Page 1 of Sheriff's City Girl

Chapter One

Mason

“You know how many sheriffs stop and eat breakfast somewhere? Lots of them. You wouldn’t see it in every movie if it weren’t true,” Jackson, a deputy in my department, urged as he kicked the door of my old Bronco open with his cowboy boot.

“I prefer my breakfast,” I grunted, reaching for the bagel in a plastic baggy on the console. I wasn’t one for a big breakfast—and not to mention, it cut into time that we needed to be working. The department was understaffed on a busy day and overstaffed on a normal one.

Jackson gave me a side eye as he hovered just outside on the passenger side. “Listen, Sheriff, with all due respect…” He pointed to the food in my hand. “Don’t bring that in with ya. Talk about an insult to the chef.”

“And I am saving money.” I shrugged. “I don’t see a problem with it. You’re buying a meal. It all evens out.”

“And I’ll buy your meal this morning to avoid the embarrassment,” he shot back at me. “Leave the damn bagel, Mason.” Jackson was a good fifteen years younger than me, but since he had started at the department, we had become friends of some sort.

With a grunt, I tossed my preferred breakfast back down on the console. “We’re wasting precious work time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jackson rolled his eyes. “Once you see Emma Fisher, the woman who opened this place, you’re guaranteed to change your mind.” He slammed the passenger door shut on my 1970’s Bronco, and I let out a sigh. I gave zero shits about Emma Fisher. She could be the Queen of England, and I still wouldn’t be thrilled about it.

Reluctantly, I slid out and shut the door, locking it before I stepped up onto the sidewalk of Main Street in Millfield, Texas. It was hotter than usual for an October morning, and the air felt heavy with humidity.

“I bet it’s gonna rain today,” Jackson commented as we neared the entrance of the café. “She’s done a really good job with this old building,” he added, gesturing to the brand new windows lining the old brick building. Millfield had the historic charm of most western towns, and Main Street was the central hub for the history, lined with old 1800s styled buildings.

“Good to see the space being used,” I agreed, thinking of how long this spot had been left empty with the ‘for lease’ sign hanging outside. Not many people moved here, but not many people left, either.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll stimulate the economy.” Jackson chuckled as he opened the door, the scent of baked goods and fresh coffee slamming into my nostrils like a freight train.

Holy shit.

“That smells amazing,” I groaned as I took a step in.

“I told ya.” He patted me on the shoulder as he followed me in. Both of us removed our cowboy hats, Jackson revealing his pale blonde hair while mine was nearly black—with a little gray these days. “It’s a sit anywhere kinda place,” he added as he led the way to a back booth.

I took in the little posh bakery, decorated in a very… non-western way. It made me feel as though I had walked into a hippy surf shop in California or something—and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“She’s a quirky lady,” Jackson remarked as if he had read my mind. “Just wait until you see her though. I’m not into older women, but she’s something else.”

I rolled my eyes. “I ain’t got enough fingers and toes to count the times you’ve said that about a woman.”

“Nah, I know. I mean, I wouldn’t ever go for her, but still. You get what I’m sayin’. And she’s real nice, too.”

“Are you trying to play matchmaker or something?” I snapped, growing annoyed. “Because you and I both know how well that works out.”

“It doesn’t because you never agree to any dates.” Jackson let out a sharp breath as he leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re a miserable human being—and I don’t know how you get elected year after year. You’re the biggest fuddy dud this town has to offer.”

I laughed, shaking my head at him as he sat there pouting like a damn kid. “Someone’s gotta be serious around here—and once you’re the parent of a teenager, you’ll understand.”

“Oof,” Jackson shuddered. “What’s Jess up to now?”

“She’s got some new friends that I don’t like,” I began, irritation brewing just at the thought of them. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders, but I don’t like—” I stopped mid-sentence as I caught sight of a woman appearing from the back room.

Holy…

Her honey-brown hair cascaded down her back, pulled out of her face with a loose low ponytail. Her petite frame was clad in an olive-green dress that went all the way to her ankles, dotted with some sort of little floral pattern. Whoever she was, she reminded me of some sort of gypsy, wearing some kind of fabric in her hair and silver bracelets and necklaces. And while she wore a loose-fitting dress of sorts, it sure as hell still teased at the curves beneath.

“That’s Emma,” Jackson said, his voice sounding distant in the moment.

I ripped my eyes from hers, suddenly aware that my lips were parted. Clearing my throat, I reached for a menu, ignoring the smirk on my deputy’s face. “Huh.”

“Told you she was something,” he chuckled, his eyes darting in her direction.

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