A Lawman in Her Stocking (12 page)

“There’s nothing you can say that will make a difference,” she said, fighting with everything she had not to cry.

When she reached her yard, she hurried toward the sanctuary of her home. Once she went inside and bolted the door, she could let her pent-up emotions break free without Dylan seeing how badly he’d hurt her.

But he stopped her by placing his hand flat on the door to hold it shut when she tried to open it. She struggled to pull it free, but no amount of tugging on her part would budge him.

“Dammit, Brenna, you’re going to hear me out,” he said, his expression a mixture of anger and frustration.

Turning on him, she shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, taking hold of her upper arms.

To her frustration, tears began to fill her eyes. She blinked them away. She would not let him see her cry. “What’s the point, Dylan? Are you hoping to assuage your conscience? Do you think that will make you feel better about what you’ve done?”

“I haven’t done anything,” he insisted.

Emotional pain like she’d never known tore through her. “Oh, really? You didn’t follow orders? You haven’t been with me for the past four weeks, hoping to learn something the men could use to stop the Main Street Project?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, shaking his head. “Yes, I was told to find out what you knew about the
women’s plans. But if you’ll remember, I never questioned you about it.”

“Because you didn’t ask me about it, you think that makes what you’ve done all right?” she asked incredulously. “You kissed me, you made love to me only because you were ordered to spend time with me.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t care. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? How much it hurts to know that I gave myself to a man who was only using me in order to keep his job?”

“Now hold it right there, Brenna,” he said, looking angry. “What we have between us is real and has nothing to do with the orders I was given, the B.S. Club or the town. I’ve been with you because I wanted to be, because I care for you.”

“I wish I could believe that, Dylan,” she said, feeling as if her heart was being torn in two. “But I don’t.”

“It’s the truth,” he said stubbornly. “And if you’ll think back, every time you started to talk about the project, I changed the subject.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. The fact remains that you allowed those men to think your role in all this was the reason for our being together. Not because you cared for me. You used me the same as Tom did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dylan insisted. “What goes on between the two of us is none of the council’s business.” He took a deep breath. “Five years ago, I started seeing a woman who used my attraction to her in an effort to turn Tranquillity into a resort for people who have more money than good sense. She made a
fool of me in front of the entire town. And believe me, I’d never put you through that kind of hell.”

“But you just did,” Brenna said, pulling from his grasp. She shuddered from the strain of holding back the torrent of emotions threatening to break through. “I’m sorry I stumbled onto the scheme before you had the chance to make sure that your job was secure. Maybe the council members will take that into consideration when it’s time for your next evaluation.”

“Darlin’—”

“Please don’t,” she interrupted, opening the door. “There’s nothing left to say.” Brenna took a deep breath in an effort to hold back her tears. “Granny and Pete should get home from their honeymoon sometime this evening. When they arrive, I’ll have Pete give you a call.”

“This isn’t over, Brenna.”

“Yes, it is.” She had to get away from him before she fell completely apart. “Goodbye, Dylan.”

Her heart breaking into a million pieces, Brenna entered the house, closed the door behind her, then leaned back against it. Shaking uncontrollably, she sank to the living room floor and covered her face with her hands. But when she heard the sound of Dylan’s footsteps as he walked down the steps, as he walked away from her, the last of her control snapped and she gave free rein to the flood of tears she could no longer hold in check.

Dylan slowly descended the steps and started walking the six blocks back to the center of town. Was he guilty of what Brenna had accused him of? In his effort to maintain their privacy, had he cheapened the
relationship they’d developed between them with his silence? Had he betrayed her trust by not making it clear to Myron and the council members that he had been seeing her because he wanted to, not because he’d been ordered to?

Since that incident five years ago, he’d done his damnedest to keep his private life separate from his position as sheriff. And up until the last month, he’d been successful.

But that was before everyone he knew started meddling in his and Brenna’s lives. At first it had been his uncle and her grandmother playing matchmakers in order to get them together. Then when the mayor’s wife and a handful of her friends decided to make a few harmless changes around town, the town council had gotten in on the act and ordered him to find out what Brenna knew in their effort to stop their wives.

And despite all the interference, all the subterfuge, he and Brenna had managed to fall in love.

Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. He took a deep breath, then another. He knew she’d gotten under his skin. But when had he fallen in love with her?

He shook his head as he resumed walking. It didn’t matter when he’d given Brenna his heart. He had. And he’d be damned before he let any more well-meaning souls destroy what they had between them.

He smiled determinedly. And that included Brenna.

O
n Christmas Eve, Brenna sat staring at the huge bowl of chocolate rum balls her grandmother placed on the table in front of her. For the first time in her life, Brenna wasn’t even tempted by the taste of chocolate.

“Pete, cover that bowl with plastic wrap while I cut the fudge,” Abigail instructed. Stopping to adjust her Santa hat, she turned to Brenna. “You’d better start getting ready for the Jubilee.”

“Jamboree,” Brenna corrected.

“Whatever,” her grandmother said, waving her hand dismissively. “If you don’t get the lead out you’re going to be late.”

Brenna shook her head as she rose to go to her room. “I’m not going.”

“You have to go, Brenna,” Pete said, struggling
to tear the plastic wrap from the carton. “If you don’t, who’s gonna read to the kids?”

“Anyone can read
’Twas the Night Before Christmas
and the children will listen,” she said shrugging.

“But you’re the Story Lady,” Pete argued. Brenna watched him exchange a look with her grandmother, then place the box of plastic wrap on the table. “I think I’ll mosey on into the livin’ room to…to…” He paused for a moment, then grinned sheepishly. “Aw, shoot. I’ll find somethin’ to do.”

Brenna watched him kiss Abigail’s cheek, then saunter from the room. “You can save your breath, Granny,” she said, anticipating Abigail’s argument that she attend the community party. “I’m not going.”

Abigail motioned for her to sit down at the table, then plopped down in the chair across from her. “Brenna, as long as you continue living in Tranquillity you’re going to run into Dylan from time to time.” Leave it to her grandmother to cut right to the heart of the matter.

“It’s just…” Brenna took a deep breath. “It’s too soon.”

“I know it hurts, honey,” Abigail said, reaching out to cover Brenna’s hand with hers. “But you have to face seeing him sometime. And the longer you put it off, the harder it’s going to be when you do.”

Moisture filled her eyes, but Brenna blinked it away. She’d already cried enough in the past week to fill a river, and she was determined not to shed another tear. “Maybe I’ll move.”

Abigail snorted and said a word that under different
circumstances would have shocked Brenna. “I didn’t raise you to run from your problems.”

“I’m not running from them,” Brenna said defensively. “I’m just trying to survive them.”

“Then face them head-on, deal with what you have to and move forward,” Abigail said staunchly. “Show this town what kind of backbone you have.”

Brenna shrugged. “That’s what Cornelia said when she stopped by the shop this morning to tell me how sorry she was for what her husband and the town council tried to do.”

“How many times does that make?”

“Between Cornelia, Emily Taylor and Helen Washburn, I’ve been apologized to every day this week.” Brenna shook her head. “How could something as harmless as painting a few fire hydrants and putting up a handful of decorative signs cause so many problems?”

“I don’t know.” Her grandmother shook her head. “When Pete dropped by Luke’s yesterday afternoon, he said the men were all stopping in for their supper.” At Brenna’s questioning look, Abigail laughed. “Apparently Cornelia, Emily and Helen are getting even with their husbands by refusing to cook. And Myron Worthington is hobbling around, complaining to anyone who will listen to him about a loose spring in a sofa.”

Brenna groaned. “This power struggle between the women and men just keeps getting worse.”

Grinning, Abigail nodded. “I can’t wait to see what happens tonight.”

“Granny!”

“Nothing like a good feud to liven up a party,”
Abigail said, rising to her feet. “Now, go get ready or you’ll miss the fun.”

“I might as well,” Brenna said, sighing heavily as she rose to her feet. “You’re not going to let me alone until I do, are you?”

“Nope.” Abigail shook her head so vigorously that her bright orange curls bounced beneath her Santa hat. “Besides, it would be a waste of a good elf costume if you don’t go.”

Brenna shook her head as she walked into her room. She should have known her grandmother would keep after her until she gave in and got ready for the party.

As she slipped into the short elf dress, tights and green high-heeled boots with white fur trim, one thing kept running through her mind. Dylan would be at the celebration.

She bit her lower lip to stop its trembling as she tied the big red bows at the top of her boots. In the past week, she’d thought a lot about what he’d told her after she stumbled across the meeting being held in his office.

It was true that he’d never questioned her about the Main Street Project. In fact, he had avoided any mention of it, unless she brought it up. And reliving every moment of their time together, she had to admit that he’d never allowed her to tell him what the women were planning. He’d either quickly changed the subject, or kissed her into silence every time she’d tried to talk about the project.

After thinking of nothing else for an entire week, she’d even come to terms with, and understood, the precarious position he’d found himself in with the
town council. He’d been stuck in the middle of the whole mess and forced to walk a fine line in order to keep everyone happy. Not an easy place to be, nor was it an easy task to undertake.

On one hand, he’d been trying to placate the mayor and town council members in order to keep a job he loved. And on the other hand, he’d tried his best not to betray her faith and trust in him while sidestepping their directive.

And she’d even come to understand his not making the councilmen aware of his relationship with her. After suffering the public humiliation he’d been forced to endure five years ago, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep that part of his life private.

But all of her realization had come too late. She hadn’t seen or heard from Dylan in a week. If that didn’t speak volumes about his reluctance to give their relationship another chance, she didn’t know what did.

Her breath caught on a soft sob. There was no way she could spend the entire evening watching Dylan, loving him, and not humiliate herself by falling apart.

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and impatiently wiped it away with the back of her hand. She’d appease everyone and attend the Christmas Jamboree tonight, but she wouldn’t stay. She’d read a story to the children, help whoever played Santa pass out the presents, then leave.

Dylan stood on the far side of the community room, watching the door, and the minute Brenna, Pete and Abigail walked in, his body tensed. He damned near crushed his cup of punch. Brenna looked good in the
little green elf dress with white fur trim. Damned good. But as far as he was concerned, she looked good in, or out of, just about anything she wore.

The skirt brushed the middle of her thighs and the fluffy white fur around the collar touched her satiny smooth skin like he longed to do. His body tightened. He’d like nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder, find a nice secluded spot and make love to her until she came to her senses.

He barely managed to swallow back the groan threatening to escape. He’d decided to give her some time before he tried to once again get through to her. But how was he ever going to get through the evening without holding her, loving her?

“How’s it goin’, boy?” Pete asked, strolling over to stand next to him.

“About the same.” Dylan took a swig of punch from the bent plastic cup. “How are things with you, Uncle Pete?”

“Good.” They stood in silence for several minutes before his uncle shook his head. “Dang it, why don’t you come right out and ask?”

Dylan feigned ignorance as he watched old Corny and her hens surround Brenna, then usher her over to where they’d been sitting. “Ask what?”

Pete snorted. “Aw, hell, boy. We both know you’re dyin’ to know about Brenna. Why don’t you stop pussyfootin’ around and ask me?”

Unable to take his eyes off her, Dylan shrugged. “Then why don’t you just tell me and save both of us some time, Uncle Pete?”

“All righty, I will,” Pete said, sounding irritated. “She’s about the most miserable little gal I think I
ever did see. Abby had to talk herself blue, just to get Brenna to come here tonight.”

Dylan’s gut twisted. Knowing that he’d been the cause of her misery just about tore him apart. “She wasn’t going to attend the Jamboree?”

“Nope.” Pete rocked back on his heels. “And in case anybody wants to know, it wouldn’t surprise me if she don’t hightail it out of here as soon as she reads to the kids and helps pass out presents.”

“Looks like the feud is still in full swing,” Abigail said, coming to stand next to Pete. “With the women on one side of the room and the men huddled up on the other, I’d say the battlelines are drawn.”

Dylan had heard, first hand, about all the trouble Myron, Ed and Luke had encountered when their wives learned of their plot to end the Main Street Project. All week long, he’d listened to Myron whine about sleeping on that damned couch, until Dylan had been ready to go out and buy the man another one just to shut him up. And when Ed and Luke arrived earlier in the evening with Emily and Helen, they’d immediately split up with the women going one way and the men another.

“Pete, let’s grab those two chairs over by the punch bowl,” Abigail said excitedly. “Unless I miss my guess, something’s about to pop loose and I want a good seat.”

As Pete and Abigail hurried across the room to the chairs lined against the wall closest to the refreshment table, Dylan watched Brenna and the women walk over to the punch bowl. Glancing in the opposite direction, he saw the men head straight for them. It looked like Abigail was right, he decided when Cor
nelia and her hens started bobbing their heads and pointing their fingers, while Myron, Ed and Luke wore deep scowls and shook their heads in obvious disagreement.

Dylan watched as Brenna stood in the middle of all of it, her head turning from one side to the other as the debate heated up. She looked helpless and on the verge of tears.

“That’s it,” he said, tossing the cup in the trash as he walked toward the gathering crowd and the woman he loved.

Brenna cringed as the knot of people gathering in front of the refreshment table grew. It seemed that everyone had an opinion about the fire hydrants and street signs.

“I like the changes,” a woman spoke up from the edge of the crowd. “I can’t wait to see what the Beautification Society does for other holidays.”

“How in the name of Sam Hill can you say that?” a man’s voice countered disgustedly. “They’re the silliest things I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Please don’t argue,” Brenna said, in an effort to stop the escalating debate. But her voice was lost in all the noise as everyone stated their feelings.

“It’s all her fault,” an angry male voice rose above the din. “If she hadn’t got the B.S. Club all stirred up, this never woulda happened.”

“Now, hold it right there!”

At the sound of Dylan’s baritone booming over the bedlam, Brenna looked up to see him shouldering his way toward her.

When she’d first walked into the community room,
she’d seen him standing alone on the far side of the room. She’d noticed that he had on the blue sports jacket and black jeans that he’d worn for her grandmother and Pete’s wedding. He’d looked so handsome that she’d had to look away.

After that, she’d carefully avoided looking his direction. It simply hurt too much to love him, knowing there was no chance for them to work things out between them.

When he walked up to her, the brim of his black Resistol dipped slightly as he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Her heart skipped a beat. What was he going to do?

Turning to face the crowd, he shook his head. “Brenna Montgomery didn’t start this fight by teaching the women how to paint, or by taking charge when they
asked
for her help.” He glanced down at her and the intense determination in his green eyes stole her breath. He was coming to her defense. “The only thing she’s guilty of is wanting to find her place in Tranquillity and trying to become one of us.” He pushed the brim of his hat up with his thumb, then propped his fists on his hips as he frowned at the crowd. “Although judging by the way you’re all acting this evening, it’s a mystery to me why she’d even want to bother.”

She watched in disbelief as he pulled the lapel of his sports jacket aside to remove the silver star pinned to his shirt. “Dylan?”

The smile he gave her brought tears to her eyes. “It’s all right, darlin’.” Turning to the mayor, Dylan tossed the man his badge. “I’ve been proud to serve Tranquillity for the past six years, but when the town
becomes more important than the people in it, I’m done.”

Obviously dumbstruck, everyone fell silent as they awaited a reaction from Myron Worthington. The only sound in the room came from a group of small children playing in the corner close to the Christmas tree.

“Now, Dylan—”

Dylan shook his head as he put his arm around Brenna’s shoulders. “Myron, when it comes to a choice between this town and the woman I love, there’s no contest. Tranquillity will come in a distant second every time.”

Brenna felt as if the floor had dropped from beneath her feet and she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Had Dylan just admitted he loved her in front of the entire town?

But she couldn’t allow him to give up his job as sheriff. It meant too much to him.

Reaching out, she took the badge from the mayor and handed it back to Dylan. “I can’t let you do this, Dylan.” Her voice caught, but she pressed on as she turned back to face the crowd. “I know how much Dylan loves Tranquillity. How much he loves all of you. And being your sheriff means too much to him for me to let him resign.”

“Darlin’—”

She placed her finger to his lips. “I’ll take full responsibility for the fire hydrants and street signs, and I’ll even close my shop and leave if that’s what it takes to restore peace to the town.” She rose up on tiptoes to brush his lips with hers. “But I can’t let
them accept your resignation. I love you too much for that, Dylan.”

“Oh, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cornelia said tearfully. Turning to her husband, she demanded, “Myron, say something.”