Page 24 of The Sheriff & the Nurse

“Thank you.” She wasn’t going to be the first one to let down her guard and tell him what she was feeling. Not this time.

You … me … it’s a no.

She couldn’t handle hearing that again.

She turned the eggs off. “Dish up.”

“Ladies first.”

She nodded and hurried to fill her plate and a cup with juice. She settled onto a barstool and he sat next to her. He offered a prayer, and they started eating. It was a little easier not to stare at him—she could stare at the gorgeous view instead—but his elbow brushed hers.

“Did Aiden Porter or Mark find anything?” she asked to distract herself.

“It might be days before we know anything on the fingerprints.”

“He did find some? That’s good news, right?”

“Yes, he found some on the fence like he hoped. Which leads us to believe the perp isn’t quite as smart or thorough as we feared and makes me even more suspicious that it’s not the doctor.”

“Why?” She took a bite of eggs and looked at him.

“Dr. Hampshire is ‘brilliant’ in your words. Do you think he’d forget to wear gloves climbing over a vinyl fence and leave prints all over?”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Maybe he believes he’s too smart and a county sheriff won’t catch him.” His blue gaze radiated confidence. Lily was grateful he was on her side. “The other problem is often there isn’t a match for fingerprints as not everyone is in the database. Many people have never had their fingerprints taken.”

“Okay.” She drank some juice. “What about Aiden checking into Dr. Hampshire?”

“He’s coming up clean so far, but if anyone can find something, it’s Aiden’s people.”

They finished eating and cleaned up together. Passing Clint in his kitchen, him smiling every time she looked at him, messed with her mind.

Lily loaded the last dish in the dishwasher, washed her hands, dried them, and turned to face him, leaning against the sink near the dishwasher. Clint finished wiping down the counter and stovetop and then walked toward her. Her eyes widened as he came right into her space.

“Pardon me. Needed to rinse out the dish towel.”

“Oh!” She sidestepped and he smiled.

He rinsed out the towel and hung it up, rinsed his hands and turned to her.

“You don’t mind taking me to the ranch?” she asked.

“I thought we agreed I’m staying with you at the ranch.”

She drew in a breath, debating whether to protest.

He eased closer and rested his hand on the counter next to her hip. “If this perp is after you and wanting to slit my throat,” he grinned as if that were a joke, “being together will keep you safe and might draw him out.”

“Please don’t talk about somebody slitting your throat.” She put a hand to her own throat.

His gaze dipped to her hand and back to her eyes. “That bothers you?”

“Of course it does.”

“Why?”

She was tempted to explain all the reasons someone slitting his throat bothered her, but she settled for, “We’ve been friends since we were toddlers. It would more than ‘bother’ me if someone hurt or especially killed you.”

---