Loving the Lawman. Ruth Logan Herne

one shoulder. “I don’t mind it. And no, I’m not making excuses,” he added when the reverend arched a brow. He breathed deep and swept his gaze across the lakeside village, quiet and still on a snow-filled weekend morning. “Winter’s peaceful. I like the snow. And I love seeing storms come in, watching them recede. I’ve got a great vantage point up there.” He pointed to his hillside home. “The hard part is that I can see the edge of the interstate as it cuts across the water below the ‘point.’ And when I see that, I think of Tori. There are days when I have to fight the urge to jump in the car and go after her. Find her. Bring her home. I know I can’t do that, but that stretch of road calls to me. And after hearing the sadness in her voice—” he tapped the belt pouch that held his phone “—I’m tempted more than ever.”

      The pastor reached out and clapped a hand on each of Seth’s shoulders. “You have a good heart and a strong mind, and I can’t believe God won’t fix this somehow, someway. And that’s what I’m praying for. That God mends this chasm to bring you peace of mind and a healed heart.”

      Seth accepted the blessing, but he couldn’t wrap his head around such a thing. Peace of mind would only come if he could keep Tori safe. And a healed heart?

      His heart was doing okay. It had healed enough to know he wouldn’t chance getting it broken again. And that was a promise he could make.

      * * *

      “Good morning!” Gram’s welcome meant the boys in blue had arrived. Gianna took a deep breath, put a pleasant and somewhat blank expression on her face and stepped into the sewing area at the back of the shop. She tried not to stare as Seth settled an armload of tools and boxed braces along the front wall.

      “You’ll still be able to do this today?” she asked. She pointed to the equipment he’d brought in. “I was afraid we messed you up with the fitting appointment.”

      “Lotta day left,” he told her, then winked.

      Her heart did a theatrical spin—most unprofessional. Her face refused to let the attraction show. “That’s wonderful. If you’ll—”

      “Zach, come in, thank you for helping your friend. So nice!” Carmen bustled forward as if on cue, which made Gianna figure she’d been watching for Zach’s entrance from the doorway leading to the apartment. “Set those down right here and I’ll take you over by my area.”

      “And I’ll send Seth right behind him,” Gianna added. She sent her grandmother an I-know-what-you’re-doing look as Seth organized the equipment into some kind of order.

      “If we both measure, we get done in half the time.” Carmen tossed a tape measure across the room.

      Gianna caught it in one hand, met her grandmother’s grin and decided to stay mum. There would be no arguing in front of the two policemen, but later?

      Gram would get an earful.

      “Where would you like me?” Seth faced her with the look of a man doomed, and despite her internal efforts, she had to smile.

      “I promise it won’t hurt. Much.”

      “The last time I heard that was when the doctor had to reset my broken arm. And just so you know? It did hurt. A lot.”

      “Aw.” She made a face of sympathy up at him and touched his arm. “I’m actually sorry you had to go through that.”

      “I was, too. But we got the bad guy and he’s doing time, so justice prevailed.”

      Her heart longed to protest his easy take on an uneasy topic. He’d gotten one bad guy and a broken arm. But there were bad guys everywhere. And not all the good guys walked away with just a cast. Some never walked away at all.

      “What do we do first?” He tipped his gaze down to her and for just a moment she let herself get lost in those clear blue eyes. His hair was rumpled from wearing a hat, but the tight Scottish curl didn’t allow hats to crush his hair, so she found herself looking up at a modern-day Celtic warrior with a great smile.

      Focus. You’ve got a job to do. So does he. And that’s it.

      “All you have to do is stand there for a minute today.”

      “Can do.”

      She unwound her measuring tape as her grandmother chatted with Zach about his family and farming and all the innocent things Gianna could discuss if she was doing the state trooper’s measurements.

      But no, she was measuring the single sheriff’s deputy with the great chin, and for the life of her, she couldn’t find a thing to say that didn’t seem flirtatious or mention his job. And she refused to do that. She reached up and measured from his neck to where his wrist met strong, broad hands.

      Do not think about his hands. Their strength. That scar on the back of his left hand that looks fairly new. Eyes on the tape measure. Got it?

      Oh, she got it, but it was impossible when she had to go eye to eye with him to measure his neck. The scent of fresh outdoors mingled with guy soap, a combination that made her long to draw closer for one more whiff....

      So she stood back, jotted 17.5 in her notes and moved to measuring his chest. While doing so she decided that life was not fair, men shouldn’t be so amazingly well built and she’d probably have to resort to bodily harm of her conniving grandmother for putting her in this situation. At least she was experienced enough to be able to discern his measurements without needing him to remove his shirt. Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have known how to adjust for the slight difference.

      Now she did, although seeing Seth in a T-shirt couldn’t be considered punishment.

      Waist...a trim thirty-two.

      She finished her task in a matter-of-fact manner, jotted numbers into her sizing notepad, then closed the small notebook. Done.

      “No hip measurement?” he wondered.

      “Not for men.” She shook her head as she looked up, and the gleam in his eye said he was kidding.

      “Jerk.”

      He laughed and tugged a lock of her hair as he stepped back into his shoes. “Couldn’t resist. I’ve been measured for monkey suits for way too many weddings. No one’s ever gotten quite this nervous about it, though. Although you hid it well.”

      The fact that he recognized her nervousness meant she hadn’t hidden it well. The blush she’d tried to control steamrolled her cheeks, but she made a concerted effort to keep this exchange strictly business. “Measure twice, cut once. I expect you employ a similar ethic when working with wood.”

      “I do. And just like good fabric, certain grains give me more trouble than others.” He arched an innocent brow, but she was fairly sure he lumped her in the “certain grains” category. “We’re done for now?”

      “Yes. I will turn this—” she patted a bolt of tan cotton “—into this.” She held up a pattern of an old-style sheriff’s uniform and grinned when Seth looked reassured.

      “That’s actually kind of cool.” He touched the fabric lightly, and there was no mistaking the relief in his tone. “I like that Andy Griffith look. I was afraid we’d have to wear some overblown thing with ugly brass buttons.”

      Gianna sent Zach a look of sympathy. “That would be his.”

      “Ha.” Seth laughed and clapped Zach on the back. “You’ll look like a band leader in a parade. Perfect.”

      “I’ll still be carrying a gun,” Zach warned, and Seth laughed again.

      “I’m going to leave off some of the braid,” Carmen told Zach. “The state police dropped the braid and the tails on the coat fairly early, so I’ll do the same. I promise you will not be a laughingstock.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “My husband gave decades to the troopers. I treat his counterparts with utmost love and respect.”

      “Thank you.” Zach smiled