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Watching the funny-looking RV amble along he was a little surprised to see a vendor this early. The first annual Mule Hollow Trade Days event didn’t start for four days yet. Which meant his headaches wouldn’t start for four short days either, days he wasn’t taking for granted. Early birds weren’t exactly his idea of a good thing.
When the pitiful RV suddenly wheezed and smoke erupted from under the hood, it was as if the animation had come to life! “Oh boy, let the games begin,” he groaned.
Reacting on instinct, he tossed his handful of sunflower seeds into the garbage, grabbed Pete’s fire extinguisher from beside the counter and hit the door at a run.
Black smoke billowed from beneath the hood as he concentrated on the hot latch, coughing from the fumes as they engulfed him. When the latch finally gave and he lifted the reluctant hood, he was forced to jump back to avoid the shooting flames filling the compartment. Thankfully, Pete’s extinguisher was primed and ready and he had the fire out within seconds.
Not that it saved the motor—it was toast.
“Oh no!”
At the gasp, he spun around to find a thin woman with raven-black hair and pale hazel eyes. Stricken by the sight of the steaming engine she swayed—Brady dropped the extinguisher and grabbed her just as her legs buckled. He was struck by her lightness, again by her paleness as he swept her into his arms. By the way her delicate cheekbones were starkly pronounced by the thinness of her face. She didn’t look exactly well. As he studied her, her eyes fluttered, she bit her lip and he could almost see sheer willpower forcing her eyelids to remain open.
“Dottie, are you okay?” a teenage girl exclaimed, concern written all over her impish face as she danced from foot to foot.
“Fine. I’m fine,” she assured the girl.
Brady disagreed completely with her assessment of the situation. “Miss, you don’t look so good. I think—”
“I’m fine. Really, you can put me down now.”
The strength in her words and the determination he could see in her eyes had him doing as he was instructed. “It’s your call.” Carefully he set her on her feet, glad when she didn’t sway again. A bit of color crept into her cheeks, but she remained fairly pale, although he could see that there was a tinge of tan overlaying her paleness.
“I’m Dottie.” She extended her delicate hand and smiled engagingly. “Dottie Hart. I’m sorry for my…well, for that.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand as if shooing the episode away.
Obviously Dottie Hart did not enjoy being fragile. She looked embarrassed by the show of weakness.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “But I hate to tell you that your motor doesn’t look good.”
Her lips flattened into a straight line.
“By the way, I’m Brady Cannon.”
Her gaze shifted from the RV to him. “Sheriff Cannon,” she said, her gaze dropping to the badge pinned to his white shirt.
Her voice was smooth, with an edge of softness to it. And her eyes… “Actually, everyone calls me Brady.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. Her gaze swept back to the engine. “Thank you for putting out the fire. Is there a mechanic in Mule Hollow who could get me moving again?”
She looked back at him with her question. Two vertical lines formed between her eyebrows. He could almost see her mind turning as she concentrated on her problem.
“We have a mechanic, but I hate to tell you that he’s out of town at the moment. He had a family emergency that needed tending to. But he’s due back next week. A mechanic might not be able to fix your engine, though.”
“Well.” She compressed her lips, glanced toward the young girl, then met his eyes straight on. “We’ll see.” She took a deep breath, visibly making a decision. “I planned to stay a few days anyway.”
“That’s what I thought. Looks like you’re the first one here. We can go ahead and get you all set up, and then Prudy can come by and check the motor over at the site when he gets back to town on Monday. I’ll get a few of the boys to help me with your rig and we’ll get it to a spot—”
“Hey, Dottie, here it is,” the teen yelled, interrupting him. She was waving excitedly from across the street where she’d trotted while they were talking.
Dottie smiled, turning slightly toward the girl. Brady’s gaze snagged on her smile, captivated by it and the measureless depth of her gaze. There was something about the way she watched things.
“Just look at it, Dottie,” Cassie exclaimed.
“What,” Dottie laughed, and even in the dying light her eyes twinkled like sunlight reflecting off cool water.
Brady knew the it was the hot-pink salon the kid was standing in front of.
“It’s Lacy Brown’s Heavenly Inspirations,” she called. “It’s just like in the articles.”
She plastered her face to the glass and peered into the window like a two-year-old. It was a now-familiar sight to Brady and the other Mule Hollow residents. Over the last few months when women came to town after hours and Lacy had gone home for the night, there was much peering through the glass. The ads had started it, but Molly’s articles about Lacy and Mule Hollow had garnered widespread fame. It was bafflement to him and most days a headache.
“She really loves this place.” Dottie turned to him.
“Mule Hollow and Lacy’s place seem to have that effect on some people. The residents are banking on it. Just wait until this weekend when everyone starts getting here. There’ll be more smears on that window than just Cassie’s.”
“I noticed you said I was the first. It sounds like you’re expecting a lot of people this weekend?”
Brady chuckled and stuck a hand in his back pocket. “You could say that. I’ve become a believer, and when the ladies say there will be a crowd, I trust that they know what they’re talking about. Hang on—I’ll get somebody out here to help get you off the road and set up. We weren’t expecting anybody until the day after tomorrow, but this’ll work. You just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Dottie watched the good sheriff stride away. She’d nearly passed out! She hated when that happened. And in front of the sheriff—the totally breathtaking, giant of a man—
“Where’s the sheriff going?” Cassie asked, jogging up beside her. Her energy reminded Dottie of her own before the accident. Oh, how she missed the health she’d so taken for granted. Watching Cassie, she was all the more determined to regain every bit of herself that she’d had before the accident. She was twenty-eight years old and used to love jogging every day. She just needed to be patient and keep up her workouts and she’d grow strong again.
“Yoo-hoo, anybody in there?” Cassie waved her hand in front of Dottie’s eyes, jolting her back to the present.
“Sorry,” she said. “He went to get help to move us off the street.”
Cassie spun around and stared after Brady. “Do you think he’s going to get some hunky cowboys? That’d be great. Really great.”
Looking at the open adulation beaming from Cassie’s eyes, Dottie felt it was probably best to try and rein her in a bit.
“Cassie, maybe it would be good if you didn’t throw yourself at these guys.”
Her eyes widened. “Who’s throwing themselves? Anyway, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Right? Wow! Would ya look at that!”
A huge black truck was lumbering around the corner, efficiently cutting off Dottie’s thoughts. The thing was, like, five feet off the ground with bumpers the size of a cattle guard and big ol’ lights sticking up on top of the cab like bulging frog eyes. My oh my—it’s a monster! Wow…she was as poleaxed by it as Cassie.
And that was saying something, because Cassie went speechless gaping at the thing.
When the driver hopped to the ground Cassie took a step back and studied at the young man. He was dressed in rumpled jeans, boots and a weathered T-shirt. He’d hopped from behind the steering wheel looking like a guy ready to take on any adventure that came his way. He looked like he was ready to have a good time.
Then Sheriff Brady stepped down from the passenger’s seat, looking every bit the man ready to take charge of this little misadventure. Dottie had to fight her own impulse to step back and gasp. The man was breathtaking. It was enough to make a girl on a mission that was far, far away from Mule Hollow sick to her fluttering stomach. Get a grip, girl.
She shook herself mentally at her ridiculous reaction and focused on the younger man. Ignore the sheriff. She didn’t need the distraction.
The cowboy tipped his hat at her and then at Cassie at whom he also flashed a one-hundred-watt, crooked smile. “Looks like y’all could use a hand. Give me a sec and I’ll have you ladies set up.”
He began pulling chains from the bed of his truck and then practically dived beneath the front of Dottie’s motor home. Not before she saw him sneak another look at Cassie, who was catching flies with her open mouth.
The sheriff sauntered over and stood next to Dottie and she had to fight the urge to walk away. She wasn’t a rude person and it bothered her, this odd rankling of her nerves. “He knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?” she asked, dismayed that it sounded as if she was questioning his good sense.
“Jake can pull anything out of anywhere.”
“How does he know how to do that?” The moment the question was out she wanted it back. Why, the sheriff looked at her like she’d lost her mind!
“He’s not much more than a kid,” he said in an even tone, hiding laughter. He might have tried to hide it but she could see it. His lips were positively quivering. And his eyes had crinkled at the edges.
“And don’t you see the size of the wheels on that truck,” he continued. “Jake and his friends spend the better part of every other night mudding across half this county. Believe me when I say he can pull anything.”
Well, yes, she could see all of that. But still—
“That should do it.” Jake scooted from beneath her vehicle, sprang to his feet and walked jauntily over and attached the chain to the ball of his truck. Dottie heard an audible sigh from Cassie as he hurried to the RV’s open door, leaned in and adjusted the gearshift. By the time he slammed the door and jogged back toward them, Dottie had forgotten her trepidations and was on board with the whole “he can pull anything” campaign. He certainly seemed competent.
“Can I give you a lift over to the site?” he asked.
“Yeah! I mean, sure!” Cassie gushed.
Miss Tough Girl had turned into a breathless shambles. Dottie nearly fell over when the girl practically skipped to the huge truck and hoisted herself up into the high seat!
And then, just like that, Dottie found herself alone with Sheriff Brady. Not at all a situation she was comfortable with.
“Shall we?” he drawled, sweeping his hand to follow the truck.
Dottie hesitated in the dying light, then fell into step beside him.
Dark was nearly upon them as they walked down the road together. Through the shadows she stole a glance at the handsome man. He overpowered everything around him…including her good sense. He made her aware of every step they took. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit!
Out of nowhere her heart trembled and sparked. No! She almost tripped in her surprise—
“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping her elbow to steady her.
“F-fine,” she stuttered, pulling away. This was not good. She was here in this adorable town because of Cassie. Cassie was the one window-shopping for a man. As for her, Dottie Marie “Fickle” Hart, her life was complicated.
She gave the sheriff her best nonchalant glance. It didn’t matter how good-looking a man he was, or how crazy her pulse was jigging at his nearness. It didn’t matter how kind he appeared to be. And it truly, certainly didn’t matter if he made her feel as weak on the inside as her body felt on the outside.
Sheriff Brady Cannon seemed like a great guy, who had no wedding ring on his finger. But none of these facts mattered. And that was the way it would remain. She had an agenda that left no room for infatuations of the personal kind.
Period. She wasn’t that fickle.
She had an agenda of the heavenly sort, a payback for a life changed. And that thought was all it took to get her head on straight again.
Too late, Brady realized he hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d suggested they walk. Dottie seemed a little unsteady. She was obviously weak, a woman didn’t pass out without a reason. What a buffoon he was! And now here they were, walking along and she was limping—stumbling even, and trying hard to hide it. He slowed his pace to match hers, causing her to glance at him, her eyes wide.
“I needed the exercise,” she blurted out as if reading his mind, as if not wanting to admit a weakness. Her words were breathless. “I, well…I get a little stove up when I ride long distances all at once.”
He nodded, noticing how she moved away from him. “You came far?” He glanced at her, curious about her but trying not to be intrusive, a hard thing for a cop.
She nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yes.”
Single-word answers were not what he was looking for. Though his beat was different here in his tiny hometown, his previous life as a cop on the streets of Houston still imprinted everything he did. He wanted details and suddenly he was full of questions. “How far? Where are you from?” Smooth, Brady.
“I started out in Florida five days ago.”
“Ouch! That is a long way.”
“Oh, yes, but most people would’ve made it here in three days. I hurt my hip in an accident and can only travel so far before I’m forced to stop for the day. That is if I want to be able to move the next day.”
“What kind of accident?” What are you doing, Brady?
She locked her arms and looked into the distance, as if she really didn’t want to elaborate, then focused back on him. “I was bullheaded enough to think I could protect my home from a hurricane.”
“Ohhh.”
She grimaced. “Sounds stupid, I know, believe me, and the house collapsed on me, despite my personal efforts at holding it up under category-three winds.”
He could tell, though she gave a quick smile, there was nothing funny about her ordeal. However, he knew only too well in his line of work that sometimes humor took the edge off.
“I spent three months in the hospital. I was a mess. Not a vacation I’d recommend at all, as you can imagine. I spent several months rehabilitating. I’m doing great, considering everything. I can’t run a marathon yet, though.”
She met his gaze, her expression blank and unreadable but entirely captivating with the intensity of her words. How much pain and suffering must she have endured? It was obvious Dottie still hurt. He could see it. As a cop he’d learned to read people pretty well. And Dottie was a book that had to be read slowly. Carefully.
“But I will.” She smiled.
He stopped. They’d made the fifty-yard walk to the corner. Though she hadn’t voiced any of it, he had a vivid picture of this fragile woman in pain unlike any he’d ever experienced. Looking into her eyes, he searched harder this time. He glimpsed a shadow of…anger, despite the smile. He’d seen it before…but suddenly he wondered if she even knew it was there. “I bet you will,” he said. “You impress me as a person who can do anything she sets her mind to.”
To his surprise she shook her head, and her eyes misted with tears.
“Only by the grace of God.” She lifted her chin and blinked away the mist. “You can’t imagine how many times I felt like quitting. But that verse! It kept popping into my head, forcing me on, reminding me that God was there, right beside me. The truth is—until I was so low I couldn’t get any lower, I never really understood that I can really do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Her earnest expression melted into another smile. “That’s what got me through grueling rehab, through days that I couldn’t take on my own. God’s faithful. He can take the worst of times and make something good. If we let Him.”
Brady was in trouble.
He knew it the moment she smiled at him again.
He knew the moment she lifted her eyes to the sky and winked, like she and God had a secret. It was as if she was defying the tears and the anger to grasp the joy.
Oh yeah, Brady was in trouble all right, because although he’d only known Dottie Hart for less than thirty minutes, he knew he wanted in on her secret.
Chapter Two
Mule Hollow was getting ready for a pretty big day. Even in the dusky light Dottie could see there were spots sectioned off in the field for booths and trailers. They’d even set up electrical services for vendors, which she wasn’t. But how coincidental that she was both a baker and a candy maker on her way to California, who just happened to find Cassie on the side of the road, which brought her to Mule Hollow where her motor home happened to die. She smiled, reminded of the song about the old woman who swallowed the fly.
It had dawned on her just now talking to Sheriff Brady—Mule Hollow seemed like a safe place to be stranded. God had protected her. Even before she knew she needed protecting. How sweet was that?
He’d even given her a way of saving her money for California. At least most of it. Instead of dipping into her bank account she now had a way to pay for the repairs to her RV…she could make and sell some simple candy and baked goods over the weekend and have a little extra money to help pay the mechanic. She wouldn’t have to tap into her insurance.
Everything was fine, except for the time factor. But that was what had her winking toward heaven a moment ago. She was on God’s time schedule, so she was going to try and relax. Try not to worry. Really…why should she? She’d prayed for a safe trip to California—never had she envisioned God would take her a hundred miles out of her way to get her there safely. But the reality was that if she’d been on the highway when the engine burst into flames—she hated to think about it. For one, she may not have been able to stop the fire; two, she’d have become a hitchhiker herself.
And three, she might have lost everything.
