The current was so dangerous. That lazy stream became a raging torrent. I can’t believe how foolish we were to try to cross to the other side just because you said you’d seen a doe and her fawn there. We almost drowned.”

No response. Or had she seen a tiny movement of Sierra’s lips? A twitch of her eyelids, which Annabelle had glimpsed before?

A moment later, to her relief Sierra did open her eyes and squeezed Annabelle’s hand, the movement so faint she wondered if she’d imagined that, too. “You heard me!” Annabelle’s voice turned husky. “Hey there, you. Welcome back, Sierra. It’s Belle, honey.” Sierra is awake!

Her cousin licked her dry lips. “Water,” she croaked. Sierra had been on a ventilator for the first few days. Her throat must be sore.

Annabelle rang for the nurse then filled a glass from the iced carafe on the bedside table. She lifted it to Sierra’s lips and let her sip, water dribbling down her chin. With a tissue Annabelle dabbed the moisture away.

“I’m here, Sierra. You were always there for me,” she said. “When my parents got angry with me for not setting the tables sooner or because I’d forgotten to pick up the fish for dinner at the market, you defended me.” And when they’d pushed her into the punishment closet that day for playing hooky.

“I stuck up for you because...you didn’t...for yourself.”

The top of her bed was in its raised position, propping her body more upright than the last time Annabelle came, which she took as another good sign. Sierra’s bruises had changed color from purple to yellow to, now, a ghastly green. She didn’t look good but... “I’ve buzzed for the nurse. She’ll want to see that you’re awake and so will your doctors.”

Sierra shook her head, obviously troubled. “Emmie,” she murmured, tears brimming. “My baby? Where is she?”

“Oh, sweetie. She’s fine.” Of course Sierra’s first thought would be of her small daughter. “She’s at my house—or rather, with one of my friends right now. If you feel better, I’ll ask if Emmie can come to see you tomorrow. I’m so sorry I told you not to visit when you called me, Sierra. I wish you hadn’t hung up before—”

Sierra pulled her hand free. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” Annabelle said. “You mentioned some ‘loose ends’ then. Did you mean with me? I don’t blame you for being unhappy.” She took a sharp breath. “And whatever happened in St. Louis—”

Sierra’s brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

Annabelle swallowed. “The sheriff says there’s a warrant in Missouri for your arrest—” She stopped again, not wanting to say anything to worsen their already broken relationship.

“He’s lying!” Sierra’s weak voice strained with emotion. Her eyes met Annabelle’s, a fierce look that made her heart trip all the more because it seemed to sap the last of her strength. “Worry about Emmie, not some warrant. Are you taking good care of her? Really?”

Annabelle’s mouth set. The past few days of trying to manage a temperamental three-year-old hadn’t been easy for her. “You didn’t have to ask. Of course I am.”

Sierra obviously didn’t believe her, and maybe she shouldn’t. Annabelle had rejected her when she phoned. In their teens, when her parents ended their friendship, she had blindly accepted their order not to bring up Sierra again—except that she had phoned her a few times when they weren’t around. Now her attempts to help, even with Emmie, were being called into question. By the time Annabelle left the room, she felt drained. She wished they’d refrained from fighting, especially when one of them had just been in a coma.

In the hallway, fretting about Sierra’s reaction, she fidgeted for half an hour until Sawyer McCord, her friend Olivia’s fiancé and Sierra’s doctor, appeared to give her an update on Sierra’s condition which was now guarded but more hopeful. Then, disappointed in herself, she headed out to the parking lot.

And that was when she remembered that she hadn’t asked Sierra about Emmie’s father.

* * *

FINN OPENED THE back hatch on his car and Sarge jumped out onto the pavement, tail wagging. In the distance Finn’s apartment building, a modest two-story complex that backed up onto some woods with a little stream where Sarge liked to splash, was lit by the setting sun. Before the dog bounded off to do his business, he suddenly growled and Finn caught his collar. “Stay.”

Sarge sat on his haunches. His ears had pricked and Finn saw why.

His cop instincts went on red alert. Tall, solidly built, and with a thatch of dark hair, wearing jeans and a hooded black sweatshirt, Derek Moran strolled across the lawn between the parking lot and the building.

Most people, including Annabelle Foster, liked Finn’s dog, but Sarge picked his friends wisely and Finn considered him to be a good judge of character. He had to agree with the dog.

Every time he and Moran met, Finn tried to suppress the surge of anger that washed through him. But the reminder was always there. Derek didn’t belong to a gang like The Brothers in Chicago who had wreaked such havoc on Finn’s life, but he had a habit of finding trouble, and a cocky attitude. Like Eduardo Sanchez.

“Moran,” he called out, keeping a tight grip on Sarge’s collar. He didn’t need animal control coming after the dog for biting, not that he could fault him for snarling at Derek. The dog’s potty break, though, would have to wait.

With a hard expression in his pale blue eyes, Derek stopped. “’Evening, Sheriff.” He gestured at Sarge. “That your K-9 department?”

“All the help I need,” Finn said. Sarge kept grumbling deep in his throat. “Thought you were working nights at the 7-Eleven these days.” What are you doing here?

“After I helped myself to a few Cokes and a burrito, management and I didn’t see eye to eye.” Derek shrugged. “No big deal. I figure they owed me something more than the lousy few bucks an hour I was getting to stand behind the counter and card every kid who wanted to buy a six-pack. Noblesse oblige, I guess you could say.”

“Fancy words,” Finn said. The right word was theft and he figured Derek had sold to those minors, perhaps for an extra fee. “So you got fired.” He stroked Sarge’s head until the dog quieted. “You’re unemployed again?”

Derek shook his head. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Sheriff. Folks tend to do that with me but they’re wrong and so are you.” His chest puffed out. “Got me a new daytime job. Salary, full benefits, even a place to sleep.”

The hackles rose on Finn’s neck. “Where?” But he could guess.

“Wilson Cattle,” Derek said, confirming Finn’s suspicion.

His heart sank. “What’s the job?”

“Ranch hand. Could become foreman one day—if I play my cards right. Dusty Malone isn’t getting any younger. I plan to take his place.”

Finn couldn’t believe his friend Grey, who owned the cattle Derek stole, and with his recent marriage was Derek’s new brother-in-law, had hired him. Maybe he’d done it to ease his conscience. Years ago, Grey was wrongly accused of killing Derek’s older brother. According to local legend, that tragedy had ruined Derek’s young life. Finn could understand that, but was Grey actually willing to risk the future of his ranch? What if Derek decided to steal more cattle from him? That case, which Finn had handled months ago, was still pending after numerous delays and a continuance from the judge, but Finn didn’t believe for a minute that Derek would use this opportunity to make something of himself. By his age, Eduardo Sanchez already had a rap sheet a mile long, and at twenty-five Derek was running out of time to keep messing up.

“Let me give you some advice.” He pointed a finger at Derek’s chest, making Sarge growl again. “Keep your nose clean this time.”

Derek snorted. “Whoa, I’m not afraid of you, Finn. I heard about you chasing the bad guys in Chicago until you almost lost your job. If you couldn’t find the people who offed your wife and kid—”

Finn’s hand loosened on Sarge’s collar. How did Derek know that? Freed from constraint, the dog lunged at Derek then backed off short of reaching him, as if he knew he would get himself in trouble if he attacked, and Finn with him. Sarge returned to sit at Finn’s feet, his throaty rumble breaking the silence. “Don’t ever mention my family again,” Finn said, his voice shaking.

“I don’t have to. Think you can do a better job here in Barren?”

Finn refused to take the bait. Moran was likely angling for a fight that would only bring disciplinary action down on his own head. He turned away. “Good luck at Wilson Cattle.” He took two steps toward the building then stopped. With his back to Derek, never a good choice, he said, “Tonight’s your lucky night. I’m not even going to ask why you’re on this property or what you’re doing miles from that ranch.”

“Last time I checked, I didn’t need your permission. I’ve got a date,” Derek said with a sudden grin in his voice, surprising Finn. There weren’t many women in town who would go out with Derek, a ladies’ man in his own mind. And certainly not many who’d bring him into their home.

Finn let that go. For now. He had no probable cause to detain him.

“I’ll be watching,” was all he said.

Derek’s laughter followed him up the steps and into the building. The back of his neck hot, Finn climbed the steps to the second floor with Sarge. Finn would have to take him out again for that potty break, but he needed to collect himself first.

His worst memories walked with him to his door where he abruptly halted. Before he read the handwritten notice tacked to the frame, Finn knew what it would say. His landlord had warned him about Sarge’s barking whenever Finn left him home, one reason he’d been taking the dog to the station most days. Finn was already in violation of his lease and the building’s no-pets clause. He hadn’t owned Sarge when he moved in, but apparently several tenants had complained of the noise.

Sarge isn’t really a pet, Finn wanted to tell the man, He’s my roommate. And although he’d try to change his landlord’s mind, he doubted he’d succeed. They were being evicted.

CHAPTER FIVE

“FINN DONOVAN IS a go-by-the-book kind of guy. Everyone in town calls him Mr. Law-and-Order.”

Keeping one eye on Emmie, Annabelle stiffened at her friend Olivia’s comment. The playground rang with childish laughter. On this perfect October morning, the sun had burned off the chill from last night and cleared the dawn clouds away. The big sky overhead was now a brilliant blue, almost the exact color of Olivia Wilson’s eyes. Wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, her blond hair in a loose ponytail, she sat beside Annabelle on a bench, watching the kids play. Olivia had brought Emmie here before, but this was the first time Annabelle could join them.

Although Olivia and their other two friends had been right to suggest getting together, she didn’t welcome this topic of conversation.

Seated on Annabelle’s other side, Shadow Wilson was married to Olivia’s brother Grey and thus Olivia’s new sister-in-law. Slim and dark haired, she chimed in about Finn, her brown eyes warm. “You mean, Mr. Hunky-Law-and-Order.” She fanned her face.

“Please,” Annabelle murmured.

“You disagree?”

“No, but I’d rather focus on the warrant he has for Sierra.”

“Whatever the explanation,” Olivia said, “it does seem Sierra was reaching out to you about those ‘loose ends’ when she headed for Barren. I’m glad she’s finally conscious. Once she’s able to talk more, everything will get sorted out.”

Shadow nodded. “I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll help her.”

“Because that’s what you do, Belle,” Olivia said, her engagement ring from Sawyer McCord sparkling in the sunlight.

Helping others was what Annabelle had always done, sometimes to avoid getting another reprimand from her mother or a slashing criticism from her father. A do-gooder, he’d sometimes called her, but the trait had served her well. Besides, that was her nature, and her friends’, too.

“Our kids will watch out for your Emmie,” they’d said before. My Emmie. Annabelle couldn’t wrap her tired head around that and, besides, it was no truer than Finn’s accusations must be about Sierra. Still, her friends’ older children had already taken Emmie under their wing. After teaching her how to pump her legs on the swings, they were now showing her how to go down the slide. Emmie was poised at the top, giggling.

Her heart in her throat, Annabelle said, “Are you sure she’s all right?”

“Trust me, kids bounce.” Shadow’s nine-year-old daughter, Ava, who had her mother’s dark hair, stood at the bottom of the slide waiting for Emmie, her arms spread wide. Beside her, Olivia’s son Nick, who was seven, appeared ready to step in if anything went wrong.

“Bounce? I wish we could convince Blossom of that,” Olivia said with a wry smile. Their other friend had crossed the park on the outskirts of Barren near the creek and was pushing her daughter in her elaborate carriage. Every time the baby let out a peep, Blossom instantly reacted.

“First-time mother,” Shadow murmured.

Olivia leaned on Annabelle’s shoulder. “I was just like her when Nick was small.”

“You were Momzilla,” Shadow said with a grin. “Remember, Belle? She never let Nick out of her sight. She wrapped him in a cocoon. She—”

Nick flew across the yard and barreled into them. “Mom! Emmie went down the slide all by herself!” He beamed at Annabelle. “Me and Ava taught her.”

“Great job,” Annabelle said, smoothing his blond hair from his sweaty forehead. Then she waved at Emmie who didn’t wave back. She was climbing the slide again. “Do me a favor, though. Don’t show her how to use the jungle gym.”

The old, sprawling wooden structure had a crow’s nest, a sagging cargo net, another long slide and a series of stairways that looked more treacherous than Annabelle had realized. She’d never thought that, like Olivia, she had a protective maternal bone in her body. For the moment, however, she was still in charge of Emmie. She’d been as taut as a wire for the past half hour, and watching Emmie dart from one dangerous-looking piece of equipment to another made her stomach tighten again.

She looked up to find Olivia and Shadow staring at her.

“What?”

“For a minute, you sounded like one of us.” Shadow bumped her other shoulder. “A mom. You sure you don’t want to make this playdate a weekly thing to go with our Girls’ Night Out?” Their group had become a regular social event, though it was for adults only.

“Annabelle won’t be around long enough,” Olivia pointed out.

And she was right. Annabelle was very sure. She wouldn’t be here much longer...or so she hoped. Sierra’s condition troubled her. What if she didn’t get out of the hospital in time and Annabelle couldn’t leave for Denver? She should be home now beginning to pack, and the temporary situation of caring for Emmie only convinced her that her friends already had their lives in order. The prospect of being the group’s lone wolf forever didn’t appeal to Annabelle, but she knew they weren’t as excited as she was about her trip to Colorado.

“I’ll hate leaving you all, but my parents’ house is the only house I’ve ever lived in, this town the only town, and Kansas the only state.” She waved a hand to include the playground. “The rest of you have seen places I’ve only dreamed about.”

Olivia frowned a little. “We know how your parents treated you, Annabelle. But they’re gone now and, well—we’re here for you.”

Annabelle couldn’t tell them that wasn’t enough. They meant well.

“I love you guys but—”

Shadow pointed. “Look at Emmie. She’s having the time of her life.”

“As long as I’m nowhere near,” Annabelle said. “I’m worn out from our morning wrangles over breakfast. Never mind mentioning her afternoon nap, which is hard to come by when I have to take her to work with me. And unless she’s in my bed every night, no one gets any sleep.”

“Par for the course,” Olivia said. “I don’t think I slept an hour straight until Nick turned four. I still have bags under my eyes to show for it.”

“Where?” Shadow leaned around Annabelle to peer at Olivia. “You have perfect skin. You’re gorgeous, and with that glow today...but I agree, sleep can be hard to come by for the first few years. It doesn’t help to be overprotective, does it, Libby?”

“Guilty as charged.” But Olivia’s face did indeed glow as if she’d had an expensive facial, and everyone noticed.

“What’s this about, Mrs. Soon-to-be-McCord?” Shadow studied her again.

“Um. I, uh, Sawyer and I...” Olivia stopped stammering and grinned. “We’re pregnant!”

Shadow and Annabelle shrieked, forming a group hug and making the children’s heads turn toward them from the highest level of the jungle gym. Annabelle barely noticed that, despite her warning, Emmie had climbed with them. Even Blossom had stopped pushing her carriage, her coppery curls dancing as she trotted back toward them, a small frown on her face. Annabelle was glad her own first response was a happy scream not a frown. With Olivia’s announcement she felt even more like an outlier. Alone, as she’d been all her life.

“We weren’t going to tell anyone yet,” Olivia said, “but you guys had to be observant.”

A flurry of questions followed. How did Olivia feel? When was the baby due? Did this mean she and Sawyer would change their wedding plans?

Finally, she held up a hand. “I have an appointment with Doc Baxter this afternoon. After that, we’ll make decisions. I feel great. I’m about two months along.”

The baby carriage rolled up to the bench. “What did I miss?” Blossom asked.

Olivia said, “You’re not the only one who will have a newborn soon.”

Blossom’s brown eyes softened. “Eeekk!” Another round of delighted shouts ran through the group and Annabelle almost missed hearing Emmie’s cry from the jungle gym or, rather, the ground beneath it. To Annabelle’s horror she’d fallen from the top level!

Annabelle jumped up from the bench and raced across the playground. Their faces white with shock, the other kids were looking down at Emmie from above. She scooped the little girl from the dirt and held her tightly to her chest, feeling her heart beat fast and hard. To Annabelle’s amazement Emmie buried her face in her shirt.

“You shouldn’t move her, Belle.” Her phone in hand, Shadow dropped to her knees beside them. “I’m calling 911.”

“I hurt,” Emmie whimpered.

Nick had gotten down from the jungle gym. He laid a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. “She’ll be okay. I fell from the hayloft at the ranch once—and I’m fine now.”

Olivia drew him away. “Annabelle told you not to show Emmie that jungle gym.”

“But she wanted to play in the cargo net and she’s fast.” His eyes, a deep blue, brimmed with tears. “We didn’t mean for her to get hurt, Mom.”

“I know you didn’t.” Olivia sent him and Ava, who was standing there trembling, a comforting smile. “Nick, in our bag there are some juice boxes and granola bars. Sit with Ava on the bench with your snacks.” She watched them head across the yard before she turned to Annabelle. “How is she?”

Emmie clung to Annabelle, and Shadow raised an eyebrow as if to say And you don’t think you’re a mother?

Annabelle stroked Emmie’s damp hair, absorbing her tears in the cotton of her shirt. “She’s calming down. I think she’ll be okay.” She heard a siren in the distance, moving closer, and mouthed a quick prayer of thanks while Olivia, Shadow and Blossom looked on. She laid a hand next to Emmie’s head and felt her own heart, which was pumping way too fast. “My, that was a scare. I’d rather handle a kitchen fire at the diner.”

Emmie raised her eyes to meet Annabelle’s. And she smiled.

“I like the diner.”

Annabelle couldn’t agree, but Emmie seemed to find comfort there, far more than at Annabelle’s house, and the staff tended to spoil her. At the moment she didn’t care. As long as Emmie was breathing, talking, able to move her arms and legs, Annabelle was good, too. Her tears were happy ones—if only for the moment. In spite of her friends’ support, she wouldn’t stay. Sierra would leave the hospital and Emmie would return to her mother. Then Annabelle would be on her way to Denver and a new career—and she could leave her memories, the diner and her hopeless crush on Finn behind her.

* * *

FINN’S CRUISER PULLED UP in front of the barn at Wilson Cattle. Earlier this morning, after making sure Emmie Hartwell was okay following her playground mishap, he was paying a visit to Grey. It couldn’t hurt to caution him about Derek.

Grey must have heard the car approach because he suddenly appeared in the open doorway, his trademark black Stetson pushed back on his head, hands stuck in the rear pockets of his well-worn jeans.

“You heard,” he said, his blue-green eyes serious.

“I heard. Are you crazy?” There was no sign of Derek, and Finn was glad. He hoped to talk to Grey without being overheard.

Grey ran a hand through his light brown hair, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. “Look, I know what you think of Derek. Maybe that’s natural. Being sheriff makes you suspicious. But I’ve told you before that you’re wrong about him.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you should hire Derek and give him a place to live.”

Grey’s mouth hardened. “Yeah, Derek stole a bunch of cattle. They’ve been returned. End of that story—assuming the court finally agrees. I’m hoping the judge will, one reason Derek has a job with me as long as he does the work.”

“Meaning that will look good to the court? I never knew he was a skilled cowboy.” He did know Grey had refused to press charges against Derek, which had made the case more problematic. But Finn wouldn’t see anyone get away with...anything that was against the law.

Grey cracked a smile. “He’s my apprentice. I’ll shape him up.”

“I wish I had your faith. I wouldn’t trust him any further than the front gates of Wilson Cattle—with him going the other way.” Which Finn would definitely prefer.

He had strong opinions about right and wrong. It was the same with Emmie Hartwell. He could have taken care of her the night of Sierra’s accident, but he’d preferred to see Emmie stay with Annabelle. After all, they were related.

But Annabelle was selling her diner. She seemed to think Sierra could heal faster than she would. That Emmie wouldn’t stay with her much longer.

He brought his mind back to the present. “I’ve got a bad feeling about Derek that won’t quit,” he said. “Since you don’t seem open to hearing that, it’s all I’m going to say,” but in Derek’s case Finn couldn’t stop himself. “How does Shadow feel about this?”

“He’s her brother. How do you expect her to feel? Bottom line, he’s family.”

“If you don’t watch the henhouse, Grey, you might lose more than a few eggs—and of course, more cattle.”

Grey straightened from the doorframe. “Come on in the barn. I want to show you something before we end up throwing punches at each other.”

He didn’t wait for Finn to finish wrestling with his concerns about Derek—and with today’s brief view of Annabelle at the park, her face pinched with worry about Emmie. He was glad Emmie hadn’t gotten hurt, but the sight of her in Annabelle’s arms while the paramedics checked her scrapes had stayed with him. Not his business, he told himself. Annabelle meant to leave Barren, and Finn was hunkered down here just trying to survive. Still, the memory nagged at him like Sarge with a ball. He didn’t think Annabelle was seeing things clearly.

Inside, the barn aisle looked dim except for some rays of sunlight that filtered through the windows in the hayloft to slant across the lower floor. Dust motes, even a piece or two of straw, floated in the air. Finn sneezed. He figured he was allergic to barns, just as he considered himself to be allergic to horses. Of course Grey led him right to a stall where a big brute of a dark-colored animal breathed through its nostrils like a dragon about to spew fire. A heavy hoof the size of a dinner plate pawed the bedding. The animal had a broad white blaze down its face and a pair of large brown eyes that gazed at Finn in apparent curiosity.

Grey gestured at the horse. “I know what you’re gonna say. How big is he? Doesn’t matter,” Grey said. “He’s a gentle giant. A hard worker and easy on the bones. Step closer and say hey.” He pulled the horse’s forelock. “Big Brown, meet Finn, our local sheriff. He doesn’t know it yet but one of these days I’ll turn him into a rider.”

“Hey,” Finn said dutifully, wishing he hadn’t come by after all. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with Grey about Derek, and now that he’d let Annabelle trip through his mind again—along with the image of little Emmie’s sweet face—all he wanted was to head back into town. Tell himself he shouldn’t care about either of them. “Thought your regular ride was named Big Red.”

“They both fit. Why not?” Grey handed him a carrot from his rear pocket. “Make friends,” he said then started off down the aisle, talking to each horse as he went.

Finn stood there. “What am I supposed to do?”

“He likes his face rubbed. That’s one reason he’s pawing the floor—not because he wants to kill you like some bull. Tell him your life story if you want. He’s a good listener. If you don’t want, then pat his neck. But above all, give him that carrot before he takes your hand off.” Grey laughed and kept going.

The horse stamped its feet again. For a moment Finn felt tempted to turn around and disappear. But he’d already had words with Grey today and he didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship. Or drive back to the diner to tell Annabelle something yet. So he held out the carrot. The horse sucked it up then stuck out his face, looking for more.

“Sorry, pal. You’ve got the wrong guy.” He backed up a step, swamped by another memory. This one didn’t hurt as much as last night’s or this morning’s at the park. On one hand, the sight of Emmie always made him want to smile, on the other she reminded him of Alex. He traced a line along Brown’s nose. “I hope you understand why you and I are never going to be best friends.”

Having heard everything, Grey wandered across the aisle from another stall. “Big Brown and I know what we’re doing. Once I get him fine-tuned, you and I will go riding again.” He threw down a gauntlet. “Even Ava could ride him. You should see her. My daughter is all over this ranch on her new horse. She’s fearless.”

Finn’s shoulders slumped. “You trying to make me feel like a coward?” Maybe he was one. Certainly, he couldn’t seem to put Chicago behind him—probably wouldn’t until justice was served—and he was having just as hard a time trying not to get involved with Annabelle. Or worry about Emmie.

“No, I mean to turn you into a Kansas cowboy,” Grey said. “You can’t sheriff all the time.” Or wallow in your memories, he might have said.

Grey insisted he say goodbye to Big Brown, which Finn did with reluctance. Then Grey walked Finn out into the sunlight. They stood by his cruiser, sharing the warmth of the day, knowing there wouldn’t be many more like this before winter set in. “Kidding aside,” Grey said, “I won’t allow Derek to get in more trouble.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“He’s doing a good job, shows up on time and he’s saving his pay to buy a new truck.” Grey rapped a knuckle against the roof, as if a judge had gaveled the court to order. “One more thing—what’s going on with Annabelle Foster?”

Finn’s hand clamped around his open door. “Going on?”

“Shadow says Emmie Hartwell got hurt at the park earlier, and you came roaring in, light bar flashing...” He added, “She couldn’t help but notice how fast you responded. The EMTs had everything under control—”

“And I’m sheriff here, as you reminded me. What was I supposed to do, ignore the call?” He couldn’t meet Grey’s eyes. When he’d heard the news, Finn couldn’t get there quick enough. “Stay in my office and push papers around?”

Grey laughed. “No, but seems to me—and Shadow—there might be something else ‘going on.’” He paused. “Annabelle’s a fine person, Finn.”

Finn got into the car, fired up the engine. “If I had a mind to...pursue someone who doesn’t plan on sticking around.” If I wanted to care again.

“That’s one issue,” Grey said, “but if a man were so inclined...”

“I’m not.” Which provoked another memory he’d rather avoid. Not that long ago, before Shadow was married, and thinking he might get out of his shell, Finn had asked her out to dinner. Grey hadn’t liked that at all. Finn slipped the cruiser into gear but Grey hadn’t finished about Annabelle.

He removed his hat, put it back on again. “Maybe not yet,” he said, “but something to think about,” then stepped away from the car as if to close the subject. “And just remember this: there’s nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse. Old saying,” Grey said with a half smile, “but true.”

“You couldn’t prove it by me,” Finn replied.

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