The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (21 page)

He had no experience with love, so he questioned his ability to recognize it.

Behind him, her measured footsteps carried her toward the entrance. She was leaving already?

He quickly turned, relieved to see her resting her arms on the milk cow's stall. Presented with her profile, he soaked it in, gaze lingering on her pert nose and soft crimson lips. The Christmas-red, fur-lined half-cape matched the red-and-white ribbon choker about her neck. The creamy softness of her skin was imprinted on his memory.

“I'm blessed to have a brother like George. He's given me opportunities not available to many women. When I expressed interest in working for the company, he could've laughed it off as a ridiculous notion. Instead, he taught me the various aspects of the business and suggested positions he thought might be a good fit.” She angled her face in his direction. “He respects my judgment in our professional environment. I shouldn't be surprised then that he does so regarding my personal life.”

“I'm happy for you, Allie.”

Not crossing to her and taking her in his arms cost him.

“Are you truly?”

He straightened but kept a tight grip on the stall slats. That she'd question him on this cut deep. “I've given you the impression I don't care about you.” He sucked in a ragged breath, his hold on the slats weakening along with his willpower. Words weren't his strong suit. “I'm sorry about that.” He let go. Took three steps her direction. Never in his existence had he felt this intense pull to another person, this craving for connection. He'd gone his whole life without affection. Now he couldn't seem to get enough. “Despite what you might think, I want your dreams to become reality.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“I mean every word.”

She lifted her chin. “I haven't told George what happened between us, nor do I plan to.”

“Are you hinting I should do the same?”

A dry laugh escaped her. “I'm confident you won't breathe a word to him. I'm telling you so you won't worry that I'm spilling secrets.”

“I agree he doesn't need to know.”

“Especially considering nothing will come of it.”

Shane schooled his features. What if he wanted something to come of it?

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
No.
You can't think like that.

Think about what's best for Allison...and that's not you.

“I'm going inside,” she said quietly.

“Good idea.” Opening his eyes, he followed her through the double-wide door.

The sight of his deputy galloping along the lane put him on alert.

“Are you expecting Ben?” Allison shot him a sideways glance.

“No.” He strode to intercept him. “What's happened?” he called.

“Tommy Marsh and his buddies were messing around and accidentally set the Christmas tree alight.” Ben's jaw was set in hard lines as he reined in his horse. “Whole thing went up in flames. The churchyard's full of squalling kids and mamas bent on retribution.”

Beside him, Allison gasped. “How horrible! And so close to Christmas.”

Scowling, Ben shoved tangled auburn strands out of his eyes. “The townsfolk worked hard on the decorations. Wasn't an easy tree to set up, much less arrange all those ribbons and hand-painted ornaments on it.”

Shane turned to Allison. “I've got to sort this out. Tell George I'll see him later?”

“Of course.”

After instructing Ben to wait for him, Shane took her elbow and guided her toward the house. “Now that George is here, there's no need for me to occupy your sofa any longer.”

While he'd missed his soft bed, he found it comforting to be near Allison and the kids. He could protect them. Not that they needed protecting. It just felt good to be close in case they did need him.

Her eyes churning with anxiety, she said, “I think the chances of Matilda running away have lessened, don't you? She's relaxed around the both of us. She treats Fenton like a stand-in grandfather, and she adores Izzy and Charlie.”

Instead of reassuring him, her words caused uneasiness to settle between his ribs. A bond was quickly forming between Allison and Matilda. They were both bound to be hurt.

He wished the search party would send word of their findings.

“I agree. I think she feels safe here.” On impulse, he pulled her close for a hug. As the scent of her wrapped around him, he reminded himself to keep it brief. And friend-like.

“What was that for?” she said, astounded.

“A thank-you for allowing her to stay longer and for making her feel welcome.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, he hauled himself into the saddle and urged his horse into motion. When he reached Ben, the younger man was staring at him with open curiosity. Shane had forgotten all about the deputy's presence. That's how muddled Allison had him.

“Not a word, MacGregor,” he warned. “Not one word.”

Chapter Twenty-One

T
here were days when he gained great satisfaction from his job. This wasn't one of them.

The Christmas tree mishap had dampened the town's holiday spirit. When he'd reached the church, the crowd had immediately surrounded him five and six people deep on all sides. He hadn't even had room to dismount. They wanted Tommy and his friends to suffer for their carelessness.

The men were fit to be tied. He couldn't blame them. Chopping down a tree that large, dragging it here and then erecting it had amounted to several days' work. The women were outraged, not so much for themselves, but for the children. Their tearstained faces still remained in his mind.

Christmas was eleven days away.

Thankfully, Reverend Munroe and his wife had assumed the job of consoling the crowd. Jessica Parker, having heard the news, passed out free cookies to every single child there. Quinn and Nicole brought complimentary cups of apple cider. By the time it had been decided to put up a new tree, with Tommy and his friends charged with helping to make a new batch of decorations, the high emotions had waned and hope restored.

Shane tossed his pencil on his desk and rubbed his pounding forehead. He eyed the dark sky through the window and prayed for no more complaints that night.

A figure passed by.

“Keep walking,” he muttered.

The knob twisted. He prayed for forbearance.
Please God, I'm not sure I can maintain a civil attitude. I'm exhausted from too many sleepless nights, and I haven't eaten since breakfast.

When the door scraped open and Fenton walked in, Shane nudged his chair and stood up. “Fenton.” Rounding the desk, he searched for signs of physical distress. “Is everything all right?”

His color looked good, and he didn't seem as exhausted as he had at the cabin. “Fine and dandy.” He lifted a basket. “Allison was worried you hadn't had a chance to eat. She asked George to deliver this, but I volunteered to do it since I'm bunking with you once again.”

Pleasure at her thoughtfulness filled him. Taking his burden, Shane placed it on the desk and began to unpack the contents. “I sure do appreciate you bringing it by,” he said. “I was beginning to get as churlish as a bear coming out of hibernation.”

Fenton chose a chair to ease his frame into. “Nice, ain't it? Having a beautiful woman worry over ya?”

Snagging a slice of cornbread, he bit off a hefty portion and chewed. “You can stop the matchmaking, old man.”

His teeth flashed white against his sun-branded skin. “You don't have to be alone the whole of your life, ya know. You got a ready-made family ripe for the pickin'. Allison cares about you. She deserves a man who'll take good care of her.”

Shane finished off the slice and folded his arms. “I'm not the right man for the job.”

The truth hurt. Mere weeks ago, he'd been content with his lot. Now he yearned for a petite, blond-haired spitfire to be part of his life. Allison had unleashed hopes he had no means of fulfilling.

Fenton studied him with his perceptive gaze. “You'd keep her from making fool decisions, I know that.”

Shane replaced the plate he had started to lift out. “What fool decisions?”

“She's intending on leaving Gatlinburg without squaring things with the Whitakers. I'd hate to see her heart broken if they found out afterward and decided to act out of spite.”

His appetite vanished. Fenton had a point. The Whitakers might not claim the twins, but there was a chance they'd cry foul if they got wind someone else wanted them.

“I'll talk to her.”

Fenton slapped his knee. “If she'll listen to anybody, it's you.”

Long after the old man had gone, his parting words lingered. Why would Allison listen to him? Was his opinion that important to her?

Lost in thought on his way home, he didn't hear anyone approaching until the last moment. A big hand came down on his shoulder. Shane whirled and reached for his pistol.

“Hold on,” the shadowed figure exclaimed. “It's me. Ben.”

The tension left his body. “What were you thinking?” he demanded, annoyed with himself for having lost awareness of his surroundings. As a lawman, he was considered a target by some. He'd learned early to always be on guard.

“I called your name several times,” Ben said with a hint of exasperation.

He eyed his deputy's scruffy appearance and dirt-streaked boots. “Did you just get back? Where are the others? More importantly, where's Douglas?”

“About twenty minutes ago. As for the rest of the search party, they're at the reverend's arranging for a coffin.”

“Harold Douglas is dead?” While he'd briefly considered the possibility, he'd expected to find Douglas holed up with a friend, delaying his return to Gatlinburg and the responsibility of his niece's care.

“We found him about a mile outside of Cades Cove.” Ben's breath formed white puffs in the frigid air. “Couldn't find any signs that he hadn't died of natural causes. Snow's on the ground. Could've been exposure. Or maybe his heart gave out.”

“Thanks for taking charge of this.”

His deputy's expression reflected surprise. “It's my job to help you. What will happen to the girl?”

“That's a very good question.” One he didn't have the answer to.

* * *

Shane rode out to the Wattses' farm the following morning. Understandably, the news of her uncle's death didn't sadden Matilda. She was worried, however, that she was going to be shipped off to a foundling home. He'd assured both her and Allison that no arrangements would be made without her knowledge. Before he left, Allison reminded him of his promise to find the best home possible.

With her words ringing in his ears, he'd gone to the reverend for recommendations and then spent the day visiting those folks with potential. He'd dismissed a few outright. The ones he saw promise in went on his list of candidates. The weight of his decision rode heavy on his mind. Matilda's future depended on him, and he refused to rush the process. She deserved to be in a place she felt safe and cherished.

That evening, he was locking up the jail when Josh hailed him. “You busy?”

“Nope. Heading home. What's on your mind?”

“I heard about Harold Douglas.”

“News like that doesn't take long to spread.” He gestured to the lane. “Walk with me?”

“What will you do about his property?”

“Try to sell it. Any money we get will be kept in trust for Matilda.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors will be interested.”

“Maybe.”

Josh's lantern light bounced along the uneven track. Around them, the forest gave the impression of being asleep. Stars winked above them. It was going to be a frigid night, likely below freezing. He hoped the Wattses' upstairs would remain warm enough. Infants were susceptible to illness. And Matilda was skin and bones. At the cabin, Shane tended the fire while Josh drifted around the room. “I thought Fenton was staying with you.”

“He's been a bit of a nomad. Since George arrived, he's been staying in one of the guest bedrooms. It's a sight more comfortable than this place.”

“He's probably happy to spend time with the twins, considering.”

Josh's initial surprise at Allison's decision had turned into support. More times than Shane could count, his friend had expressed his admiration for her, along with not-so-subtle hints.

“A shame she can't find a local man to settle down with,” Josh said now. “Fenton wouldn't have to be separated from his great-grandchildren. If only I had another brother. Or a friend who isn't yet wed...”

A spark shot out and landed on Shane's wrist. Jerking, he rubbed at the sore spot. “Give it up, O'Malley,” he growled.

Huffing an exaggerated sigh, he moved to stand beside the mantel. “You need some holiday cheer in here.”

He turned to regard him, brows raised. “Have you ever known me to care about sentimental stuff?”

His blue gaze was searching. “I thought maybe this year would be different.”

“It's been a long day. State your business so I can get to sleep.”

No doubt sensing his impatience, Josh got serious. “I came to see if you've found a home for Matilda yet.”

Shane removed his gloves and hat. “I've a few people in mind. Why?”

“Have you considered Megan and Lucian? They've got the space and the desire for lots of kids.”

Crossing the room, he shucked his duster and hooked it on a peg. Josh's cousin Megan hadn't been able to have kids the natural way. She and her husband had adopted a little girl from New Orleans. They'd also taken in older siblings who'd needed a home. The couple treated those kids as if they were their own flesh and blood. Matilda would be loved.

For some unknown reason, he held back. “I'll think about it.”

Josh observed him for several beats. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He went to the door. “Sleep on it.”

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for thinking of her. It's just—” He kneaded the tight muscles along the ridge of his shoulder, his tired mind scrambling for the right words.

“You don't have to say anything.” Josh smiled. “Get some rest, friend.”

He exhaled. “Tell Kate and the kids hello for me.”

“Done.”

Josh slipped into the night. Shane watched his bobbing light until it was no longer visible. Allison's suggestion that he take in Matilda refused to leave him in peace. The idea was ludicrous. He was a bachelor with zero experience with kids. If that wasn't enough reason, his profession as town sheriff sealed it. He worked odd hours and dealt with sticky situations. There was no guarantee he'd make it home each night. He couldn't do that to a kid.

Seeking His heavenly Father's wisdom, he uttered a prayer for direction.

Matilda needs a home, Lord. I want her to have a good one. Please help me make the right decision.

* * *

“You're coming with me.”

A disbelieving laugh burst out of Allison at Shane's proclamation seconds after she opened her door. “Let's try this again, shall we? You knock. I greet you. You address me as you would a law abiding citizen.”

In the face of her lightheartedness, Shane found himself grinning at her. “I suppose I could do that.” He dipped his head and glanced at her through his eyelashes. “Miss Allison Ashworth, I'd like for you to come riding with me.”

“Riding? In this cold?” She peered past him to the gray sky. “Are you aiming to get us stranded a second time?”

“It's not gonna snow.”

Her green eyes twinkled with merriment. “Ah, so you fancy yourself a weather predictor now?”

“I'll saddle your horse for you.”

Tugging her lower lip between her teeth, she pondered his request. They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms recently. No doubt she was suspicious of his motives.

She had a right to be.

Chatter punctuated with an occasional infant's shriek filtered out onto the porch. The living room was empty. Everyone was probably congregated in the kitchen. He would've liked to see the kids, but this errand was too important to delay.

“What? You don't trust George and Fenton to keep a proper eye on them?” Shifting his weight, he said, “Or are you not inclined to ride alongside a lawman?”

She waved a hand to indicate her skirt and blouse. “I'll go change into something warmer while you ready my horse.”

Pivoting, he spoke over his shoulder. “Ten minutes, Allie.”

Her annoyed huff was followed by the snap of the door in its frame. Before the day was out, he was going to be on the receiving end of far more than that. A pity he hadn't thought to bring a piece of cake along to sweeten her mood once it soured.

This is for her own good
, he reminded himself.

They set out at a leisurely pace. She asked if he'd resolved the tree situation, and he asked after George and her day. If not for the hard knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, he might've enjoyed himself. Allison was good company. Intelligent, witty, observant. As they traversed the hilly terrain, he related the details of a particularly intriguing criminal case he'd read about. Listening attentively, she provided insights that hadn't occurred to him. He could discuss almost anything with her, which put her in elite company. There were less than a handful of people on this earth he could say that about.

Allison shifted in the saddle to inspect their surroundings. “This looks familiar. Where are we headed exactly?”

Shane met her gaze head-on. “The Whitakers' homestead.”

He braced himself as first confusion crossed her face, then understanding and finally full-blown anger. Yanking on the reins, she urged her horse to a stop. Shane followed suit.

“I thought you wanted to spend time with me.” Her forehead creased and mouth pulled into a frown. The real hurt he witnessed had him sliding to the ground.

He rested a hand on the saddle cantle. The other he curved around her wrist. “I did, Allie. I do.”

“No, you wanted to trick me into doing something I'm not prepared to do.” She tried to wiggle free, but he held on.

“I'm sorry I hurt you. Please, hear me out.”

Ceasing her struggling, she stared straight ahead, her lips a tight line and bright flags of color high in her cheeks.

He disliked upsetting her. He much preferred making her smile. “It'd be easier if we could talk face-to-face. If I release you, will you give me a chance to explain?” Instead of galloping off into parts unknown, he added silently.

“You can talk,” she said stiffly. “Then I'm returning to the house. Where you go doesn't really matter.”

He released her and stepped back, half expecting her to dig her heels into the horse's flank. Still not looking at him, she gracefully dismounted. She stood sideways to the way he was standing, her arms huddled about her midsection.