The Sheriff of Shelter Valley. Tara Quinn Taylor
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don’t you tell me the real reason you’re so hesitant to be seen with me,” he said.
She didn’t. But he had a pretty good idea that she wanted to. Her eyes were telling him so much, frustrating him because, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t translate those messages.
She’d mentioned gossip. “You’re worried that they’re going to see us together once and start planning the wedding.”
“I might worry about it if I believed for one second that anyone would think I was good enough for you.”
“Bonnie’s been trying to hook us up for two months.”
“No way!”
“Yes, way. She’s invited you to dinner every Sunday for the past five weeks.”
“So?”
“I was invited, too.”
“Cweam?”
“Just a minute, Ry,” Beth said softly, kissing the top of the boy’s curly head.
“That’s just a coincidence,” she told Greg, adjusting her son on her hip. Ryan slid a finger into his mouth.
Katie would’ve been crying by now, demanding ice cream. Beth’s son didn’t seem to demand much at all. Something he had in common with his mother.
“Trust me, there are no coincidences with my sister,” Greg told her, prepared to stay there arguing the point all night if necessary. “And she wouldn’t leave something as important as this to chance, anyway. She’s not the least bit subtle or embarrassed about how adamant she is to change my marital status. Nor has she been subtle about telling me what a fool I’d be if I let you get away—I’d be missing my chance of a lifetime.” He mimicked the little sister he adored.
“So you’re doing this for her.”
Greg took more hope from the disappointment he heard in her voice than any other thing she’d said or done since he’d met her.
“No.”
He had no idea what had tied Beth Allen up in knots so tight they were choking her, but it bothered the hell out of him. She shouldn’t have to fight this hard all the time.
“I noticed you before Bonnie said a word,” he said, telling her something he would normally have kept to himself. “In fact, I’d already tried to get you to go out with me before she told me there was someone I ‘just had to meet.’”
“Oh.”
“Cweam?” Ryan said around the finger in his mouth.
Greg’s eyes met Beth’s and that strange thing happened between them again. As though something inside her were conversing with something inside him….
“Not tonight, Ry,” she finally said, breaking eye contact with Greg.
But she hadn’t looked away fast enough. He’d seen the pain in her eyes as she’d turned him down. It was the most encouraging rejection he’d had yet.
“Another time, then,” he murmured.
He could’ve sworn, as he said goodbye and told her he’d be in touch, that she seemed relieved.
Yep, there was no doubt about it.
Beth Allen wanted him.
“BONNIE, CAN WE TALK?” Monday was not her usual day to volunteer at the day care, but Beth had come, anyway. She’d been thinking about this all weekend.
“Sure,” the woman said, giving Beth one of her signature cheery smiles. Other than the dark curls that sprang from all angles on her head, thirty-four-year-old Bonnie looked nothing like her older brother. Short where he was tall, plump where he was solidly fit, she could be, nevertheless, as intimidating as he when she got an idea.
Beth knew this about her and she’d only known the woman a few months. Until now, she’d liked that trait, identified with it somehow.
With Ryan in clear view, Beth followed Bonnie into her windowed office and, canvas bag still over her shoulder, sat when Bonnie closed the door.
“What’s up?”
“I want you to quit bugging Greg to ask me out.”
“Why? Greg’s great! You two would have so much fun together.”
In another life, Beth was certain she’d agree. It was precisely because she wished so badly that this was another life that she had to resist. She’d thought about it all weekend and knew she had no choice.
Yet, how she longed to be able to confide in this woman, to talk through her thoughts and fears, benefit from Bonnie’s perspective.
Almost as badly as she longed to go out with Bonnie’s brother.
“I just don’t want to be a charity case,” she said, hating how lame she sounded. “I don’t want anyone asking me out because he feels sorry for me or he’s forced into it or—”
Bonnie cut her off. “You don’t know Greg very well if you think I could force him to do anything he didn’t feel was right. Nor would he ever date a woman simply because I wanted him to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be thirty-six years old and still single.”
“He told me you’ve been trying to get us together for months.”
“And if he’s asked you out, it has absolutely nothing to do with me.”
Bonnie’s green eyes were so clear, so sure. She was the closest thing Beth had to a friend in this town. Although she knew it would probably shock the other woman, Beth’s relationship with Bonnie meant the world to her.
“Well, just stop, okay?” she said, standing. Somehow she’d convinced herself that if Bonnie quit pushing, so would Greg.
Or was it because she secretly hoped he wouldn’t that she’d been able to take this stand?
“Sure,” Bonnie said. “But it’s not going to change anything. If Greg asked women out because I pushed them at him, he wouldn’t have had eight months—at least—without a real date.”
Beth sat back down. “He hasn’t had a date in eight months?”
“I said at least eight months. That’s how long I know about. That’s how long he’s been back in Shelter Valley.”
“Back? I thought he grew up here.” She didn’t care. Wasn’t interested. Ryan was playing happily with Bo Roberts, a three-year-old with Down syndrome. Bo, a high-functioning child, was a favorite at Little Spirits and particularly a favorite of Ryan’s.
“He did. We both did. But Greg moved to Phoenix ten years ago.”
“To be a cop?”
Hands clasped together on the desk in front of her, Bonnie shook her head, eyes grim. It wasn’t something Beth had seen very often.
“He was already a cop,” Greg’s sister said. “Our father was severely injured in a carjacking and required more care than he could get in Shelter Valley. Greg moved with him to Phoenix and looked after him until he died.”
Beth’s heart fell. A dull ache started deep inside her. She didn’t want Bonnie—or Greg—to have suffered so.
“What about your mother?”
“She died when I was twelve. From a bee sting, of all things. No one knew she was deathly allergic.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Beth needed to say more. Much more. And couldn’t find anything to say at all.
“So it was just you and Greg and your dad after that?”
Bonnie nodded, and the two women were silent for a moment, each lost in her own thoughts. Bonnie, Beth supposed, was reliving