Billy sat up straighter, feeling a little uncomfortably checked out. “Running back,” he clarified.
“Ahh.” A smile spread across Bear’s face. He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I see it. You got that stocky sort of look of a man who played ball. I played ball, too, once upon a time. It was different then. We didn’t much bother with nonsense like pads.”
“You play in college?”
Bear was quiet for a second. Finally, he said, “Nah, didn’t go. Didn’t need it. I played high school ball, then played around here. Town stuff.”
They watched the game for a few minutes, then the older man surprised him, saying out of the blue, “I appreciate you driving Edith. I’m sure you got better sheriff duties to tend to.”
“Not a problem,” Billy said, and he meant it. It’d been a break from his routine and a pleasure to boot. In fact, small favors like that were how he kept it together these days. By being relentlessly friendly and occupying himself with the needs of others, he could keep the ghosts—one particular black-haired ghost—at bay.
When he’d doubled back to drive the women home, they’d invited him in and plied him with a lot of coffee and Danishes, but surprisingly few questions. He could tell they wanted to ask more and couldn’t blame their curiosity—a young widower like himself? He imagined the average Sierra Falls female retiree would view him as a project. Oddly, rather than mind it, Billy found it touching.
“I don’t know what it is with women and meetings,” Bear said. “You meet the Kidd sisters yet? All I know is, you driving my wife saved me from having to deal with those old birds. They’re going to use our letters, though. It’ll turn this town around, you’ll see.”
“Thanks to Sorrow,” Billy said. At Bear’s questioning look, he added, “I mean, thanks to your daughter for finding them in the first place and seeing their worth. Not everyone would appreciate such a slice of history. Most folks would’ve dumped the lot of them straight into the trash.”
Bear shrugged. “I guess.”
“Can I get you a beer?” a voice asked from behind him.
Billy turned to find Sorrow standing in the doorway. Her blond hair hung loose and wavy at her shoulders, and the light coming from the fireplace made her eyes sparkle.
The world stilled around him. Sorrow had the sort of looks that demanded his attention. She had some meat on her bones, and her snug sweater clung to that spot between the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip. His mind went to an image of his hand tucked just there.
He swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am, I think I could use a beer.”
He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. He’d indulged in one or two mindless hookups—outside town limits, of course. He was a man after all, and thirty-five was far from dead.
But this was Sorrow. There was no mindless hookup with Sorrow. And anything more would feel like…cheating.
He needed to stop looking at her curves so he dragged his eyes back to her hair. It was different. He realized she mostly wore it tied back. Not that he didn’t like it that way. She was a natural beauty, with a peaches and cream, fresh-faced complexion that looked as good with makeup as without. Though tonight, in the warm firelight, her hair loose and her sweater tight, Sorrow was quite stunning indeed.
She gave him a perplexed smile. “Is there a problem, Sheriff?”
Billy realized he’d been staring. “You look…” Edible. His eyes went to the oven mitt in her hand. “Like you could use some help.”
Was that disappointment that flashed on her face?
He stood abruptly. Get a grip. “Tell you what. Let’s get that beer, and I’ll give you a hand in the kitchen.”
Bear shot him a look that Billy caught from the corner of his eyes. It’d probably never occur to her father to lend a hand with the dinner prep.
They went into the kitchen, and she handed him a bottle of Bud from the fridge. “Sounds like a good trade.”
“Give me a job,” he told her, cracking it open. Because if he stood there staring at her, he might be tempted to find out just how soft the sweater—and what lay under it—really felt.
She looked around, deciding. “We’ll ease you in slow, how about? Want to set the table?”
“Table setting? Child’s play.” He pulled out the cutlery and plates. “What does a man have to do to get respect around here? You’d have thought I proved my worth helping strain that sauce of yours. And I didn’t even get to taste it.”
“You’ll have to settle for my salmon. It’s better for you anyway.”
He breathed in deeply. “Wow, that’s like no salmon I ever smelled.”
“It’s with bamboo shoots and green curry.”
“I love green curry,” he said, genuinely impressed. He went into the attached dining room to set the table, and she joined him, taking the napkins from his hand to spread them around the table. He caught her eye from across the table. “One question, though. Is Bear going to go for that?”