Page 32 of Kissing the Sheriff
“It doesn’t matter,” Conrad said with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind returning here and trying again. With another basket of food, of course.”
Cassie slowly nodded, afraid to say a word lest she might say something she shouldn’t. Like,I’m having a wonderful time,orI’d love to do this again.In truth she would, but she was also terrified to.
* * *
Conrad triedto concentrate on fishing, but it was hard with Cassie sitting next to him. This wasn’t a rich heiress or a woman of impeccable breeding and refinement. This was a lady sheriff who was supposedly a crack shot. He still wanted to see how good she was, but part of him was afraid she would outshoot him and then some. He wasn’t bad, mind, but the only shooting he’d done back home was for hunting, and that seasonally. He hadn’t picked up a gun in months. Certainly not a six-shooter.
He sat and tugged at his line. Nothing. So far, none of them had had any luck. Billy didn’t mind – he recast his line every now and then, sat and hummed or plucked grass and made little piles with it. Cassie stared at the creek, looking peaceful. Anyone could see she liked it here, and he was glad it brought her comfort for a little while.
“We should head back soon,” he said softly. “Before it starts getting dark.”
“I know.” She looked at him and smiled. “Thank you for fishing with us.”
“Am I but an escort?” He picked at the grass and started a pile like Billy’s.
“Of course not,” she said. “It’s just nice being here with the two of you.”
Conrad’s eyes flicked to Billy. “He’s awful quiet.”
“He usually is when he’s fishing. Take the pole away, and he returns to being a chatterbox.”
“Must be the peace and quiet. It’s nice here. I’m glad I came along.” He took in her pretty face, auburn hair, and blue eyes. Put her in a ball gown, style her hair in the latest fashion, and she’d have a dance card filled in no time. Every bachelor in attendance would be vying for her attention.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked.
“You.” He might as well be truthful. “I was just picturing you in a pretty dress, dancing.”
She blushed as her eyes widened. “What for?”
“Why not?”
Her hand went to her chest. “Well, that’s not something you outright tell someone.”
“Would you rather I kept it to myself? Thereisa dance coming up. But that’s not what I was thinking.”
Her jaw dropped. “Then what were you thinking?”
He sat up. “We have balls in England. Grand affairs filled with fancy gowns, evening wear, and ‘marriage-minded mamas,’ as we like to call them.”
“Does everyone attend them?”
“It depends on where you live. There are also country dances and festivals. But in the larger towns, there are more sophisticated parties.”
“I see. And you’ve been to these?”
“Oh, yes, many.” He cast his line and got to his feet. “I was picturing you at one of them.”
“I see,” she drawled. “Well, what did my dress look like?”
He sat again and smiled at her. “Blue. Not a royal blue, but vibrant. And layers, lots of layers.”
“Of what?” she asked with a laugh.
“The skirt, of course. Not the bodice – oh, heavens, no. You’d look like … well, never mind.” He snorted.
“Like a buffalo!” Billy blurted.
Cassie gasped. “Billy!”
