Page 21

I turned to see a beautiful strawberry-blonde behind me holding her bag to her shoulder, her gaze on my brother.

I saw the moment my brother’s eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like people that didn’t believe his act, and this poor tourist had just put herself on his radar.

“I don’t know,” a man replied. “She put his hands on his chest and pushed him away.”

That’s when Leo broke out the tears.

My God.

“I called the cops!”

I groaned when I heard that voice.

There were a few people in this town that I couldn’t stand, and Vera, who owned The Mercantile, was one of them.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to the woman and said, “It’s okay. You can go.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why? I know they’re about to cause trouble.”

“Trust me…”

A whirrrup sounded from behind me, the sound that a police cruiser makes when he’s trying to get people out of his way.

I’d been in the back of Black’s cruiser enough times to experience it.

I turned, crossing my arms over my chest, and stared.

Please, don’t be Black.

Please, don’t be Black.

“Please, don’t be Black,” I muttered mostly to myself.

“Who’s Black?” the strawberry-blonde asked.

Black got out of the cruiser, and my shoulders slumped. “That’s Black.”

“Whoa,” she said. “Holy shit.”

I knew the feeling.

At six foot and packed solid with muscle, Black Adkins was the epitome of beautiful male specimen.

He was everything that you might ever want in a man, wrapped up in a perfectly starched sheriff’s uniform.

Once both feet were on the ground, he leaned back into the cruiser and pulled his cowboy hat from the headliner where he had a holder for it.

He leaned back out of the cruiser and placed it on his head, his eyes scanning the crowd that was now in a semi-circle around the county courthouse.

The Mercantile was a hop and a skip away, which was why Vera was outside glaring at me.

Vera hated me because she thought that I’d stolen from her.

In reality, Leo had stolen from her, then blamed me.

And who was going to believe a troubled teenage girl over a cute little kid?