Snowbound with the Sheriff Read online

  By the time she had the window rolled down and was being blinded by a flashlight, her chest burned with irritation.

  Snow swirled in through the open window, stinging her face. She squinted into the bright beam—with no streetlights, all she could see was a silhouetted cowboy hat pulled low over the officer’s face and broad, male shoulders.

  “Do you want my license and registration?” Stella asked, holding the documents out for the still, silent man. “It’s a rental. And I wasn’t speeding.” And I just want to go to bed, and this highway is the worst because the last time I was on it, I got arrested—

  “Holy God,” the officer said, gripping the open window ledge with a black-gloved hand. He lowered his flashlight. A gold star on his chest glinted in the beam. “Stella.”

  “Ryan?” Fragments of her past sliced at her. Soulful, guarded eyes. Strong hands. A dry wit that made her laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  And ending up utterly, painfully alone. Having to deal with losing their baby without him even having known she was pregnant.

  She blurted out the first thought that made it to her mouth. “You have a criminal record. How the hell are you the sheriff?”

  Chapter Two

  Ryan clenched his teeth to stop his jaw from hanging open. If there was ever a time to rely on his impervious-sheriff face, it was now. He’d expected a routine traffic stop of an out-of-towner.

  Not Stella Reid.

  Not the physical remainder of his only heartbreak, sitting wide-eyed in the driver’s seat of a rental car in an expensive-looking wool coat.

  He lifted his flashlight.

  The beam fell on the set of blue eyes etched permanently on his soul. Catching her squint, he directed the light toward the dashboard. Had she forgotten he’d pled out to a misdemeanor? And was she really surprised by his occupation? He would have thought his name and position would have come up at some point. She must have specifically told her siblings not to mention him. Though his role in saving Maggie from that fire must have been mentioned at least once.

  He put on a neutral tone to match his expression. “Been so long you didn’t recognize me, Stella?”

  The last time he’d laid eyes on her, she’d been trudging off to his grandmother’s car, having just been released from handcuffs. Also on the side of the road. Also with lights flashing.

  It’d been rain pelting his face then, as opposed to today’s snow. And his final words to her—I’ll do this, but after, we’re done—were still imprinted on his soul.

  Hers, too, apparently, because he couldn’t think of the last time she’d visited. Almost ironic that when he’d pulled Maggie from the barn blaze, he’d given Stella a reason to come home. It was the opposite of when he’d taken all the blame for stealing his uncle’s car, and made her promise to leave so she could achieve her dreams.

  She lifted her chin, gaze hardening more during each long second. “It’s pitch-black out here. And your hat’s hiding your face.” She waved her fingers in a circle and pointed at his chest. “And, you know, the law-enforcing cop getup.”

  He flicked up the brim of his hat, exposing more of his skin to the heavy January snow. Once upon a time, he’d seen her in a future that hadn’t been for him. She represented a part of him that he wanted to leave long in the past. But those eyes still held sway over him. “Better?”

  “Better would be you not having pulled me over, and being three minutes closer to my hotel room.”

  He sent her a questioning look. Hard to believe Lachlan and Maggie wouldn’t have offered to put Stella up. Maybe the division between the siblings went deeper than he’d realized. God knew Maggie had taken eighteen years—and a life-saving grab out of an inferno—to forgive him for dumping Stella. Who knew what issues the Reids were still holding on to? But Stella’s choice of lodgings was not his concern. Her road speed was.

  “You were driving too fast for conditions,” he said.

  “I was going the speed limit.”

  “Sure, if you call five over the speed limit. Which is unsafe in the snow. Did your rental company provide you with chains?”

  “Yes.” Stella pressed her lips together. “I figured I didn’t need them until it started sticking to the road more.”

  Oh, man, the ire spitting from those words. Was she still holding on to resentment from how he’d handled things after they broke up? He’d have thought she’d be more apt to thank him than to still be angry. The night of his arrest, the deputy had threatened her with felony charges, mocked her about losing her scholarship, until Ryan had lied and said he’d stolen his uncle’s antique truck for their midnight joyride without her knowing. It had made sense—she, having been the relative angel to his foible-prone teen self. He’d been guilty, after all. No need for both of them to suffer the consequences.

  He’d made it clear that, in taking the blame for her, they were done. He’d thought she’d agreed to the plan. But weeks after his plea bargain, she’d come looking for him at the ranch where he was working off his community-service hours. Why, he didn’t know—he’d never asked. He’d meant it when he’d ended things, so he’d had a crusty old cowboy turn her away.

  A jerk move, sure, though necessary to carry out the new start they’d both needed. Her, away from his bad influence. Him, figuring out how not to be one.

  The problem with earning back his good name was that it was impossible to ever feel he’d done enough.

  He cleared his throat. “Just make sure you keep the chains in the vehicle in case you’re on a road where the snow is deeper.”

  “You’re so official.”

  “It’s my job,” he said, clenching the door frame harder.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Eighteen-year-old Ryan wouldn’t believe that if he tried.”

  “No, but I didn’t have much vision back then. And I was damn lucky. Otherwise I’d probably be living inside the detention center, not in charge of the people who run it.” He intended to continue on the straight and narrow indefinitely, including winning an election this coming fall. Something easier to do if the townsfolk weren’t reminded of his past. And reminder number one? Sitting in the driver’s seat in front of him.

  Hopefully Stella’s visit would be a short one.

  “If you’re that important, surely you had something better to do than lurk in the shadows, waiting for some law-abiding citizen to come along so you could pull them over unfairly,” she sniped.

  He blinked at her challenge. He used to love it when she got snarky. The snap in her voice that had promised a hell of a good time when they made up. Kissing in the nook behind the high-school music room, in the back of his grandma’s Oldsmobile, in the loft of her family’s barn... And with those plump, rosy lips? He bet she’d be even better at it now.

  Jesus, Rafferty. Reel it in.

  Those lips weren’t, and wouldn’t ever be, his to kiss again. Not if he wanted to keep the star on his coat. He questioned her with a stony look. “Should have known you’d fall into the category of drivers who try to argue their way out of a ticket.”

  “You’re going to give me a ticket?”

  Damn right, he was. They’d had a fatality on this stretch of road over the Christmas holidays and were cracking down on speeders. Plus, it was better to have her good and mad at him. More likely she’d keep her distance that way. “Ticketing people who are driving dangerously is also my job.”

  Her cheeks flamed red, illuminated by his flashlight. “More dangerous than driving a stolen vehicle?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. Yeah, he’d screwed up plenty with this woman. But he was on the clock and wouldn’t make exceptions. “I paid my debt. Did you?”

  “You...you can’t... Statute of limitations—”

  “You’re fine, Stella. Except for the speeding.”

  “Take my driver’s license.” She shoved her paperwork in
to his hand. “I’ve never had a ticket—don’t I deserve a warning?”

  And have people question why he’d let his ex-girlfriend off when she was legitimately speeding? Let Stella think he still had a soft spot for her? That wouldn’t fly. “Excuse me while I go run this.”

  A sharp curse followed him back to his patrol truck. He ran her New York license, unsurprised that she’d been telling the truth concerning her driving record. She’d never been a liar.

  That label was reserved for him.

  He’d contemplated apologizing years ago, but had decided it was better to leave well enough alone. Maybe he’d been wrong on that. No matter—the side of the highway wasn’t the place for it.

  He wrote up the ticket, gripping the pen as he printed her name in triplicate. Reid, Stella Beth. Not Rafferty, like he’d caught her scribbling in a notebook once. The naivete of youth.

  Tipping his hat back down to fend off the snow, he returned to her window.

  She’d turned on the overhead light and was reading something on her cell. Snowflakes blew in through her window, landing on her black coat. Between her visible anger, her designer clothing and the way she’d scraped her blond hair back into a severe bun, she looked untouchable. Out of his league.

  Not everything had changed since they were kids.

  He handed her the ticket. “I won’t pretend I made smart choices that night, Stella. But I’ve done my best to make up for it.”

  She stared at him for a long second. “I’m trying to tell myself that what you did for me that night outweighs how you treated me the day I came to the ranch. It definitely should balance out.”

  “We’d agreed to a clean break.”

  “Yeah, but I—” Her gaze shifted from his face, and he couldn’t help but notice how her hands shook a little as she put her phone in her purse, then folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it into the empty cup holder. “How many people besides you see the tickets you issue?”

  “A few,” he said.

  She swore.

  “What?”

  “No need to be the town criminal again,” she grumbled.

  “You never were, Stella. That was me. That’s what I agreed to.” Shame nipped under his collar, a bite worse than the cold fingers of wind trying to freeze his skin.

  “Well, clearly you’re doing okay despite all that. Are we done here? I’m sure you have someone or something to get home to.”

  “Just a dog and an empty bed,” he said.

  Something approaching satisfaction flickered across her face before she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Not my business.”

  He couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from quirking up at her clipped tone. She wasn’t entirely unaffected. And that fragment of vulnerability—he craved it. Still. He’d spent countless moments in high school coaxing those beats of emotion out of her. And it was still as much of a victory.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “Two weeks. Enough time to help Lachlan and Maggie run the work bees.”

  “I committed to helping them, too. I’ll see you there.” Not that he was looking forward to it. Wanting anything to do with Stella Reid was asking for trouble. He removed his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his hair before fixing the hat back on. The cold made his scalp tingle, matching the rush of panic skimming down his limbs. “It might have been a long time ago, but it still hurt like hell when we left things so undone.”

  She let out a disbelieving cough. “We left things undone? Try again, Sheriff.”

  He shook his head slowly. Okay. He had been wrong about not calling to apologize. Maybe they could arrange to meet privately. “Given you’re in town, we should take the opportunity to talk. Clear the air.”

  “Since when do you talk?” she scoffed.

  Her disbelief rubbed at him and he cringed, like when anyone petted his Labrador backward. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself she was basing her judgment of his character on who he’d been as a troubled boy, not a man. “It’s what adults do.”

  “Nice high horse there, Ryan. I suppose you’re also looking for hero worship for having saved Maggie?”

  “No, I—”

  But before he could put his words in order, she started her car and drove off.

  A good reminder. She was all business. Manhattan and designer coats. And for the sake of being the opposite, it was better that she leave him in her dust.

  No one had come close to touching his heart the way Stella Reid had. And if he started to look for similarities between the girl he’d loved and the woman she’d become, he’d risk everything he’d worked so hard to build.

  Chapter Three

  Stella made it about a hundred yards down the road before Ryan pulled his truck off the shoulder and started to follow her. Great. Just what she needed as she made her way to the hotel—a witness to her not staying with one of her siblings. Something else for which he could not so subtly judge her.

  Ryan’s suggestion that they talk was ill-advised, but it had been his insinuation that she’d acted like a child that had pissed her off. And how weird was it to have him be the one pushing for a conversation? She’d learned emotional walls from that man. But it hadn’t always been that way. She’d poked at him for years, trying to get him to share as he went through the highs and lows with his father, ending with his dad’s overdose. However, he’d kept his feelings close to the vest. Which, she’d come to realize, had been a smart choice. Emulating him had served her well as she’d been establishing herself as a no-nonsense hedge-fund analyst.

  So why did he want to dredge up their past? Neither of them had made good choices, and that didn’t need to be revisited.

  The snipe about hero worship might have been overboard. As well as driving off on him while he was trying to respond.

  But seriously! How else was a person supposed to react to getting pulled over and learning their ex was the officer in charge? Had he expected her to be happy while he ticketed her and implied she was the one who needed to open up?

  She gritted her teeth, renewed anger heating her blood. Her peeling away while he was midsentence was a far smaller offense than him refusing to see her at the ranch. So he wanted to talk? Well, she’d been pregnant and desperate to talk then, and he hadn’t been willing. She’d struggled through her miscarriage alone. And she didn’t intend to bring it up now. Stella sighed. She didn’t need one more unresolved thing hanging over her head, given the enormity of trying to earn her half siblings’ forgiveness. To focus entirely on Lach, Maggie and Gramps tomorrow, she needed a clean slate. She could give Ryan two minutes to say whatever he needed to say. Him helping out at the work bee guaranteed they’d see each other again, so better do it now rather than have him pull her aside in the middle of a public gathering.

  Flicking on her hazards, she slowed her car and pulled over again. He followed suit and jogged toward her car.

  “Everything okay?” he asked as she rolled down the window.

  She relaxed her clenched jaw. “Accusing you of wanting hero worship was a low blow,” she admitted, shivering as a blast of cold air swept in. “Questionable ticket and sanctimony aside, you are quite the hero. So, thank you.”

  “Sanctimony?”

  She pressed the home button on her phone. “Siri, define sanctimony.”

  “Oh, come on,” Ryan snapped as the upper-crust English accent she’d chosen for her virtual assistant quoted the definition. “Moral superiority, Stella? That’s rich.”

  She nodded her head in admission. “Maybe. Anyway, I only stopped to say thanks for what you did for Maggie.”

  He gripped the roof of the car with both hands. “I didn’t do it for the accolades. I couldn’t let you—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “Me? What did it have to do with me?”

  “Clearly, it didn’t. Forget I said that.�
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  How could she? Had he run into the fire for her somehow? “But—”

  “Seriously. Leave it.”

  The flash of vulnerability on his face contradicted that tall, powerfully built frame of his. It might have been wintry outside, but her skin heated like she was lying on a towel in the Caribbean sun. He’d put on muscle over the years. Not good. She’d been sucked in by that tempting body before, with disastrous consequences.

  About those... If you’re being honest, you might as well—

  No.

  She wasn’t about to bring up her miscarriage, not while snow was blowing into her car and he was standing with his gloved hands braced on the roof, dressed up like sex on a sheriff stick. Sucking in her bottom lip to keep from blurting something she didn’t want to reveal, she fisted her hands on the wheel, needing the soft leather against her palms instead of the memory of gripping the hard plastic of a pregnancy test.

  His eyes narrowed. “Was it that hard to say thank you, Stella?”

  “What?”

  Bemusement twisted the lips she’d kissed a thousand times. His voice was achingly soft for someone who had a belt full of weapons strapped around his lean hips. “You look pained.”

  “I’m fine.” Thank you did not entail opening a vein. He’d made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with her. “And I should have waited to say thanks until the work bee, when we’re indoors. You look cold.” He didn’t, really. Despite the freezing temperatures, he looked plenty warm. And hot as sin, damn him.

  Stop that. Think about the last time you were on this road with him.

  Not hard to do, no matter how she’d tried to bury it. She’d be ninety and still able to feel the rain pattering on her cheeks, and the deep fear that her life had gone off the rails before she’d even pulled out of the station.