The Lawman's Runaway Bride. Patricia Johns

are you back, then? I thought you’d made your life in Denver.”

      Sadie’s gaze wandered toward the window—the familiar stretch of highway, the faded sign out front promising the county’s best burgers next to the black-painted sculpture of the bull with its horns down. A dusting of snow fell from the gray sky.

      Sadie dragged her gaze back to Chance and smiled sadly. “I wanted to come home.”

      And maybe Comfort Creek wouldn’t be the respite that she’d imagined it would. She’d wanted the comfort of Nana’s advice and home cooking. She’d wanted to come back to the only place that knew her—the good and the bad. She wanted to settle down, not with a man, but on her own terms.

      “And you’re starting up a business, I take it,” Chance added.

      “Yes,” she said, grabbing a sugar packet and tearing it open. “I am. Mayor Scott is being very supportive. He has friends who need a good event planner, and his daughter Trina’s wedding is coming up. I have a good chance of making a go of this here. In Denver, I was working with a big event planning firm and I got some great experience.”

      “And if you do well with this remembrance ceremony, he’ll pass your name around with a glowing recommendation,” Chance concluded.

      “Something like that.” That was how businesses got started—word of mouth. This was a priceless opportunity. If she was going to support herself here, she needed the boost. She stirred the sugar into her coffee.

      “So basically, you’re back to make some money,” he concluded.

      “That isn’t even fair!” Her anger sparked to life. “I need to make a living. What do you expect me to do? I’m good at this, Chance. I’ve got some great experience, and I really think I have a lot to offer Comfort Creek. So yes, I need to make a living, and yes, I want to grow my business and succeed. What’s so wrong with that?”

      He heaved a sigh, then shook his head. “Nothing. I hope it works out for you.”

      Did he really? She wasn’t so sure. But a single woman didn’t have the option of laying low if she wanted to support herself, so if Chance didn’t like seeing her around town, he’d have to sort out his feelings on his own. She was tired of feeling guilty. She deserved a fresh start as much as anyone.

      “Chance, I’m asking you—” She paused, unsure how to say this. “I get that you’re mad at me, and I know that we won’t be friends like we were before...but I’m here. And we have to work together. I just need to know if that’s going to be possible.”

      In fact, it would be better if they weren’t friends like before. Those lines had blurred, and there wasn’t an easy way to recover from that. At least not for her.

      “Of course,” he said, and for a moment, his gaze softened. “Like the mayor said, we’re all professionals.” He slid the plate of pie toward her, then grabbed his coat from the bench beside him. “It’s on me. I remember you liked pie.” Then he rose to his feet and tossed a bill onto the table. “Come by my office Monday morning—let’s say nine—and we’ll get to work.”

      “Alright.” She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be there.”

      Chance turned and walked away, leaving Sadie alone at the table with a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie and a cup of untouched coffee. Not exactly the welcome she’d been hoping for, but it was a start.

       Chapter Two

      Sadie was back in town. Chance rolled that fact over in his mind while he drove toward the police station. If it weren’t for the timing of this commemorative ceremony, he might not be so raw about the whole thing, but as it was, all those memories crowded just beneath the surface, and it had only been a year since Noah’s death. He’d been praying for God to help him to heal, but so far, those prayers had gone unanswered.

      And he needed healing from more than just his brother’s death; he needed to let go of those feelings for Sadie. He’d thought he had, but when he saw her again today, it came crowding back in—that same unwanted attraction to Sadie and a flood of guilt.

      He was the chief of police, and ran a sensitivity training program here in Comfort Creek—he wasn’t supposed to be the one struggling with personal issues. He was supposed to be the guy with the answers. How come every time he prayed for strength, he ended up driven to his knees? If anyone had asked him yesterday if five years had made a difference, he’d have said yes, it had. A lot had changed. But today, looking Sadie in the face, it was as if those years had melted out from under him.

      The heat in his cruiser pumped into the car, and he reached over and turned it down. Sadie was back, and by the sounds of it, she wanted to make this permanent. He knew that he’d played a part in her run for Denver, but he’d been willing to talk about it. He could have told her that it was one moment of weakness, and that he could curb his feelings and she’d never be faced with them again. Had she stayed to talk about it. But she hadn’t. She’d run. And now she was back and all was supposed to be forgiven, and he couldn’t do it. The anger was back, and he couldn’t just push it aside.

      A fully planned wedding didn’t evaporate, and it had taken weeks to help his brother handle all the details—clean up, return gifts, move her things back out of Noah’s house. The entire time, his brother had been a walking shell of a man. He’d been hollow, wan, brittle. Sadie might have been able to just walk away, but Noah had to stay and deal with the fallout. And all that time, Chance had kept his secret and never told his brother what he’d done. He regretted that now. He’d never imagined that he wouldn’t have a chance to get it off his chest.

      Chance remembered the afternoon when Noah had told him his plans to join the army.

      You can’t just leave, Chance had protested. You and I were going to buy that boat together, I thought.

      They had plans for the future—the Morgan brothers. They were going to buy a boat, then buy a little cottage by a lake and spend every weekend from April through October fishing.

      I don’t have anything left here, Noah had replied.

      You have your entire life here!

      And he had—Noah had run his own successful carpentry business. He had built a beautiful home on an acreage about twenty minutes outside of town, and he had his extended family all right there. This was the life he’d offered to share with Sadie, and there were several other women who’d immediately perked up at the news of the wedding that didn’t happen. Noah didn’t have to leave. What Chance should have said was, “You have me here, Noah.”

      Noah had been a wreck, and he’d said that the best way forward was through. Chance would have agreed, except through meant something different to Noah—it led to the army. He’d gone on one deployment, and the night he came back, Chance could see that his brother had changed. Of course, a year in Afghanistan would have an impact, but it was more than the tan and the ropy muscle. It went deeper, to the steely glimmer in his eye. Then he left for another tour, and the distance between the brothers grew more pronounced. And then there was a third tour that Noah never came back from.

      Chance pulled into the parking lot next to the Comfort Creek Police Department. It was a squat, brick building on Main Street, right across the street from the bank. A large elm tree grew just beside it, branches blanketed with snow.

      This sleepy town was the location of Larimer County’s sensitivity training program. The cops who came here needed soft skills—patience, self-control and character growth. They didn’t come to face off with criminals, they came to do just the opposite, actually, and face their own issues. Comfort Creek had plenty of space and quiet to do just that, and Chance took his training program incredibly seriously. For the most part, these were good cops struggling with problems larger than they were, and Chance could sympathize with that. He knew what it was like to make one wretched mistake and watch his brother disintegrate because of it. A mistake didn’t have to define a