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“I don’t need a uniform,” Nate whispered back, not enjoying this at all. He’d rather be chasing chickens. “I have a star on my truck and a badge in my pocket.”
Doris wasn’t the whispering type. In fact, she was practically shouting now. “I’m saying that we the people and only we the people should decide who serves our community. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with a sheriff—” without turning, Doris pointed behind her, toward Nate “—who badgers our residents, berates citizens for their lifestyle choices and bullies the elderly with citations and tickets they can’t afford to pay!”
“Freaky,” Flynn said louder, causing the baby to stir and loosen the blanket again. “It’s like you and Doris are psychically connected. She knew exactly where you were sitting.”
“She saw me come in.” Nate could solve that mystery more easily than the one involving what made Doris so bitter. “She can’t be this upset over tickets.”
Doris held up a sheaf of papers. “I have here twenty signed reports from residents about Sheriff Landry’s behavior.”
Nate didn’t think he’d given out twenty tickets in the past year.
“Twenty reports stating that Sheriff Landry gave them warnings rather than a citation with a fee attached. Whereas I...” Doris had worked into huff-and-puff mode. “Whereas I have received three citations in the past three months! I demand we let the people decide who protects us. I demand we fire the sheriff and hold an election!” She dropped the stack of papers on the podium like a rapper dropped a mic at the end of a show. Except she kept talking. “I demand—”
“In my defense—” Nate tucked Ian’s blue blanket more securely around his tiny shoulders “—the only way to handle Doris is to give her a ticket and drive away.”
“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry made a rare appearance in an argument. Normally, he delegated trouble to the town council so he could remain as neutral as Switzerland. “These are serious allegations. Please approach with your notes so we may look them over.”
Clod-clump. Clod-clump.
“Notes?” Doris snatched up the papers again, clutching them to her chest. “This is my evidence!”
Clod-clump. Clod-clump.
The gray-haired residents of Harmony Valley had probably never done the wave at a sports stadium. But their heads turned in the same rippled effect to stare Nate’s way, starting from the back of the church and moving forward. Grins and coos rippled through the assembled, almost as if—
The little hand returned to Nate’s shoulder, followed by a hot-breathed, “Hi.”
Another mystery solved. Residents were doing the neck-craning wave to watch an angelic toddler putting on a show behind Nate.
When Nate turned his head, he received another gentle forehead bump. “You’re an awesome little dude.” Nate ruffled the boy’s hair.
The boy’s gray eyes widened in delight. “I Duke.” He tapped his skinny chest and grinned.
The majority of the assembled chuckled. The majority being over age sixty-five and being grandparents or great-grandparents who appreciated precocious children.
Behind Nate, someone emitted a heavy sigh. Feminine hands drew the toddler out of view once more.
“For years—” Doris half glanced behind her as if sensing she was losing her audience “—you four have ruled Harmony Valley. Well, no more! The people want to be heard. The people want a say. The people want to vote for a sheriff of our own choosing!”
Nate sat back against the pew. He wasn’t the hand-shaking, promise-making, run-for-office type.
“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry hated discord and looked as if he was ready to break Robert’s rules of order and escape out the back. He started again. “Now, Doris—”
“Don’t you Now, Doris me. I want action and I want it now!”
“She slipped up there,” Flynn noted. “She said I.”
“The people...” Doris was quick with a correction. “The people want action now!”
“I’m going to remind the speaker,” Mayor Larry said carefully. “That there is a review process written in the town bylaws—”
“By you.” Doris scoffed.
The mayor tilted his head down and stared at Doris over the rim of his rectangular readers. “Written by the town council over seventy years ago.”
“Hi!” Duke shouted, completely stealing the limelight and bringing some much-needed laughter to the proceedings.
Doris spun, so upset at being upstaged her short hair seemed to tilt forward and take aim at the upstager.
The few residents not enamored of little Duke straightened and quieted like school children caught misbehaving. The rest kept on smiling and scrunching their faces in funny ways designed to encourage the boy, not calm him down. He really was a cute kid. Not even Doris was immune to his charms. Her expression seemed to soften.
“We should wrap this up so we can all meet that adorable young man in the back.” Agnes spoke into the microphone. “These are all good points, Doris. Therefore...” Agnes waited until Doris faced her again. “I move we hold a sheriff’s election as soon as possible. Say...this week, so as not to hinder our Spring Festival plans.”
Voices disappeared beneath a rush of sound, as if Nate was passing a semitruck on the highway with his windows down. His position was an inconvenience to the Spring Festival? His livelihood? His future?
The assembled were just as shocked as Nate. The church had fallen into a stunned silence. There wasn’t so much as a peep from Doris or Duke.
During the lull, Agnes elbowed Rose.
“Uh...” Rose looked as confused as Nate felt.
Mildred, who had a slight resemblance to Mrs. Claus, pushed her thick lenses higher up her nose and sighed. “I suppose... I second?”
Anticipating peace, the mayor beamed at the council. “All in favor?”
All three town councilwomen said, “Aye.”
“Motion passed.” The mayor closed out the meeting.
“An election?” Nate’s plain and simple world was suddenly not so plain and simple.
“Don’t sweat it.” Flynn stared down at Ian with a whole lotta love in his eyes. “You signed a new contract and you’re the only qualified candidate in town. In a week, you’ll win by a landslide.”
Nate’s future was out of his control. He didn’t think he’d sleep for a week.
“I Duke.” The little dude gripped Nate’s shoulder.
The woman’s hands drew him back.
“Juju,” the boy scolded.
In the past eighteen months or so, there’d been an influx of younger residents to Harmony Valley and a baby boom. Nate turned more fully in his seat to see who held his new friend.
Familiar gray eyes collided with his.
The storm cloud returned. And flashed with lightning.
* * *
“HELLO, NATE.” JULIE SMITH put nearly three years of disdain and disappointment in those two words.
“Julie.” Nate shot to his feet, steady as always, guarded as always. If Nate was the sheriff, he was off duty. He wore a brown checkered shirt and blue jeans, not a service uniform.
Duke was balanced on her thighs, his small hard-soled sneakers digging in for purchase as he reached for Nate once more.
Couldn’t Duke loathe Nate as much as Julie did?
Couldn’t Nate look as if the past few years had been one big heartbreak?
No on both counts.
Duke’s fingers flexed as he reached for Nate.
And Nate? It was annoying how good he looked. His black hair might have been in need of a trim and his chin shadowed with stubble, but his teeth hadn’t fallen out, his broad shoulders weren’t bullet ridden and, worst of all, he didn’t look sleep deprived.
The mayor and town council were still on the pulpit surrounded by animated residents with loud voices. Chaos had arrived in Harmony Valley, just not the way Julie had envisioned it.
The man next to Nate came to his feet. He wore a wedding ring, held a swaddled newborn, had spit-up on the shoulder of his yellow polo and New Dad bags under his eyes.
Julie gave him a sympathetic smile. Duke despised naps and could be a restless sleeper at night. Not as restless as Julie lately, but still...
The man with the baby cleared his throat, shaking Nate out of tall, dark and stunned mode.
“Flynn,” Nate said. “This is Julie, my...”
And there it was. That awkwardness Julie had been waiting years for.
She pounced. “I’m the sister of Nate’s ex-fiancée.”
Flynn slid a questioning look Nate’s way.
Her moment had arrived. Julie stood, scooping Duke to her hip with her left arm. “Didn’t Nate tell you he was engaged? He left my sister at the altar.” That wasn’t all he’d left, but Julie didn’t want to waste all her ammunition on the first volley.
Flynn didn’t look as shocked as she’d hoped. She blamed Nate. He inspired loyalty wherever he went. Even after being dumped, April had forbidden Julie to confront him. But that ban had been lifted. It was open season on the sheriff.
Duke toppled forward, letting his full weight drop between Julie and Nate, unexpectedly shifting Julie’s center of gravity. She slurped in air like it came through a clogged milk shake straw. The stitches beneath her right collarbone pulled sharply, tugging at nerves that quivered up and down her neck and shoulder.
Mom was right. The doctor was right. It was too soon.
And too late to back out now.
Julie drew on years of resentment, drew Duke back and drew down her chin against the pain. She was here for justice. She was here to make Nate suffer. Surely that wouldn’t take long.
Nate hadn’t been shamed by her announcement that he’d backed out of a wedding. He didn’t scowl or frown. He didn’t put his hands on his hips and try to stare her down. She’d forgotten he was a man of few words.
Julie was itching for words. Fighting words. “My sister, April, defeated cancer and the idea that it might return gave Nate cold feet.” She glared at Nate, daring him to contradict her.
“Not exactly,” Nate said in a gruff voice, not riled enough to fully engage in battle.
“What a pleasure to see a new babe in our neck of the woods.” It was the miniature old lady from the town council, the one with the relaxed pixie-cut silver hair. She bestowed Duke and Julie with a friendly smile, and then gave Nate the kind of smile grandmothers bestowed on favored grandkids before turning to Flynn. “Can the council borrow you for an assignment?”
Flynn accepted the job and edged past Nate, who was staring at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention.
Julie hoped April wasn’t smiling down on him. Her younger sister had always been the forgiving type.
“Who is this adorable young man?” An overly wrinkled woman with unnaturally black hair and a severe widow’s peak stood behind Julie and ruffled Duke’s hair.
“I Duke,” Julie’s nephew repeated, thrusting his shoulders back. He loved attention.
“More important, who are you?” A pale elderly woman wheeled an oxygen tank to Julie’s pew and adjusted the cannula in her nose.
“Oh, heavens, no. The important question is are you here to stay?” This from a rotund gentleman waggling a smile and bushy white brows.
At least ten elderly folk clustered around Julie’s pew, clogging the aisle. They leaned on walkers and canes and the pew itself, waiting for Julie’s answer.
“Is this how we treat visitors to Harmony Valley?” Nate asked them in a voice infused with patience.
For a moment, no one answered. And then someone said, “Yes,” which made the group laugh.
“Her name is Julie,” Nate said, still in patience mode. “And you can ask her questions some other time. Now, does everyone have a ride home?”
They dutifully nodded and pointed to their rides, or volunteered to take others home.
Amid the subsequent shuffle toward the door, Julie studied Nate some more, trying to figure out how he won everyone over.
He had that ramrod-stiff posture that signified confidence and a history of military service. His black hair was parted to the side where a cowlick prevented the hair over his forehead from lying flat. His brown eyes were serious more often than not, and when others were grinning he only allowed a half smile. He was bottled up and wound tight, keeping his emotions close to his chest. Even after he’d met April.
Which was weird. Everyone had loved April. She handed out smiles the way sample ladies handed out free food at Costco. She’d been the kid least likely to get in a fight and most likely to shed tears over sappy television commercials. She’d grown up to be a kindergarten teacher, of course. And she’d taught dance and tumbling to little ones for the recreation department. She was the opposite of Nate, who’d been a sniper in the Middle East, and Julie, who was now a sniper on Sacramento’s SWAT team.
Julie eased her aching shoulder back, ignoring the growing feeling of exhaustion. She nodded toward the podium. “Stirring up trouble, I see.”
“Trouble’s always had a way of finding me,” Nate said with a half smile.
Julie’s aim was off. Nothing was ruffling him. Nothing was satisfying her need for revenge. She’d have to hunker down for the long haul. She’d never been good at the long game, at chess or Monopoly. This time, the stakes were higher than bragging rights or a pile of paper money. This time, she had to be patient.
“Want Mama.” Duke collapsed against Julie’s shoulder, his forehead pile-driving into the only tender spot on her body.
Her sharp intake of breath caused Nate to dip his head and stare at her more closely. She smoothed her expression into her game face, determined that he only see what she wanted him to see—a strong woman who despised him.
“You got married.” Nate’s gaze was gentle.
She didn’t want his gentleness. She wanted his anger. She wanted to argue and shout and have him argue and shout back. “You think I’m married because...”
A small crease appeared between Nate’s brows, only for a moment. “Well...this little guy...”
A surge of satisfaction shored up sagging dreams of revenge. “You think a woman has to be married to have a child?”
The crease returned, deeper this time. “You’re a cop. Female cops don’t—”
