The Lawman's Convenient Bride. Christine Rimmer
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and said, “The last Saturday in May? I’m sorry, Mrs. Carruthers. That’s a bad day for me.” It wasn’t really a lie, he reasoned. Because if he said yes to the woman in the guest chair across from him, it would be a bad day.
“Call me Caroline.” She crossed her slim legs and folded her hands on her knee.
“Sure, Caroline. What time did you say the auction was?”
“We’re planning an all-day event in the park. But you would only need to be there between, say, two and four.”
“Two and four,” he repeated, stalling a little, as though he really did want to help her out. And he did. Just not for this.
Caroline beamed at him from behind her cat’s-eye glasses. “So then. We can count on you as one of our bachelors. I’m so pleased.”
“Hmm. Hold on, now. I’ll have to check.” He clicked the mouse on his desktop and made a show of frowning at the screen. “I’m sorry, but between two and four is impossible.” It was an outright lie this time. And Seth did not approve of lying. But to get out of being raffled off like a prize bull, he would sink pretty low. “I just can’t make it.”
Caroline’s sweet smile never wavered, though her eyes were a flinty, determined shade of gray. “Sheriff, I can’t tell you how much it would mean to us if you could find a way to rearrange your schedule and say yes.”
He cleared his throat, the sound downright officious even to his own ears. “I’m sorry. Really.”
She adjusted her glasses, causing the beaded neck strap to twinkle aggressively. “Did I mention yet that the auction will help finance the library’s new media center?”
“Yes, you did, and I—”
“It’s a great cause. An important project. Children who don’t have access to the internet need a chance to become familiar with the life tools others take for granted. And how many of our seniors wish they could broaden their horizons and move into the digital age? The center is so much more than just a bonus for our community. It’s an out-and-out necessity.”
“Yes, I understand that. But I really can’t—”
“And it will take so little of your time, Sheriff. A couple of hours in Library Park the day of the auction and then one date with the lucky lady who bids the most for you. We’ve gotten Silver Star Limousine from Denver to donate a limo for your date. The winning ladies will each get a spa day at Sweet Harmony Day Spa. You’ll be expected to pay for the date, of course, and I know you and the happy girl who wins you will choose something memorable and fun to do together.”
“I understand, but as I keep trying to tell you, Caroline, I really can’t.”
“Oh, yes, you can.” She blasted that smile at him, brighter than ever. “We all do admire the important work you do here. We’re grateful for your service to this community.”
“Well, thank you. I—”
“Of all the eligible bachelors in our county, I believe you are the most respected.” Eligible? Seth might be single, but he was far from eligible. To be eligible, a man had to be willing to get involved in a relationship, and he wasn’t. Caroline’s gray eyes seemed to bore right through him. “Respected and so greatly admired. Word does get around. I’ve heard about your fan club...”
His fan club. He supposed that didn’t sound so bad. At least she hadn’t called them badge bunnies, which a lot of civilians considered cool police slang. Seth found the term sexist and objectifying—and, yes, he knew all about sexism. It was part of his job to know about it and to squelch it whenever it reared its ugly head. He didn’t approve of terms that objectified anyone. And as for his “fan club,” there weren’t that many of them. But they were certainly enthusiastic, always dropping by to see him with baked goods and big smiles. Seth skirted a fine line with the women in question. He tried to be polite and appreciative while never letting any of them get too close.
If he gave in and said yes to the auction, one of them would probably “win” him. How awkward would that be?
He didn’t even want to think about it.
And Caroline was still talking. “A tweak of your calendar, a few hours in the park and a date with a generous, community-conscious woman. Just one date. For the needy children who can so easily be left behind, for the seniors with ever-narrowing horizons.”
He willed Garth Meany, the dispatcher, whose narrow back he could see through his inner-office window, to get a call—nothing too serious, a drunk and disorderly or someone creating a public nuisance. No one should get hurt. All Seth wanted was a chance to “notice” Garth on that call. He could bounce to his feet, mumble something about a “390” or a “507” that required his immediate attention—and hustle Caroline right out the door.
Unfortunately, it was a Tuesday afternoon in April, and the citizens of Broomtail County were apparently sober and behaving themselves. “Caroline, I’m so sorry, but I have another appointment in—”
“Just say the magic word, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“But I—”
“Please.” Now her eyes were huge and mournful behind the slanted, glittery frames. “Sheriff. We need you.”
He opened his mouth to say no again. But Caroline looked so sad for all those disadvantaged children with no access to the internet, all those shut-in seniors who didn’t even know how to send an email. He really did hate lying. And did she have to keep using that word, need?
Seth Yancy was a bitter man in many ways. His life hadn’t turned out the way he’d once hoped it might. And the last few months, since the sudden death of his only brother, Nick, had been nothing but grim for him. Nicky was a good guy, the best. And way too young to die. It just wasn’t right, that he’d been taken.
Too many were taken. And always the ones who deserved long, full lives.
But even though he’d been feeling more down than usual lately, Seth still liked to believe he was a good public servant, that when the people of his county needed him, one way or another, he would come through.
Caroline regarded him steadily, waiting for his reply.
And by then, for Seth, there was only one answer to give. “All right. I’ll rearrange my schedule.”
* * *
An hour later, Caroline was long gone, off to corner some other poor schmuck and badger him into making a fool of himself on the bachelor auction block. Seth was still in his office reviewing last month’s budget overages, with the jail’s operations report still to get through.
But enough. He was done for the day.
The budget and the reports could wait until tomorrow. After being bested by that Carruthers woman, he needed a fat, juicy steak and a twice-baked potato, and he knew where to get them.
The Sylvan Inn sat in a small wooded glen a few miles outside of town. At four thirty in the afternoon on a weekday, the parking lot had one row of cars in it—the row closest to the front entrance. Seth pulled in at the end of that row.
Inside, the hostess led him straight to a deuce by a window that looked out on a shaded patio. Perfect. He felt the cares of the day melting away.
Caroline Carruthers?
Never heard of her.
His waitress, Monique Hightower, appeared. Seth had known Monique for a good twenty years, at least. They’d attended Justice Creek High about the same time, with him graduating a couple of years ahead of her. She’d been working here at the Inn for a decade, maybe more.
“Hey, Seth. You’re earlier than usual for a weekday.” Monique refilled the water glass he’d already emptied and set the bread basket in front of him. “Everything okay?” Monique was a good waitress, but she talked too much. And she had a rep for being overly interested in other people’s