Sheriff Takes A Bride. Gayle Kaye

that he’d come here from Chicago two years ago when Sheriff Potts had become ill and was forced to retire.

      “And nothin’ ain’t been the same around here since,” Granny had lamented.

      Looking at Cam Osborne now, Hallie could believe he was a man who would change things. When he kissed a woman she’d stay kissed. He’d no doubt rattle her senses, as well as her good judgment.

      “Hallie, you can stand here talking to this man all day if you want, but I got things that need doin’,” Granny said and turned back toward the door. Hand on the screen she paused and glowered back at Cam. “You ain’t come here on any more funny business, have you, Sheriff?”

      “Funny business?” He raised an eyebrow.

      “Like haulin’ me back to that jail of yours.”

      “That all depends, Pearl. Have you been moonshining again?”

      Granny wouldn’t answer, just harumphed loudly and disappeared back inside the cabin.

      Cam laughed low and long. Hallie added a glower of her own at the man, then reached for a quart fruit basket on the porch. “I have some raspberries to pick, so if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff...” she said, leaving her sentence—and her meaning—hanging. Hallie didn’t want Cam hanging around.

      Instead Cam slipped open the latch on the gate. “I’m pretty good at berry picking,” he said. “That is, if you don’t mind some company.”

      She gave him a slow, evaluating glance. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But...you’d better watch out for George and Myrtle.”

      If she’d hoped that word of caution would give him second thoughts about joining her, she’d been wrong. Cam snapped the gate closed behind him and made his way toward her, giving George and Myrtle a wide berth as he did so.

      She had to grin at his wariness. It was nice to know the big, tough sheriff possessed a little fear at times.

      “Where are these berry bushes?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

      “Not far.”

      She kept moving, all too aware of him beside her.

      He had that clean, fresh scent of a man, a mixture of soap and after-shave, and at the moment it was having a decided effect on her. His long legs could cover the terrain far quicker than she could, but he adjusted his stride to match hers. He moved with an easy grace, all-male and self-assured. There was a power to him that made her feel... vulnerable. And it was not a feeling she liked.

      She didn’t need to go losing her head over Cam Osborne or any man, especially one from Greens Hollow again. She’d learned that lesson one summer long ago. And she hadn’t forgotten it.

      Maybe it was why she didn’t come back here to visit as often as she should. Or maybe it was just that her life in Fort Worth was so full, so busy. It was where she’d gone to heal, and for the most part, she had—except for that one tiny part of her she knew never could.

      Hallie bit her lip and pushed away the memory. It was just coming back to Greens Hollow again that tugged the past into awareness—but as soon as she had everything with Granny and the sheriff settled, she could leave.

      She only wished she could convince Granny Pearl to leave as well, to move in with her, where she could keep a close eye on her.

      The bushes were over the next rise, a tangle of briars and sweet berries that could make her mouth water. Granny didn’t prune them, just let them grow helter-skelter, wild as nature allowed. Hallie could already taste Granny’s raspberry cobbler, her famous pancake syrup.

      No one could match Granny’s recipes, maybe because the prime ingredient was love. Hallie felt it, had always felt it, no matter how irascible the old girl could be at times.

      “I hope you don’t mind a few scratches on your hands,” she said, “but it’s the only way to pick.”

      “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can endure a scratch or two.”

      “Even if you don’t get to sample the bounty later?”

      Cam grinned slowly. “Who says I won’t?”

      “I doubt very much that Granny’ll invite you to supper—not after you carted her off to the clink yesterday.” She frowned up at him. “Which brings up a question, Cam Osborne. Just what makes you so certain that Granny is operating a still? Have you actually found one?”

      Hallie was certain he hadn’t; this morning she’d had a thorough look around Granny’s property, every nook and cranny of it. She’d found nothing.

      “I wouldn’t have brought the old gal in, if I hadn’t,” he answered.

      Hallie gaped up at him for a long moment, then turned and plucked a berry. “I don’t believe you,” she said, absently dropping the berry into her container.

      Had she somehow missed the site?

      Hallie didn’t think so.

      “Would you like me to show it to you?” He picked a few raspberries from the vine, then leaned close to drop them into her basket.

      He smelled like the mountain air, all clean and a little... untamed. And he rattled her, not just his claim about a still, but his presence so close to her. She could see the fine lines that fanned out from his eyes, lines that said he’d lived with a few hurts in his life too—and for a moment Hallie wondered what they had been.

      His eyes were dark, a deep brown that could fire with passion, but also bespoke an innate honesty. It was the honesty that had her worried, but the passion she was all too aware of, a passion she’d be a fool to fall susceptible to. And she wouldn’t.

      She turned back to her task. “I may just take you up on that, Sheriff,” she said quietly, “but first I have raspberries to pick. Granny’s expecting them.”

      “Fine by me.”

      Cam knew the woman beside him didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t eager to prove her wrong, to shatter that unshakable belief she had in Granny Pearl. Obviously Granny had not seen fit to fill her granddaughter in about her little... sideline. It might have made things easier for Cam if she had. Still, either way, he had the feeling Hallie was not about to warm to him anytime soon.

      That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason—one he didn’t want to think about too closely—it did. He reached into the brambles to pick, leaving the more accessible berries for Hallie. Not that she would probably appreciate his chivalry.

      She worked busily, gathering her bounty, the sun gently bronzing her arms left bare by her sleeveless white blouse. It was open at the neck three buttons, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Every now and then she swiped at a bead of perspiration that trickled down her neck.

      The sun was hot—and growing hotter.

      “So tell me about Fort Worth. What do you do there?” Cam was certain talk was better than fantasizing about whether she’d catch the latest bead of perspiration traveling toward that delectable hollow between her breasts.

      She glanced up, her green eyes showing surprise that he’d ask a question about her personally. Well, damn, did she doubt he could be interested in one beautiful woman? He shouldn’t be, but he was curious about Hallie Cates.

      She plucked another raspberry. “I’m a teacher, elementary school.”

      “A teacher?” Cam gave a slow smile. “You don’t look like a schoolteacher to me.”

      She raised her head again. “And just what in your estimation does a schoolteacher look like?” she asked.

      “They wear their hair in tight little buns and have crow’s feet,” he answered. “At least they did when I was a kid.”

      She let a smile slip at his remark, just a small one. “Give me a few years,” she returned. “Second-graders can age