Page 18 of Seducing the Sheriff
Since Cash had mentioned that the fire chief’s boyfriend might give me some advice about raising sheep, it couldn’t hurt to see whether they carried looms or other accessories I might need. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, but I had to admit it felt good to be getting to know this little town. I smiled.
My little town now.
As I shut off the engine, I drew my eyebrows together, squinching up my nose as if those actions might jar my brain cells loose and help me remember the names of the chief and rancher. I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I could sit in my truck for the rest of my life and never recall them.
I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that I was terrible with names. Living such an insular life hadn’t done me any favors. However, tomorrow was another day, and walking into a Charming business and talking to new people was enough of a victory for now.
After shutting the driver’s side door, I made my way around the front of the truck, my eyes fastened on the front of the shop, reminding myself that it was a wonderful thing to meet people. Sure, the diner had been different, but busy places like that weren’t interested in chatting. They had tasks and many customers to attend to. The Crafty Coyote didn’t appear as if customers were lining up outside the door, so I suspected there would be a clerk wanting to strike up a conversation.
No big deal, dude. You’ll be dropping by here without a second thought in no time.
The moment I stepped onto the curb and was in forward motion, I was hit so hard the wind was knocked out of me, and I landed with an oomph on the sidewalk. The cop who’d been at my house the other night went racing past me with a whoosh, and I realized that a fleeing suspect had crashed into me and bowled me over.
I sat up, still a little shell-shocked, and surveyed the damage. I’d stopped myself from faceplanting by throwing my palms out in front of me. But as a result, they were now pretty scraped up. Not exactly great for someone who worked with their hands.
“Greg! Oh God, are you hurt? Let me help you up.”
I groaned, too embarrassed to meet the gaze of Cash, who had one large, strong hand wrapped around my bicep and the other at my waist. I was doing my best to act dignified, but I was so busy trying not to press my body against him as I rose that any hope of dignity had been replaced by gawkiness.
I stumbled a bit, almost lost my balance again, then was forced to allow Cash to give me a steadying hand at the small of my back.
“T-thanks.” I laughed shakily. “That guy came from out of nowhere.”
Cash regarded me with concern, his gaze roaming my body in a way that made me want to blush, but was likely only concern over whether I was injured.
“Yeah, this isn’t the first time he’s been caught lifting merchandise at Trailhead Threads, and I think he knows the county judge won’t be as lenient this time.”
“Oh. I guess that’s why it seemed like he was running on an Olympic track.”
I absentmindedly rubbed my palms together to wipe away the dirt and cried out. It was more like a yelp, but either way, both painful and embarrassing.
Cash gasped and grabbed my wrists. “Damn. You did hurt yourself. Come with me. Malloy can take care of our perp. If he doesn’t catch him now, we’ll have him soon enough. He doesn’t drive and lives with his mom a half-mile or so from here.” He regarded me with a frown. “The station is a little over a block. Can you walk it? I don’t know if you’re hurt anywhere else.”
I half expected him to offer to carry me. “No, I’m fine. I promise.” I winced as I stared down at my raw palms. “Guess I won’t be doing much hammering and sawing today, though.”
Cash scratched his head right under his hat, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s at least get that washed up and bandaged.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Unless you want to go to Urgent Care and have them do a pro job.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m sure once I wash up and put some peroxide on it, I’ll be fine.”
Cash nodded with a small smile. “All right. Let’s get you taken care of, then maybe we can grab a cup of?—”
Cash’s shoulder mic crackled to life, and a garbled voice cut through. I couldn’t grasp how these officers could interpret what sounded to me like static from another universe combined with a language from a fantasy realm.
Cash’s shoulders dropped after he mumbled something into the mic. “I’m sorry, Greg. Dispatch called to say that Malloy is with the shoplifting suspect, and now there’s a loose cow on Highway 29. State police are meeting me over there, so I have to run.”
“Of course, I understand.” I worked extra hard not to sound disappointed. “We’re still getting together on Wednesday, right?”
Ooh… Perhaps a tad too desperate?
I was treated to a grin, Cash’s warm smile enough to melt the rest of the paint off the old police station.
“I’m looking forward to it, Greg.” He pointed at my hands. “But promise me you’ll take care of that? Rosie can fix you up at the station. She’s been dying to meet you.”
I blinked several times. “Meet me? Why?”
Cash whispered conspiratorially. “Not only are you the new guy in town, but you’re the one who had a dead body in his closet.” He shrugged. “How can she keep up her sterling reputation as town gossip without getting inside info?”
Oh boy. “Do I have to?”
