The hand that had lifted toward Connor’s shoulder stiffened. Biting back a sigh, Devin ordered it to relax. “Then I’ll say a man would be lucky to have you for a friend. Are we square here?”
“Yes, sir.”
There were those eyes again, Devin thought, filled with trust. “Your mama’s probably worried you’re beating me up.” When Connor giggled at the idea, Devin ruffled his hair. “You go on back now and tell her we straightened it all out. I’ll talk to her later.”
“Yes, sir.” He scrambled off the rocks, then had to bite his lip to spark that last bit of courage. “Can I come to your office sometime, and watch you work?”
“Sure.”
“I wouldn’t get in the way. I’d just—” Connor tumbled over his own words and skidded to a halt. “I can?”
“Sure you can. Anytime. It’s mostly boring.”
“It couldn’t be,” Connor said with giddy pleasure. “Thanks, Sheriff. Thanks for everything.”
Devin watched the boy race off, then settled back. He wished briefly for a cigarette before reminding himself he was quitting. Then he reminded himself that sooner or later he intended to have those two children, and maybe another on the way.
Connor didn’t want another father, and that would be a tough one. So, Devin mused, he’d just have to find the right path to take, and step carefully.
The first step, of course, was Cassie. One step, then the next. Direction always took you somewhere. If he was careful, she would be taking those steps with him.
Chapter 6
&nb
sp; It was supposed to be Devin’s day off, but he spent two hours in the morning dealing with a small crisis at the high school. The smoke bomb had failed in its mission. When it landed in the girl’s locker room, it hadn’t put out much of a cloud, and, more important, hadn’t made the girls come rushing out screaming in their underwear.
The one he’d put together a short lifetime ago had had far more satisfying results. Not that he’d mentioned that particular incident to the two offenders he collared.
Once he had it under control, and the juvenile chemists shaking in their basketball shoes, he headed straight for the inn.
He had a surprise for Cassie, one he hoped would make her smile. And one he hoped would ease the way into that next step.
He supposed he had an unfair advantage. He knew her so well, had watched and observed for years. He knew every expression of her face, every gesture of her hands. He knew her weaknesses and her strengths.
She knew him, he thought, but not in the same way, or in the same detail. She’d been too busy surviving to notice. If she had noticed, she would have been able to see that he was in love with her.
It was just as well she didn’t see. Not until he’d finished laying the foundation. He could take his time about that, Devin mused as he turned up the lane toward the inn. But once he had that foundation in place and solid, he was going to move fast.
Twelve years was a damn long time to wait.
Because there was a car parked in one of the guest slots, he opted to go into the inn first. He was delighted to find her there, fully occupied with two snowy-haired women.
She’d forgotten to take her apron off. The new arrivals had come unexpectedly, and they had wanted a full tour, and the history of the inn. Cassie was grateful she’d finished the breakfast dishes, even though she’d been caught in the middle of vacuuming.
The two women were sisters, both widowed, and were eager to hear about the Barlow legend. Cassie led them back down the stairs after the tour of the second floor, and was well into her spiel when Devin walked in.
“…the bloodiest single day of the Civil War. The Antietam battlefield is one of the most pristine parks in the country. The visitors’ center is only four miles from here, and very informative. You’ll find— Oh, hello, Devin.”
“Don’t let me interrupt. Ladies.”
“Mrs. Berman, Mrs. Cox, this is Sheriff MacKade.”
“Sheriff.” Mrs. Cox adjusted her glasses and beamed through the lenses. “How exciting.”
“Antietam’s a quiet town,” he told her. “Certainly more quiet than it was in September of 1862.” Because tourists inevitably enjoyed it, Devin grinned. “You’re standing right about on the spot where a Confederate soldier was killed.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Mrs. Cox clapped her hands together. “Did you hear that, Irma?”