The Sheriff's Second Chance. Leandra Logan

my stitches.”

      He lifted her in his arms anyway, his voice growing husky. “I just want to hold you for a while. In the moonlight…”

      Sarah understood. Sometimes, the town’s insecure ex-bad boy needed a reminder that she was totally his.

      Spooned into him on the broad mattress, she was not surprised when his soft snores told her he’d drifted off. He’d been working extra hours at the garage lately with his lone employee, Richard, in an effort to be the big breadwinner, to give her the stay-at-home-mom option next autumn. It was silly, really. She had no qualms about leaving Amy Joy with her mother, Isabel, for a few hours each day while she went to work. Derek’s problem was that he’d watched his own mother drive herself into a frazzle in order to make ends meet. Their situation was nothing like that. She loved her job. It was the perfect part-time career, half days with summers off.

      The conflict of interest with Lewis Cutler over Kelsey, however, was a far more troubling issue. It was bound to affect Ethan and Derek, who both enjoyed being close to the powerful man, but who also had connections to Kelsey.

      It had all started for Ethan much earlier, invited through the Cutler front door as a toddler by Brad. Such an arrangement had been unthinkable for Derek back then, as his mother, Linda, had actually been a domestic at the class-conscious mansion. Derek hadn’t made the Cutler connection until years later on the high school’s prom night. Too poor to attend the prom himself, and not yet in Sarah’s romantic sights, Derek had spent the evening roaring round the countryside on his motorcycle. He’d happened upon Brad’s smashed Jetta, surveyed the casualties and raced over to the estate to alert Lewis. Even then he’d circled to the back door of the mansion.

      Because of Derek, Lewis had managed a last word with his dying son. Suddenly, the class rebel, long taunted by the likes of Brad and so many others, had been in Lewis’s good graces. Lewis had shed a new positive light on Derek along Harvester Avenue, had referred to him as a spirited and scrappy lad who, Lewis had discovered, was a whiz at fixing stuff like toasters, lamps, radios and motorbikes—especially motorbikes. He’d got Derek a room in the widow Watson’s boardinghouse, had eventually arranged for Derek to buy the town’s only auto-repair shop from a retiring Mel Trumbull, using his position as officer at the bank to float Derek a very low-interest loan.

      Another Maple Junction happy ending courtesy of fairy godfather Lewis, who’d turned the lone rebel into a respected car mechanic, simultaneously repaying the boy’s good deed and filling a vital job vacancy.

      Sarah had eventually taken notice of Derek’s turnaround while home from UW–Madison one weekend. She’d gotten a flat tire on the way into town one Friday night and had called Maple’s only full-service garage. He’d fixed the tire and thrown in a tune-up. She’d taken him to lunch. After that, the favors had kept on flying. He’d changed her oil. She’d helped him shop for clothes. He’d fixed her parents’ leaky sink. She’d taken him to movies with more dialogue than explosions.

      When she graduated, he’d presented her with a modest engagement ring. A no-frills elopement had soon followed, as had the purchase of their house, made possible by her unspent wedding fund and a generous gift from the Cutlers.

      Sarah sighed against her pillow. Everything had been going so well for so long. But only because nobody ever crossed Lewis Cutler. She wouldn’t usually be doing it herself. But this was for Kelsey. Who, just like the rest of them, had a legitimate birthright here in Maple Junction.

      Chapter Three

      Ethan was edgy at the sheriff’s office the next morning, determined to track down Sarah for a quick, frank talk about Kelsey. Why hadn’t she answered the door last night? It would have been easy to find her two weeks ago when school was still in session. Despite the arrival of Amy Joy, Sarah had watched over her morning kindergarten class most days, relying on her aide to handle the get-up-and-go tasks. Occasionally, the baby had even hitched a ride along in her buggy. Things were like that in the small town, with obliging parents and staff wanting to make it easy for Sarah so she’d return next year.

      It turned out all Ethan had to do was hit Harvester Avenue, where he spotted willowy Sarah sitting idle on a bench in front of the corner drugstore at Fifth Street, her hand gently rocking Amy Joy’s big springy buggy.

      Pretty as a picture was the new mother, dressed in a green peasant blouse and denim shorts, her wavy gold hair captured in a ribbon. With bare legs crossed, she bobbed a sandaled foot in time to “Spanish Flea,” an Herb Alpert tune played by two clarinetists from the Whittier High School band busking at the corner. Amused passersby were tossing coins into an upside-down baseball cap.

      The boys froze at the sight of him, probably wondering if they needed a permit to play.

      Ethan didn’t know or care. “Go ahead, knock yourselves out.”

      Happy, they tooted on with gusto.

      Peeking at the dozing baby under the buggy’s visor, Ethan leaned against a nearby lamppost. Sarah wasn’t going to be able to avoid him this time. Funny that she’d tried it last night. But she was one tough girl and had kicked him out of the treehouse in her father’s apple orchard more than once. Landing on apples sure did hurt! He still couldn’t bear to eat one.

      “Nice day, Sarah,” he greeted genially.

      “Perfect.”

      “How’s our baby girl doing?”

      “Swell. As you can see for yourself.”

      “They grow up so fast,” he marveled. “Assert their independence so early.”

      She gaped at him. “What do you mean?”

      “I could’ve sworn I heard her crying alone in your house last night. Naturally, I got right off the bell. Waited though, to give her a sporting chance to respond but I guess she just couldn’t crawl the distance.”

      “Don’t be silly, Ethan.”

      “Of course if you had been there, you’d have answered the bell, right?”

      “Well, sure. I mean, none of us were there. Must have been the radio you heard. Derek keeps it on when we go out. To fool burglars.”

      Her brown eyes were bright and steady in spite of the lie. She and Kelsey could sell anything to anyone back in the day—watered-down lemonade, bruised apples, day-old pastries, all with convincing sincerity. He expected that would still hold true, at least for her.

      “So why did you drop by last night, Ethan?”

      It was a smart move to ask, knowing she was already trapped.

      “I was following up a rumor about Kelsey coming. Is it true?”

      “Yes!” She clasped her hands gleefully. “A crazy twist, huh?”

      The craziest.

      “C’mon, take another look at Amy Joy,” Sarah urged suddenly.

      “Why?”

      “This time, note the sweet little rosebud dress she’s wearing.”

      He leaned back over the pram. “Very nice.”

      “Sent to her by guess who?”

      “Kelsey.”

      “Exactly.” She closed her eyes and smiled up at the sun. “Amy Joy’s only outfit from out of town. Makes her look sharp and unique, like her aunt Kelsey.”

      It was becoming impossible to talk over the music. Ethan turned to discover there were now four musicians on the corner. He decided to sit on the bench beside Sarah to make himself heard. “How long have you known about Kelsey’s homecoming?”

      “I’ve kept the news under wraps a little while,” she admitted. “There seemed no hurry in giving grudge-toting people time to get worked up about it and plan a negative campaign. So how is Mr. Grudge himself taking it?”

      “Lewis