Falling for the Lawman. Ruth Herne Logan

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      “You’re a marvel, Lucia.”

      The older woman shrugged. “Waste not, want not. The hay is in?”

      “The front fields, yes, and good quality. It’s dry, though, and that might make our second cutting nonexistent. The lower field of alfalfa gave a great first yield, but the lack of rain is worrisome. The girls managed to stay alive, I see.”

      Lucia’s expression soured. “What one doesn’t think of, the other does. And so beautiful, those smiles...they flash them as they plan one more way to turn my hair gray. Bah!” She raised a hand of dismissal as she changed the subject. “You cannot worry about the weather. Your father never learned this lesson. His daughter should.” Lucia sent her a stern look tempered with love. “God is, was and ever will be. Weather is not of our doing. So we deal with it as it comes, no worries, because people of faith do not worry about what they cannot control. But this problem.” She hooked a blunt thumb north and her gaze narrowed. “The policeman. He will make trouble, no?”

      “Because of the roosters?” Piper scoffed at the idea, then shrugged. She’d cringed every time she made a tractor pass along the hay field that day because either Raven or Starlight seemed determined to crow along the fence that bordered the trooper’s backyard. “I advised him to block the noise. He was less than appreciative. So yes, he might make trouble. And I get his point, Luce, about sleeping, but really?” She made a face of disbelief that drew the other woman’s nod of agreement. “Don’t move to the country if you can’t handle the country.”

      “I can handle the country.”

      Piper turned, chagrined.

      Lucia straightened. Alarm darkened her features.

      Six feet of square-jawed good looks stood beneath the porch light at the back screen door, dressed in uniform. Piper clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oops.”

      “But there’s no reason to have those birds outside my back door, crowing at each other all day,” Zach continued. Raising a hand, he waved light-seeking bugs away from his rugged, handsome face. “You’re not raising chicks, you’re selling eggs, and you don’t need a rooster to do that. What use are they on this farm, Miss McKinney?”

      Piper stood and faced him, then waved him in. “We’re neighbors. Don’t stand on the porch, swatting bugs. Come in. And call me Piper. Want coffee?”

      “You have coffee on? It’s almost nine-thirty.”

      She nodded to her one-cup brewing system. “Twenty-four/seven. I don’t have the patience to wait in the mornings. This is easy. And perfect.”

      “Then, yes. I’d love a cup. And a rooster muzzle to go with it.”

      She laughed. Even when serious, he was funny, and she liked that in a man. Guys who could laugh at themselves? That kind of man was rare in her experience.

      Regardless, she was keeping her birds, no matter how cute the trooper was in his gray serge uniform with a freshly shaved face and somewhat sleepy eyes.

      Guilt mounted, but only a little. The girls loved the roosters―they’d raised them right out of the egg―and no way was she parting with them. Dorrie and Sonya had enough on their plates. The roosters stayed. End of discussion.

      “So. About the birds...”

      “Cream? Sugar?” She held out both in matching stoneware after she handed him a mug of fresh, hot coffee. “This is real cream, straight from the dairy. Unless you’d prefer milk?”

      “I love cream in my coffee.” He sat, raised the little pitcher in big, broad hands and handled it with a dexterity Piper appreciated. “And sugar. And I have to sleep sometime, right?”

      He stared right at her, letting those blue eyes sparkle with charm, their brilliance tempting her to smile back. But she’d dealt with irksome neighbors in the past. These days it was a common farmers’ lament, as if running a weather-dependent business wasn’t work enough. No, today’s farmer had to deal with keeping the neighbors happy, and dealing with calls from the town officials listing a litany of complaints.

      Folks wanted fresh food but not the work, noise and odor that came with farming. Her father had caved now and again.

      Piper wouldn’t. She’d already put heart and soul into saving this place. Give an inch and folks wanted a mile. Not on her watch. And avoiding Zach’s flirty look was easier when she remembered how good Hunter had been with those long, intent gazes.

      She’d been young then. She felt plenty old now, with her father gone, the farm to run, kids to watch and her brothers haranguing her on a regular basis. “There must be some way to block the noise. Or switch shifts. You could work days,” she suggested.

      Lucia coughed a sound of warning. Cops made her nervous. The twins’ mother had gone to jail as a teen, and that never sat right with Lucia. Going toe-to-toe with a trooper who now happened to live next door would worry her.

      “We’re shorthanded at the moment, so my schedule varies,” Zach explained. “Days. Nights. Afternoons.” He shrugged. “It will be like that for a while. That’s a long stretch to work on no sleep.”

      He was being nice. Not demanding. Simply stating his case, and that made Piper more willing to compromise. For the moment. “I’ll put the boys in the far pen tomorrow. On separate sides, or they’ll fight. But I can’t put them in the hutch in these temperatures. They’re heat-sensitive.”

      “Me, too.” Zach stood, smiling. Upright, his presence filled the room. His height, the broad shoulders, the uniform that made him stand out in a crowd...

      He stood out here, too. Piper rose and followed him to the door. He glanced at his watch. “I expect you need some sleep yourself. Milking comes early.”

      Did he know that from personal experience, she wondered?

      “It does.” Piper offered her hand, glad she’d gotten cleaned up as soon as she came in. Although why she should care was something to examine later. Much later. “Let me know how tomorrow goes. If having the roosters in the barn pen helps.”

      “I will.” He tipped his gaze down, his expression warm. Grateful. A little teasing.

      She didn’t want to smile back. Hold his attention. But she did, and for long, pointed seconds neither one breathed, caught in the moment, her hand melded with his.

      Lucia coughed again.

      The sound brought Piper back to reality. He might be the nicest guy in the world, but she’d learned her lesson. Cops were in her “high risk” category, and flirting with a neighbor?

      If things went bad, you still lived next door. No way could the situation end well.

      She extricated her hand, stepped back and pasted a small, polite smile into place. “Have a good night.”

      He swept her outfit a quick glance and a grin. “You, too.”

      Tired and surprised by his unexpected visit, she’d forgotten the faded Scooby-Doo pajama pants and matching T-shirt.

      Great. She looked like a twelve-year-old. And her hair was half wet, half dry, СКАЧАТЬ