15

The steady rhythm of the horse, combined with the cool night air, was almost hypnotic. She was bone-tired. She just wanted to go home. But home wasn’t the same anymore. He was there now—her mother’s new husband.

Even in her exhaustion, she was aware of the sheriff’s solid frame. The firm muscles of his back, the unmistakable strength in his core—abs like steel. The man clearly worked out, which made sense for his line of work. Her nose was just inches from his neck, where the scent of leather, sweat, and something undeniably male teased her senses. Not in a funny way, but in a way that was… unsettling.

Not that it affected her. He wasn’t her type. She wasn’t into rugged, law-abiding tough guys. Still, she couldn’t deny it—he was an undeniably attractive man. In bowling terms, he was a ten-pin. A perfect strike.

A wave of nostalgia hit her. Her father had been an avid bowler—the only active hobby she ever remembered him having. When she started dating, he’d always ask, “Is this guy a seven or an eight-pin?” She’d roll her eyes and answer, “More like a three or four.” She’d once promised herself that when she met a ten, she’d marry him.

She’d never rated a man that high before. Until today. Maybe she hit her head harder than she thought when she fell out of that damn tree.

They rode right into a barn. She blinked in opposition to the brightness as a light came on. Once her vision was clear, she could make out a hayloft, a wall covered in bridles, stalls for horses, bales of hay, and a dirt floor with hanging ropes. Wooden horses had blankets and saddles on them. Her nostrils were overwhelmed with the smell of leather and hay.

“You can get off,” the sheriff said, snapping her out of her thoughts. It struck her then—she still didn’t know his name.

Swinging her leg over the horse’s back, she slid to the ground. She wobbled for a second but quickly steadied herself.

With effortless grace, the sheriff dismounted. It was then she truly noticed his height, the broad set of his shoulders, the way his lean muscles filled out his clothes. Jeans, a fitted shirt, a gun belt slung low on his hips… ‘Clint Eastwood, eat your heart out.’

She felt a little lightheaded.

“What’s your name?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

He glanced over his shoulder as he unstrapped a rifle from the saddle and leaned it against a thick wooden post. “Why?”

“So I know who I’m suing.”

He smirked slightly, then resumed unfastening the saddle. With the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times, he swung it onto a wooden rack. Finally, he turned to face her. “John Stark.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean, like John Earp?”

"Yes." His lips tightened for a second and then he shrugged. "What can I say? My dad was an Old West enthusiast." He grabbed a brush and walked to the horse and began to brush her coat. "You did good, girl, real good," he said to the horse.

"You're talking to the horse?"

"Yep. Aurora did a stellar job getting me to Tosin’s fast and safely." He began to lead the horse out of the barn to a corral.

"Oh, no."

He swung back to her. "What?"

She held up her dirty hands. "I broke four nails and I just had them done."

He gave her a dry, unimpressed look. “Now that should be a crime.” Then, without another word, he continued out of the barn.

She didn’t find that funny. Not at all. Her skin and clothes were coated in grime. She shook her hair, dislodging dirt and leaves. Her Prada sandals were ruined, caked in mud. Damn it. She needed a bath. And more importantly, she needed out—out of this town, out of John Stark’s presence, out of this entire ridiculous situation.

John strolled back inside, grabbed the rifle, and strode toward the barn doors. “Let’s go.”

She followed, but when he stopped short, she smacked straight into his rock-solid back. He didn’t even flinch. Just reached up, flicked off the light, and muttered, “Watch where you’re going.”

Darkness swallowed them. Annoyed, she stuck out her tongue at his retreating back. Was the man always this serious? And this insufferable? She hurried to keep up with his long strides.

His car was waiting outside. He placed the rifle on the back seat and slid into the driver's side. She opened the door on the passenger side and hopped in. She smelled coffee and spied a half-empty cup of it in the console, along with a small bag of M&Ms. Her stomach grumbled and she realized she was hungry- very hungry. She could ask for the candy, but pride wouldn't let her.

The sheriff poked out a phone number on his cellphone. "Arthur, I found her. We're coming in." He ended the call, started the car, and turned onto a dirt road.

"Where are we?"

"Lady Luck Ranch?"

"Where are we going?"

"Jail."

Her hunger was immediately replaced by something colder—fear. She couldn’t go back there. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she swallowed. “Will Tosin be there?”

“Yes.”

She had tried every trick in the book on the sheriff, but none had worked. So, for once, she decided to try something different—honesty. Maybe he’d appreciate that.

“Please don’t make me go back there. Tosin scares me.”

John slowed the vehicle as they approached a cattle guard, the headlights illuminating the paved road ahead. “Ms. Lily, where is your mother?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters,” he said firmly, flicking her a glance. “If she’s willing to pay your bail, you can go home tonight—or rather, this morning.” He paused, letting that sink in. “So, where is this mother you keep bringing up?”

Charlotte hesitated, clenching her hands into fists. There was no avoiding it. She had to tell him.

“She’s on her honeymoon.”

John turned slightly to face her, his expression unreadable. “Excuse me? So you were racing to get to the wedding? Is that why you were in such a hurry?”

The instinct to lie kicked in, but for the first time, she second-guessed it. Something about this man made deceit feel like a waste of time.

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. I called my brother—he’s a lawyer. I’m sure he’ll be here in the morning.”

John’s gaze stayed on the road, but she could tell he wasn’t satisfied. “Why isn’t he here now?”

She resisted the urge to fidget. Did the man have some built-in lie detector? Only the truth seemed to work with him.

“He’s mad at me,” she admitted, exhaling sharply. “I skipped my mom’s wedding, and now he’s trying to teach me a lesson. But he’ll come. He always does.”

“So he gets you out of trouble often?”

“Not serious trouble,” she said defensively. “Just… things. Sometimes my sorority sisters and I party a little too hard. There have been a few noise complaints, a trashed hotel room or two. Oh, and that one time in Bloomingdale’s when my friend made a comment about a saleswoman’s huge ass, and the woman got offended and refused to help us. So, we just… walked out with the merchandise.”

John shot her a pointed look. “And your lawyer brother just makes it all disappear?”

Her spine stiffened. “Is that relevant to what’s happening now?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “You’re used to thinking you can get away with anything. But one day, you’re going to have to take responsibility for your actions. And your big brother won’t be there to fix it.”

The words cut through her like a knife, popping whatever bubble of bravado she’d been clinging to. For the first time, a twinge of shame wormed its way into her conscience.

John, meanwhile, had his own problem. He couldn’t take her back to the jail—not with Tosin locked up in the next cell. But that left one burning question: ‘What the hell was he supposed to do with her?’

“Please don’t take me to jail.”

The softness in her voice hit him like a punch to the chest. This woman didn’t beg. If she was pleading now, it was because she was genuinely scared. And considering everything she’d been through, he couldn’t blame her. His department had failed her. The least he could do was make it right. There was only one place he could take her. His home.

Everything in him resisted the idea.

“Are you sure your brother will be here in the morning?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Hell, it was already morning. A few hours. That’s all he had to put up with her. Then she’d be out of his hair, out of his town, and out of his life.

Until the hearing.

After that, Charlotte Lily would be nothing more than a bad memory.