Chapter Four

      The day of the bone-marrow drive dawned with the perfect sunny weather of mid April in Oklahoma. Tate awoke, just as he did at least three times a week, in the front seat of his SUV. Only this morning the blast of the Blackwood High School marching band yanked him upright. He cracked his bad knee on the steering wheel and cursed. In the seat next to him a warm wiggling form yelped, reminding him of his only reward for a sleepless night.

      Last night he’d sat inside a rusted-out station wagon inside the B & D Auto Salvage where he’d observed a transaction he could only view as suspicious. To his disappointment, no hard evidence of a chop-shop operation had come his way.

      A warm wet tongue scraped at his hand.

      “Hey, partner.” With a grin, he stroked the skinny, red, mixed-breed pup he’d found scrounging around the Dumpsters outside B & D. He’d shared his chips and baloney with the mutt, but that had been hours ago. “I’ll bet you’re hungry as a bear.” His own belly growled. “I sure as heck am.”

      Hoisting the pup like a football, he unlocked the side door to his office and, thankful for the facilities made available by his predecessor, went inside for a quick shower and shave. On his way he grabbed several pieces of ham from the small refrigerator in the employee’s lounge.

      “Here you go, fella.” He laid the slices on a paper towel and filled a bowl with water. “This’ll have to do until we can get out to my place.”

      Which wasn’t likely to be soon. Tired as he was, today was the day of the bone-marrow drive. And he’d be glad when it was over. Then Julee and her famous legs could go back to L.A. and leave him the heck alone.

      Not that she’d actually asked that much of him, but her presence in town had caused him no little discomfort. Everyone who remembered their romance brought it up. And everyone else seemed bound and determined to involve him in Julee’s project. He didn’t want to think about Julee and the rush of longing he experienced every time someone mentioned her name.

      From outside, a tuba ripped off a few practice notes. He’d better hurry. He stepped into the closet-sized bathroom and shut the door.

      Every man in town was agog over Julee. Big deal. What man wouldn’t be enthralled by her combination of beauty, smarts and success? Just because she wasn’t married now didn’t mean she hadn’t been a half dozen times before. And even if she’d had as many lovers as his mother, her private life was none of his business. But he’d gone off spouting about happiness like a love-starved orphan. He’d had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from asking if she was dating anyone. And if she was, was he good to her? Did he make her laugh? Would he give her the houseful of kids she’d always wanted?

      Stripping off his clothes he kicked the wrinkled jeans into the corner in disgust.

      There he went again assuming she was still the same Julee he’d known, when she clearly wasn’t. Back then she’d dreamed of two things—making enough money to take care of her mother and then spending the rest of her life with him and the babies they would make together. Now, family was the last thing on her mind.

      He’d known then the dream was too good to be true and that he’d lose her to California, proving what he’d always known. A shanty-town bastard with a chip on his shoulder wasn’t good enough for her or any decent woman. That was okay. He’d accepted who he was and all his shortcomings a long time ago. He didn’t deserve her, never had.

      She’d been so good, his Julee. The kind of girl who championed the underdog, stood up against bullies. He smiled at that, remembering how she’d stood up to him a few times when he’d wanted to break some guy’s nose just because he was mad at the world. Sensible, gentle Julee had a calming effect on the wild, angry boy he’d been. She could make him do anything.

      But not this time. Not again. He nearly hadn’t survived the last time. He couldn’t fall under her spell again.

      He grabbed a towel from the tiny corner cupboard and turned the shower on full blast.

      He had to get Julee out of his mind and out of his town. If he could keep his distance another twenty-four hours she’d be gone. Stepping beneath the spray, he let the warm water drown every thought of Julianna Reynolds.

      In minutes, smelling and feeling considerably better and dressed in the extra uniform he kept hanging on the back of the bathroom door, Tate was out on the street. The stray pup attached his nose to the sheriff’s creased pant leg and followed.

      This morning the usually early sheriff was late, a fact that disgruntled him no end. To make matters worse, Julee stood in the middle of Main Street talking to his deputies. So much for washing her out of his mind. Every cell in his body started to hum. Criminy. Why’d she have to look like that?

      “Mornin’, boss.” Jeet waved a doughnut in his direction. Tate’s stomach growled again. He’d given the last of the ham to the pup. “What’s that thing following you? A piece of rusted baling wire?”

      Glad for the distraction, Tate’s mouth quirked at the apt description of the skinny pup dogging his heels. “Ah, just a stray I picked up last night.”

      “Another one?” Jeet’s fleshy jowls jiggled as he turned toward Julee. She looked beyond beautiful standing in the morning sun with her long brown hair gently blowing around her face. “The sheriff here’s got a dozen of these mutts running around his place. Supposed to turn them over to animal control, but he never does.”