Page 12 of The Sheriff & the Nurse

They walked into the house, and he nudged the door closed with his elbow. “Don’t want to mess up any fingerprints if the intruder left them.”

She nodded, not looking at the poster. “Would you like a drink of water?”

“Sure.” He took off his hat and gripped it in his hands, ruffling his dark hair. “Shall we sit at the table? You can face the front door and not look at the poster.”

“Thank you.”

He was considerate. She knew that. Would he allow her to skirt his questions about the man and the ‘gross’ comment she’d let out? She doubted it. Considerate or not, Clint would want the truth. Maybe it was time to confide in the sheriff, a Coleville brother, the longing of her heart. Oh boy. If only she could confide in Daisy about how cheesy her thoughts were, but Lily rarely confided in anyone.

Retrieving two glasses, she filled them with ice and water from the fridge. Clint stood and watched her. This alpha male hero was in her home, filling up the kitchen with his broad shoulders and commanding presence. It was unnerving and thrilling at the same time.

She couldn’t stop her hand from trembling as she turned to him and handed over the glass. Their fingers brushed, and tendrils of desire coursed through her at the simple touch.

“Appreciate ya,” Clint said in that deep cowboy drawl she couldn’t get enough of. He set his cup on the table and pulled out a chair for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, settling into it. She took a long drink of the ice water to cool the heat in her face and keep herself from staring at him. He pulled out his own chair, angled it toward her, and lowered his impressive six-four frame into it.

He set his hat on the table, also took a drink, and then said, “Do you want to tell me who put that poster up there and threatened you and Miles?”

She straightened in the chair. What to say?

“He wasn’t threatening Miles,” she admitted, unless the poster had been there yesterday before the media had exploded with news of Miles and Eva Chevron.

“That’s good.” He swallowed and his gaze became conflicted. “Do you have another … boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Who do you think he was threatening, then?”

Long seconds ticked past as he studied her. If only she could keep hiding this nightmare and didn’t have to admit that she’d lied and claimed they were engaged.

“You,” she finally squeaked out.

“Me?” His gaze became piercing. “Why would somebody threaten me … in relation to you?”

Lily sighed and rubbed at the condensation on the glass. “There’s this doctor at the hospital who …” She paused, not sure how to phrase it and wondering what made her think Clint would accept only a portion of the story. “He wants me to date him,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I used Miles as an excuse for years.”

“You used Miles?” he repeated. His eyes said he wanted to know why she’d expressed it that way.

She had no idea how to respond, so she told a little bit of the story, leaving out the ‘threats’ from Dr. Hampshire to Grandma. “He’s been after me since he came to Kalispell five years ago. Today he cornered me by my car after work. With all the media coming out about Miles and Eva, he knew Miles and I weren’t together any longer. I … I didn’t know what to do. He refuses to take no for an answer. We have this unsettling relationship where he … hits on me but never pushes too far because of my Navy SEAL boyfriend. When I lost that advantage, I knew I needed an imposing man to keep him away.” She swallowed. “So I lied and told him I was engaged … to you.”

Clint’s blue gaze grew smoldering. He leaned toward her. “Lily.” His voice was husky, deep, and electrifying. He gently touched her hand where it rested in her lap. Warm tremors raced up her arm. The look in his eyes was as meaningful as his voice and tender touch.

A rap came on the front door. Clint drew back and stood, crossing to the front door, one hand resting on his pistol. Just watching him move was mesmerizing.

“Sheriff?” Mark called from outside.

Clint carefully used the bottom of his T-shirt to open the door. She gaped at the ridged muscular abdomen he displayed. He glanced at her and caught her staring.

“Fingerprints,” he said, stepping back from the door and letting his shirt fall back into place.

Her face flared with heat.

Mark eased in. “Lily.” He nodded to her and pushed the door closed with his elbow. He looked to Clint. “I didn’t find anyone, but there were some fresh tracks leading from her steps through the trees and clear to the outer fence. I found tire tracks—seventeen-inch wheel, thick tread, most likely a small SUV, Jeep, or a pansy-man’s truck.”

“Pardon me,” Lily couldn’t help but interrupt. “What is a pansy-man’s truck?”

“A sorry excuse for a truck,” Mark clarified, smiling at her. “You know, like a Tacoma or a Ranger. It’s only driven to claim the guy is driving a ‘truck’; it can’t tow anything or take a load or make it up a mountain in the snow or the mud.”

---