Page 5 of Protected By the Single Dad Sheriff

"Emma," her father interrupts, "let Miss Isabella breathe. She's had a long day."

"It's okay," I assure him, arranging my dress as I slide into the seat. The absurdity of cramming a couture wedding gown into the back of a police cruiser isn't lost on me. "And to answer yourquestion, Emma, I've never played softball, but I'd like to learn someday."

This is apparently the right answer, because Emma immediately launches into a detailed explanation of positions and rules as her father starts the engine. I catch his eyes in the rearview mirror, and there's something like amused appreciation in his gaze.

"Sorry," he mouths silently.

I shake my head slightly, hoping he understands that I don't mind. The girl's enthusiasm is actually soothing, so refreshingly straightforward after months of navigating the treacherous waters of wedding planning and family expectations.

As we drive through the town, I notice charming storefronts with hand-painted signs, a gazebo in a small central park, and flowers blooming in window boxes. Cedar Falls looks like something from a travel magazine about idyllic American small towns—the kind of place where people know their neighbors and community events draw actual crowds.

"Have you lived here long?" I ask the sheriff, interrupting Emma's explanation of the infield fly rule.

"All my life," he answers, making a turn onto a tree-lined street. "Except for college and police academy."

"It's pretty," I say, meaning it. "Peaceful."

He glances at me in the mirror again. "Most days. Though it's not every Saturday we get a runaway bride."

My cheeks warm. "I'm sorry to cause a disruption."

"Don't be," he says, and there's something in his tone that makes me look up and meet his eyes. "Sometimes disruptions are necessary."

The simple statement lands like a weight in my chest. That's exactly what today was—a necessary disruption. A breaking point after years of bending myself into shapes that pleased everyone but me.

We pull up in front of a cheerful building with a playground visible around the side. A sign reads "Cedar Falls Community Center - After School Program."

"I'll just be a minute," the sheriff says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Emma, stay with Miss Isabella, please."

"Okay, Dad," she agrees readily, then turns to me. "Sophie has a tummy ache. She gets them when she's worried."

"What's she worried about?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Emma shrugs. "Dad working too much. Me forgetting to play with her. Monsters under her bed. Regular five-year-old stuff."

There's something so adult about her assessment that it makes my heart twist. I recognize that protective older sibling tone. I've heard it in my own voice when talking about my younger brother, before he went off to boarding school and came back a stranger.

"It's nice that she has you looking out for her," I tell Emma.

She beams at me. "Dad says I'm the best deputy he's got."

Through the windshield, I watch Sheriff Reynolds emerge from the building holding the hand of a tiny girl with blonde pigtails and a pink backpack nearly as big as she is. She's dragging her feet slightly, but when she spots the police car, she perks up and points excitedly. I can see the sheriff bending down, explaining something to her—probably the unexpected wedding dress-clad passenger in their car.

Sophie's face transforms with wonder, and she practically drags her father toward the cruiser now, bouncing with each step.

When the door opens, she stares at me with huge blue eyes, momentarily speechless.

"Sophie," the sheriff says gently, "this is Miss Isabella. She's going to come with us for a little while."

"Are you getting married?" Sophie asks, climbing into the car and immediately crawling across her sister to get closer to me.

"Sophie!" Emma hisses. "Don't be rude."

"Not today," I answer honestly, something about this child's directness making it impossible to offer platitudes. "I was supposed to, but I changed my mind."

Sophie considers this seriously. "Like when I wanted chocolate ice cream but then I saw they had rainbow sprinkles for vanilla and I changed my mind?"

A startled laugh escapes me. "Something like that, yes."

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