A Lawman For Christmas. Karen Kirst

heart tripped over itself. “I can’t imagine why. He had plenty of girls vying for his attention, Veronica in particular.” Of all the girls who’d cast their nets for Ben, she seemed the most likely candidate to lead him to the altar.

      “Perhaps your company is what he truly wants.”

      She sliced the air with her hand. “Impossible.”

      “Haven’t you noticed he treats you differently?” Carmen said. “He’s more serious around you.”

      Isabel went to the kitchen and deposited the bag’s contents in a festive china bowl with green holly patterns, a hand-me-down from their abuela. “The only reason Ben doesn’t flirt with me is because he knows I’m immune to his charm.” Another thought occurred to her. “Or maybe I’m not the type of woman he’d be interested in.”

      There was no reason to be offended, she reasoned, busying her hands with arranging the unblemished fruit. So why then did the thought suddenly irk her?

      “Of course he’d be interested in you!” Carmen added her bounty to the bowl. “You’re beautiful and capable and wise. The deputy’s a fair man. I’m certain he’d overlook your tendency to be bossy and hardheaded.”

      Honor released a long-suffering sigh. “Carmen, don’t you ever think before you speak?”

      Isabel patted Carmen’s hand. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but it hardly matters what he thinks.”

      “That’s odd.”

      “What is?”

      “You care what everyone in Gatlinburg thinks about you except for Ben MacGregor.” Carmen twisted to look at Honor. “Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”

      Isabel was grateful Ben chose that moment to return to spare her from answering. His cheeks and hands were ruddy from exposure. The impulse to lead him to the fire and ease his discomfort took her unawares.

      “I assume you didn’t encounter any outlaws in our barn?” she said, ignoring her sisters’ curious gazes.

      “Just a few cows and a friendly feline.” He good-naturedly brushed orange cat hair from his pants.

      “That’s reassuring.” If there’d been someone poking around their property, he was long gone. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you head home?”

      “Coffee sounds wonderful. As for heading home, I won’t be doing that until morning. I aim to stay in the warming hut.”

      * * *

      Ben braced himself for an argument that never materialized.

      “I’ll gather the proper bedding.”

      As Isabel started for her bedroom, the younger sisters exchanged a dubious look. Like him, they must’ve expected her to protest once again.

      “It’s barely nine o’clock,” Carmen objected. “Far too early for the deputy to retire. Isn’t that right?”

      Isabel wouldn’t relish putting up with him any longer than was necessary, but he wasn’t sleepy, and hot coffee would go far in chasing the chill from his bones. Besides, he couldn’t pass up this rare opportunity to spend more time in the feisty miller’s presence, no matter that a relationship with her was out of the question.

      “You’re quite right.” He began to unbutton his coat. “I’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity to spend an evening with three of the most captivating ladies in these mountains.”

      Carmen blushed to her hairline. Honor laughed. Isabel wore an indignant frown. Good. The more he riled her, the less likely he’d do something stupid. He couldn’t afford to forget his reasons for not getting serious. Isabel was the one woman who could make him forget, and she deserved a man who could give her what every woman dreamed about...a house full of children to love and nurture.

      Her irritation was clear in the way she bustled about the kitchen, thumping cups and plates on the counter. She was entrancing, even in her annoyance, and Ben had to consciously work to keep his gaze averted. In contrast, Honor and Carmen were gracious hostesses. They spoke of upcoming Christmas festivities and encouraged him to indulge in the snack Isabel provided, airy yeast rolls slathered with creamy butter and tart blackberry preserves washed down with cinnamon-laced coffee, a traditional drink recipe passed down from their abuela.

      As soon as the clock struck ten, Isabel fetched the bedding and insisted on accompanying him to the hut. Positioned several yards from the gristmill and stream, the soundly built structure contained a single chair and a woodstove. It was large enough to hold about five or six people comfortably. One tiny, bare window gave the occupants a view of the mill.

      While Isabel rolled out the woolen blanket and quilts that would serve for his makeshift bed, Ben retrieved kindling from the box in the corner and focused on building a fire.

      “You probably won’t be comfortable, but you’ll be warm.”

      Ben glanced over his shoulder. Kneeling on the floor, her cloak a cloud about her crouched form, she plumped the pillow she’d brought for him.

      She caught him looking and shrugged. “It’s a tight space. Won’t take much to heat it.”

      “It’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”

      Curiosity leaped to life on her expressive face, but she didn’t put voice to it. Standing, she folded her hands primly. “Thank you for staying. My sisters are unnerved by what’s happened.”

      “I have three sisters of my own. I know what it’s like to want to protect them.”

      Her brows inched up. “Are you the oldest?”

      He nodded. “There are two years between me and my next youngest sister, Tabitha.”

      She opened her mouth to say something, then bit her lip to halt the words.

      Pushing to his feet, he brushed his hands against his trousers. “You’ve had no problem speaking your mind in the past. Go ahead and say whatever you’re thinking.”

      The firelight flickered over her noble features and made her eyes gleam like coals. “I find it difficult to reconcile the fact you were raised in a house full of females with your cavalier treatment of the local ladies. I would think you’d be sensitive to their feelings. You speak of protecting your sisters. Why doesn’t that sentiment extend to those outside your family?”

      Ben slouched against the wall and crossed his arms. “I don’t see how the term cavalier applies to me. Am I friends with a number of marriageable women? Certainly. Have I given any of them reason to believe I’ve a serious interest in courting them? Absolutely not.”

      The Smith sisters’ disappointment mocked his claims, as did Veronica’s surprising mention of marriage. Uncertainty took up residence inside him.

      “You’re a shameless flirt.”

      “I like to think of it as harmless teasing.” Everyone knew he wasn’t looking for commitment. He’d made sure that bit of gossip rode the grapevines as soon as he relocated here.

      But what if that wasn’t enough?

      “Harmless?” She shifted her stance, her cloak’s hem swaying around her boots. “You call dashing hopes and breaking hearts harmless?”

      “I’m a game to them,” he countered. “It’s a competition, and they view me as some sort of lofty prize. I promise you not one of them would rejoice if they actually won me.”

      She gaped at him. “And I thought I was the cynical one. What happened to set you against commitment? Were your parents unhappy? Did your father indulge in indiscretions?”

      “On the contrary, my parents are the best of friends.”

      “You were in love with someone, then. She spurned you. Or worse, deceived you.”