Something About a Sheriff (Wild West Book 2) Read online

  Lurking around ready to attack Cecily.

  She threw a look at the closed door that would be her massage room. It was empty, the bed being delivered—

  A knock on the door raised her head. Beyond the shattered windowpane was a muscled man. For a second, her heart jerked, crushing hard against her ribs. Then she realized she wasn’t looking at Sheriff Roshannon but a deliveryman.

  God, could there be any worse timing?

  “Come quick,” she said into the phone and ended the call.

  She swiped her hands over her hot cheeks and walked to the door. Funny how the criminal had bothered to close the door when they left. Fuck.

  The deliveryman took one look at her face and blinked. Looking beyond her, his eyes widened. “What happened here?”

  “Freak earthquake,” she said sarcastically.

  He cocked his head as if pondering this possibility. Obviously, he hadn’t been hired on his brain power.

  “I’m kidding—I was robbed.”

  “Holy crap. Did a lot of damage, didn’t they?”

  “And stole my money.” Tears threatened again, and she fought them back with a deep inhalation of fucking calm and an aura of peace. “I assume you’re here to delivery my things.”

  He nodded. “Is there a place to put them that isn’t covered in glass?”

  “Yes, there’s a back door. You can park around back and come in that way. Put the massage table and chairs in that room.” She pointed to the door she still hadn’t bothered to investigate. Whoever had done this hadn’t stuck around to be caught, and the massage room was empty with nothing to steal.

  “I have a helper in the truck, so we’ll be finished quickly and get out of your hair.”

  She nodded, brain vacant. Devoid of anything but shock.

  Where the hell was the sheriff anyway? What was he doing on a Friday afternoon that would keep him from investigating a real crime right under his nose?

  Five minutes later the deliveries were deposited in the massage room and Cecily was faced with not having any cash to give the drivers as tips.

  “It’s okay, ma’am. We get paid for doing our jobs,” one said.

  Tears choked her throat as she nodded. She saw them out the back and bolted the door. When she came back into her shop, the deputy was standing there looking around at the destruction.

  * * * * *

  The scent of his momma’s homemade dinner rolls had Judd’s stomach gnawing like a wolf on a bone. He reached around her and plucked a buttery roll from the baking pan.

  A gasp escaped her as she whirled, the scolding dying on her lips as she saw who was in her kitchen. She threw her arms around him as he fielded the hot roll in one palm. “Judd, you naughty man, when did you get in?”

  “Couple hours ago. Been helpin’ Pa.”

  She planted a kiss on his cheek and then wrinkled her nose. “You need a shave. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Mom, that’s a thing of the past. All guys have beards these days.” He scuffed a hand over his jawline, which was only dusted with stubble. Last time he’d grown a full beard had been after Cassie left and he’d stopped giving a shit about things like shaving.

  “Well, Roshannon boys should be cleanshaven. You’re going to burn your mouth on that roll.”

  He bit into it anyway, and steam rose from the dough. He groaned in ecstasy. “Is Aiden here yet?”

  “He and Amaryllis got here an hour ago. We didn’t expect you until evening.”

  “Not sure I can stay. Lots of work to do.”

  “Let your deputies do their jobs for once.”

  “Now you sound like Aiden.”

  “Smart boy, that one.” She smiled, face creasing with her happiness to have them home.

  “And Wes?”

  “Says he can’t make it.” Her eyes clouded. “He’s in some back country chasing a man who’s wanted for murder.”

  “He’ll be fine, Mom. Always is.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder anyway.

  “He’s been running with a biker gang too.”

  “Who is?” Aiden said from the doorway before Judd could ask.

  Judd and his mother turned to see Aiden and Amaryllis. Both looked happier than they’d been on their wedding day, a far cry from what he’d had with Cassie.

  “Your cousin’s been hanging out with a biker gang. One of those groups that rides together and causes all the traffic hazards.” Their momma took out a basket for the rolls. If they made it that far before Judd ate them.

  He stuffed the rest of the roll in his mouth as Aiden said, “Biker gangs aren’t all bad, Mom. Some of them do rides for charities.”

  “I don’t trust them. Wes’s mother was with one last time I set eyes on her, and I’ve never heard from her since.” She compressed her lips.

  Judd slung his arm over her shoulders. “Wes will be fine. Do you think we could have an early dinner?”

  “Oh, you. Never could hold off that growling stomach of yours.” She slapped him. “You know I have that sauerbraten ready, don’t you? Always could smell it from a mile away.”

  He grinned and snagged another roll.

  She batted his shoulder but beamed when he bit off a huge bite. She always liked her boys well-fed, and he, Aiden and Wes were glad to oblige.

  “All right, we’ll make it a big lunch. Let me get started on the potatoes.”

  “I’ll help.” Amaryllis stepped up.

  Judd tried not to look at his brother’s wife for too long, but she was a beauty. Curves for miles and long blonde hair. A sharp tongue only made her more desirable, and Judd knew Aiden had gotten a much better deal than he had with Cassie. Aiden and Amaryllis had staying power.

  All Judd had was very little money left over from a lucky investment in an oil well and flat molars from grinding them so much these past two years since his ex had left. At least she hadn’t taken the dog. Echo was outside somewhere, running the ranch with the other dogs, as happy as a goose in water.

  Half an hour later, they were all settled at the table, a big platter of sauerbraten before them, along with all the fixin’s of mashed potatoes and gravy, a leafy salad with fresh homemade dressing and those rolls that couldn’t seem to fill the hollow of hunger inside Judd. He hadn’t had food this good in too long, which meant he should visit Eagle Crest more often.

  Their pa sliced the wine-soaked beef and passed the platter.

  “So what did you want us here to talk about?” Judd asked between bites.

  His pa sat at the head of the table, looking wary as his momma spoke up.

  “You getting a wife,” she blurted.

  Judd choked on the water he was swallowing. “What?”

  “Or at least a girlfriend. I love having Amaryllis around, and I didn’t realize how much I missed having other women folk in this family until Aiden brought her home.” She beamed at Amaryllis, who smiled back.

  Aiden squeezed his wife and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “I’m not in the market for a girlfriend, Mom. And it’s not that easy to find one. You can’t just go out and find your soul mate.”

  She flapped a hand at him. “Don’t believe all that crap about soul mates. Your father and I fought like crazy the first six months we knew each other. If you’d asked me then, I would have said I’d never marry a man like your pa, and now look at us.”

  She grinned at their father, who shook his head at her words but dropped her a private wink.

  “So, I’m supposed to find someone to fight with.”

  “Worked for me and Amaryllis,” Aiden said, earning an I-told-you-so grin from their momma.

  Judd sat back and stared at them each. “I don’t want a girlfriend or wife. I’m happy as I am.”

  “Happy coming home to an empty house. Working yourself to death.” Their mother eyed him.

  “Look, worry about Wes. I’m doing fine.”

  “I’ll worry plenty about Wes, but it’s you I’m talking about right now.”


  His phone vibrated in his front pocket, and he dug it out.

  “Don’t take that call at my table, Judd Roshannon. You know the rules,” his mother warned.

  Judd pressed the button to take the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Roshannon.”

  “It’s Troyer. I’m on my way to a break-in.”

  Judd pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently the Bracken revelry was moving beyond misdemeanors this year right into felonies. “Where at?”

  “The new shop on the corner. Got a call from Cecily Baker a bit ago.”

  Judd went still at the name even as his chest burned with something he didn’t want to contemplate and had nothing to do with his momma’s good cooking. “Seriously? What the fuck?”

  “Language!” His mother plastered her hands to her ears.

  Ignoring her—and Aiden’s grin—Judd went on. “Who would break into a shop that hasn’t even opened yet?”

  Being a special investigator, Amaryllis’s ears perked up, and Aiden raised his brows. The entire family was filled with crime junkies. From an early age, they’d begun sleuthing and he, Aiden and Wes had even started a detective club back in the old days. More often than not, they came up with false leads and got distracted by hunting or fishing, but the crime bug had bitten them early on.

  “I’m headed there now. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “No!” His momma half-rose from her seat. Judd felt bad leaving so soon, but he couldn’t sit around enjoying a meal knowing someone in his town was dealing with a crime like that.

  Aiden rested a hand on Judd’s forearm. “Let Troyer handle it.”

  He shook him off. How to voice that he couldn’t bear the thought of Cecily at the center of this mess? Hell, he could picture her big green eyes filled with tears right now. His chest tightened so much, he felt like someone had strapped a bungee cord around it.

  “Cassie never would have stood for you walking out on a family dinner.”

  There it was—the bomb drop.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his father’s head shake. Judd stared at his momma. “Don’t say her name to me.”

  His mother narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s time you break free of that woman and live your life. If bringing up her name is the only way to get a rise out of you so you can move past it—”

  “I’m past it. Over her. The woman is dead to me, and I don’t think anything of the fat amount that comes out of my bank account monthly. She left me for another man and took half of all the holdings I had from the oil money. The beer distributor, the gun shop, the winery. All I have is half a share in the Slug and Chug, and it only means free beer most of the time, because the overhead’s so high. But I’m good with that because at least I’m quit of that horrible cheating, lying, conniving woman.”

  Apparently he had more venom stored up than he’d guessed.

  “Judd, honey, you don’t know that she cheated on you. You’re right that she was wrong in leaving—”

  The urge to flip the table over and dump the contents out of sheer anger and frustration burned like a bright, hot firework shooting through his psyche, but he managed to hold back. Besides, it would be a shame to waste that good sauerbraten.

  He fisted his hands. “Oh, she cheated on me, Mom. Not only with the lawyer, either. She let so many men plow that dirty twat of hers that I had to go get checked for diseases.”

  A shocked gasp from his momma was drowned by a chuckle from behind. Judd spun to see Wes in the doorway of the dining room, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm and sporting jeans and a black leather jacket.

  Good—at least Judd was out of the spotlight and could make his escape. Bracken needed him.

  A little green-eyed shop owner needed him.

  “Thanks for showing up at the best possible time, Wes, but I’m leavin’.” Judd smacked his cousin on the back, genuinely sorry not to spend time talking him and saddened he wasn’t sticking around for Aiden or even Amaryllis. But this whole Judd-needs-a-girlfriend, bring-up-Judd’s-nasty-divorce dinner was finished.

  Wes cocked a brow and Judd bro-hugged him. “Catch you all later. Pa, Aiden, Amaryllis.” He looked into his mother’s eyes. Remorse shined there. He rounded the table to drop a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  Once he was out on the porch, he shouted for Echo, receiving the resounding happy bark. In minutes, they were on the road home, the Wyoming countryside rolling before them, mountains jagged in the skyline. And Judd’s mind far from easy.

  Chapter Three

  Cecily answered all the deputy’s questions in a fog. Barely registering what he was saying. Her gaze kept drifting to the glass remnants on the floor, glinting in the sunshine pouring through the front windows.

  Those shelves had been costly, she’d lost a lot of inventory. And the window would need fixed. She’d never considered a place like Bracken would have a high crime rate or that she needed some major security system in place, but how wrong she’d been.

  Deputy Troyer was a big teddy bear of a man with kind brown eyes and a thick beard. He stared at her with a sorrowful expression. “I’m really sorry again, Ms. Baker. It isn’t much of a welcome to Bracken, is it?”

  With the effort of Wonder Woman taking out Aries, she choked down her emotion.

  “You’re really upset.” Big arms caught her against a broad chest, and Troyer crushed her to his uniform shirt. He smelled like body spray and an underlying spice of wood shavings, like the Slug and Chug. Had he been grabbing a bite to eat when her call had come in?

  “I need to get started. So much to clean up. I’ll start with the shelves and get the glass up, and jeez, I don’t even have half my supplies unpacked. Do I start there so I can use the empty boxes to—”

  He flexed his arms around her and she had no strength to pull away.

  When a strong male voice cleared behind them, Troyer let her go and they broke apart. Cecily took one look at Sheriff Roshannon standing in her ruined space and those tears she’d battled away for the past half hour didn’t just surface—they spurted from her eyes.

  What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she be strong around the sheriff too? Suddenly, she was like a raw nerve ending, unable to suck it up and stand tall in the face of trouble. She wasn’t this woman at all. She’d picked up and left the last town without looking back. Never for one minute had she believed there was anything she couldn’t do.

  Except stop crying in front of Sheriff Roshannon.

  His mouth was grim, his eyes dark as he looked at her.

  Somehow it was like someone holding up a mirror to her crushed hopes and dreams, and all she saw was a single woman alone in the world, trying to make her way without friends.

  And now with dwindling funds while she waited for the renter’s insurance to come through. That could be weeks.

  She gulped back a sob.

  Roshannon stepped forward, his features a mask. The man could be thinking of football scores for all she knew by looking at him. “I’ll hear your report when I get to the office, Troyer. Thank you.”

  Troyer blinked, and Cecily glanced at the big man. “Thanks for everything,” she said hoarsely.

  She swore she heard Roshannon’s jaw creak.

  “You’re welcome, Cecily. I’ll come by later and make sure your door’s fixed.”

  “I’ll do it.” Sheriff Roshannon’s tone wasn’t one to be argued with.

  Troyer shot his boss a long look before taking his leave. She watched him go, wondering if the sheriff treated his deputies this way all the time.

  “Cecily.” Roshannon’s rough voice was sandpaper across her raw senses, and she was helpless against her onslaught of tears.

  She dashed away the waterworks. “So dumb. It’s just stuff. I don’t know why I’m crying like a big baby.”

  He rested a hand on her forearm. Warm, callused fingers wrapped the whole way around her arm as he looked down into her eyes. “Bec
ause you’ve been violated.”

  That broke her. She quivered at the wave of emotion that washed over her. “To think I was upstairs sleeping away while someone was down here smashing everything!” If only she could actually sleep without the headphones, she would have heard the ruckus.

  Roshannon tightened his grip on her arm and she tipped her head back to look at him. He winced—probably because her eyes were as bloodshot as a drunk pig’s. And her face had to be blotchy with redness and her nose snotty.

  She rubbed at it helplessly and felt a big cotton cloth pressed into her hand.

  “Blow. I’ll get you a drink. Do you have anything upstairs?”

  She shook her head. “Just tap water.”

  “I’ve got a bottle of water in my truck. Be right back.” She watched him walk out of her shop, her crazy mind latching onto the tight muscles of his backside rather than what was going on around her.

  She was losing her ever-lovin’ mind.

  When he returned, he carried a water. She’d blown her nose and wadded the hanky and stuffed it into her back pocket. “Here, drink.” He held out the water and she uncapped it. Then he opened his palm to reveal two little white pills. “Something for that headache I know you have.”

  She took the pills with a murmured thank-you and swallowed them. She felt marginally better from the self-care and was able to meet his eyes without wanting to bawl all over again.

  “Good. Now do you have a broom somewhere?”

  “Hanging behind that door.” She pointed.

  He crossed the room, his boot heels thudding on the hardwood. She watched him for a long minute as he began to sweep the glass into a pile in the middle of the room.

  “You don’t need to dust for prints or anything?” she asked.

  He looked up, his gaze steady under the brim of his hat. “Not from these tiny shards. I’ll dust the bigger pieces. But there aren’t many of those, are there? Someone wanted to erase the evidence. You didn’t hear a thing?”

  She shook her head.

  “You either have a very soundproof apartment space above this shop or you’re a heavy sleeper.”

  She gave a quiet moan of regret. “I don’t sleep well and I put on whale music and headphones.”