Holiday in a Stetson: The Sheriff Who Found Christmas / A Rancho Diablo Christmas. Marie Ferrarella

Though he would have thought that by now she would have run out of ideas, she still found new ways to annoy the hell out of him.

      “You mean you were just being nosy.”

      “There’s that,” Lani allowed cheerfully, deliberately taking no offense. There was no point in it.

      Besides, four years on the SDPD had helped her develop a very tough hide. That little life lesson had never come in handier than when dealing with a man she viewed as the prince of darkness. Not the devil in this case, just a man who seemed to prefer keeping his life and everything else in the shadows.

      “And,” she continued, refusing to be put off by his scowl, “I was wondering if maybe I could help.”

      “Help?” he echoed, stunned. “How could you help?” How the hell could anyone help? he thought. This was a huge, unsolvable dilemma he found himself facing. He didn’t want the little girl, but on the other hand, it didn’t seem right just letting the system absorb her. That would be a fate worse than living with him.

      “Well, first I’d have to know what was wrong, then I could hopefully answer that question to your satisfaction,” Lani replied matter-of-factly. Then the wide grin returned as she declared, “Okay, your turn.”

      “My turn?” he echoed. What the hell was she talking about now? He didn’t have time for whatever game she thought she was playing. “My turn for what?” he barked.

      Determined not to be put off by his dark glare and darker voice, Lani spelled it out. “I answered your question. Now you tell me what’s wrong, so I can tell you how I can help.”

      There was no way she could help. No one could. Ordinarily, he would just walk out without saying another word. But ordinarily, he didn’t have anyone in the office to walk out on. Having this woman here, nibbling along the perimeters of his everyday life, had thrown everything off. Which was possibly the reason he heard himself answering the woman’s question.

      “My only sister was killed two days ago in a bus accident.”

      “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” It took Lani less than a second to react. She was on her feet and crossing over to him quickly.

      Before Garrett was actually aware that she’d stood up, his deputy was placing what he assumed was a comforting hand on his shoulder. His own reaction was purely instinctive, brought on by years of fending off his stepfather’s blows. He stiffened.

      Lani did her best to appear as if she hadn’t noticed that he’d gone stiff as a board. Putting herself in his place, thinking how she would have felt if she’d had a sibling to lose, instead of being an only child, she asked kindly, “What can I do to help?”

      Garret shrugged her hand off as he swung around in his chair to look at her.

      “Didn’t you hear me?” he demanded. “She’s dead. There is no help for her.”

      Lani got it. He was angry and there was no one to take it out on but her. She’d seen enough bereaved relatives in her four years on the force to understand the complex emotions at work here. She took no offense, and instead, let him rail at her.

      “I meant what can I do to help you? You were obviously close to her,” she added, when he glared at her, silently indicating that she should back off. “I can see it in your eyes.”

      His immediate response was to tell her that it was none of her business. But somehow the words didn’t come out. Instead, he heard himself saying in a hollow voice that echoed the emptiness he felt inside of him, “She was coming with her daughter.”

       Was.

      His sister was relegated to the past tense now, Garrett realized. There was a knot in his gut that threatened to become incredibly painful.

      He didn’t want words of consolation; Lani could tell that by the set of his jaw. So she focused on the living. “Is the girl all right?”

      He blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

      He said that almost grudgingly. Did he resent his niece being alive when his sister had been killed?

      You poor kid, Lani couldn’t help thinking. You don’t know what you’re in for.

      “How old is she? Your niece,” she prompted, when the sheriff didn’t say anything.

      “I don’t know,” he said impatiently. “I didn’t even know my sister had a kid until a few minutes ago.”

      Lani stared at him. She knew the man kept to himself, but she’d assumed he was that way around people he considered outsiders, not his own family. Not for the first time Lani wondered what had happened to Tanner to make him this way. No one was born with the kind of disposition he had. Something had to have happened to make him back away from people.

      “How could you not know?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself. Lani bit her lower lip, waiting to be chewed out.

      “She married a guy who was just like my stepfather, and moved away. We lost touch,” he retorted, angry at Ellen for being so stupid. Angry at himself for not stopping her. And angry at this petite blonde, blue-eyed perpetual thorn who’d just rubbed salt into all these old wounds. Never mind that it was unwitting on her part. She’d still managed to do it. “Any other questions?” he growled.

      “No,” Lani replied, feeling for him despite the fact that he was acting pretty much like a wounded bear. “I think I can pretty much fill in the blanks.”

      “Oh?” What blanks? he wanted to demand, but he restrained himself.

      She could hear a dangerous note in his voice, but Lani decided it best to pretend she hadn’t. Instead, she gave him the theory she’d just worked up.

      “Yes. You told your sister not to marry the guy, she did anyway, and you told her that you were washing your hands of her. Hurt, she retreated, and you put her out of your mind. For the most part,” Lani qualified. “But you went on caring about her, anyway.”

      Garrett rose to his feet, towering over the woman by a good ten inches. She was as fair in coloring as he was dark. He thought it rather ironic, reflecting the difference in their dispositions.

      Right now, she was annoying the hell out of him—the way she did most days. But today he’d had just about enough.

      “So, how long did you travel with the carnival as a fortune teller?” he asked coldly. “Or did you have a little storefront shop of your own back in San Francisco?”

      “San Diego,” Lani corrected with no animosity. “And no storefront, no carnival. I do have a degree in criminology,” she replied, deliberately putting on the smile that she knew drove him crazy. “I minored in profiling.” Had he actually looked at the résumé she’d submitted, he would have known that, she thought. She turned her attention to a more pertinent question. “So, when are you going?”

      “Going?” he repeated. He felt cornered and highly resented it. He wasn’t accustomed to people burrowing into his business. Folks in Booth knew better. But that was partially because they knew about his stepfather and the kind of abuse the man had inflicted on his family. They cut Garnett some slack and appreciated the work he did.

      “Yes, to pick up your niece. Or is someone bringing her to you?”

      He frowned. The woman who had called him with the news hadn’t offered to bring Ellie or to accompany Ellen’s remains. That meant that both were his responsibility. “I’m going,” he told the annoying deputy, then added, almost to himself, “I’ve got to see about making arrangements to bury my sister.”

      “Where?” Lani asked.

      He looked at her. What kind of question was that? Did she want a blow-by-blow description? “What do you mean, where? In the ground.”

      “I mean are you going to bury her in New Mexico, or here in Booth?”