This Good Man. Janice Kay Johnson
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to a stop in front of the displays of boxed pastas and turned to look around her.
A man, also pushing a half-full cart, was directly behind her. Captain Reid Sawyer, no less, who had been featured on the front page of this morning’s Angel Butte Reporter. In well-worn jeans, boots, a heavy flannel shirt and down vest, he was dressed a whole lot more casually than he had been the last time she saw him.
He gave her a slightly crooked smile. “I thought I recognized that hair.”
“Hair?” Her hand rose to touch her head. Yes, it was still there. Feeling foolish, she snatched her hand back and wrapped it safely around the handle of the cart. “It’s brown,” she said repressively. “How could you recognize my hair?”
“It’s not brown.” He sounded amused. “It’s dozens of colors. I’ll bet you were a towhead when you were a kid, weren’t you?”
She and her sister both had been. She shied away from a memory that was borrowed from a snapshot rather than real, of two girls standing stiffly, side by side, staring at the camera. She thought it was one of the times when they’d been delivered to a new home.
“Once upon a time.” The smell was stronger, if anything. “Do you smell smoke?”
Strangely, he bent his head to sniff at himself. “Ah, that would be me. I’m sorry. I should have gone home to shower. I didn’t realize I’d soaked it up.”
She finally identified that illusory other component of the smell. “Gasoline.”
His eyes sharp on her face, he said, “Yeah. You’ve got a good nose.”
“What were you doing, cheating when you lit the briquettes?”
His chuckle was the first she’d seen echoed in his eyes. “That sounds suicidal.”
“I had a—” She stopped, said more stiffly, “I knew someone once who used so much lighter fluid that there’d be a huge burst of flame when he tossed on a match.”
“Also suicidal.” His gaze was thoughtful now, as though he wondered what she hadn’t wanted to say. “In my case, I was checking on a fire a friend had to put out on his property. He wanted to know what I thought.”
“You mean, whether it had been set on purpose?”
He dipped his head.
“And it was.”
“Thus the gasoline,” he agreed.
“Did you call the fire department?”
“No, it wasn’t that significant. More of an annoyance. But since I had to go right by the store on my way home, I decided to stock up for the week.”
“Oh. Me, too.” Duh. “Well, um, I’d better—”
“I hear Yancey was found alive and well.”
“Yes.” Anna was impressed that he’d remembered the name. The help he’d offered her had to have been a trivial part of his week. “He hadn’t gotten as far as the highway yet.”
“So Sergeant Shroutt told me. You return him to his foster home?”
“I found him a new one,” she corrected. “For the time being, he’ll be the only child in the home, which I think he needs. If I have to put anyone else in it, I’ll send, I don’t know, a ten-year-old girl.”
“A child who might look up to him.” He sounded approving.
“Yes.” Anna didn’t like feeling as if she had to defend herself, but she hadn’t liked his expression Wednesday when she’d told him she had been trying to find Yancey a better placement. Or, more accurate, she hadn’t liked her own sense of having failed one of the children for whom she was responsible. “This particular foster parent is one of my best. The brother and sister she had were returned to their parents, and she’d asked for a break. I was hoping Yancey could hold out until she was ready for another child. My mistake was not telling him what I planned.”
Something had changed on his face. “Returned to their parents,” he repeated in an unreadable tone. “That must be hard on a foster parent.”
“It depends. Sometimes we all have doubts about whether the family can be stable, but in this case, Carol had developed a close relationship with the mother in particular. She thought it was time. I know she plans to stay in touch. And of course the kids’ caseworker will keep an eye on the situation.”
He nodded. “Does this Carol keep kids long-term?”
“Usually not.” She hesitated. “Yancey has been freed by the court for adoption, but given his age it’s unlikely there’ll be any takers. I hate to have her tied up for that many years, but...” She sighed. “I think she’ll love Yancey, and he’ll love her. So...I hope she’s able to keep him.”
Something clanged into her cart and she turned quickly.
“I’m so sorry!” The woman had clearly been trying to squeeze her own, heavily laden cart past. “I’m a lousy driver.”
Anna smiled. “And I’m blocking the road.” She pushed hers out of the way, then glanced back at Reid Sawyer. “I’d better get on with my shopping now that I know the store isn’t going to burn down.”
“I should, too, before I scare anyone else.” His gaze rested on her face with a weight she’d never felt before. “Any chance you’d like to have a cup of coffee when you’re done?”
A curl of warmth low in her abdomen battled with the bump of alarm in her chest. She didn’t like the way he seemed to hear more than she meant to say, but... Oh, lord, if he was attracted to her, too...
Could he be? He was law enforcement calendar-cover-model material, while she knew perfectly well she was ordinary personified.
One eyebrow rose. “I’ll accept a polite no. You don’t have to agonize.”
“No.” Oh, for heaven’s sake—now her cheeks were heating. “I mean, yes. I was, um, just juggling my schedule in my head. Coffee would be nice. If you don’t mind waiting until I finish,” she added hastily.
His eyes had warmed. “I have a ways to go myself. In fact, I was going to grab some rotini as soon as you moved.”
The rotini she was blocking. No wonder he’d lingered to make conversation.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted and pushed her cart forward. Then remembering she needed pasta, too, she turned back to grab lasagna noodles at the same time he was reaching past her. They bumped. He dropped the box he’d been taking from the shelf, and she apologized several more times and felt like a klutz and a social disaster by the time she wheeled around the end of the aisle and out of sight of the single sexiest man she’d ever met.
* * *
ANNA WAS JUST getting into line when Reid accepted his receipt and decided to put his groceries in the back of his Expedition so he’d be free to help her stow hers.
The store was a busy place today, and he intercepted several interested glances in the parking lot. He managed civil nods in response. Much as he hated the idea, he’d had to cooperate when the newspaper decided they wanted to run a piece on him. He wasn’t just a cop anymore; he was a public official, symbolizing this small city’s police department. Unfortunately, there’d been more interest in him than there likely would have been if his predecessor had accepted a job somewhere else and faded away. No such luck for Reid. Colin McAllister had run a very public, highly scrutinized campaign right here in this county and unseated an incumbent sheriff that the Hales, at least, had described as lazy and self-satisfied. The reforms McAllister was instigating in the sheriff’s department were drawing a lot of press, too. It wasn’t surprising that people were curious about the man who had replaced him in his old job.
Reid hoped he’d hid how very uncomfortable he was about that kind of scrutiny. He’d done his damnedest to deflect personal