Not the Marrying Kind by Kathleen Y'Barbo

Author:Kathleen Y'Barbo [Y'Barbo, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Forget Me Not Romances, a division of Winged Publications
Published: 2017-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

Warning bells went off in Rafe’s brain as the words he spoke dangled in the silence. He’d been smoothing out her ruffled feathers with his sweet talk and now this? With one sentence he’d set their relationship back to square one.

Not that they had a relationship, of course.

“What I mean is, I didn’t tell you that the fellows were harmless and that they just like to play dominos for fun. There isn’t any gambling going on, at least not that I know of, so you can leave your broom in the closet.”

Well that did it. The pretty girl’s smile went south and the bristle returned to her backbone. “I thank you for that apology, Sheriff Wilson, however backhanded it turned out.” She folded her napkin pretty as you please and set it on the table beside her coffee cup. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have work to do.”

Rising, she beat a quick path to the door.

“What?” he called after her. “What did I say? Can’t a man apologize?”

Nellie came to the door, her hands white with flour. “Rafe, if I didn’t know better I’d think you meant to get off on the wrong foot with that girl.”

“I did no such thing,” he said. “Besides I was just trying to tell her I was sorry.”

Without comment, she turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Rafe to contemplate the unfairness of it all. Then he spotted the biscuit under the table.

There it sat, perfectly preserved atop a napkin that had fallen under the banker’s chair. Neither milk nor humans had touched it, or at least it looked that way as he scooped it up and set before him.

He was hungry as a bear and had the growl in his gut to prove it. And there sat the butter and honey. Two minutes later the biscuit was in his hand and his boots were heading down Main Street.

“Miss Potter,” he called as he treaded lightly on her freshly mopped floor. “You in here?” A sound from the back of the building told him he wasn’t alone. “Miss Potter?”

He set the biscuit on the first clean shelf he could find and headed off in the direction of the noise. This time he crept softly, not caring to let whoever was hiding there know he headed their way.

To be safe, he palmed his revolver. As he felt the cold metal touch his palm, his heart kicked up a notch. The last time he used his gun, it had been for target practice. He hadn’t missed then, and he wouldn’t miss now.

Regulating his breath to cause the least amount of noise, Rafe hunkered down behind the counter and readied the weapon for firing. No common criminal would get away with trying to steal from Peony Potter.

Not with Rafe Wilson on duty.

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