“As if he would ever try,” Sharon Lynn chided. “You were his mentor, Tate. And everybody knows you’re the best sheriff ever. You’ll stay in the job as long as you want it. Besides, something tells me half the town is going to be mad as heck at him this morning.”
Tate Owens moaned. “What’s he done now?” he asked in a resigned tone.
“Last time I saw him, he was handing out parking tickets all up and down Main Street.”
“Damn, I thought I’d broke him of that. The town doesn’t need the money, and I don’t need the aggravation.” He slapped his Stetson on his head and walked out the door.
Patsy watched him go, then turned to Sharon Lynn. “What’s with the parking tickets?”
“Tate tends to ignore minor infractions like that. He thought the parking meters were a nuisance in the first place. Justin goes crazy every once in a while and starts handing out tickets. Tate spends the rest of the day soothing ruffled feathers.”
Patsy shook her head. “I don’t get it. If the people are breaking the law, shouldn’t they get tickets?”
“Technically, yes. And Justin is a by-the-book kind of man, especially after he’s done something that makes him worry whether he’s listening too much to his heart,” she said with a look in Patsy’s direction.
“Am I supposed to understand that?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, still confused.
“And not in a jail cell.”
“Oh.”
Sharon Lynn grinned. “Oh, indeed. Bottom line, it’s my guess that you’re the one behind today’s rampage with the parking tickets.”
Patsy would have chuckled if she hadn’t been able to imagine what everyone in town would have to say if they knew to blame her.
Sharon Lynn’s expression turned thoughtful. “Something tells me you’re going to be good for him,” she said quietly.
“Me? I don’t think so,” Patsy said at once. If Justin Adams knew the truth about her, he probably wouldn’t even blink before tossing her in that jail cell and throwing away the key.
Chapter Four
While Justin had been thoroughly disconcerted by the sight of Patsy Gresham working at Sharon Lynn’s that morning, he told himself he’d merely found it troubling that she was becoming so intimately entwined with his family.
What really worried him more, was that quick little shiver of awareness he’d felt when he spotted her. He knew his hormones well enough to recognize a man-woman thing when he felt it, and it was the very last reaction he ought to be having to the woman, not with all those legitimate suspicions he couldn’t quite dismiss.
Except for a minor fender bender in midafternoon, the rest of the day had been uneventful. It had taken all of his willpower to keep from wandering into Dolan’s a few more times to make sure Patsy’s hand wasn’t in the till or anywhere else it didn’t belong. His conscience had reminded him that he’d promised her an honest chance.
By nightfall, though, he couldn’t battle his desire to see how she’d fared. The fact that he chose to get his answers from her, rather than from Sharon Lynn, meant nothing, he assured himself. After all, Patsy was right here in town, while Sharon Lynn was all the way out at the ranch. It was pure logic and convenience that sent him to her doorstep.
Yeah, right.
Dusk was falling by the time he’d showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. He strolled up the walkway at Dani’s with his mind on the excuse he was going to have to come up with for his visit.
He was about to knock on the front door, when he heard chaos erupt in the veterinary clinic. Muttering under his breath about the fact that he’d left his gun at home, he raced around to the clinic entrance and pounded on the door. It was opened by a frazzled Patsy, backed up by a snarling dog that looked perfectly capable of tearing both of them limb from limb.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, and turned back toward the dog, which was straining on its leash. “Punk, hush up. You’ll get your food when it’s your turn.”
Her total lack of concern about the huge dog’s barking brought a smile to Justin’s lips. He leaned back against the doorway and admired the methodical way she was moving from pen to pen.
“If I were you, I’d take care of Punk first before he decides to turn you into dinner,” he observed casually.
She shot him a defiant look that would have been wasted on Punk. “And let him