The Sheriff's Second Chance. Michelle Celmer

Hardware, and his dad sat beside him.

      “Mornin’, Deputy,” George said, then nodded to Nate’s dad. “Mornin’, P.J.”

      “Mornin’, George,” P.J. returned. “How are things down at the hardware store?”

      George shrugged. “Can’t complain. How’s the house coming along?” he asked, referring to the Victorian-era home Nate’s parents had been renovating.

      “It’s comin’.”

      “Got that tile laid in the downstairs bathroom?”

      P.J. nodded. “Just about.”

      They had a similar conversation every morning, yet today it felt stilted and awkward. To add to the tension, Nate could feel the gaze of the entire restaurant pinned against his back.

      Their waitress, Delores Freeburg, who had worked at the diner as long as Nate could remember, appeared with a decanter of coffee and poured them each a cup. “Morning, Nate, P.J. Will you have the usual?”

      “Just coffee for me,” Nate said. His belly was too tied in knots to choke down eggs and bacon.

      P.J. patted the paunch that had begun to creep over his belt and said, “I’m starving. The usual for me.”

      Delores winked and left to put in the order, but not before shooting Nate a glance rife with curiosity.

      There was a brief, awkward silence, then George said, “So, Nate, I guess you’ve heard the news.”

      “I heard.” And he didn’t care to talk about it.

      “Been a long time,” George persisted.

      Nate poured cream and sugar in his cup. The idea of drinking it made his stomach turn, but he forced himself to take a sip, burning the hell out of his tongue in the process.

      “Seven years,” his dad answered for him, and Nate shot him a look that said, Don’t encourage him.

      But George needed no encouragement. He was a worse gossip than most of the women at Shear Genius, the salon Nate’s ex-wife owned.

      Nate pulled out his phone and pretended to check his messages, but that didn’t stop George.

      “Guess she got herself into a fix up there in New York.” George shook his head, as though he could relate, even though he’d never lived a day outside of their small town. “Some sort of federal investigation into her financial firm.”

      “I hope you also heard that I’m not personally under any suspicion,” a female voice stated from behind them. A voice that after seven years was still so familiar, Nate’s heart climbed up his throat and lodged there. Caitlyn Cavanaugh walked around the counter, facing them now, but Nate kept his eyes on his phone screen.

      “Welcome back, Caitie,” his dad said.

      “Hi, P.J. Long time no see.”

      “When did you get home?”

      “Just last night.”

      “And your parents have you back to work already?”

      “I offered. Deb called in sick. But I’ll warn you, I may be a bit rusty. I haven’t waited tables in almost five years.”

      “Well,” P.J. said with a shrug. “You know that nothing much ever changes around here.”

      “I guess not.”

      Nate could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t make himself lift his gaze. Maybe if he ignored her, it wouldn’t be real.

      “Hello, Nate,” she said, her voice quiet.

      He had no choice but to look at her now, and when he lifted his head and his eyes snagged on hers, every bit of pain and rejection he’d felt when she left slammed him in the gut like a fist.

      In her waitress uniform she looked almost exactly the same. A little older, maybe, her pale blond hair longer than the shoulder-length, no-nonsense style she’d worn in high school. And her smile wasn’t quite as carefree. But she was still his Caitie—

      No, she wasn’t his anything.

      Underneath the pain, the anger still simmered. It threatened to boil over and spill out like molten lava onto the Formica countertop.

      He said the only thing he could, so she would understand exactly where she stood. “That’s Deputy Sheriff to you, Miss Cavanaugh.”

      So that was the way it was going to be?

      Caitlyn Cavanaugh wasn’t really surprised. Of course she had hoped that after all these years Nate would have forgiven her, or at the very least, let go of the animosity.

      Apparently not. And that was not at all like the Nate she used to know. That Nate was so laid-back, so easygoing and nonconfrontational. After two years together she could count on one hand how many times they had argued. Come to think of it, she’d never seen him really angry at anyone.

      Until now.

      Under the icy exterior, he was seething. And though she would never admit it to another living soul, after all these years, it stung. Badly. But she refused to be labeled the only bad guy when he was just as guilty of betrayal. She may have left town, and she wouldn’t deny that sending a vague letter in lieu of a real explanation was a cowardly thing to do. But he seemed to be forgetting that he married her best friend only three months after she left.

      If it killed her, she would never let him know just how much that had hurt.

      “I beg your pardon, Deputy,” she said, pasting on a polite yet vaguely disinterested smile. One he didn’t return, not that she had expected him to. He’d always had a sweet, slightly lopsided grin that never failed to melt her on the spot. And hadn’t that been one of their biggest problems? She never could tell him no.

      Thank goodness her dad, Lou, who was manning the grill, chose that instant to call an order up, putting an end to what would only become an increasingly awkward conversation.

      “Enjoy your breakfast, gentleman,” she said, then turned and crossed to the order window to grab the plates. Her dad peered at her from the other side. Concern crinkled the corners of his eyes. Kind eyes, her mom liked to say.

      “You okay?” he asked.

      “Fine,” she said, even though she was anything but.

      “You don’t look fine. Why don’t you take a break? Delores can cover your tables for a few minutes.”

      As much as she wanted to escape, at least until Nate finished his coffee and left, that wasn’t even an option. If she could handle high-profile clients with multimillion-dollar portfolios, she could handle a snarky ex-boyfriend. And if she couldn’t...well, she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much seeing him had rattled her. Besides, if they were going to live in the same town together, even if it was only temporary, she would just have to get used to running into him every now and then.

      “I’m okay, Dad.”

      He didn’t look as though he believed her, but he didn’t push the issue.

      She grabbed the plates and turned, slamming into Delores, who was standing at the juice machine. The glass she was filling slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

      “Oh, Delores! I’m so sorry,” Caitie said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She didn’t have to turn to know that everyone was staring at her. She could feel it.

      Could this morning get any worse? Any more humiliating?

      “It’s okay, hon,” Delores said, patting her arm.

      “I’ll clean it up.”

      “You take care of your order. I’ll get it.”

      “Are you sure?”

      Delores nodded and said softly,