No Place Like Home. Debra Clopton

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      Watching the funny-looking RV amble along he was a little surprised to see a vendor this early. The first annual Mule Hollow Trade Days event didn’t start for four days yet. Which meant his headaches wouldn’t start for four short days either, days he wasn’t taking for granted. Early birds weren’t exactly his idea of a good thing.

      When the pitiful RV suddenly wheezed and smoke erupted from under the hood, it was as if the animation had come to life! “Oh boy, let the games begin,” he groaned.

      Reacting on instinct, he tossed his handful of sunflower seeds into the garbage, grabbed Pete’s fire extinguisher from beside the counter and hit the door at a run.

      Black smoke billowed from beneath the hood as he concentrated on the hot latch, coughing from the fumes as they engulfed him. When the latch finally gave and he lifted the reluctant hood, he was forced to jump back to avoid the shooting flames filling the compartment. Thankfully, Pete’s extinguisher was primed and ready and he had the fire out within seconds.

      Not that it saved the motor—it was toast.

      “Oh no!”

      At the gasp, he spun around to find a thin woman with raven-black hair and pale hazel eyes. Stricken by the sight of the steaming engine she swayed—Brady dropped the extinguisher and grabbed her just as her legs buckled. He was struck by her lightness, again by her paleness as he swept her into his arms. By the way her delicate cheekbones were starkly pronounced by the thinness of her face. She didn’t look exactly well. As he studied her, her eyes fluttered, she bit her lip and he could almost see sheer willpower forcing her eyelids to remain open.

      “Dottie, are you okay?” a teenage girl exclaimed, concern written all over her impish face as she danced from foot to foot.

      “Fine. I’m fine,” she assured the girl.

      Brady disagreed completely with her assessment of the situation. “Miss, you don’t look so good. I think—”

      “I’m fine. Really, you can put me down now.”

      The strength in her words and the determination he could see in her eyes had him doing as he was instructed. “It’s your call.” Carefully he set her on her feet, glad when she didn’t sway again. A bit of color crept into her cheeks, but she remained fairly pale, although he could see that there was a tinge of tan overlaying her paleness.

      “I’m Dottie.” She extended her delicate hand and smiled engagingly. “Dottie Hart. I’m sorry for my…well, for that.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand as if shooing the episode away.

      Obviously Dottie Hart did not enjoy being fragile. She looked embarrassed by the show of weakness.

      “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “But I hate to tell you that your motor doesn’t look good.”

      Her lips flattened into a straight line.

      “By the way, I’m Brady Cannon.”

      Her gaze shifted from the RV to him. “Sheriff Cannon,” she said, her gaze dropping to the badge pinned to his white shirt.

      Her voice was smooth, with an edge of softness to it. And her eyes… “Actually, everyone calls me Brady.”

      She nodded but didn’t smile. Her gaze swept back to the engine. “Thank you for putting out the fire. Is there a mechanic in Mule Hollow who could get me moving again?”

      She looked back at him with her question. Two vertical lines formed between her eyebrows. He could almost see her mind turning as she concentrated on her problem.

      “We have a mechanic, but I hate to tell you that he’s out of town at the moment. He had a family emergency that needed tending to. But he’s due back next week. A mechanic might not be able to fix your engine, though.”

      “Well.” She compressed her lips, glanced toward the young girl, then met his eyes straight on. “We’ll see.” She took a deep breath, visibly making a decision. “I planned to stay a few days anyway.”

      “That’s what I thought. Looks like you’re the first one here. We can go ahead and get you all set up, and then Prudy can come by and check the motor over at the site when he gets back to town on Monday. I’ll get a few of the boys to help me with your rig and we’ll get it to a spot—”

      “Hey, Dottie, here it is,” the teen yelled, interrupting him. She was waving excitedly from across the street where she’d trotted while they were talking.

      Dottie smiled, turning slightly toward the girl. Brady’s gaze snagged on her smile, captivated by it and the measureless depth of her gaze. There was something about the way she watched things.

      “Just look at it, Dottie,” Cassie exclaimed.

      “What,” Dottie laughed, and even in the dying light her eyes twinkled like sunlight reflecting off cool water.

      Brady knew the it was the hot-pink salon the kid was standing in front of.

      “It’s Lacy Brown’s Heavenly Inspirations,” she called. “It’s just like in the articles.”

      She plastered her face to the glass and peered into the window like a two-year-old. It was a now-familiar sight to Brady and the other Mule Hollow residents. Over the last few months when women came to town after hours and Lacy had gone home for the night, there was much peering through the glass. The ads had started it, but Molly’s articles about Lacy and Mule Hollow had garnered widespread fame. It was bafflement to him and most days a headache.

      “She really loves this place.” Dottie turned to him.

      “Mule Hollow and Lacy’s place seem to have that effect on some people. The residents are banking on it. Just wait until this weekend when everyone starts getting here. There’ll be more smears on that window than just Cassie’s.”

      “I noticed you said I was the first. It sounds like you’re expecting a lot of people this weekend?”

      Brady chuckled and stuck a hand in his back pocket. “You could say that. I’ve become a believer, and when the ladies say there will be a crowd, I trust that they know what they’re talking about. Hang on—I’ll get somebody out here to help get you off the road and set up. We weren’t expecting anybody until the day after tomorrow, but this’ll work. You just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

      Dottie watched the good sheriff stride away. She’d nearly passed out! She hated when that happened. And in front of the sheriff—the totally breathtaking, giant of a man—

      “Where’s the sheriff going?” Cassie asked, jogging up beside her. Her energy reminded Dottie of her own before the accident. Oh, how she missed the health she’d so taken for granted. Watching Cassie, she was all the more determined to regain every bit of herself that she’d had before the accident. She was twenty-eight years old and used to love jogging every day. She just needed to be patient and keep up her workouts and she’d grow strong again.

      “Yoo-hoo, anybody in there?” Cassie waved her hand in front of Dottie’s eyes, jolting her back to the present.

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