I drummed my fingers against the stack of paperwork that never seemed to end. Small town policing wasn't what the academy had prepared me for—less crime-solving, more form-filling.
Three months in McKenzie River, and I was still adjusting to the pace, the politics, and the peculiar way everyone knew everyone's business. The sheriff's station smelled like cheap coffee and even cheaper air freshener, a combination that somehow made the hours drag even longer.
The front door creaked open, letting in a gust of spring air that momentarily cleared the staleness. I glanced up, and my pen stilled mid-signature.
Harlow McKenzie stood in the doorway, hat in hand, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His broad shoulders nearly filled the frame, making the station seem suddenly smaller. His presence commanded attention without him saying a word—a contradiction to the way he ducked his head, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.
I'd seen him around town since I'd arrived, always from a distance. Up close, he was even more striking—tall enough that he had to duck slightly under the doorframe, with hands that could probably snap a fence post in half. Yet there was something gentle in the way he held his worn hat, fingers tracing the brim nervously.
"Can I help you?" I called out, setting my paperwork aside before he could answer.
Deputy Collins, who'd been slouched at the desk nearest the door, swiveled his chair toward me as Harlow approached. Collins leaned over, his voice dropping to what he clearly thought was a whisper.
"That's Harlow McKenzie—you know, the slow one," Collins murmured, side-eyeing Harlow like he was discussing a curiosity at a fair. "Watch yourself with that family. They're protective as hell, especially about him. Sheriff says to handle with kid gloves."
Something hot and sharp flared in my chest. I kept my eyes on Harlow, who was making his way across the room with careful, measured steps, but my words were for Collins alone.
"If you ever speak about him like that again," I said, my voice low and even, "you'll be eating through a straw for the next six months." I smiled for Harlow's benefit, but there was nothing friendly in my eyes when I finally glanced at Collins. "Are we clear, Deputy?"
Collins' face flushed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. He muttered something that might have been agreement and turned back to his computer, suddenly very interested in whatever was on his screen.
Harlow reached my desk, still clutching his hat, eyes fixed somewhere around my shoulder.
"Deputy Latham," he said, his voice deeper than I expected, with a richness that contradicted his hesitant demeanor. "There's a horse missing from the Miller farm. Chestnut mare, white blaze on her face. She's due to foal any day now."
I reached for a report form, noting how his gaze followed my hands. "When was she last seen?"
"Yesterday evening at feeding time. She was in the north pasture." His fingers worked the brim of his hat, turning it slowly in a circular motion. "The fence was intact. No sign of it being cut or broken. She's just... gone."
I nodded, filling out the details. "Any idea where she might have headed? Favorite spots? Other places she's been known to wander?"
Harlow shifted his weight, and I caught the subtle change in his posture—the slight straightening of his spine, the firming of his jaw. This was his territory now. Tracking. Animals. The nervous fidgeting subsided.
"There's a stream about two miles north of the Miller place," he said, his words coming easier now. "Leads to a meadow with sweet grass. She might've gone that way if she was looking for a quiet place to foal."
I glanced up from my writing to find him looking directly at me for the first time. The impact was immediate—like a physical jolt to my system. His eyes were a warm brown that caught the light from the overhead fluorescents, making them appear almost amber.
When our gazes locked, a flush spread across his cheekbones, disappearing into the short beard that framed his jaw. He looked away first, the hat in his hands twisting faster.
"I can track her," he offered, still not meeting my eyes again. "I just thought... protocol says to report missing livestock."
"That's right," I confirmed, finishing the report. "You did the right thing."
I stood up, deliberately invading his space just enough to gauge his reaction. He didn't back away, but I noticed his breathing quickened slightly.
Interesting.
"I'll need to take your statement officially," I said, reaching for my jacket. "Mind if I ride along while you track the mare? Two birds, one stone."
The surprise on his face was evident. "You want to come with me?"
"Is that a problem?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Just... usually when I report things, you all just take the information and say you'll look into it."
"Well, I'm new in town," I said, allowing a small smile. "Still learning the lay of the land. Seems like you're the expert on finding things that don't want to be found."
That earned me another flush, deeper this time, spreading down his neck. My smile widened just a fraction. Something about his reactions made me want to provoke more of them, to see just how far that blush could travel.
