Falling for the Lawman. Ruth Herne Logan

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      Chapter Four

      “Hey.”

      A hand touched Piper’s arm less than a hundred yards later.

      She screeched, a feminine “just saw a mouse” squeak.

      “I called your name. You didn’t turn.” Zach smiled at her, and his look said her surprise was her own fault.

      “Call louder next time.” She scowled, pulled her arm back and looked behind him. “You forgot your car.”

      “I walked, too. You didn’t give me time to say that during the meeting.”

      “Oh.”

      “And I thought since we’re walking in the same direction, we could walk together.”

      Try as she might, she could not argue with that.

      “And you were quietly storming off because I didn’t like being raised on a farm, and I thought we might want to talk about that.”

      “Except...” She held up a hand, palm out. “Your choices have no effect on either one of us. We’re neighbors and we’ll live compatibly side by side, but that’s it.”

      “You’re sure?” He took her raised hand in both of his in a touch so gentle, so pure, that her heart wanted to melt on the spot. His gaze lingered on the calluses, the short nails, the dry, rough skin. He didn’t bring her hand to his mouth for a kiss, but his expression was a kiss, a look of warmth and tenderness, longing to help.

      Then he made a slight grimace, released her hand, and started walking next to her.

      “Zach, I don’t flirt well.”

      He laughed. “Yes, you do.”

      “Okay, maybe I do,” she amended honestly. “But I shouldn’t. Won’t.”

      “Me, either. Maybe sometime we should sit down and list our reasons, Piper, because even though I’ve only known you a few days, and I live just around the corner, when I’m not with you, I’m thinking about you.”

      “Well, stop.”

      He laughed again. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t appear to be working.”

      “Try harder.”

      “Part of me doesn’t want to.”

      They’d reached the driveway leading up to the farmhouse. She heard what he was saying, but she’d learned to harden her heart to sweet-talking overtures a few years ago. And only a fool would leave herself wide-open for heartbreak from another cop and a neighbor besides.

      A farm-hating neighbor, at that.

      The lowing of contented cattle drifted their way. The roosters were tucked away for the night. The hens, too, the dimmer light pushing them to their roosts. A soft breeze and cooler temperatures made the evening less oppressive. Piper turned her face into the breeze, letting it cool the heat of walking nearly three-quarters of a mile uphill. “I love this place.”

      Zach watched her, silent.

      “And I’ve had to fight for ten years to keep it going. I took college courses nearby so I could live at home and work the farm. I watched my parents’ marriage fall apart because she hated this life. Did you know there’s a website now, a singles site, for farmers? Because the divorce rate among farmers is so high? And it’s nearly impossible for a guy to find a woman who wants to be tied to the rigors of farm life. The daily sacrifices it entails. For a woman?” She worked her jaw, then shrugged. “I’ve learned the hard way to put my future in God’s hands. Most days.” She sent him a smile of admission. “And in all honesty, I’m usually too busy to care.”

      She took a broad step back, hands raised, a move that negated his step forward. “I have more than a job here. I have a legacy. And I get that most people don’t understand it, but I’ve spent a lot of time seeking faith and guidance on this stuff. I take nothing lightly when it comes to this farm. This family.” She looked left when the laughter of children floated across the dancing grass in need of mowing. “Lucia. Berto. My brothers. The twins. Noreen and Marly in the ice cream shop. Every decision I make affects them, and I can’t afford to make more mistakes.” She backpedaled up the drive and sent him a small smile and a quick wave. “I think your dad’s coming over to work tomorrow. If that’s okay.”

      “My father can do whatever he wants.” Zach’s expression said her words surprised him. “He doesn’t need my permission for anything.”

      “Does he know that?”

      * * *

      Aggravation hit him because she was right, and that frustrated him.

      He’d been treating his father with kid gloves because of Marty’s health issues, but his father was better now. And Zach had to learn to back off. Be the kid.

      And that was hard for a grown man who wore a badge and carried a gun.

      He wanted to watch Piper walk to the house.

      He didn’t.

      He strode up and around the corner, past the pond, not stopping for a cone, or a talk with the kids, or to pet the little goat.

      Right now, he wanted to create distance between him and most everything on the planet.

      A slight sound caught his attention.

      He turned, the late-day shadows playing tricks with his eyes.

      The noise came again, imploring. Needy.

      Puppies.

      His mother had bred golden retrievers for years. He’d know that sound anywhere.

      His heart softened, then hardened as he approached a bag tossed alongside the pond. Hard stillness marked one side of the bag, but the movement within the tied sack gave him hope. He bent low, withdrew the sack from the water’s edge and untied it carefully.

      Four tiny puppies mewled up at him, eyes shut tight, days old. Tossed aside like yesterday’s garbage.

      Someone had weighted the bag with a rock and tossed it into the pond area, but missed the water by inches. Then they’d driven off, leaving the pups to bake in the summer sun.

      “What’ve you got there?”

      Marty approached him with an ice cream cone in hand, his brows upthrust.

      “Puppies.”

      “No.” Marty’s face went hard and soft, just like Zach’s had done. “They dumped them?”

      “Tried for the pond. Missed.”

      “Good thing you came ’round this way,” Marty told him. “I wondered why you didn’t come over for ice cream, but if you had, these little guys would be goners.”

      A spark of wisdom nudged Zach. “What can we do with them, Dad?”

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