The Prodigal's Return. Lynn Bulock

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      “I know plenty of people. Just not this Lurlene.”

      Verna coughed discreetly. “Lurlene is Mr. Sam’s old Cadillac, Tripp.”

      It was a comfort to Laurel to see relief in the man’s eyes. At least he really had been concerned when he thought he’d lost a person.

      As fast as the relief had come into his expression, it faded to be replaced by aggravation.

      “You really had me going, Mrs. Harrison. I thought Lurlene was a person. How am I supposed to know you’re talking about that rattletrap car?”

      Laurel tried not to roll her eyes. She was definitely picking up bad habits from Jeremy. “Go out on the street and ask any five people who live in Friedens. I’ll bet you any money you’d care to wager that four out of five can tell you who Lurlene is.”

      His brow knit. The expression didn’t do anything to make him look brighter. That was a shame. Laurel really wanted to give this man the benefit of the doubt. Her dad had said nice things about him. And Hank didn’t say nice things about too many people.

      Tripp seemed to relax a little, then shrugged. “Maybe they could. But I can tell you one thing about that car that nobody else can. I have every right to tow it, because I told Mr. Sam over a week ago that I didn’t want to see it illegally parked within the city limits. Not ever again. And look how much attention he paid to that.”

      “I don’t think you can legally take away an old man’s right to drive if he’s got a valid license.”

      “I never said I was taking away his right to drive. Just reminding him he doesn’t have a right to commit illegal acts, because nobody’s got that right. And that parking job was definitely an illegal act.” He looked stern.

      Now Laurel was the one who felt slightly foolish. “What if he wasn’t the one who parked it?”

      Tripp shook his head. “Don’t tell me you’re going to own up to this?”

      “Guilty. But am I going to have to go home and tell Mr. Sam that he let me have his car for half an hour, and I got her towed away?”

      “Maybe not. Do you have fifty dollars on you?”

      “Fifty dollars? That’s outrageous! Is the Gas ’n’ Go actually charging the city for towing now?”

      His double take was satisfying. “How do you know what the towing arrangement is? I thought you said you didn’t even live here.”

      “I may not live here, but I talk to my dad plenty. And Max has never charged the city for towing. Especially not for cars that live right here in Friedens. Lurlene is nearly a landmark. But we’ve had that discussion already and it didn’t impress you, did it.” This man got under her hide like a burr!

      “Still, I’m going to have to fine you.”

      Was she imagining things, or was there a sparkle in his eyes?

      “We can put it in the sheriff’s department’s retirement fund if you like, or give it to some kind of charity. And whether you tell Sam or not is up to you.”

      “I still say that’s outrageous. And now you’re probably going to tell me you don’t take credit cards.”

      His grin was positively feral. “You know so much about this department. Has Hank ever taken plastic for anything?”

      “Not even from bail bondsmen.” Laurel sighed. “At least tell me an out-of-state check is good. I have a valid California driver’s license to go with it.”

      “You better. I’d hate to cite you twice in one day.”

      The man was brighter than she’d thought. But he was definitely the most aggravating individual she’d met since coming home. Laurel wondered where her father’s head had been when he hired this one.

      Still, when Tripp wasn’t being absolutely aggravating, he was good looking. Of course, her father would never have noticed that. Laurel was surprised she noticed it herself. When was the last time a man had teased her senses the way Tripp did? Not in a very long while, that was for sure. She suspected she’d consider him somewhat less attractive once she wrote that check for towing. It was hard to flirt with a man while you paid him to return your car.

      She was a looker. Tripp tried not to stare too hard at Hank’s daughter while he drove her over to the Gas ’n’ Go to get Mr. Sam’s car. She was beautiful in ways that didn’t usually attract him. Too polished, too put-together. If he didn’t know she was Friedens born and bred, he’d tag her as a spoiled princess. She had that air about her somehow.

      He wasn’t much of a fashion expert, but having a teenage daughter, even one he didn’t see every day, had taught him plenty about trends and prices. Laurel’s handbag would have paid her traffic fine five times over. Even the matching leather cover to her checkbook would have covered the damage, with change to spare.

      He tried to keep his eyes on the road as much as possible. It just wouldn’t do to commit any traffic infractions himself, while he was driving this woman somewhere. If he did, he knew Hank would hear about it so fast it would make Tripp’s head spin.

      His head was already spinning just from being close to Laurel. She looked good and smelled even better. He had no idea what perfume she was wearing—not that he intended to ask. Given her general air of wealth and privilege, it was going to be something that cost more per ounce than he was capable of comprehending.

      Still, he took a deep breath, enjoying the blend of citrus and rose and something much more exotic that filled the squad car.

      “This is the second time today I’ve had a lady in the front seat of the car. A new record,” he said, trying to make small talk.

      “Better than the back seat, like a suspect, anyway.” When she smiled, she looked younger and less elegant.

      “True. Although if you hadn’t had that checkbook, maybe you’d be riding in the back seat by now.”

      “From what little I’ve seen of you so far, Acting Sheriff Jordan, I imagine I would. You’d be the last one to cut me any slack because of who I am.”

      “Would you expect me to?”

      “No.” Her voice still held a note of laughter. “Nobody else in town ever has. Dad stopped paying any of us allowance after we turned sixteen, and just paid our traffic tickets, instead. He said it wasn’t any more expensive. At least, until Carrie came along.”

      “You, I expect, were the calm one.” Where had that come from? And why did he want to know so badly?

      “To a point. I never hit that teenage rebellion stage. At least, not until I came home from my first semester at junior college and announced I wanted to marry one of the professors.”

      “I cannot even imagine what Hank said about that.”

      “And you don’t want to. It was probably two years after the wedding before my dad and Sam had a civil conversation. Of course, by then we had moved out to California and the distance alone was driving Dad crazy.”

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