Page 17 of Seducing the Sheriff
“Well,” I began, “Outdoor activities. Primarily hiking, but I used to do some river-rafting back in Wyoming.”
Cash finished a sip of his tea. “That’s where you’re from, right?”
“Yeah. Cheyenne. Grew up there.” I tapped my fingers on the side of my mug. “But I love traveling, love the history of old places, so staying in one spot started to eat at me after a while.”
Cash’s features fell. “Oh. I take it this is only a temporary stop for you, then.”
I bit my bottom lip. “No, not at all. I’m almost forty, so I figured it was time to pick a place and settle down. I prefer the desert, but Cheyenne holds too many memories. Not terrible ones, but I’m ready to put down roots, start over. That kind of thing.”
Was I even making sense? I took too big a swallow of my still scorching tea and tried not to choke.
“How did you end up picking Charming Butte?”
“Honestly, I did a search on Southwestern properties that had at least five acres. The other thing I’d like to do is raise sheep. Since I’m not reselling houses anymore, I’m going to have to figure out something different to do. I’ve done some weaving to pass the time and really enjoy it.” I chuckled. “Aunt Bonnie got me started. She was worried about me never being in one spot, no buddies, no boyfriends. She figured if I kept my hands busy, I wouldn’t end up getting drunk in bars every night.”
My gut clenched the moment Cash’s eyebrows shot up. What the actual fuck was wrong with me? Had I lost my ever-loving mind? Blurting that I’m gay to a small-town sheriff. Genius move, Greg.
This was why I shouldn’t be allowed around other members of the human race.
Cash unhooked his leg and put both feet back on the floor. This was it. He was getting ready to make his escape after my startling revelation.
He held my gaze, and I braced myself for whatever judgments he might make. “Yeah, it can be hard being gay in a small town. I was a bit worried about that myself when I moved here. I wasn’t sure if I’d be the only gay person in Charming, or what the attitudes might be like.
Cash smiled. “Almost immediately, I met Fire Chief Meyer Jones and discovered he’s in a relationship with a rancher. Maybe Dex could give you some advice about sheep farming. Not sure if that’s his thing or not, but perhaps he could point you in the right direction.”
After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I tried to come up with a semi-coherent response. Jumping up and shouting, ‘Oh my God, you’re gay!’ seemed a bit over the top.
“Oh. Okay. Sounds like a good idea.”
I inwardly groaned. Hopeless was clearly my middle name when it came to conversation.
“Great.” Cash rose from his chair and handed me his mug. “I should get going, but if you’re still up for Wednesday, I can come by and get you. Did you want to grab breakfast before we leave town?”
I sure as hell did. It could be our new tradition. Seriously, Greg. Stop.
“Yeah, that works. Eight too early?”
Cash let out a light laugh. “Hardly. I’m a morning guy.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
Twinsies for sure.
The next morning, it was back to business as usual. I had a couple of days before my… excursion with Cash, and I wanted to get as much work in as possible. In truth, I was stymied when it came to the closet and that area around it. As if the house wasn’t run down enough, the poor thing had been viciously attacked by the investigators.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Of course, if I located the original blueprints or other renovation record, it might be a good idea to hold off. There was still plenty to be done on the outside. The small post barn could use a lot of help. And I wanted to expand the deck in the back so I could enjoy the view beyond the boulder outcroppings next to the house.
With a sigh, I pulled onto Charming Butte’s Main Street, forcing myself not to search for where the police station was. I hadn’t noticed it the last time I was in town, but then again, I hadn’t been looking.
There it is.
It was on the corner of the commercial section of Main Street as I turned right off the highway into town. The small wooden building had seen better days, and the peeling sage green paint seemed to have surrendered to the unrelenting desert heat.
I forced myself to concentrate on anything other than the nice sheriff who I’d be hanging out with a couple of days from now. The handsome, gay sheriff who wanted to spend his day off with me. With me.
No, I needed to think about other things for now. Starting a friendship was difficult enough, a huge enough challenge. Letting my thoughts wander in any other direction held the potential for disaster. I’d just arrived, dammit. I didn’t need to start alienating everyone if I somehow fucked things up with Cash.
As I rubbed the back of my hand across my mouth, I spotted a sign above a retail space across from the bike shop that was near Destiny’s Flying Saucer coffee shop. Squinting my eyes, I could barely make out the name, The Crafty Coyote. An empty parking spot right in front of the store beckoned to me, and I impulsively steered my truck into it.
