New Leaf by Catherine Anderson Page A

thought about much else for the past twenty-four hours, and her mind felt as if it had been caught in an out-of-control eggbeater.
    She nearly parted company with the couch cushion when someone rapped on her apartment door. She could tell by the emphatic thumps that it was a man’s knuckles connecting with the wood. Since her shop was closed for the evening, she suspected that her caller was a certain deputy with a master key to the downstairs door. If so, he was the last person in town whom she wanted to see.
    She sprang to her feet. “Who is it?”
    “It’s Barney Sterling,” he replied, his deep voice as clear to her ears as if no door separated them. “Can you let me in, Taffeta? I need to talk with you.”
    Taffeta’s cheeks burned as she disengaged the door chain and dead bolt. Barney stood with a shoulder against the doorframe, and for an instant, his chest seemed at least a yard wide. She forced herself to meet his gaze. His hazel eyes and firm mouth glimmered in the light coming from her living room. His burnished face, partially cast in darkness by his hat, looked tense.
    “I know you’re probably pissed at me,” he said. “And for the record, I don’t blame you. But I hope you’ll hear me out.”
    Taffeta stepped back to let him in. He dwarfed the tiny living area. The enticing scent of his cologne teased her nostrils. To her surprise, he immediately removed his hat.
    With a sheepish grin, he said, “I just left my parents’ house, and my mom climbed all over me about minding my manners.”
    Taffeta wanted to smile back at him, but her face felt as if it were covered in a dried face mask. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured at the living room. “Pardon the shabby chic. When I moved here, I spent most of my money on opening the store. Furnishings for the apartment took a backseat.”
    He moved his gaze slowly over the room. “It doesn’t look shabby to me. It’s cute and cozy.”
    He bent his long legs to sit on the sofa, rested his Stetson on the cushion beside him, and shed his jacket. She lowered herself onto the old easy chair across from him.
    “The Stetson is part of my uniform,” he explained. “I rarely remove it while I’m working, except for inside the patrol truck because I’m too tall, and I crush the crown. Otherwise it stays glued to my head, and then I forget to take it off when I should.”
    His lengthy explanation about the hat told her that he was tense and uncertain about what he wanted to say next. “It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t care if you don’t take off your hat.”
    He puffed air into his cheeks and rubbed his palms together, another indication that he was nervous. That made two of them.
    “About last night,” they both said at once. Taffeta gestured at him. “You can go first. I’m in no hurry.”
    “I owe you an apology for the way I acted at the restaurant,” he said.
    Taffeta held up a hand. “I blindsided you with acrazy story and an even crazier request. I should never have put you on the spot that way.” She shrugged and sighed. “I’ve wished all day that I’d never called you. I don’t know what on earth I was thinking.”
    He studied her, his gaze so intent on her face that her skin burned. “You were thinking about your daughter, Taffeta. And you took a huge risk by telling me everything that you did. I realize that now, but last night—well, I’ve been in law enforcement too long, I guess. You learn after a while that practically all criminals say that they’re innocent. Most of them have sob stories, but at least they’re believable. Your story sounded like—well, a not very convincing tale.”
    Taffeta stiffened. “What are you doing here, then?”
    “I deserve that,” he said. “In fact, I’m probably lucky you even let me in the door.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I had a chance to think about it. You could have made the story easier for me to swallow with a few lies tossed in, but you didn’t do