Cole continued puzzling over that response until they reached her door. She extracted her arm and turned to face him. He tried not to think about how cold and lightweight his arm felt without hers wrapped securely around it. It reminded him of when his mother used to yank the bedcovers off when he was a child to force him out of bed.
Miss Scott clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you again for walking me home.”
Her voice sounded stiff and composed, and Cole found himself yearning for her happy chatter again. “You’re welcome,” he replied. He couldn’t leave on this note—especially not when they’d been speaking so easily before.
Miss Scott glanced at the door behind her as he searched his mind for something—anything—amusing or useful or interesting . . .
“Those boys in your school,” he started, the thought half-formed as he began speaking. “If you can find out what interests them and somehow relate what they’re learning to that, it may help keep their attention.”
Her face brightened, and Cole suddenly felt like the wisest man walking the earth.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “I’ll be sure to—”
The door opened behind Miss Scott before she could finish her thought.
“Marian?” An older woman with the same dark hair and blue eyes as Miss Scott appeared in the doorway.
Marian. Triumph surged through Cole as he repeated her given name in his head. It fit her—dignified, yet pretty.
“Mama.” Miss Scott startled, her cheeks going pink again. “I was just about to come inside.”
Her mother gave her a look that could have melted ice, and Miss Scott slowly turned back toward Cole. “Mama, this is Deputy Robertson. Deputy, may I introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Scott?”
Cole inclined his head toward Mrs. Scott. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“I’d heard our sheriff had finally hired on someone to help. We’re all certainly glad you’re here, Deputy,” Mrs. Scott said, giving him a warm smile.
“I’m just as happy to be here,” he replied.
The silence stretched taut, with Mrs. Scott clearly waiting to hear what he was doing at her door with her daughter. Cole glanced at Miss Scott, wondering if she actually wanted him to speak up.
She flushed again and looked away from him faster than she might from a particularly ugly insect. “I . . . uh . . . I had a bit of trouble with one of the parents, and Mr.—Deputy Robertson happened by just as it ended.”
“I seem to have a knack for appearing just as Miss Scott needs assistance,” he said.
“Or afterward,” she said so quickly that her mother’s eyebrows inched up just a notch. “I do thank you, Deputy. Good evening.”
He tugged at his hat as he gave her what he hoped was a winning grin. “Good evening, Miss Scott. I’m certain I’ll see you again soon.” He let his eyes linger just long enough to see her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red before he bid Mrs. Scott good evening and turned to head back into town.
And this time, when that little voice in the back of his mind that had promised not to involve himself with any woman in Last Chance began to pester him, he banished it with thoughts of Miss Scott’s—Marian’s—sweet voice, and that blush that made his fingers itch to trace her cheekbones.
This time, he’d do better. He’d be more careful. And he wouldn’t let it go anywhere beyond where it should.
He wouldn’t find himself running from Last Chance as he’d run from every other town that he’d graced with his presence.
