Saving the Sheriff: A Three River Ranch Novella (Entangled Bliss) by Roxanne Snopek Page A

Boxing Day. I licked them all and made them curl, On Boxing Day in the morning.”
    He stopped.
    “What’s the matter?” asked Frankie.
    “Nothing.”
    “I knew you had a great voice. Keep singing!” She paused, then put a hand on his sleeve. “I’m sorry. It reminds you of Kayla, doesn’t it?”
    And the awkward moment was over, just like that. He’d never been so comfortable so fast with a woman. Miles passed. Minutes turned to hours. They made good time, and when they arrived at the yard where Conrad Toole parked his vehicles, it was blanketed with unmarked snow, dead quiet and empty.
    They parked the rig, dug out her little hatchback and began the trip back. Daylight waned. They discussed their favorite movies ( Love, Actually for her, Minority Report for him), whether smokies were better than plain wieners (they were), and how they’d both tweeted on the #suckitboston hashtag during the last NHL playoffs.
    They talked about her parents, his marriage, and what the effect of divorce was on kids, not that either of them knew from experience.
    “Wow, Sheriff,” she said at one point, “we’ve got a lot in common, you know that?”
    “You sound surprised.” It was her turn to drive and he was enjoying a bit of shut-eye while they chatted. He could talk with his eyes closed.
    “It’s just that,” she began. “I mean, I don’t usually find that. With men.”
    “Mmm.” It was so comfortable here, with her. Easy. He opened one eye. “I’m not your average guy, or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
    She smiled at him, the slanting light throwing coppery sparks through her hair. “Oh, I figured that out last night.”
    “Mmm.” That was more like it. He closed his eyes again, picturing her.
    “You snore like this.”
    A high-pitched whinnying sound pierced his fantasy.
    “I do not!” He sat up, as much as he could in her tiny tin-can. “I object!”
    “You’re right. You don’t.” She was laughing. “I wanted to see if you were still paying attention.”
    “You’re pretty low maintenance, as women go.”
    “I am, am I?” She sounded amused.
    “Yeah. Like a cactus.”
    “A cactus!” She reached over and punched him.
    Back and forth like that, he mused as he drifted in and out of sleep, for over ten hours.
    He liked this felonious little elf he’d found stranded on the side of the road. She’d followed him home. Maybe he should keep her.
    He jerked awake.
    “What?” she said.
    “Nothing. Did I say anything?”
    “No. Were you thinking about me? Are you embarrassed, Sheriff LeClair? Rudolph the Red-Faced Sheriff ,” she sang. “ Wants to ride an elf tonight…”
    No matter what they talked about, or how they teased, she didn’t become emotional or distant, making him feel like he’d missed a turn and accidentally dropped her off a cliff.
    “Okay, yeah, I was thinking about you. You make me feel…good. I like that I don’t have to worry about what I say when I’m with you.”
    The words landed on the seat between them, where they bounced around for awhile, waiting for someone to claim them. What was the matter with him? He didn’t blurt stuff out like that.
    “Maybe I should worry about what I say.”
    “No, no, I’m glad you feel that way,” said Frankie immediately. “I was thinking.”
    “Oh.” He swallowed.
    “You know it’s not your fault, right?” Frankie reached over and put a hand on his knee. “Your wife’s happiness or unhappiness was her responsibility, not yours. No one should bear that burden.”
    Red tried not to react to the warmth radiating from her touch. In a few short days, she’d managed to get inside his head, discovering things he kept hidden and even teaching him things about himself. They had something here, surely she felt it too. His heart started pounding. Why didn’t he just ask her?
    “That’s a great theory,” he said instead, adjusting the knob on the heater. “But it’s kind of hard not to take something like that