Single Father Sheriff. Carol EricsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
Crock-Pot on the tablecloth and removed the lid. “What else?”
“Can you help me scoop some tapenade and salsa and some other goodies into little serving dishes?”
“Absolutely, as long as I can sample while I’m scooping.” Kendall pulled a small bowl toward herself and plopped a spoonful of guacamole in the center. “I like Daryl.”
“Yeah, he’s an uptight programmer—just perfect for his flaky, artsy-fartsy wife.”
“Opposites do attract sometimes. He’s a good balance for you.”
“And what about you?” Melissa pinched her arm. “Any hot guys in hot Phoenix?”
“Lots, but nobody in particular. You single gals here in Timberline hit the jackpot when Evergreen Software came to town, didn’t you?”
“It definitely expanded the dating scene, but a lot of the Evergreen employees came with ready-made families. Came to Washington for clean air, clean living, safety. Or at least it was safe until...” Melissa shoved a tapenade-topped cracker into her mouth.
“I know all about the recent kidnappings, Melissa.” She scraped the rest of the guac into the bowl. “Wyatt Carson dropped by today and so did Sheriff Sloane.”
“Coop already talked to you?”
“He came by the house this afternoon.”
“Talk about your hot property.” Melissa licked her fingers.
“He is definitely hot.” Kendall elbowed her friend in the ribs. “I’d like to see him without all that khaki covering everything up.”
“Ladies? Need any help?”
Kendall’s face burned hotter than the salsa she was dumping into the bowl. She didn’t have to turn around to know who’d crept up behind them. She’d been listening to that low-pitched, smooth voice all afternoon.
“Hey, Coop. Glad you could make it.” Melissa nudged Kendall’s foot with her bare toes. “Have you met Kendall Rush yet?”
Kendall got very busy wiping salsa spills from the counter as she glanced over her shoulder, trying not to zone in on the way the man’s waffle knit shirt stretched across his broad chest. “We met this afternoon. Hello again, Sheriff Sloane.”
“I thought we were on a first-name basis. Call me Coop.”
He entered the kitchen with a few steps and, even though he still must’ve been yards behind her, it felt like he was breathing down her neck.
“Do you need any help in here, Melissa?”
“I do not. We have it all under control.” She tapped Kendall’s arm. “My hands are goopy. Can you grab a cold beer for Coop from the fridge?”
Kendall shuffled over a few steps and yanked open the refrigerator. “What kind would you like?”
“Anything in a bottle, not a can. Surprise me.”
She studied the bottled beer, grateful for the cool air on her warm cheeks. Had he heard their schoolgirl conversation about him? She grabbed a bottle with a blue label and spun around, holding it up. “How’s this?”
He ambled toward her, his eyes, as blue as the label on the bottle, sparkling with humor. He reached for the beer and for an electrifying second his fingertips brushed hers. With his gaze locked on hers, he said, “This’ll do.”
“Well, then.” Melissa grabbed a dish towel and wiped her hands. “Once we get these bowls to the table, dinner will be served.”
Coop reached around Kendall, his warm breath brushing her cheek, and pinched the edge of a serving dish between his fingers. “I’ll get this one.”
Kendall followed him to the dining room while Melissa made wide-eyed faces at her, which she had no idea how to interpret.
“Come and get it,” Melissa called out to the group. “Paper plates and bowls on both sides of the table. Nothing but first class around here.”
Coop stuck to her side as they both filled up plates and bowls with food.
Stopping at the chili, Kendall spooned some into her bowl and held up the ladle to Coop. “Have you tried Melissa’s famous chili yet?”
“Nope. Fill ’er up.”
She dipped the spoon into the dark red mixture and ladled it into his bowl. “Another?”
He nodded.
“This stuff only makes it better.” She sprinkled some grated cheese, chopped onions and diced avocado on the top.
Holding her plate in one hand and a bowl in the other, her fingers curled around her plastic cutlery, Kendall shuffled into the living room and nabbed a spot at a card table Melissa had set out for her guests. As she placed her food on the plastic tablecloth, Coop joined her.
“You left your wineglass in the kitchen. Do you want a refill?”
“I don’t have far to drive, but I’m still driving. I’ll take some iced tea. There are some cans in the fridge.”
“Responsible driver.” He put his fist over his heart. “Just what a man of the law wants to hear.”
By the time Coop returned with their drinks, Melissa and Daryl had claimed the other two places at the table, but they didn’t last long. One or the other and sometimes both kept hopping up to see to their guests’ needs, which left Kendall alone with the sheriff...which suited her just fine.
“Verdict on the chili?” She poked the edge of his empty bowl with her fork.
“Awesome. I’m going to have to ask her for the recipe.”
Blinking, she stole a glance at his ring finger, which she hadn’t bothered to check before. Bare. She hadn’t pegged him as a domestic sort of guy. Maybe he was joking about getting the recipe.
With his face all serious, he took a sip of the beer he’d been nursing all through dinner and started cutting into a piece of barbecued chicken.
“Did you have any more scares cleaning up your aunt’s place after I left?”
Knots tightened in her gut, but she didn’t know if thinking about the pink ribbon had caused the sensation or the fact that Coop had nailed her as a liar.
“If you don’t count the scary dust bunnies, all went smoothly. I’m going to hire a cleaning crew to come in and finish the rest of the house, so I can focus on selling my aunt’s things.”
“You’re not taking any of it back home?”
“Aunt Cass’s decorating style and mine clash.” She slathered a pat of butter on a corn bread muffin and took a bite.
“She had a lot of collections, didn’t she?”
“Mermaids, wood carvings from the old days when Timberline was a lumber town—stuff like that.”
“And you’re just going to sell that stuff? Might be nice to hand down to the kids one day.”
She almost inhaled a few crumbs of corn bread. Kids? She had no intention of having kids. Ever. She coughed into her napkin. “Maybe.”
He reached forward so suddenly, she jerked back, but then he touched his fingertip to the corner of her mouth. “Corn bread.”
To quell the tingling sensation his touch had started on her lips, she pressed the napkin to her mouth again. “Great. Do I have chili in my eyebrows, too?”
Taking her chin between his fingers, he looked in her eyes, his own darkening to a deep blue. “Not that I can see.”
Laughter burst from the crowd sitting on the floor around the oversize, square coffee table, startling them both. He dropped his hand.
“You heard that