Still Waters. Shirlee McCoy

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СКАЧАТЬ Doris sent this for you.” Jake’s voice startled Tiffany from her thoughts and she turned, reaching for a carryout cup being thrust through the open window.

      “Thanks.” Tiffany took a sip from the straw, smiling as the cool freshness of the soda hit her tongue.

      “She sent these, too.” A brown bag followed the cup through the window. “Go ahead and eat one. I’m going to give the dog some water before we take off.”

      Tiffany tried to ignore the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon that wafted through the truck as he moved away. Instead she concentrated on Jake, watching as he walked back to the diner and returned a few moments later with a plastic bowl. He smiled at someone who called his name, waved at someone else. All in all, the picture of an affable law officer.

      But Tiffany sensed something else, a tension that lay behind the smile, a hardness around his mouth and jaw that warned of things better left hidden. Jake Reed played the part well, but Tiffany doubted his heart was that of a small-town sheriff. She’d heard rumors. Heard that he was a city cop. A man used to violent crime and hardened criminals. She’d heard he was ethical, tough-minded and fair.

      What she hadn’t heard was what had brought him to Lakeview.

      “All right. We’re set. Where to?” Jake slid into the driver’s seat, casting a glance in Tiffany’s direction.

      “I live on Monroe Street.”

      Jake turned the key in the ignition and the Chevy sprang to life. “Mind if I have one of those?” He reached over and grabbed the bag out of Tiffany’s hand, opening it up and lifting out a pastry.

      Tiffany’s mouth watered and she turned her eyes away from temptation.

      “Want one?” Jake held the bag out toward her.

      “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” The loud rumble of Tiffany’s stomach belied her words. Jake lifted an eyebrow, his bland expression replaced for a moment by a flicker of something else. Amusement, no doubt.

      “You sure?”

      Tiffany nodded and turned away before she changed her mind.

      “All right then. Let’s get you home. You cool enough?”

      “Pardon?” Tiffany had been so intent on ignoring the heavenly aroma still wafting through the truck that she missed Jake’s question.

      “Do you want me to turn on the air? It’s warming up out here.”

      “No, thanks. I’m used to the heat.”

      “Yeah. Me, too.”

      “Did you grow up around here?” Tiffany seized on Jake’s words. Anything to get her mind off the bag of pastries sitting on the seat between her and the sheriff.

      “No. I grew up in D.C. It’s hot and humid there in the summer. Here on the lake the air doesn’t seem quite so heavy.”

      “I visited D.C. my senior year of high school. It’s a busy place. And you’re right, the air did seem heavier.”

      “Probably pollution. Which way?”

      Tiffany blinked trying to follow the turn in conversation.

      “Left or right onto Monroe?”

      “Oh, sorry. Left. I live near the old Sheffield place.”

      “I know where that is. Shouldn’t take more than a minute to get there.”

      It took three. Tiffany watched the dashboard clock and counted every one, wishing away the gnawing hunger in her stomach. A pulse beat of pain worked its way behind her eye and she rubbed her forehead wishing the ache away. While she was at it she wished away the morning’s disappointments, too.

      Tiffany had prayed for years that God would bring her a life partner who shared her faith, understood her human frailties, saw her for who she was and loved her anyway. She’d believed, really believed, that God would bring that person into her life and that when He did, there would be no doubt in her mind that he was the one God intended her to spend her life with.

      That wasn’t how it happened. Oh, she figured Brian was The One. He met all the requirements she’d listed in her diary—he loved God, was faithful to His call, was smart, cared about others. The only question was, how much did he care about her?

      The fact that Brian had not waited or worried when she failed to return to the diner said a lot to Tiffany. And none of it good. Though too practical to list it, Tiffany had always hoped that Mr. Right would be the knight-in-shining-armor type. The kind of man quick to step in when she needed a hand. Instead, it seemed Brian had more important things to do with his time.

      Forcing her mind to stop such rambling thoughts, Tiffany tried to focus on the positive. Brian might not always run to her aid but that was because he knew Tiffany to be a competent self-reliant woman. He trusted her to take care of herself and that was a good thing. Right?

      Later, when he called, Tiffany would explain to Brian how disappointed she had been to find him gone. He’d apologize and explain how important the men’s prayer breakfast was to him. Tiffany had accepted months ago that Brian had high standards and rigid priorities. Though he loved her, Tiffany would never be first on Brian’s to-do list. And that was okay.

      Fantasies were fine as long as a person was willing to put them aside and face reality. And, in Tiffany’s case, reality was a silent ride home with a stranger and a big black dog.

      Stealing a glance at the grim-faced man beside her, Tiffany sighed. Reality was lonely.

      Chapter Three

      The forecast of record-breaking temperatures proved accurate and by late afternoon the thermometer had crept up to ninety-eight degrees. Tiffany wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and eyed the picket fence that bordered her property. All but five of the pickets gleamed white. The others, scraped down to bare wood, wouldn’t take long to finish. With any luck she’d have them painted before heat exhaustion set in.

      “Good thing I saved this side of the yard for last. Just think how hot I’d be standing under the sun, huh, dog?”

      The big dog lifted his head and thumped his tail in response before returning to the state of semisleep he’d been in since Jake had lifted him from the pickup truck several hours before.

      Tiffany dipped her brush into the almost empty paint can she held and smoothed a coat of paint onto a bare wooden plank. The glide of paint against board, the warmth of the sun and the muted sounds of boats on water helped put the morning’s fiasco into perspective. Good from bad, strength from weakness, blessings from curses—God made all things work for the good.

      Tiffany may have been pulled from a lake, abandoned at the diner, and driven home by a taciturn sheriff, but at least she wasn’t spending Saturday afternoon alone. Smiling, she glanced over at her companion. He’d made himself at home in the shade of a maple tree and hadn’t budged, except to steal half of Tiffany’s turkey sandwich.

      Everything about the dog said “mutt.” He had the shape and size of a Saint Bernard, the black coat of a Lab—if one didn’t count the white paw and СКАЧАТЬ