Falling For The Sheriff. Tanya Michaels

she said coaxingly.

      He hesitated, torn between two of his favorite activities—sleeping and eating. Playing video games was also in his top five, but she hadn’t hooked up his gaming system last night. Maybe that could be his reward for being well-behaved today.

      “Why don’t you put on some clothes and brush your teeth,” she suggested, “and I’ll cook you some eggs. Scrambled with cheese?”

      He shook his head. “Fried with the squishy yolk, so that the yellow runs everywhere when you cut it.”

      “Okay.” She rose, leaving the room and giving him some privacy. But she hesitated in the hallway, listening to make sure he actually got out of the bed instead of rolling over and falling back to sleep.

      Just as she was setting his plate on the table, he appeared in the kitchen, wearing a pair of maroon shorts with an elastic waist and a charcoal-colored shirt that had once featured the name of a sports team. The letters had faded to obscurity after about a million washings, and tiny holes in the fabric were beginning to appear at the neckline and around the seams. He claimed the shirt was the softest piece of clothing he owned and wore it about three times a week. She really needed to find him a replacement before this one ultimately disintegrated. Although he’d changed, he hadn’t taken the time to brush his hair. It stuck out around his face in fluffy spikes.

      She handed him a glass of orange juice. “You sleep okay?” Considering the coma-like condition she’d found him in, it seemed like a safe opener.

      “No. The bed’s lumpy, and the outside noise is weird.”

      How did he not consider the gentle hum of crickets and tree frogs an improvement over planes landing and periodic car alarms blaring? “There’s hardly any noise at all!”

      “That’s what makes it weird.” He stabbed into an egg, watching the yellow ooze across the plate as requested. “Where’s Gram?”

      “She went out for some groceries.” And would probably be home any minute now, so Kate better get to the point. “She invited some people over this afternoon for a cookout.”

      Luke scowled around a mouthful of bacon. “You want me to spend my afternoon with a bunch of people I don’t know?”

      “That’s the whole point of the gathering, so we can get to know some of our new neighbors. Maybe start making friends.”

      “I have friends. In Houston.”

      “Well, we aren’t in Houston anymore. Gram was nice enough to take us in, and we owe her. Our actions here reflect on her, too.”

      “So you’re saying if we don’t fit in, she might kick us out?”

      “Of course not!” Her grandmother would never resort to reverse extortion. Was he asking because he feared not being accepted, after the way most of his teachers had labeled him last year, or was he secretly hopeful, wondering if antics at Gram’s cookout could be his ticket back to Houston?

      “I expect you to be on your best behavior,” she stressed. “Do not screw this up.”

      Hurt flared in his eyes, but his tone was his default-mode sarcastic when he said, “So you’re saying I shouldn’t hotwire the guests’ cars and do doughnuts in the back pasture?”

      “After your stunt yesterday, you don’t get to make jokes like that.”

      “How long are you going to stay mad about that? It was just a stupid candy bar!”

      No, it was a destructive pattern of behavior. Then again, if she always acted as though she expected the worst of him, was she creating a self-fulfilling prophecy? “Luke, I—”

      Outside, a car door closed, and he shot out of his chair. “I’ll see if she needs help bringing in groceries.” His gallantry was clearly motivated by an excuse to end the conversation, but Kate would take what she could get.

      The screen door clattered as he hurried out of the house, and Kate heard Gram call good morning to him. Decades ago, Joan Denby had been able to coax Kate out of her shell when she was feeling abandoned by her father. Maybe now Gram could work her magic on a sullen teenage boy.

      There were so few bags that Luke got them all in one trip. Kate offered to help put away the groceries, but Gram said to just leave them out for baking. She then made Luke’s day by giving him permission to hook up his game console to the living room TV while the two women worked in the kitchen.

      Once he’d happily scampered off to lose himself in a digital quest, Gram raised an eyebrow in Kate’s direction. “Am I wrong, or was there some tension between the two of you?”

      “Always.”

      Gram patted her arm. “Hang in there. The teen years are difficult. I seem to recall a certain summer where you and Crystal fell for the same lifeguard at the local pool and life as you knew it was over!” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in melodramatic parody.

      Kate chuckled in spite of herself. “Okay, I suppose even I had my tantrums.”

      “And you grew into a wonderful woman. Luke has a good heart.”

      “I know. I just wish he’d share it with people more often.”

      Gram disappeared into the walk-in pantry and returned with a sack of flour and an armful of spices. “Do you want an apron to protect your dress? It’s pretty. Brings out the green in your eyes.” She beamed proudly. “You’re sure to make a good impression in it.”

      Alarm bells sounded in Kate’s head, as jarring as a classroom of seven-year-olds all playing xylophones for the first time. Suddenly she recalled a phone conversation with Gram a few months ago. Her grandmother had gently hinted that Luke might do better with a male role model in his life and asked if Kate ever dated. When Kate had said no, Gram had dropped the subject. Now, Kate wondered if her grandmother had simply been biding her time.

      “Gram, this welcome party... It’s not going to be a lineup of the county’s eligible bachelors, is it? I told you, I’m not ready for romance.”

      Her grandmother smiled sadly. “I lost my husband, too. I understand. But you’re in the prime of your life, with a lot of years left ahead of you. Damon wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

      That answer did nothing to settle Kate’s apprehension about the party. “Today isn’t going to be you, me, and a dozen single guys between the ages of twenty and fifty, right?”

      “You have your grandfather’s active imagination. As I told you last night, I invited some families. Now, can we get started? I’ve got several desserts I want to bake, and my oven will only hold so many things at a time.”

      Telling herself to quit being paranoid, Kate lost herself in the comforting rhythm of working alongside the woman who had taught her how to cook. The first dinner she’d ever fixed for Damon had included her grandmother’s chicken and dumplings recipe. The hours passed quickly. In seemingly no time, afternoon sun streamed through the windows and the kitchen smelled like a decadent bakery. Unfortunately, the kitchen was nearly as hot as the inside of a bakery oven.

      At least outside there was a breeze. Kate covered long folding tables with vinyl tablecloths, glad she hadn’t bothered with makeup. It would have melted away. They drafted Luke to dump ice into the drink coolers and pretended not to notice all the food he stole off the veggie tray. Beans simmered on the stove, and a vat of potato salad waited in the fridge. The smell of brisket cooking made Kate’s stomach rumble. While she waited for the grill to heat up so she could throw on some sausages, she opened a bag of tortilla chips and taste-tested Gram’s homemade salsa.

      Gram handed her a cold water bottle, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You might want this.”

      Kate nodded. “It’s a little hotter than I remembered.”

      “Well. Everyone needs a little spice in their lives.”

      As Kate sipped