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That part Cam meant as well. He kind of liked the old woman, even if she was dangerous with those choppers of hers. As for her granddaughter...
Those blue jeans hugged her slender legs and shapely hips a little too delightfully for him to ignore at the moment. Her pert chin was raised a fractious notch, her mouth pursed like she’d just tasted an Arkansas persimmon—which only served to fire up his libido all the more. Her arms, crossed over her soft blouse, hid the shape of her breasts from view, but Cam had perfect recall from last night. Hallie Cates was missing nothing in the shape department.
Before Hallie could answer for her grandmother’s health Granny appeared behind her on the porch. “What you awantin’, Cam Osborne?” she barked in her unfriendliest voice.
“Good afternoon to you too, Granny Pearl,” Cam said wryly, which seemed to take Granny aback for a moment.
“Don’t go gettin’ all smart-alecky with me, Sheriff,” she said sharply. “I may be old, but I can still whup the likes of you.”
Hallie hid a slow grin and cadged a peek at Cam. He’d enjoyed Granny’s boast—and even looked like he might like to take the old girl on. That gave Hallie pause—Granny wouldn’t win with the man.
No woman would, she suspected.
That sent a tingle of something skittering through her, something akin to...heat. Cam Osbome was a very good-looking man. She hadn’t missed that fact last night, nor did she overlook it now. He stood as tall and rugged as a tree, his body every bit as hard, she suspected. The breeze feathered his dark hair, teasing it as a lover might. His face was all angles and planes, and every one of them pleasant to look at.
Granny had mentioned over breakfast this morning that the sheriff was single, that he’d come here from Chicago two years ago when Sheriff Potts had become ill and was forced to retire.
“And nothin’ ain’t been the same around here since,” Granny had lamented.
Looking at Cam Osborne now, Hallie could believe he was a man who would change things. When he kissed a woman she’d stay kissed. He’d no doubt rattle her senses, as well as her good judgment.
“Hallie, you can stand here talking to this man all day if you want, but I got things that need doin’,” Granny said and turned back toward the door. Hand on the screen she paused and glowered back at Cam. “You ain’t come here on any more funny business, have you, Sheriff?”
“Funny business?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Like haulin’ me back to that jail of yours.”
“That all depends, Pearl. Have you been moonshining again?”
Granny wouldn’t answer, just harumphed loudly and disappeared back inside the cabin.
Cam laughed low and long. Hallie added a glower of her own at the man, then reached for a quart fruit basket on the porch. “I have some raspberries to pick, so if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff...” she said, leaving her sentence—and her meaning—hanging. Hallie didn’t want Cam hanging around.
Instead Cam slipped open the latch on the gate. “I’m pretty good at berry picking,” he said. “That is, if you don’t mind some company.”
She gave him a slow, evaluating glance. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But...you’d better watch out for George and Myrtle.”
If she’d hoped that word of caution would give him second thoughts about joining her, she’d been wrong. Cam snapped the gate closed behind him and made his way toward her, giving George and Myrtle a wide berth as he did so.
She had to grin at his wariness. It was nice to know the big, tough sheriff possessed a little fear at times.
“Where are these berry bushes?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“Not far.”
She kept moving, all too aware of him beside her.
He had that clean, fresh scent of a man, a mixture of soap and after-shave, and at the moment it was having a decided effect on her. His long legs could cover the terrain far quicker than she could, but he adjusted his stride to match hers. He moved with an easy grace, all-male and self-assured. There was a power to him that made her feel... vulnerable. And it was not a feeling she liked.
She didn’t need to go losing her head over Cam Osborne or any man, especially one from Greens Hollow again. She’d learned that lesson one summer long ago. And she hadn’t forgotten it.
Maybe it was why she didn’t come back here to visit as often as she should. Or maybe it was just that her life in Fort Worth was so full, so busy. It was where she’d gone to heal, and for the most part, she had—except for that one tiny part of her she knew never could.
Hallie bit her lip and pushed away the memory. It was just coming back to Greens Hollow again that tugged the past into awareness—but as soon as she had everything with Granny and the sheriff settled, she could leave.
She only wished she could convince Granny Pearl to leave as well, to move in with her, where she could keep a close eye on her.
The bushes were over the next rise, a tangle of briars and sweet berries that could make her mouth water. Granny didn’t prune them, just let them grow helter-skelter, wild as nature allowed. Hallie could already taste Granny’s raspberry cobbler, her famous pancake syrup.
No one could match Granny’s recipes, maybe because the prime ingredient was love. Hallie felt it, had always felt it, no matter how irascible the old girl could be at times.
“I hope you don’t mind a few scratches on your hands,” she said, “but it’s the only way to pick.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me. I can endure a scratch or two.”
“Even if you don’t get to sample the bounty later?”
Cam grinned slowly. “Who says I won’t?”
“I doubt very much that Granny’ll invite you to supper—not after you carted her off to the clink yesterday.” She frowned up at him. “Which brings up a question, Cam Osborne. Just what makes you so certain that Granny is operating a still? Have you actually found one?”
Hallie was certain he hadn’t; this morning she’d had a thorough look around Granny’s property, every nook and cranny of it. She’d found nothing.
“I wouldn’t have brought the old gal in, if I hadn’t,” he answered.
Hallie gaped up at him for a long moment, then turned and plucked a berry. “I don’t believe you,” she said, absently dropping the berry into her container.
Had she somehow missed the site?
Hallie didn’t think so.
“Would you like me to show it to you?” He picked a few raspberries from the vine, then leaned close to drop them into her basket.
He smelled like the mountain air, all clean and a little... untamed. And he rattled her, not just his claim about a still, but his presence so close to her. She could see the fine lines that fanned out from his eyes, lines that said he’d lived with a few hurts in his life too—and for a moment Hallie wondered what they had been.
His eyes were dark, a deep brown that could fire with passion, but also bespoke an innate honesty. It was the honesty that had her worried, but the passion she was all too aware of, a passion she’d be a fool to fall susceptible to. And she wouldn’t.
She turned back to her task. “I may just take you up on that, Sheriff,” she said quietly, “but first I have raspberries to pick. Granny’s expecting them.”
“Fine by me.”
Cam knew the woman beside him didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t eager to prove her wrong, to shatter that unshakable belief she had in Granny Pearl. Obviously Granny had not seen fit to fill her granddaughter in about her little... sideline. It might have made things easier for Cam if she had. Still, either way, he had the feeling Hallie was not about to warm to him anytime soon.
That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason—one he didn’t want to think about too closely—it did. He reached into the brambles to pick, leaving the more accessible berries for Hallie. Not that she would probably appreciate his chivalry.
She worked busily, gathering her bounty, the sun gently bronzing her arms left bare by her sleeveless white blouse. It was open at the neck three buttons, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Every now and then she swiped at a bead of perspiration that trickled down her neck.
The sun was hot—and growing hotter.
“So tell me about Fort Worth. What do you do there?” Cam was certain talk was better than fantasizing about whether she’d catch the latest bead of perspiration traveling toward that delectable hollow between her breasts.
She glanced up, her green eyes showing surprise that he’d ask a question about her personally. Well, damn, did she doubt he could be interested in one beautiful woman? He shouldn’t be, but he was curious about Hallie Cates.
She plucked another raspberry. “I’m a teacher, elementary school.”
“A teacher?” Cam gave a slow smile. “You don’t look like a schoolteacher to me.”
She raised her head again. “And just what in your estimation does a schoolteacher look like?” she asked.
“They wear their hair in tight little buns and have crow’s feet,” he answered. “At least they did when I was a kid.”
She let a smile slip at his remark, just a small one. “Give me a few years,” she returned. “Second-graders can age you rapidly.”
He liked her smile, wanted to see more of it, wondered what it would take to shake her dislike of him. Short of forgetting all about that still Pearl had been putting to considerable use. “Is that what grade you teach—second?”
She nodded.
He touched a red springy curl that whispered across the fair skin at her temple. “You, pretty lady, don’t have anything to worry about in the age department. And I’d wager all the little boys have a crush on you.” He knew he would if he were in that classroom.
A small laugh bubbled up from her throat. “A few,” she answered.
“I thought so. And how about big boys—any...men in your life, Hallie Cates?”
Why was he waiting for her answer? Why should he care if there was one—or twenty-one? But it seemed he was curious.
“That, Sheriff, is getting nosy—but since you asked, no. Teaching keeps me busy.”
“What a shame.”
“What...?”
That hadn’t been meant for Hallie’s ears. “I, uh, was just wondering how many berries we need,” he answered quickly.
She gave him a long, scrutinizing glance. “Right,” she said.
When she finally allowed that they’d picked enough to satisfy Granny’s recipe, Cam took the basket. “Let’s go take a look at Granny’s little enterprise,” he said. “It’s just at the end of that hollow.”
Hallie gaped. “That close to the cabin? I thought stills were always well hidden.”
“What can I say, the old girl obviously wasn’t worried about getting caught.”
By the sheriff, Hallie thought. She couldn’t imagine what it was the man planned to show her. She’d seen nothing that even vaguely resembled a still hidden anywhere on Granny’s property.
But Granny was just foxy enough to be up to something—and Cam seemed entirely too confident.
Chapter Three
It was cooler here in the hollow. The afternoon breeze whispered through, ruffling the ends of Hallie’s hair, the thick strands of Cam’s. The air was redolent with dogwood and a hint of pine. From above, the birds chattered away noisily.
“So just where is this so-called still you uncovered?” Hallie asked as Cam did his best imitation of a man searching around for a favorite pair of boots, and coming up empty.
Unless the still was small enough to hide under a rock it wasn’t anywhere around—and Hallie began to feel a whole lot better. She didn’t know whether Granny Pearl was innocent of Cam’s charges or up to her eyeballs in mischief, but she sincerely hoped the former was true and not the latter.
Cam let loose with a colorful curse even Granny could appreciate.
Hallie smiled. “Maybe this isn’t the right hollow. Maybe it’s somewhere else and your memory is a teensy bit off.” Her reply was meant more to antagonize than any real offer of explanation—and it hit the mark.
Cam’s eyes blazed. “Oh, no. This is the right spot all right. That sneaky old biddy has moved it, that’s what. She had no intention of shutting down operations. She’s just gone underground.”
“Underground?”
“A figure of speech. These things can be mighty portable in this part of the country. But I didn’t think Pearl had it in her to up and transport—” He stopped short and spun around to gaze dangerously at Hallie. “Unless maybe...”
“Maybe what?”
“You helped the old girl.”
“Me?” Hallie squeaked with indignation...and surprise.
“Oh, yeah—you, and Granny Pearl.” His eyes narrowed. “Last night. Or maybe this morning—before sunup.”
“I had nothing to do with hiding anything, Sheriff. And I’m not a hundred percent convinced there ever was a still. After all, I only have your say-so on that, now don’t I?”
Cam rubbed his jaw for a long moment. “Okay—so maybe I’m jumping the gun a bit here. After all, I don’t have proof you were involved...” The glint in his dark eyes suggested that if he found out she was, there was going to be hell to pay.
The sick feeling she’d had a short time before returned. She’d have to question Granny, have to get some sort of answer out of her. If Granny was, indeed, moonshining...
Just then Cam’s beeper went off. “Damn!” he said. “I gotta get back to the Jeep. But this isn’t finished, Hallie Cates.”
She followed him back through the hollow. His stride was long, eating up ground as he went. The breeze all but disappeared as they entered Granny’s enclosed yard, the air turning hot and still. Hallie swatted at a fly that buzzed around, and hurried to keep pace with Cam.
When he reached the Cherokee he leaned inside and used the radio. Hallie heard the static but not the words, heard Cam’s terse reply. “I’ll be right there,” he said to whoever was on the other end.
He had bigger fish to fry than Granny at the moment, it seemed. Perpetrators more frightening than little old ladies who might, or might not, be dabbling in moonshine. For a moment she was worried for Cam. Being sheriff around these parts had to carry a certain element of risk, of danger, she was sure.
However, she suspected Cam Osborne could take care of himself. His size more than proved that. Just his bark would scare the criminally bent into running for cover. It was only Granny who refused to be intimidated by the big tough man.
“I’ve got some trouble in town to deal with,” he said as he put the Jeep into gear, “but I’ll be black.”
“Is that a threat or a promise, Sheriff?” Her words were spoken with more bravado than she felt on the inside.
He didn’t answer, just turned his attention to backing out of Granny’s drive, then disappeared up the road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
“You should learn to respect your elders, missy. Am I makin’ moonshine and sellin’ it to half the county like Cam Osborne says? How can you ask such a thing?”
“I am asking—and you are going to answer me,” Hallie said, intending to wring the truth from Granny Pearl if it was the last thing she did.
And preferably before the sheriff came back.
