Maybe Sagebrush wasn’t a total loss after all.Fuck.
“Now, now,” the sheriff said, his voice low and steady with that Texas drawl that made everything sound like honey. “Let’s all take a breath here.”
I forced my eyes back up to his face, which was a mistake because holy shit, he had these gorgeous green eyes that looked like they could see right through me. And not in the fun, flirty way I was used to. More like he knew exactly what I was thinking and that I should probably stop.
“I wasn’t causing a scene,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “I was simply providing constructive feedback on the beverage service.”
“You told me my coffee tasted likeburnt sadness,” Dolly interjected, pointing one of those red nails at me. “That ain’t constructive, that’s just rude.”
“It’s honest,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
The sheriff’s jaw tightened slightly, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. God, even his throat was attractive. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been in town for less than twenty-four hours and I was already thirsting over the local law enforcement. That definitely wasn’t my style.
“Sir,” he said, and I loved that he called me sir even though he clearly wanted to call me something a bit more colorful. “I’m gonna need you to apologize to Miss Dolly here and maybe dial back the commentary on her establishment.”
“It’s Xavier,” I said automatically. “And I already apologized about the hair thing.”
“Xavier,” he repeated, and the way he said my name made something flutter in my chest. “I’m Sheriff Marcus Webb. And while I appreciate that you’re used to a certain standard of coffee in New York City, we do things a bit different here in Sagebrush.”
“Different is one word for it,” I muttered.
Dolly’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” I plastered on my best customer-service smile. “I’m sorry, Dolly. Your coffee is... fine. It’s perfectly adequate coffee for a small-town diner.”
Dolly’s expression suggested that “perfectly adequate” wasn’t much better than “burnt sadness,” but the sheriff put a hand on the counter between us like a referee.
“However, I’m not going to withhold my opinions on your food.”
“Why you little—” Dolly began.
“How about we take this outside?” the sheriff offered, cutting her off.
“Sheriff Webb,” I said, crossing my arms, not budging and inch. “I’m here to plan the wedding of the century for my best friend. That means everything needs to be perfect. Including the catering. And if Dolly’s going to be handling the food, then yes, I’m going to have opinions about the quality.”
“The catering’s already been decided,” Dolly interjected from behind the counter. “Beau and Lucas approved my menu weeks ago.”
“Before I got here,” I countered, turning to face her. “Before someone with actual wedding planning experience could weigh in.”
The diner went quiet. Even Frank and Jack stopped their not-so-subtle eavesdropping to stare. I felt Sheriff Webb shift beside me, and I wondered if I’d finally crossed a line that would get me thrown out of town before I’d even unpacked.
The sheriff lifted his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a long sigh. “Can’t y’all just… get along then?”
I turned to look at Sheriff Webb, really look at him, and saw the exhaustion written all over his face. This was probably not how he’d planned to spend his afternoon—mediating between a stubborn diner owner and an opinionated city boy. For a brief moment, I felt a pang of guilt.
But only brief.
“Look,” I said, softening my tone just a fraction. “I’m not trying to cause problems. I just want Lucas and Beau’s weddingto be perfect. That’s all. And part of making it perfect means ensuring the food is up to standard.”
“My food is up to standard,” Dolly said, her voice dangerously low.
“I haven’t tried it yet,” I pointed out. “So, I can’t make that determination.”
Sheriff Webb looked between us, those green eyes calculating something. Then he did something I didn’t expect—he smiled. Not a big smile, just a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, but it transformed his entire face from intimidating lawman to something softer, more approachable.
“How about this,” he said. “Dolly, why don’t you put together a tasting for Xavier here? Show him what you’re planning for the wedding. And Xavier, you keep an open mind and try the food before you make any more judgments. Sound fair?”
I opened my mouth to argue that I always kept an open mind, then realized that would be a lie. “Fine,” I said instead.
