Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3) by Penny Richards Page B

unusual eyes and incredible eyelashes. Not to mention a pretty mouth.
    He wrote everything down and scanned the list. There was no denying that it was impressive. If he were just looking at positives, Miss Allison Grainger had several. Of course, she had quite the temper when she was riled, but then, it was his experience that most women did. Still, he wrote that down, too—
high-tempered. Stubborn.
    Definitely stubborn and...
opinionated.
    He heard the door open and looked up. To his surprise, it was none other than the object of his thoughts, carrying an armload of books.
    The list!
    * * *
    Allison watched as Colt stood, dragged open his middle desk drawer and shoved a tablet inside, almost in one motion. “Am I interrupting anything?”
    “No, ma’am,” he said, a bit nervously. “Just, uh, making a list.”
    “Oh.” She offered him a tentative smile and crossed to the desk, placing the books on the scarred top. “I found some books I thought you and Brady might enjoy,” she said. “And one I think Cilla might like.”
    She hoped he could see that she was taking their problem seriously. He gestured toward the chair across from him, and she sat, smoothing her simple gray skirt and lacing her fingers together in her lap, hoping her own tension didn’t show. There was something about being in the same room with the sheriff that taxed her nerves. Next to her he was so big and tough-looking, not to mention so very good-looking that it was a wonder the ladies didn’t swoon when he passed them on the street. Her fingers tightened.
    “That’s very thoughtful of you,” he told her, taking his seat again.
    “I’m just doing my job, Sheriff,” she said, the tension she was feeling causing her to resort to her previous stiff demeanor.
    “Colt,” he reminded her. “And it isn’t your job to lend us books, and buy Cilla sewing notions or offer her your piano to practice on.”
    She granted him another jumpy, fleeting smile. “Well, since we have no lending library, it seemed like the thing to do. I’m hoping the children will see me as someone who really does have their best interests at heart.”
    “I need to work on my fathering skills, too,” he said. “I’m planning on spending more time with them in the evenings.” He gave his head a shake. “I can’t believe they doubt that I love them.”
    “Growing up is hard,” she said. “Children need to be shown love as well as being told they’re loved.” She gave a sad little sigh. “In fact, everyone does. Wouldn’t you agree?”
    As soon as she said the words, she dropped her gaze to her lap, longing to call them back, lest he think she was getting too personal. Or he might think she was pining for love herself. Which, of course, she was. Even worse, he might think she was hinting that she wanted love from him! She pressed her lips together. Oh, why was she so inept when it came to conversing with the opposite sex?
    She looked up, her gaze meeting his. The intensity in his eyes almost robbed her of breath. Why was he looking at her like that?
    “I would definitely agree.”
    Surely it was her imagination, but his voice sounded husky. Allison’s eyelids drifted downward, and just for an instant, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining that throaty voice whispering into her ear.
    Desperate to change the subject, she raised her head and said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Has Brady said what it is that interests him?”
    Colt looked taken aback by the sudden change in the conversational topic. “Actually, he said he wants Lew Jessup to teach him how to play the harmonica, and he wants to learn to shoot a bow and arrow.”
    Colt rubbed his cheek in a familiar gesture. “Thing is, the only person I know who can show him that is Ace, and I’m not sure where he is at the moment.”
    “Ace Allen?” Allison couldn’t hide her shock. Ace, an improbable combination of Irish and Cherokee, had been sent to prison earlier in the year, along