Rodeo Sheriff. Mary Sullivan

get outside every day, rain or shine. Children shouldn’t be indoors. Ever. Unless they’re sleeping. They should be involved in physical activity. Tires them out.”

      “But you’d have quiet time indoors, too, right?”

      “Don’t see why I should. Raised all of my kids to enjoy the outdoors. You know Karen’s being considered for the Olympic ski team? Downhill racing. Richard’s studying to be a phys-ed teacher. Football’s his specialty. Likes to coach. Thinks all kids need to be physically active. I taught him that.”

      But Evan loved to read comic books and do puzzles. Madeline liked to play with dolls and jigsaw puzzles with huge cardboard or wooden pieces. Cole knew that much about them.

      “But—”

      Ellen talked over him. “Kids need to be outdoors, Cole. You have to understand how important that is.”

      He foresaw arguments. Yes, children needed to be outdoors, especially with summer so close, but even when it rained? He wanted them out swimming and playing at the splash pad the town had set up in the park.

      But all the time?

      He thanked Ellen for coming out and told her he’d be in touch.

      “Think of what I said, Cole. Outdoors. Important. Necessary.”

      She bent to give Madeline a kiss on her cheek, despite her cool reception on her arrival.

      Madeline turned her back to Ellen. In other circumstances, the action would have been almost comical.

      “I can fix that with plenty of play,” Ellen said, ignoring the fact that the child had just lost her parents.

      He nodded and closed the door behind her, trudging back upstairs to face Honey and Rachel.

      They watched him silently.

      He shook his head.

      “I agree, Cole,” Honey said. “She’s not right. Not for Evan and Madeline. Not at this time, at any rate.”

      Cole exhaled. He hadn’t wanted Honey to fight him on this.

      He’d been dropped into an alternate-reality version of Goldilocks.

      Tanya was too hard. Studies. For a three-and-a-half-year-old. Well, maybe not according to Honey, but in Cole’s mind? Yeah. Give the child another year.

      Or maybe not. It was only reading. God, he didn’t know!

      But compared to Ellen’s stringent approach, maybe Tanya was too soft.

      Would Maria Tripoli be just right? He’d know in—he checked his watch—twenty minutes.

      Half an hour later, he watched Maria leave and knew she was pretty darn close to what he needed. Not too hard, not too soft. But perfect?

      He couldn’t decide.

      Was there such a thing where Evan and Madeline were concerned?

      Madeline had resisted overtures from even affectionate, nonthreatening Maria. If Maria couldn’t physically touch her, how could she care for her?

      Honey and Rachel watched him.

      What could he say?

      I can’t hire these women because I can’t give these children over to anyone but myself?

      Unreasonable. He had to work. His deputies could cover for the coming week, no problem, but that was it. He’d taken off suddenly last week, and they’d filled in for him. But now he needed to get back to his job.

      In one week, he would need this settled.

      Tori peeked her head out of the cave.

      “Honey, can we have snacks?”

      “Again? You want food again?”

      Madeline looked stricken by her tone, but Tori giggled, seeing right through Honey’s phony indignation. “We’re hungry already, Honey.”

      “Okay. Let’s see what else Vy brought for us.”

      “Can we have crackers and jam, Honey?”

      “What makes you think I have all of that, missy?”

      “You always haves them for me.”

      Honey burst out laughing, her smile a slash of rich sunshine on a cloudy day. God, she brightened his spirits.

      Cole basked in her reflected glow, trying to convince himself yet again that it was enough just to be near her. That he didn’t need more. That her good cheer was worth taking a risk when his past shouted, Don’t do it, fool! You know better.

      He’d arrived in town fourteen years ago with a few bucks in his pocket and not much else. Honey had been a budding teenager, fourteen at a guess, and far too young for him to even notice.

      He’d come from a bad and aching place. He’d put it all behind himself and had flourished here in Rodeo, working in law enforcement.

      Four years later, when she’d been old enough for him not only to notice but to fall for hard, Cole found he couldn’t utter a full sentence that made a damned bit of sense when Honey was around.

      She tied his brain and his tongue into knots.

      Honey brought out all of his old insecurities.

      By then, there’d also been Daniel in her life, and Cole had lost all hope.

      Seven years ago, Daniel had died. Not well or easily. Cole had witnessed it and, at Daniel’s request, had lied to Honey about aspects of it. Cole could never forget his role in that cover-up.

      Honey had been inconsolable for a long time.

      Six years ago, she’d lost her mother. He’d had no soothing words or caring hugs. He’d overcome a lot of the damage his parents had done to him, but not when it came to Honey.

      Even an expression of condolence had been more than he could make.

      The only way Cole had found to ease her pain was to help at the bar on the weekends. She and her mother had been a real team. Honey had grown up in this apartment over the bar her mother had named for her, hoping that someday her daughter would take it over. As soon as Honey was old enough, she had started to work there. When her mother died, she had inherited the bar.

      Cole had stopped in on the first Friday night after her mother’s death, intending to do nothing more than make sure Honey was okay.

      At that time, she hadn’t been used to running the place without her mother there. When Honey had needed a break, Cole had stepped behind the bar and filled in.

      Nothing had been said, by him or by her.

      Somehow, he’d just kept going back.

      Those Friday and Saturday nights were bittersweet torture, but he wouldn’t give them up for anything.

      Honey bent over Tori, laughing. “I do always have crackers for you, don’t I?” she said. A curtain of Honey’s blond curls covered Tori.

      Madeline’s tiny fingers inched forward and grabbed it. Automatically, Honey picked her up. Madeline nestled into her arms and into the shield of her hair.

      “Everyone to the table,” Honey ordered. “No crunchy crackers on my furniture, if you please.”

      They climbed onto the chairs and settled in to wait.

      Honey pulled out a box of saltines, buttered them and spread a little raspberry jam on each.

      She put plates of crackers in front of the children.

      Tori turned to kneel on the chair, grasping the rungs on the back and threw her arms around Honey. “I love you.”

      Honey bussed her loudly on her puckered lips. “I love you, too, Tori-ori-ori-o.”

      Madeline turned around to kneel on her chair and