Page 10 of Surly Sheriff
Rae dropped her chin to her chest and stared into the shadowed footwell.
Time to go. Offload Beau’s backpack, place your foot on the pedal, and put Clearbrook behind you, her rational, Raegan-mind exhorted.
But there’s just something about the man,her long-suppressed whimsical heart countered.
And his name was Beauford. Beautiful fort.
A haven. Her haven?
No, no, no.
“Raegan!”
She jolted at Beau’s call and raised her head to look at him.
He stood with his arm around the overall-clad man’s shoulders. “Rae, this is my brother-in-law, Nate. And Nate, Rae was kind enough to stop and give me a lift into town.”
Nate fixed his eyes on her. “You picked up a stranger on the side of the road?” he admonished.
“Easy, brother.” Beau slapped his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I’ve had the talk with her already. But there was a dog involved. Extenuating circumstances.” He went on to explain the situation with the hound.
Nate’s eyes drifted from her to Beau and back again. “Great to meet you, Rae.”
“You, too, Nate.” Rae cleared her throat and looked at Beau. “I need to get back on the road—”
“Nonsense,” Beau interjected. “It’s already mid-afternoon, and I’d love you to meet Bella.” He moved around the vehicle and opened her door. “Then we’ll help you find a place to stay for the night and you can be on the road tomorrow, fresh as a daisy.” He grinned, holding out his hand. “Please.”
Shit.That disarming grin of his …
She placed her hand on his and her feet on the pavement. He tugged her upright. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Her tummy flip-flopped from his gruff voice, and her skin tingled where he still gripped her hand.
Go, Rae. Now!
But she ignored the dire warning and followed Beau into the shop.
It was chaotic inside. Painting paraphernalia littered the spacious area, and a series of bookshelves were pushed into a corner. “When is the shop opening?” she asked.
“Three days’ time,” Nate replied.
She gave the disarray a disbelieving look. “Three …days?”
Nate huffed. “Yep. Three days. Which is why Bella is having a meltdown.”
“Whereismy sister?” Beau asked.
“Office.” He pointed to the rear of the shop.
Beau moved, and because he still held her hand, she moved with him. They made their way past scattered drums and paint trays, two additional workmen busy folding drop sheets, and dozens of stacked cardboard boxes.
“Ah, hell,” Beau muttered as the wretched sobbing became audible. He released her hand and rushed through the doorway markedprivate.
Reluctant, yet unable not to do so, she walked in after him. He held a woman with a riot of brown curls in his arms, runninghis hands over her back, murmuring words of comfort. Giving them a modicum of privacy, Rae inspected the space. Yet more boxes crowded the already small room, and a worktop lined the far wall, bearing a large monitor displaying an accounting application, a laptop, a printer, a stack of paper, and a tower of plastic drawers.
It was an utter mess.
“Can’t figure … accounting … up the whack,” came from the crying woman. “What was I th-thinking, Beau?”
