# Her Small-Town Sheriff

Lissa Manley

AN UNEXPECTED MATCHMAKER Calling the cops on a twelve-year-old shoplifter isn’t what ice-cream parlor owner Phoebe Sellers would normally do. Yet it just so happens that the troublemaker’s father is a cop. Unfortunately, Phoebe has no idea of the tragedy that’s brought Sheriff Carson Winters and his daughter to Moonlight Cove…or the fears that plague him. But she knows enough about broken dreams from personal experience.The shared bond with Carson soon has Phoebe believing in second chances. And wondering whether, with enough faith, she and Carson might be able to help each other heal. Moonlight Cove: A beachside town where love and faith blossom.

An unexpected matchmaker

Calling the cops on a twelve-year-old shoplifter isn’t what ice-cream parlor owner Phoebe Sellers would normally do. Yet it just so happens that the troublemaker’s father is a cop. Unfortunately, Phoebe has no idea of the tragedy that’s brought Sheriff Carson Winters and his daughter to Moonlight Cove...or the fears that plague him. But she knows enough about broken dreams from personal experience. The shared bond with Carson soon has Phoebe believing in second chances. And wondering whether, with enough faith, she and Carson might be able to help each other heal.

As soon as his daughter was out of earshot, Carson snagged Phoebe’s elbow with a gentle hand.

Warmth spread in tingles up her arm as she turned a questioning gaze to him.

“Listen,” he said. “I really appreciate you working with Heidi on this.”

Up close, she saw that his brown eyes were flecked with the barest hint of gold. Fighting the urge to stare, she focused her gaze on his nose. “I sense she’s a good kid who’s had a tough time lately. As I said before, the move had to be hard on her.”

“Unfortunately, there’s a lot more to it than that. But she’s not a bad kid,” Carson said.

She met his tawny gaze, and for just a moment, she couldn’t look away, could barely even breathe. Her stomach dropped, and her legs trembled. Where in the world had he gotten those unbelievable eyes…?

LISSA MANLEY

decided she wanted to be a published author at the ripe old age of twelve. She read her first romance novel as a teenager when a neighbor gave her a box of old books, and she quickly decided romance was her favorite genre. Although, she still enjoys digging into a good medical thriller.

When her youngest was still in diapers, Lissa needed a break from strollers and runny noses, so she sat down and started crafting a romance, and she has been writing ever since. Nine years later, she sold her first book, fulfilling her childhood dream. She feels blessed to be able to write what she loves, and intends to be writing until her fingers quit working or she runs out of heartwarming stories to tell. She’s betting the fingers will go first.

Lissa lives in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband of twenty-seven years, a grown daughter and college-aged son, and two bossy poodles who rule the house and get away with it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, crafting, bargain hunting, cooking and decorating. She loves hearing from her readers and can be reached through her website, www.lissamanley.com, or through Love Inspired Books.

## Her Small-Town Sheriff. Lissa Manley


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through Him we have obtained access

to this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice

in the hope of sharing the Glory of God.

—Romans 5:1

For Laura and Sean, who have always

encouraged and supported me. I love you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Sheriff Carson Winters hustled down the boardwalk of Moonlight Cove, his gut clenched, the peace of his day shattered.

What kind of trouble had Heidi landed herself in now?

They’d only been in town a few weeks, and already his daughter had been called into the principal’s office for talking back to her science teacher and skipping class.

Despite being grounded for both incidents, Heidi was still definitely acting out, and frankly, he was beyond worried. Being almost thirteen was difficult for almost every kid; add to that the stress Heidi had been through in the past two years and you basically had a single dad’s nightmare in the form of one upset, rebellious preteen.

Squinting, he adjusted the brim of his campaign-style sheriff’s hat, glad the May rain had stopped for a bit and that the sun was peeking out today. Being from Seattle, he was used to the Washington state weather, but always had had enough of the drizzle around this time of year.

The woman who’d called him—someone he hadn’t met yet named Phoebe Sellers from I Scream for Ice Cream on Main Street—had merely said she needed to talk to him about his daughter. For Heidi’s sake, he hoped that whatever she’d done wasn’t too serious; the last thing she needed was more difficulties heaped on top of having to deal with her mother’s abandonment and her brother’s death.

CJ, his boy…

Grief welled up, sharp and searing, taking Carson’s breath away. With swift precision he shoved the agonizing memories of his son into their hole.

Instead, he focused on finding the ice cream store. He walked another half block past the planters filled with colorful flowers dotting the boardwalk, then he spotted the small storefront across the street and down a block, sandwiched in between a kite shop and an art gallery.

He headed to the next corner and crossed, then made a left. He looked around as he walked, taking in the quaint storefronts lining the boardwalk and the wooden benches placed here and there for those wanting to leisurely enjoy a treat from the bakery, candy store or ice cream parlor.

As he passed an alleyway separating two buildings, the cool, sea-scented breeze washed over him, carrying the echo of the ocean pounding a block away.

The tight muscles in his neck relaxed a bit, and a bit of his stress eased, confirming that he’d made the right decision by moving here. Moonlight Cove had just the kind of tranquility he’d craved for himself and Heidi since that awful day CJ had died and their world exploded.

As Carson drew near his destination, he tipped his hat to a group of elderly tourist couples wearing matching rain slickers coming out of the art gallery. They greeted him with smiles and respectful nods, and as always, a sense of pride filled him; he was glad he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and had gone into law enforcement.

As he opened the brightly painted door of I Scream for Ice Cream and stepped inside, bells rang over his head, announcing his arrival. He immediately smelled the scent of waffle cones and his mouth watered on cue. Guess he should have had more than coffee for breakfast. His appetite just hadn’t been the same since CJ died.

The parlor was decorated in shades of green and hot-pink, and had a long counter with swiveling stools along the front wall. The soda-fountain area sat behind the counter, and five or six white tables were arranged in the middle of the place. The wall to the left housed shelves that held bins filled with candy of every kind. A literal dentist’s nightmare.

At the moment, the place was empty, which he was grateful for; he’d rather deal with Heidi’s trouble without witnesses. Moonlight Cove was their new home, and Heidi needed a clean slate as much as he did.

Just as he hit the middle of the store, a pretty woman with long, curly blond hair stepped out from the back. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, hesitating for a moment.

She wore a pink shirt with a lime-green apron embroidered with the name of the shop across the front and jeans that showed off her trim yet curvy figure. She looked to be a bit younger than his own age of thirty-two.

“You must be Sheriff Winters,” she said, tipping her head slightly to the side.

“Yes. Carson Winters.” Moving toward her, he extended his hand. “Guess the uniform gave me away.”

She smiled, showing cute dimples on both cheeks, then took his hand. “Yes, the uniform definitely makes an announcement. I’m Phoebe Sellers, the owner, by the way.”

He tried to ignore those fascinating dimples. “I figured that. The uniform gives you away, too.” He flicked a finger at her pink shirt and lime-green apron. He noted she was tall for a woman—five-eight, at least—and she had clear blue eyes, a smooth, fair complexion and an appealing fan of freckles across her nose.

Very attractive.

She laughed, then moved back a little. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called.”

“You would be right.” Unfortunately.

Phoebe stepped behind the counter and picked up a cloth, then shoved it into the pocket on her apron.

Observant out of habit, he noticed she wore no wedding ring.

“There’s really no way of sugarcoating this…” she said.

Carson nodded curtly, preparing for the worst. “No need to.” As a lawman, he was used to handling the ugly truth. Although hearing about his own daughter’s trouble…well, not much prepared a father for that.

“Okay,” Phoebe said. “The truth is, I caught your daughter shoplifting earlier today.”

His stomach pitched. Theft. “Oh, no.” No small thing; technically, Phoebe could press charges against Heidi, and things would go downhill from there, fast.

He looked up at the ceiling and dragged in a huge breath, then settled his steady gaze on Phoebe. “What happened?” he asked with deceptive calm, knowing that Heidi had ditched Mrs. Philpot.

“She came in with a few friends and hung around over there by the candy. I thought I spotted her swipe something, so when they left without paying or ordering, I politely asked her to show me the contents of her coat pocket.” Phoebe nodded to a pile of candy on the counter. “That’s the contraband over there.”

He looked to where she’d pointed. Saltwater taffy. Heidi didn’t even like the stuff. Said it was gross and stuck in her teeth.

Phoebe continued on. “I got her to give me your name and number, and I told her I’d be calling you. I also suggested she might want to head home right away.”

“Thank you.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Let me call the babysitter and be sure Heidi’s back home.”

He called and Mrs. Philpot answered. Carson told her what Heidi had done, and an obviously stunned Mrs. Philpot told him, yes, Heidi was there, and, no, she wasn’t aware Heidi had left.

Carson breathed a sigh of relief that his daughter was safe and sound, which was tinged by exasperation at what she’d done. Before they hung up, Mrs. Philpot apologized profusely for letting Heidi slip out—and back in—under the radar. Carson eased her mind, telling her that a devious preteen bent on sneaking out could dodge just about anyone.

He said goodbye and disconnected, then turned his attention back to Phoebe, who’d busied herself scooping ice cream for a family of four who’d come in while he’d been on the phone.

“I am so sorry,” he said to Phoebe when the customers had left. “Heidi…well, she’s been acting out a bit lately, doing dumb stuff.”

Phoebe regarded him steadily for a moment. “You guys are new in town, right?”

“Yep. We arrived a few weeks ago.”

“Heidi said her friends dared her to steal something, and I got the notion that she was trying to impress them.”

“I’m sure she was.” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “But that’s no excuse for shoplifting, and I’ve raised her to know the difference between right and wrong.”

Carson paused and then forced himself to say, “Do you want to press charges?” He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his pen and notepad. “You have every right to.” And that didn’t bode well for Heidi. Great.

Phoebe pulled in her chin. “Oh, goodness, no,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not why I called you.”

Relief wound its way through Carson and his shoulders relaxed a bit. “What would you like to do?”

“I’m willing to cut Heidi some slack because I actually felt a bit sorry for her.”

Carson’s hackles raised. How much did Phoebe know about him and Heidi, anyway? Had the whole town been talking about their history? How his son had been killed and how Carson’s wife had cut out? The thought of being the subject of rampant gossip really rubbed him the wrong way. That’s one of the reasons he’d he’d wanted a fresh start in Moonlight Cove.

Despite his thoughts, he managed to give Phoebe the benefit of the doubt. “Because?” he asked in what he hoped was a mildly inquisitive rather than defensive tone.

“It’s just I think it must be hard to be the new kid on the block,” she explained. “Especially in a small town where a lot of kids have grown up together.”

Carson breathed a sigh of relief; it was good to know Phoebe wasn’t feeling sorry for Heidi because they’d been fodder for idle town gossip. He also had to admit he was thankful she wasn’t going to grill him about what had brought them to town. Talking about CJ’s death and Susan’s desertion…not happening right now.

He studied Phoebe’s pretty blue eyes again, but found no hint of pity. “The move has been hard on Heidi,” he replied. Especially following on the heels of so many other traumatic events. She’d had to handle more than any twelve-year-old should in her short life. But wrong was wrong. Period. No excuses.

Shifting so that the heavy leather of his belt and holster creaked, he nodded toward the pile of taffy. “While I appreciate your compassion, what she did was wrong, and I insist she pay you back somehow,” Carson said.

Phoebe smiled. “It’s just candy, and I got it all back. Payment isn’t necessary.”

Setting his jaw, he said, “I think it is.” He looked around. “Maybe she could do some chores around here for the next week or so.”

“I don’t know…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand. “Really. It’s not a good idea to let this behavior slide by. She did the crime, she needs to do the time.”

Phoebe inclined her head to the side in obvious capitulation. “Okay, then have her come by one day this week after school and I’m sure I can find something for her to do.”

“I will. And I’d appreciate it if you could give her some kind of less-than-pleasant chore, like dishes or cleaning bathrooms.”

“Spoken like a true parent,” Phoebe said, showing those dimples again.

“You’ve got that right,” he replied. Although sometimes, when Heidi rolled her eyes at him, he felt like the most clueless dad alive. “She needs to learn that choices have consequences. She hates any kind of cleaning, so that makes the most sense in my mind.”

“Got you.”

“And feel free to make her sentence last awhile. I really want her to know she messed up royally.” Despite what Heidi had been through, it was important his daughter grow up with boundaries.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Phoebe said. “Why don’t we say she’ll work for me starting this week, and maybe on Saturday, too. All right?”

“Sounds good,” Carson said, really liking the way Phoebe had approached the situation. She was obviously a softhearted, sensible woman. “I’ll stop by with her after school tomorrow so you two can meet under better circumstances, then she can start on Wednesday.” And he’d be sure Heidi apologized. Profusely. After the fact was better than never, in his book.

“Okay. I’ll be here all day.”

He adjusted his hat. “Thank you for calling me about this.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile. “I’m not a parent, but if I were, I’d want to know if my kid tried to steal something.”

“I do want to know. Being a parent is about the good, the bad and the ugly.” Too bad he and Heidi had more than their share of ugly lately.

“Well, it sounds like you’re doing all the right things,” Phoebe said.

He wasn’t so sure; he felt as if he had been thrust into a pitch-black room with no flashlight, only to be told he had to put a complicated puzzle together. Being a single dad was daunting. “Thanks,” he said. “And again, thanks for calling me.”

Bells over the door jingled, and a customer walked in, interrupting their conversation.

Phoebe looked to the front of the store. “Hey, Molly,” she said, waving.

Carson turned and saw a petite redhead heading toward them.

The newcomer waved. “Hey, Phoebs.”

As Molly drew closer, her gaze ping-ponged between him and Phoebe. Then Molly’s mouth curved into what looked like a sneaky smile. He had to be imagining that devious grin.

“Whatcha doing?”

For Heidi’s sake, Carson hoped Phoebe would keep mum about what his daughter had done.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes and stared at Molly for just a second. “I’m talking to Sheriff Winters here.” She looked at him. “Have you met Molly Kent yet?”

“Nope, sure haven’t.”

“Sheriff Winters, Molly Kent,” Phoebe said. “Molly owns Bow Wow Boutique down the street.”

He shook hands with Molly.

“He stopped by for some ice cream,” Phoebe said casually, turning her attention to him. “What’ll it be, Sheriff?”

Grateful for Phoebe’s discretion, and feeling remarkably hungry now that the waffle-cone smell had done a number on him, he said, “How about a scoop of Rocky Road? It’s my favorite.”

Phoebe nodded, smacking her lips. “Mine, too. Good choice.”

She went behind the counter, grabbed a cone and then started scooping.

“So, you’re replacing Sheriff Billings, right?” Molly asked.

“That’s right.” Gerard Billings, an old friend of Carson’s dad, had been sheriff here in Moonlight Cove for over thirty years and had taken his pension and retired to Arizona just a month ago.

Molly sat on one of the swiveling stools by the counter. “The town was sad to see him go after so long.”

“I know. I have some big shoes to fill.”

“What made you want to come to Moonlight Cove?” Molly asked.

Thank goodness he had a decent cover story. Just as long as people didn’t ask too many whys. “My cousin, Lily Rogers, lives here, and I liked the thought of being near family.” Although anywhere that wasn’t Seattle probably would have been fine with him. Too many heartbreaking memories there.

“Oh, I hadn’t heard you were related to Lily. I know her from the local church’s singles’ group, which I attended before I got engaged,” Molly said. Her gaze made a trip to his ring finger. “Maybe you should go sometime, meet a few other singles…?”

He didn’t go to church—hadn’t been raised to, actually—and his schedule usually didn’t allow him time for many social activities. And a singles’ group? Not for him. But he was sure Molly wouldn’t be interested in any of that. So instead he said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Phoebe interrupted them by handing him his cone. “I made it a double,” she said. “You can never get too much Rocky Road.”

He widened his eyes. “This cone is huge.”

“A big guy needs a big cone,” Phoebe said with an impish grin, her pretty blue eyes sparkling.

Male interest shot through him like a bright, undeniable spark, and for just a second, he couldn’t take his eyes off her lovely face.

Guess I’m not dead after all… .

Iron walls came down around that thought, ruthlessly cutting it off in its tracks. He had no business even being remotely attracted to a woman. Who’d want that kind of turmoil again? Not him.

Cone in hand, he said to Phoebe, “What do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Well, thanks for the ice cream.” He turned to Molly. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, flashing him a bright smile. “Stop by anytime. Phoebe loves visitors.”

Phoebe gave Molly an obviously significant glare, then regarded him. “Glad you could stop by, Sheriff.”

Was she blushing? And why did he like the look on her so much?

His neck burning, he raised his cone in the air. “Me, too. I’ll see you ladies later.”

He stepped outside, noting that the clouds had rolled in off the Pacific Ocean again. Rain was sure to follow.

Pausing for a moment, he looked up and down the main street of Moonlight Cove, soaking in the small-town charm and tranquility that had drawn him here. Setting his jaw, he started walking back to the station, one thought foremost in his mind: as long as the town was all he was drawn to, he’d be just fine.

* * *

Her cheeks still warm, Phoebe started wiping off the already clean counter. She surreptitiously watched Sheriff Winters go, liking the confident way he carried himself and his decidedly male way of moving. She didn’t want to let on to Molly that she found him attractive, though. Oh, no. That would be a disaster.

As the resident matchmaker, Molly would grab ahold of any tidbit of Phoebe’s interest and never let go. When it came to getting people together, Molly was tenacious. Especially since she’d found true love recently and was engaged to be married to Grant Roderick next month. As far as Molly was concerned, everyone needed the happiness she’d found with Grant.

Especially Phoebe.

Phoebe was having none of it.

Molly interrupted her thoughts. “Sooo,” she said, her voice high, as if she were curious and scheming at the same time. “He seemed nice.”

Very nice, indeed. Phoebe kept wiping the counter, carefully moving and putting back the metal napkin dispensers as she went. “Yes, he did.”

“Handsome, too.” Molly tapped a finger on the counter. “I’ve always thought dark hair and eyes were a good combination.”

Actually, Phoebe found the combination very appealing on the sheriff, too. Not that she’d let Molly know that. “Really? Hmm. I guess so.”

“He’s tall, too,” Molly said. “I like a tall man.”

“I suppose.” Being tall herself, Phoebe had always preferred bigger guys.

“In good shape I’d say.”

Phoebe stopped wiping the counter and frowned at Molly. “How do you know he’s in good shape?” She scoffed. “It wasn’t like he was dressed in workout gear.”

Molly grinned, her blue eyes sparkling. “Let’s just say he filled out the uniform just right.”

Phoebe’s cheeks heated again. Yes, he had made the uniform look mighty good. What was it about a man in uniform, anyway?

Truthfully, when Phoebe had come out of the back and saw him standing in the middle of her store, she’d actually stopped and stared. Sheriff Winters was easy on the eyes, no doubt about it, all tall, dark and handsome. The blue uniform added interest, of course, but she was pretty sure he’d look good in anything he wore.

“I guess so,” Phoebe said offhandedly, throwing the towel in the bin under the counter. “I wasn’t really paying attention.” Well, maybe a little…

Molly snorted. “Oh, come on, Phoebe. A woman would have to be blind not to notice how good-looking he was.”

No kidding. “So he was handsome,” Phoebe said, shrugging. “So are half of the guys in this town.” Actually, maybe a quarter of the guys around Moonlight Cove. On a good day.

“I didn’t notice a wedding ring,” Molly said, resting her chin on her fist. “I’ve heard he’s single. Divorced, actually.”

Really? Very interesting. A handsome single dad…

With a mental admonition, Phoebe jerked her thoughts back to where they belonged—figuring out how to derail Molly the matchmaking train.

Phoebe held up her hands. “Okay, Moll, let’s just cut to the chase.” Sometimes direct was the way to go when Molly was on a matchmaker tear.

Molly blinked, the picture of blushing innocence. “About what?”

“Don’t try to act like you’re not on another one of your matchmaking quests.” Phoebe adjusted the straw holder on the counter to its proper position. “I could see your ploy coming from a mile away.”

Molly’s chin went up. “So what if I am? Can I help it if I want you to find the same happiness I have?”

Reminder time. Again. “I’m not interested in dating.” Phoebe hoisted up a brow. “Remember?”

“But—”

“You know this, and you know why.” Phoebe drew in a large breath. “I don’t want to date anyone ever again.” She’d found true love once in Justin, and when he’d died two weeks before their long-awaited wedding…well, sadly, inevitably, so had her hopes for love.

Molly came over, then drew Phoebe into a hug and squeezed her tight. She moved back, her green eyes intent on Phoebe’s face. “But what if there’s someone else out there for you?”

Phoebe’s eyes burned, and she pulled away, then wiped a waffle-cone crumb off one of the stools. “There isn’t,” she said, covering up the sadness and emptiness her words brought forth with an emphatic tone. “You know I don’t believe in second chances.”

“I didn’t, either, and I found Grant,” Molly said.

“I’m not you. Justin was it for me, and I’m okay with that.” What other choice did she have? Jump back into another relationship, just waiting for something bad to happen, for her heart to be ripped out of her chest? No, thank you.

Molly opened her mouth to speak. To argue, Phoebe was sure.

She held up a rigid hand again. “No, Molly.” She had to be ruthless here or Molly would go into matchmaker overdrive and have double-wedding plans mapped out in no time flat. “I am not interested in dating anyone, so don’t try and fix me up with the new sheriff. Besides, he has a kid.” She swept the pile of contraband off the counter into a bowl before Molly noticed it. “A preteen.” She sighed. “I don’t think that’s God’s plan for me.

“You’d be a great mom,” Molly said.

Longing pierced Phoebe’s heart, and words stuck in her throat. Sadly, with no chance for a husband, kids weren’t in her future. She simply shook her head.

“Well, I think you’re making a mistake,” Molly said. “Love comes when you expect it the least.”

“Love? You’re getting a little ahead of yourself here.” Phoebe laughed, but it sounded hollow.

Molly’s words had a knot forming in Phoebe’s chest; oh, how she wished she could convert to Molly’s way of thinking. But she couldn’t. Justin had been her one true love, and there wouldn’t be another. Period.

“No, I’d be making a mistake if I let you fix me up with anyone when I’m sure I’m never going to fall in love again,” Phoebe said. “Total waste of time.”

“I didn’t want to fall in love, either,” Molly said. “And I was wrong.”

“I’m not wrong about this,” Phoebe stated. “So please back off and quit trying to convince me otherwise.”

Molly reluctantly agreed, then said goodbye to go back to work.

Phoebe headed toward the freezer to check inventory, and her eyes snagged on the candy under the counter she’d confiscated from Heidi Winters. Unbidden, memories of Carson Winters’s dark, chocolate-brown eyes and stunning smile flashed in her brain. He really was a handsome guy.

On top of that, she had to admit she liked the way he’d dealt with his daughter’s shenanigans. He seemed levelheaded, fair, and as if he took his parenting responsibilities very seriously.

She’d downplayed her reaction to Carson in order to keep Molly’s matchmaking instincts in check. But, truthfully, the new sheriff had piqued Phoebe’s interest.

She shook her head. No. Getting caught up in a man—any man—would be heading down a danger-strewn road she was determined to avoid.

Worse yet, Carson made his living in law enforcement, which ranked right up there with firefighter on the dangerous-jobs list in her mind.

She had to remember all of those things, no matter how appealing the new sheriff in town might prove himself to be in the days and weeks to come.

Chapter Two

After work, Carson headed home, dreading the upcoming conversation with Heidi. Given everything else she was dealing with, he hated having to call her on her behavior. But he couldn’t let what she’d done slide. Shoplifting was a serious offense, and he had to impress on her that stealing was wrong.

He pulled up to his rented midcentury three-bedroom, two-bath saltbox-style house and parked in the driveway; the garage was still full of moving boxes and extra furniture he hadn’t been able to part with when they’d moved. Someday he’d get to sorting through all of it, but right now, just the thought of the chore overwhelmed him and brought forth too many difficult memories.

Turning off the ignition, he sat in his SUV cruiser for a moment, relishing the calm before the inevitable storm. Then he climbed out of his vehicle, locked it and headed toward the front door, figuratively putting his “Dad” hat on.

He let himself in and went directly to the bedroom at the front of the house he used as an office and secured his service weapon in his home lockbox in the closet. He put his sheriff’s hat on his oak desk, and then walked through the small, sparsely furnished living room and went looking for Mrs. Philpot.

As expected, she was in the eat-in kitchen standing at the stove making what smelled like Salisbury steak. Carson noted that the chipped tile counters were sparkling clean, and the scuffed hardwood floors looked freshly mopped. Carson didn’t require her to do housework, but Mrs. Philpot seemed compelled to keep the place spotless, which he was thankful for. With his schedule, he didn’t have much time for housework, and he hadn’t had the chance to hire someone to come in and clean.

Today Mrs. Philpot was dressed in a hot-pink tracksuit and white tennis shoes. Her short, bright, unnaturally red hair—colored, he was sure, but, hey, whatever—was, as always, perfectly styled, and her tortoiseshell glasses sat atop her head. Though she was almost seventy, she was as sharp as a tack, and he suspected that today’s events were an anomaly; according to her references, not much usually got past her.

Except one determined twelve-year-old bent on misbehaving—his daughter, the escape artist/shoplifter. Wonderful. What a distinction.

“Hello, Mrs. Philpot,” he said. “Smells delicious.” She usually started dinner so Carson and Heidi didn’t end up eating at eight-thirty. That gave Heidi more time to do homework before lights-out at nine. Unless Heidi argued about having to go to bed so early, and then bedtime was more like ten.

“Hello, Sheriff Winters,” she said, raising a wooden spoon in the air. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Great.” He retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.

Mrs. Philpot turned toward him, her hands knotted together, her brow furrowed. “I am so sorry about what happened with Heidi today. She told me she was going upstairs to do her homework, and I was busy vacuuming. She must have slipped out the front door when I was down the hall and couldn’t hear or see her.” She shook her head. “I heard her music coming from her room, and, silly me, assumed she was still up there.”

He put his glass down on the counter. “Please don’t worry about this. Apparently Heidi has developed a very sneaky streak, and I’m sure she waited for the opportunity to slip by you and left her music on to throw you off the scent.”

“I was just on my way upstairs to check on her when you called…”

“As I said when we talked on the phone, this isn’t your fault, Mrs. P. It’s Heidi’s, and she and I will definitely be talking about her consequence at dinner.”

“All right, then. Please let me know how you want me to handle keeping track of her from now on. And remember, Sheriff, this isn’t my first rodeo.” She winked at him.

Carson blinked, but he was left without an answer; it wasn’t as if they could put handcuffs on Heidi.

He walked Mrs. Philpot to the door and she left.

Sighing, Carson stood in the middle of the kitchen, hating that he had to wreck the evening with a lecture.

But there was no help for the serious conversation he and Heidi needed to have.

He called Heidi down to dinner, then went back in the kitchen and got out plates and silverware. Despite the massive ice cream cone he’d eaten earlier today, compliments of the charming Phoebe Sellers, he was starving; he and Heidi would have to talk while they ate.

A few moments later, Heidi called down from upstairs, “I’m not very hungry, Dad.”

Classic avoidance.

Sighing, he went to the bottom of the stairs. Heidi sat on the top step, looking mighty worried if you asked him; she was a smart kid, and she knew she’d messed up. She had her long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she’d changed into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt as opposed to the jeans or legging thingies she usually wore to school. Her feet were bare, and he noticed she’d painted her toenails a funky blue. Gone were the days she used some demure shade of pink.

“Well, come on down and at least sit with me,” he said. “You know I don’t like eating alone.” Going from a family of four to a family of two almost overnight did that to a guy.

Heidi scrunched up her face. “Do I have to?” she groused.

“Yup, you do.” He headed back to the kitchen. “You’ll probably get hungry when you see what Mrs. P. whipped up.”

Just as he was loading a plate with food, Heidi appeared at the kitchen door.

He motioned her in. “Sure you don’t want some?” he asked, holding up the serving spoon. “It looks delicious.”

Heidi shrugged. “All right, maybe a little.” Guess she was hungry after all if she was willing to step into the fire.

When they were seated at the table, he took a few bites, marveling at Mrs. Philpot’s cooking skills. The meal was delicious, and certainly better than the frozen pizza he would have thrown in the oven if she hadn’t made dinner.

Heidi sat slumped in her chair and simply pushed her food around with her fork without speaking or looking at him.

He ate and just let the silence sink in for a bit; she needed to stew for while, worry some. When she finally started fidgeting, he cleared his throat and said, “So, as you know, I had a call from Ms. Sellers from the ice cream parlor today.”

Heidi studied her plate as if it held the magical key to getting out of the inevitable conversation. After a long silence, she huffed and put her fork down with a clank. “Yeah,” she said, her voice defiant. “So?”

His gut burned. “So? You shoplifted, Heidi. What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but intense. “Ms. Sellers could have pressed charges.”

Heidi slanted a decidedly worried glance at him, biting her lip. “So did she?”

“No, she didn’t, luckily for you.” He swiped a hand over his eyes, wishing he could wipe away the scene playing out before him. “She could have, though, and probably should have. But she’s a nice woman, and she wanted to cut you a break.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Heidi asked, giving him the classic eye roll.

Dropping his jaw, he stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted. “Are you kidding me? The problem is you snuck out of the house and stole candy.”

She said nothing, did nothing. Just sat there, blank. Unrepentant. Who was this sullen kid? What had happened to his little pigtailed daughter with two missing front teeth? The one who actually cared about what he thought? Suddenly he missed that kid, but feared he’d never have her back. Susan leaving had really knocked a hole in their lives, and he’d lost so much more than a wife that stormy winter day Susan had left.

He looked at the ceiling, taking a moment to get ahold of the anxiety bubbling through him. Finally, he said, “Don’t you get that what you did was wrong?”

Heidi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Her nonchalance raised his blood pressure another notch. “So why did you do it?”

Nothing.

“Heidi?” he said firmly, resisting the urge to raise his voice. “Tell me.”

She let out a huff. “Because Briana and Jessie dared me, okay?”

So Phoebe had been right. Even so, he dipped his chin and just stared at Heidi, as if to say, you did this on a stupid dare?

Her eyes glimmered, and he guessed her control was slipping. “They said that I wouldn’t have the guts because I was the sheriff’s daughter.”

Her words hit him like well-aimed bullets, and he winced inwardly. His first instinct was to back off a bit; it probably was hard at times to be a small-town sheriff’s kid. Kind of like being the minister’s kid—expectations were higher somehow.

But, no. He couldn’t cave and go easy on Heidi. There was a lot at stake here, and he had to be a strong father for his daughter’s sake; a statement about an inch and a mile flitted through his brain. Hopefully she’d thank him someday.

“So you broke the law to prove you weren’t chicken,” he stated, trying to stay calm.

Suddenly the dam broke, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Yes, I did,” she cried. “They said they’d be my friends if I did it.”

Searing pain streaked through his heart, and he resisted the urge to scoop his baby girl into his arms and make everything all right. Poor Heidi. She’d been through so much lately, more, really, than any kid should have to bear. “So you did it to make them like you?” he got out.

Looking at the floor, she nodded.

His throat tightened. What could he say to that? Heidi was the new girl in town, and he knew she desperately wanted to fit in. But, again, he had to be strong, had to keep the big picture in mind. He had to do the hard thing here; parenting wasn’t for wimps, and here he was, doing it all alone.

Grim resignation settled down around him.

He fisted his hands, hating what he had to do. “Well, honey, I’m sorry they dangled that in front of you. That was a cruel thing for them to do.”

She sobbed, gutting him.

He forced himself to continue. “But you’re still responsible for your choices. And you stole, period.” He sucked in air, steeling himself. “There has to be a consequence. So Ms. Sellers and I have agreed that you will spend the rest of the week doing chores at her store after school.”

Heidi froze, then blinked, clearing her wet eyes. “What? Are you kidding me?” Red-faced, she jumped to her feet. “It was no big deal, Dad. Why can’t you just let it go? Why do you have to make me work at some dumb ice cream store?”

He tightened his jaw until his head ached. “Because shoplifting was wrong, that’s why.”

She swiped the tears from her eyes. “You’re the worst dad ever!” she screamed. “Mom wouldn’t have made me do this.”

More bullets pierced him; Susan was gone and would never make a tough parenting call again. He was on his own.

He let Heidi’s comment go, sure she was speaking out of anger, which he couldn’t blame her for. He had a boatload of anger, too, mostly directed at himself, though he was also pretty mad at Susan for abandoning them.

Mostly, though, he just felt betrayed.

Heidi turned on her heel and ran out of the room, and he let her go, bleeding inside.

From the hallway she yelled, “And I’m not ever going back to that store and you can’t make me!”

Her footsteps clomped quickly up the stairs, and then he heard—and felt—her bedroom door slam.

A sense of failure screamed through him, and he pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose. His appetite gone, he shoved his plate away and slumped back in his chair. With a weary breath he looked around the kitchen, at the old appliances, ugly cabinets and hideous green-and-gold curtains the landlord had probably put up in the seventies.

The place certainly was not a home, nor the peaceful haven he wanted.

A feeling of helplessness spread through him, and suddenly, he’d never felt so alone. He’d lost his son and his wife, and any kind of peace. And now, in a way, he’d lost his little girl, too.

She hated him.

How was he supposed to face that, much less deal with it?

* * *

“Sheriff Winters is here to see you.”

Phoebe looked up from her desk, trying to ignore the little skip her heart took at the mention of the handsome sheriff. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be right out,” she said to Tanya, an energetic middle-aged woman who was her lone weekday employee.

“He has a young lady with him,” Tanya said, raising her auburn brows. “And she doesn’t look very happy to be here.”

Not surprising at all. Phoebe was guessing the hammer had come down at the Winterses’ last night. “That’s his daughter.” She rose and stretched the kinks out of her neck. “He said yesterday when he was here they’d be stopping by.”

“Why was the sheriff here? Did something happen?”

Phoebe gave herself a mental head slap. Tanya had been taking her daughter to the doctor yesterday when the shoplifting incident had occurred and when the sheriff had stopped by. She wasn’t aware of what had happened, and Phoebe wasn’t going to fill her in. Heidi’s slip-up was nobody else’s business.

She waved a hand in the air. “Oh…um…he stopped by for a cone and I told him I’d like to meet his daughter.”

Tanya nodded, apparently satisfied with Phoebe’s answer—fabulous—and they both walked out to the main part of the store. Phoebe resisted the ridiculous urge to fluff her hair. Please! Talk about a waste of energy.

Save for Carson and his daughter, the store was thankfully empty. In uniform, he stood, unsmiling, on the other side of the soda-fountain counter, his daughter beside him. He had his big hand on Heidi’s shoulder—to keep her from bolting?—and Heidi, dressed in a cute pair of black leggings, boots and a gray coat—was intently studying the floor, her mouth pressed into a decidedly rebellious scowl.

Phoebe felt bad for both of them; this clearly wasn’t a fun father/daughter trip to the ice cream parlor for treats.

“Hello, Sheriff,” Phoebe said, smiling cheerily to ease the tension, if that were possible. She looked at Heidi. “Hey, Heidi.”

Heidi replied with nothing more than a twitch of her mouth.

Carson nodded crisply, all business, his face taut. “Ms. Sellers. Heidi here would like to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Phoebe cast a surreptitious gaze around and saw Tanya over by the candy shelves, straightening some packages of gummy bears some kids had riffled through earlier.

“Um…why don’t we go back to my office,” Phoebe said, gesturing to the Winterses to follow her. For Heidi’s sake, Phoebe was determined to keep this just between the three of them.

She stepped into her office, pulled two plastic chairs from their spot on the wall and set them before her desk. “Have a seat.”

Carson and Heidi sat, and Phoebe moved around behind her desk and settled herself in her desk chair. Folding her arms before her, she looked directly at Heidi, who still hadn’t made eye contact. “Thank you for coming by.”

Heidi briefly met Phoebe’s gaze, then she looked away and shrugged.

Carson’s jaw visibly tightened, and his brow furrowed. He took a moment, then removed his hat and set it on his knee, revealing a head of closely shorn thick black wavy hair that would probably be curly if he let it grow. “We didn’t come here for your thanks.” He paused, probably for effect. “Did we, Heidi?”

“No,” Heidi mumbled, shifting on her chair.

Carson let out an impatient sigh, then turned his coffee-hued gaze on his daughter. “What did you want to say to Ms. Sellers?”

Heidi remained silent.

“Heidi?” Carson said in a stern voice. “You need to talk. And cut the rude routine.”

Heidi seemed to collapse in on herself as her narrow shoulders slumped. Tears formed in the girl’s blue eyes, and her face crumbled.

Phoebe’s heart went out to Heidi, and she looked at Carson, frowning, trying to tell him nonverbally that she didn’t like upsetting his daughter.

Reading her language perfectly, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. No go.

With effort, Phoebe hardened her heart just a bit; she would undoubtedly be helping Heidi more by not cutting her any more slack. Rough for a softie like her, but doable.

Carson focused his attention back on his daughter, who now had tears streaming down her cheeks. His gaze softened, and he reached out and rubbed her upper arm. “Heidi, I know this is hard for you, but you need to speak to Ms. Sellers.”

Heidi sobbed, her shoulders shaking, and then looked up, her eyes swimming in tears. “I’m…sorry for…what I did yesterday,” she said in a halting voice. “I know it was…wrong, and I won’t ever…do it again.”

Phoebe’s eyes watered and her throat tightened. She looked at the paperwork on her desk, trying to get control. She yanked a tissue out of the box on desk and handed it to Heidi.

Then Phoebe shifted her gaze to Carson. For just a moment, his daughter’s agony was reflected in his eyes, and he looked like a concerned dad with mushy guts, one who loved his daughter and hated upsetting her, but knew that a dad had to do what a dad had to do.

Swallowing, Phoebe said, “Thank you for your apology, Heidi, and I accept it. I know coming here wasn’t easy, and I appreciate you making the effort.”

Heidi finally looked right at her, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve talked to Heidi,” Carson said. “And she’s aware that she will be working here after school for the next few days.” He turned to Heidi. “Right?”

She heaved out a sigh, defiance making a show. “Do I have to?”

“Yep, you do, honey,” he said firmly, but not harshly. “You do the crime, you do the time, remember?”

Heidi pursed her lips. “Dad, you’ve said that to me about a thousand times.”

“And I’ll say it a thousand more times if I need to,” he replied. Then he cracked a small, wry smile that softened the stress lines tightening his face. “Maybe even a million.” He gave Heidi a playful nudge on the shoulder. “You never know.”

To Phoebe’s relief, his comment seemed to break the ice, and the tension in the room eased a bit more.

And Carson Winters rose a notch in her eyes.

“Daaaaad,” Heidi said, wiping at her eyes with the tissue Phoebe had given her. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who, me?” he said, his voice brimming with teasing, exaggerated innocence. Then he waggled his eyebrows and made a goofy face. “Are you sayin’ I’m a weirdo?”

Heidi’s lips curved into an itty-bitty smile. “A big one,” she said, rolling her eyes, but in what looked like a playful way.

He gave Phoebe a rueful look, shaking his head. “I’m sure I’m not the first father to be called weird, and I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

“No, I’m sure you won’t,” Phoebe replied, glad to see the stress level between father and daughter evening out. At least temporarily. “So,” she said to Heidi. “Just come here after school tomorrow, all right?”

Heidi nodded her assent, and then all three of them rose. Phoebe gestured for Heidi to precede her out, and as soon as Heidi was out of earshot, Carson snagged Phoebe’s elbow with a gentle hand.

Warmth spread in tingles up her arm as she turned a questioning gaze to him.

“Listen,” he said, “I really appreciate you working with Heidi on this.”

Up close, she saw that his brown eyes were flecked with the barest hint of gold. Fighting the urge to stare, she focused her gaze on his nose. “I sense she’s a good kid who’s had a tough time lately. As I said before, the move had to be hard on her.”

Nodding, Carson ran a hand through his hair, then put his hat back on. As he did, he said softly, “Unfortunately, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

Phoebe blinked, so surprised by his unexpected comment she wasn’t sure what to say.

At her silence, he continued on, his voice low and taut. “Heidi’s mom took off over a year ago, divorced me, and we haven’t seen her since.”

Her heart knotted. “Oh, wow, I’m so sorry.” She touched his arm briefly, trying to offer even a small amount of comfort. Obviously they’d been through the wringer. “That explains a lot.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No, I’m glad you did.”

“I guess I just wanted you to know why Heidi is having such a rough time, and why she’s acting out. She’s not a bad kid.”

“Thank you for your honesty, and for the record, I never thought she was a bad kid.” She knew it hadn’t come easy for him to admit the truth.

“You’re welcome,” he said, looking right at her.

She met his tawny gaze, and for just a moment, she couldn’t look away, could barely even breathe. Her stomach dropped, and her legs trembled. Oh, wow. Where in the world had he gotten those unbelievable eyes…?

“C’mon, Dad. I have homework,” Heidi called impatiently, breaking the spell.

Carson looked away, clearing his throat. “Guess I gotta go.”

All Phoebe could do was nod.

She followed him out to the front of the store, her cheeks warm. Phoebe stood there for a long moment after they left, unable to forget the tears in Heidi’s eyes and the worry lines creasing Carson’s face.

Empathy gushed through her.

Granted, she wasn’t a parent, and wouldn’t presume she could give Carson much advice on that front. But she had been a twelve-year-old girl once. And even though she hadn’t been through the heartbreaking childhood trauma Heidi had, Phoebe had lost someone she’d loved fairly recently, just as Heidi had essentially lost her mom.

And Phoebe sure knew how much such a devastating loss could tear a person apart and leave them feeling as if nothing would ever be the same again.

As if their world had crumbled into a million pieces.

Maybe she could help them through their troubles in the coming weeks. Talk to Heidi, commiserate a bit. Offer a shoulder to Carson…

Horrified by her thoughts, she closed her eyes and shook her head. No. Absolutely not. What was she thinking? Getting too involved with the Winterses would be a huge mistake, and would definitely force her into a personal space she didn’t want to be in.

With that thought forefront in her mind, she straightened her shoulders and headed back to her office to return to the paperwork stacking up on her desk.

As she fired up her computer, she promised herself that she would work with Heidi because Carson had asked her to and because presenting a consequence to Heidi was the right thing to do. But after that, Phoebe would be content to say hello to them casually around town once in a while. Nothing more.

No matter how much the tension between father and daughter pulled on her heartstrings and made her want to help chase their worries away.

Chapter Three

Two days after Sheriff Winters and Heidi visited Phoebe’s store, she stood in back of the soda fountain, serving George and Lela Raggs.

The bells above the door jingled and a moment later, Molly breezed through with some flowers in one hand. Wedding samples, Phoebe presumed.

Phoebe waved a greeting and Molly gestured back, then hung at the front of the store while Phoebe finished doing business.

Phoebe handed George and Lela their cones. “Let me know how you guys like that new mango ice cream,” she said. “Feedback so far has been positive.”

“Sure thing, Phoebe,” Lela said. “Although you know my favorite will always be Rocky Road.” George and Lela, newly retired and loving it, came in every Tuesday and Thursday at precisely two in the afternoon. Today marked the only time in recent memory that Lela had ever ordered anything but a single scoop of Rocky Road. George, on the other hand, was all over the ice cream board, and rarely ordered the same thing twice.

“Lots of people like Rocky Road,” Phoebe said. Including the sheriff—but she wasn’t thinking about him. “Don’t worry. I’ll always have that flavor around.”

“Excellent,” George said. “We’d hate to have to go somewhere else for our ice cream fix.”

“I’d hate that, too,” Phoebe replied with a smile, even though she was the only dedicated ice cream store in Moonlight Cove proper. “You two are some of my best customers.” Sure, lots of tourists frequented her store. But she also had a core group of locals who came in on a regular basis, even when the rain started and the tourist season took a nosedive. Without them, her business would languish in the off-season.

“Say,” Lela said, her forehead crinkling. “We didn’t see you at church on Sunday. Everything okay? You’re usually a regular.”

Phoebe picked up an ice cream spade and started smoothing the top of the Rocky Road. “Um…yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I had to work.” True enough. She had come in and done the weekly supply ordering.

“Oh. Okay,” Lela said. “Hope you’ll be able to come next week.”

Phoebe smoothed the top of the Rocky Road until it was a literal work of ice cream art, then moved on to the chocolate chip. “I hope so, too,” she said truthfully, though she doubted her sentiments would come true. Since Justin died, she’d dutifully attended church, hoping to bridge the chasm Justin’s death had caused between her and God through faithful, regular worship. Yet somehow that strategy hadn’t worked, and lately, she’d avoided services, feeling as if her efforts were futile and useless, not to mention frustrating.

A big rut, for sure, one she didn’t know how to dig her way out of.

After a bit more small talk about the new restaurant that was rumored to be opening in town, George and Lela said goodbye and headed out into the sunny May afternoon to enjoy their cones as usual—weather permitting—on the benches perched along the edge of the covered boardwalk that lined both sides of Main Street.

Wistfulness rose up in Phoebe; what would it be like to be retirement age and still have the love of your life by your side?

She would never know.

Pushing aside a hollow feeling of loss she didn’t want to dwell on, Phoebe wiped her hands, then turned her attention to Molly, determined not to let herself wallow. “Hey, you. What’s up?”

Molly held up the flowers in her hand. “What do you think of this color scheme?”

The bouquet held a gorgeous collection of pink, purple and white flowers, interspersed with fluffy greenery and baby’s breath.

“I love it,” Phoebe said. “Meg really outdid herself.” Meg Douglas had recently moved to town to help run the local flower store, Penelope’s Posies, with her mom, Penelope Marbury, who was thinking about retirement now that Matchmaker Molly had found her a man. Happily, Penelope and Hugh Jeffers, a local Realtor, were engaged after Molly had set them up six months ago.

“I like it, too,” Molly said, eyeing the bouquet from all angles. “And the flowers will go really well with the bridesmaid dresses I’ve picked out.”

Phoebe’s lunch gurgled, and the theme to a once popular children’s show starring a big purple dinosaur went skipping through her brain. She shifted on her feet and bit her lip, determined not to tell Molly she wasn’t terribly keen on the dress Molly had chosen for her attendants.

Okay. So she hated the purple satin number with the puffy sleeves. But she would dutifully wear it for her best friend without complaining because that’s what bridal attendants had been doing at weddings since the dawn of time and invention of satin.

“Yes, they will go well with the dresses.” She smiled. Big. Like a huge, toothy dinosaur. “The purple especially,” she added, even though she feared she was going to look like a shiny grape on the altar. Or maybe an eggplant.

Molly beamed. “Oh, good. I’ve been really hung up on the flowers.”

No kidding. This was the fifth bouquet Phoebe had seen in the past two weeks.

Molly continued on. “Grant says to just pick something, but it’s been hard to find just the right combination.”

“Well, looks like you’ve got a winner,” Phoebe said, nodding toward the flowers, which were truly gorgeous. Unlike the dress she’d be wearing, which hovered more around fruitlike than gorgeous.

Nodding, Molly set the flowers down. “I hope so, but now that I’ve picked the flowers, I need to rethink the cake. Any chance you can go to the bakery tonight after work for a tasting?”

“I can’t.” Phoebe moved the tip jar over an inch so it was in its normal place. “Tonight’s the first night of the grief-counseling class I signed up for.”

Molly hoisted up a brow. “So you finally gave in to your mom and agreed to go?”

Phoebe let out a breath. “Yeah. I’m not really that hot on the idea, but she really wants me to, and I’ve never been able to say no to her.” She made a face. “Plus, she signed me up, so it’s a done deal.”

Molly sat on a stool. “Well, I think it’s great you’re going.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how talking about losing Justin can do any good.” Sometimes it felt as if nothing could help soothe her grief.

“You’d rather just ignore the hurt and grief, wouldn’t you?” Molly grimaced. “No offense, of course. I don’t pull punches.”

Phoebe wouldn’t expect her to. “I’m not ignoring it,” she said, making sure the metal ice cream scoops were arranged in their water bins just so.

“Maybe not totally…”

Phoebe paused. “I’m doing the best I can.” But was her best good enough? And without God to help her…well, she was struggling, and she wasn’t a total idiot. Which was why she’d agreed to the counseling class.

Molly came over and hugged her. “I know, hon.”

Phoebe hugged her back, thankful for Molly’s support.

With a squeeze to Phoebe’s arm, Molly pulled away. “So how’s it going with the sheriff’s adventuresome daughter? When I came in yesterday for my ice cream fix, she didn’t seem too happy to be here.”

“Not so good.” Phoebe headed back behind the counter, glad Heidi had filled Molly in on why she’d be working here. Phoebe didn’t like hiding things from her best friend. “She’s shown up the last two days looking as if she’s been sentenced to hard labor for the Grinch, and any attempts I made to draw her out were shut down with sullen silences and huffy looks.”

“Didn’t you say when we talked on the phone the other night that she seemed pretty amenable to working here when you and Carson came up with her punishment?”

“I thought so,” Phoebe said, shrugging. “But she’s got a bee in her bonnet again, and her attitude is making me feel about an inch tall.”

“Did you really expect her to embrace her punishment?” Molly asked with a rueful look as she plopped down in a stool opposite the counter. “C’mon. Be real.”

“No.” Phoebe chewed her lip. “But I thought maybe she’d loosen up a bit.”

“She’s twelve, Phoebs. Loose and relaxed isn’t even in her vocabulary.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I was just hoping…”

Molly quirked a brow. “That she’d instantly like you?”

Phoebe lifted one shoulder and tilted her head sideways. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad. Just unrealistic.”

Molly was right. Heidi was going to be a tough nut to crack. Impossible, maybe. But somehow, Phoebe felt the compelling need to at least try to work a bit of Heidi’s shell loose.

“Probably,” she said. “But I’m a sucker for punishment, so I’ll keep trying to soften her edges.”

“Knowing your kind heart, that doesn’t surprise me,” Molly said with a warm smile.

The bells over the door rang, and a family of tourists bustled in. Phoebe served them, glad for the distraction of the kids’ smiles and beach-induced happiness.

They left with enough scoops of ice cream for three families, and Molly approached from where she’d been standing looking out the window. “I think I just saw Sheriff Winters walking by,” she said, switching gears almost midthought. “He still looks mighty good in that uniform.”

Phoebe’s heart tripped, and before she could stop the reaction, her gaze flew to the window. “Really?”

“Wow.” Molly chuckled. “Are you just a little anxious to see the man?”

Phoebe closed her eyes for a second. She had to be more careful around Molly about letting her ill-advised and unwanted interest in Carson Winters—and his uniform—show. “No. Of course not.” That was the plan, and she was sticking to it.

“Really? Because for just a second it seemed like maybe you had a little…crush going on there.”

The word crush set Phoebe on edge. “I don’t do crushes,” she said, her chin elevated to emphasize her point. Yes, the new sheriff in town was attractive. But his family situation was a mess. Enough said.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Molly said.

“Not my first.”

Molly blinked. “Sorry. Right. Second,” Molly said, recovering quickly.

Phoebe rolled her eyes.

“Hey, he’s a hunk,” Molly said, probably going for levity. “If I weren’t already happily taken, I’d have a crush on the guy.”

Phoebe sighed. “I know where this is going, Little Miss Matchmaker,” she said ruefully.

“Where?” Molly asked, all innocence as usual, and playing dumb about her motives.

“Down your usual matchmaker path,” Phoebe said, glaring. “The one I can’t get you to step off.”

“So what if I am going down that path?” Molly moved closer, then leaned a hip against the counter. “I love that path, and I’m happy where it’s taken me.”

Phoebe gave her a deadpan look.

“I really think you need to start dating again, and I’m sensing Sheriff Winters is the perfect guy,” Molly said, ignoring Phoebe’s nonverbal cue.

Phoebe shook her head at the mention of Molly’s love mojo, i.e., her self-proclaimed ability to sense who belonged with whom romantically.

“Trust me when I say he’s not perfect for me,” Phoebe said pointedly.

“Care to tell me why? Aside from your need to avoid romance?”

Phoebe straightened the napkin and cone holder on the fountain counter. How was she going to get Molly to back off…?

Okay. She’d have to bend what she felt was a confidence between the sheriff and herself and tell Molly a bit about the Winterses’ family drama, without going into specifics or gossiping. Fortunately she could trust Molly to keep whatever Phoebe told her to herself.

“He and his daughter have been through a lot, and are having major problems.” She grabbed a clean sponge and cleaned an invisible spot off the counter. “The last thing I want is to get caught up in some kind of messy father/daughter crisis.”

Molly jabbed a finger in the air. “Aha. No wonder you want to bond with Heidi.”

Phoebe blinked.

“Because you’ve been through a lot, too?” Molly said, as if the reasons for her statement were obvious.

“Maybe you’re right,” Phoebe said, conceding the point because it was valid. “But bonding with Heidi and getting hung up on her father are two very different things.”

“Yes, but—”

Phoebe kept going, needing to make her point. “And, the fact remains I’ll never fall in love again, so why try?” She stared at Molly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Right?”

Molly sat silently for a moment, chewing her lip, the wheels in her head obviously turning.

“Plus, he’s a cop. No way am I going to get involved with someone who works in law enforcement.”

Finally she lifted a piercing green gaze to Phoebe. “I find all of this very interesting,” she said in a speculative tone. “Fascinating, actually.”

Phoebe scrunched her eyebrows together. “Why?” she asked, hoping Molly would spout some vague theory and then drop the subject so they could talk about flowers again.

“Because for a woman who claims to be so indifferent to Carson Winters, you’ve sure spent a heap of time coming up with lots of reasons why you don’t want to go out with him.”

“So?” Phoebe said, looking at Molly sideways.

Molly stood, cocking her head. “So, to quote someone who—I don’t know—probably knew what they were talking about, ‘methinks thou doth protest too much.’”

“Your point?” Phoebe asked, anticipating the worst.

“You’re attracted to him, Phoebs. And that scares you to death.”

* * *

“So, anything you want to talk about?”

Carson looked over his cup of black coffee at his cousin, Lily, taking careful note of the well-intentioned-on-her-part, yet dreaded-on-his-part interest in her eyes.

She was on a fishing expedition. No wonder she’d pushed him to meet for coffee at The Coffee Cabana in the middle of the afternoon.

His fingers squeezed the handle of his coffee mug. Had Heidi filled Lily in on the latest drama in the Winterses’ household when she and Lily had gone shopping last night? Or was Lily just being her usual nosy, talk-to-me-I-can-help self?

Either way, Carson didn’t want to get into it. “Well, Ollie Sanders got busted for drunk and disorderly yesterday, and Mrs. Jaquith backed her car into another fire hydrant. Oh, and it seems someone left a bag of dog doo in the middle of Pelican Lane sometime last night and Jimmy Voss called to complain that it hadn’t been picked up yet—”

“I’m not talking about job stuff,” Lily said, smoothing her long, blond hair behind one ear.

He stared at her, but didn’t say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash how Heidi had gone rogue and taken a walk on the wild side, straight to the candy bins of I Scream for Ice Cream.

What was done was done, he’d meted out punishment and that was that. Time to move on, keep the peace between him and Heidi as best he could. And hope they both made it through her teen years without driving each other crazy.

Lily took a leisurely sip of her caramel macchiato, then set her cup down and said, “I had a long talk with Heidi last night in the teen lingerie department, and she told me that things aren’t going so well.”

“You’re really out to get me today, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Teen lingerie?”

Lily chuckled. “Oh, Carson. She’s not going to be a little girl forever—”

He hissed and raised a hand, cutting her off. “What did she say?”

“She told me about the ice cream parlor.”

“Okay.” Not surprising Heidi had shared that with Lily.

“So, she’s clearly struggling.”

“I know.” He took a sip of his coffee, hating that he had to agree with her. “But I’ve dealt with what she did with a consequence, and she’s apologized to Phoebe Sellers. Everything’s been handled.”

“You really think it’s that easy?”

He looked at the swirling blackness of the coffee in his cup and remained silent. He didn’t want this turmoil.

After a bit of a silence, Lily said, “Carson, Heidi has been dealt two terrible blows, and she’s acting out because she’s having a hard time dealing with all the changes in her life.”

“I get it.” That much was obvious. But what to do about the obvious? Not quite so much a slam dunk.

Maybe he needed help here. He hated asking, but for Heidi’s sake, he would. “Any suggestions?” he asked, slanting a glance at Lily.

She leaned forward. “Have you thought about getting her counseling?”

Guilt zapped him. “I haven’t had time to find someone.” Yeah, he’d dropped the ball on that one. But keeping all of the balls in the air on his own since they’d moved had been a real challenge.

“Why don’t you let me work on finding a good teen therapist around here, okay?”

He nodded stiffly.

“And how about more counseling for yourself?” Lily asked, regarding him directly. “I can’t imagine the few sessions the department required were enough.”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly. But was he really?

She leaned in and touched his hand. “No one would be fine after everything that’s happened to you.”

“I can handle it.” And he would. Somehow. That’s what he did—plodded on without complaint and dealt.

“Yeah, I know you think you can.” She quirked her mouth. “But you’re a guy, and most guys just want to put their heads down and plow forward.”

“Yep, that pretty much sums it up right there.” And if he could avoid emotional chaos, even better.

“So. How’s that working for you?”

He shifted in his chair and ground his molars together. “Not that well,” he said truthfully. Heidi deserved that he be honest with himself. Even if he didn’t like dissecting every little emotion. Or admitting he needed help.

Lily picked up her purse. She dug around inside, then pulled out a piece of folded green paper and held it out for him. “Take a look at this. I picked it up at church last Sunday.”

Wary, he took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the contents quickly. His stomach pitched.

The flyer announced a series of classes set to take place at Moonlight Cove Community Church every Thursday night for the next month. Starting tonight.

Grief-counseling classes.

Sighing heavily, he dropped the paper on the table and looked at Lily. “You really think this will help?”

“Yes, I do. You’re grieving the death of your son and the death of your marriage. That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, Carson. Someone would have to be a superhero to handle what’s happened on their own.”

“I thought I was a superhero,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ve always been able to handle life’s ups and downs on my own.” Although he’d never been thrown something as traumatic as his son dying and his wife abandoning him.

“I know, and you’ve been superhuman in the past, believe me. But that routine isn’t working now, and your daughter is struggling. Don’t you think you need to get some help to deal with your grief—to heal—so you can give her what she needs and deserves?”

More guilt loaded on. How could he have gone so wrong? “Everything you’ve said is true,” he said. “But honestly, Lily, this feels like a failure to me.” He let out a derisive snort. “I should be able to handle this without some class to show me the way.”

She looked at him, understanding in her brown eyes. “It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.”

“It is in my book,” he replied, swiping a rigid hand through his hair. “I’m a cop, a problem solver. I’m used to stress. I should be able to deal.”

“Well, you’re going to need to get over that misconception for Heidi’s sake.”

For Heidi’s sake.

Those words reverberated in him, hitting home Lily’s point like brass knuckles to the gut. He needed to focus on what was best for Heidi, and she needed him, now more than ever. He’d be a selfish idiot and a neglectful parent not to see that and act on it.

“I’ll do whatever I have to for Heidi,” he said to Lily. Even if doing so meant admitting his weaknesses and attending some touchy-feely counseling class for the next four weeks.

Even though he rather be Tasered, what other choice did he have?

* * *

“So,” Rebecca, the grief-counseling instructor, said from the front of the room. “Does anyone have any questions?”

Phoebe shifted in the small, hard chair set up in a classroom in the basement of the Moonlight Cove Community Church. Thankfully the rest of the grief-management classes would take place in the more comfortable singles’-group lounge, once that room became available next week. Spending any more time in these uncomfortable chairs didn’t really float her boat.

Someone to her left raised their hand and asked about the schedule. Phoebe tapped her pencil on the desk, listening intently, trying to make the most of her time here, even though she’d had to coerce herself to come.

Forcing herself to talk about painful things was always, well, painful, and she felt like she had when she’d gone to the dentist for a root canal.

Fortunately, they had Novocain for a root canal. But for handling grief? No such thing.

When all of the questions had been answered, Rebecca said, “All right. I’ve gone over the basic structure of the course and covered the schedule in depth. Now, if you’ll remember, I mentioned working with a discussion partner outside of class.”

Everyone in the class murmured their assent along with Phoebe.

“Okay, there are twelve of us, and since Randy and Joanna are married and want to be partners, we’ll need to count off by fives to make five groups of two.” She pointed right. “Start here and count off, and then we’ll partner up, get to know each other for a few minutes, and adjourn.”

Everyone dutifully said their number, and Phoebe uttered “five” when it was her turn. The counting hit the back of the room, and the last person to speak—a guy with a vaguely familiar deep voice—said “five” after a pause. The counting ended.

Phoebe drew her eyebrows together. She hadn’t noticed any men in the very back of the room when the class had started…

Gathering up her things, she stood and turned around to see who she’d be working with. Only to be met with the dark, piercing, none-too-happy yet surprised gaze of Sheriff Carson Winters.

She blinked as her heart tripped over itself. Freezing in midmotion as she slung her purse over her shoulder, she almost whacked the woman standing next to her.

Oh, no. What was he doing at a grief-counseling class? His wife had left him and Heidi, yes. Did death of a marriage count? Probably so…

A new depth of empathy grabbed ahold of her and twisted. Automatically, a prayer rose inside of her. Lord, please help the Winterses through this, and give them the strength they’ll need to heal. And help me, too, please. I think I’m going to need it.

Because as a woman out to keep her life on an even track, spending any one-on-one time with the compelling Carson Winters was the very last thing she wanted to do.

Chapter Four

“So, it looks like we’re discussion partners.”

As Phoebe spoke, Carson arranged his face in a neutral expression and smothered the need to snort.

Figured he’d get paired up with the pretty blonde, who looked even nicer than he remembered, dressed in a black belted coat, jeans and hot-pink scarf that really played up the blue in her eyes.

Actually, getting paired up with anybody wasn’t exactly thrilling him; he’d been planning on dutifully sitting through some lectures, maybe filling out some forms or something. Alone. He hadn’t counted on sharing himself—or his feelings—with anyone.

Especially not the engaging ice-cream-store owner.

Belatedly, he realized that Phoebe was obviously here because she was dealing with grief herself. What was her story, anyway? And why was he so interested?

He rolled a shoulder. “Yep, looks like we are.”

A pause. “You don’t look too happy about being here,” she said, hitching her purse up.

Guess he was a bad actor. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she said, surprising him. “I promised my mom I’d come, and…well, let’s just say it’s hard saying no to her.”

Again, his interest flared; who was she grieving? Guess he’d find out soon enough. “Then we’re in the same boat.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I promised Lily I’d come,” he said.

“Ah. I see.”

“But I’d never have come of my own volition. I’m not much of a talker.” Especially when it came to what ailed him.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Look, if you’d rather have another partner…”

“I didn’t want any partner,” he said, his jaw ticking. “So don’t be offended.”

Her mouth thinned. “Well, that makes me feel better.”

He sighed. “I’m handling this badly, aren’t I?”

“Pretty much,” she replied, nodding.

“Sorry.” He laughed under his breath. “This kind of stuff isn’t my strong point.” Susan had always said he was a bad interpersonal communicator and liked to hold things close to the vest. She’d been wrong about a lot of things, but right about that; he’d been raised to keep his chin up, no matter what.

“I don’t think anyone likes talking about painful stuff,” Phoebe said, softly, her eyes shimmering. “Especially grief.”

Before he could respond to Phoebe’s comment, Rebecca clapped her hands. The class quieted and all eyes looked her way.

“While you’re talking with your partner, please discuss why you’re here, all right?” Rebecca said. “That way, everyone will be on the same page, and no one will have to ask an insensitive question. And feel free to go somewhere more comfortable to talk. Class is over for tonight. See you all next week.”

Phoebe turned to him, her eyebrows raised. “You want to spill first?”

His throat burned. “Quite frankly, no.” Rebecca’s suggestion to share their history made sense, but he honestly didn’t know how he could even utter CJ’s name without crumbling.

Without reliving his failure.

“Yeah. Me, neither,” Phoebe said ruefully. “Looks like we’re at an impasse.”

Other members of the class began filing out, although a few stayed, talking in small groups. Rebecca, who’d been making the rounds, walked up.

“How’s it going, you two?” she asked.

“Not so good,” Phoebe said. “We both feel…awkward about sharing.”

That was putting it mildly.

“That’s natural, completely normal,” Rebecca replied. “This opening-up process frequently feels wrong and problematic at first.”

She had that right. Sharing his agony felt so not right, so against his natural instincts to keep everything within himself. His gut told him to clam up and ignore his feelings and hope they just went away.

Rebecca leaned against a desk. “Dealing with grief is difficult, no doubt about it.”

Exactly. Handling CJ’s death had been the hardest challenge Carson had ever come up against. And that was saying a lot, given his occupation.

Continuing on, Rebecca said, “But you guys came to the class to get help in that endeavor, right?”

He and Phoebe nodded.

“Well, then, if you’re ever going to heal, you’re going to need to get to a place where you can talk about what you’re going through, how you’re feeling.”

Her words echoed what Lily had told him at the coffee shop earlier today, and that, in turn, reminded him of why he was here—for Heidi. For her, he needed to man up in a way that felt foreign to him, and deal instead of doing his usual routine of burying his head in the sand. And that meant forcing himself to go through the process Rebecca was laying out before them.

He looked at Phoebe. “You game?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you can tough it out for your mom’s sake? You made it through the door.”

“I did.” She twitched her lips. “Yeah, I can tough it out for her.”

“Okay, then.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “For Heidi?”

“For Heidi,” he said, even though he felt the walls of the small basement meeting room closing in on him, trapping him in a place akin to facing a lowlife with a gun, his own back against the wall.

Rebecca piped in. “You always have a choice. You just have to decide which choice is in your and your loved ones’ best interest. In short, which path will lead you to a better place?”

And more importantly, which path would help Heidi? Because acting in Heidi’s best interest was what he was all about. Always.

“Gotcha,” he said, then turned his attention to Phoebe. “I’ll give this discussion thing my best shot, but this place is getting claustrophobic. What do you say we go and talk over a cup of joe?”

Phoebe hesitated, her blue eyes reflecting what looked similar to the same unease he was feeling. After a few beats, she drew in a breath and said, “Sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”

They said goodbye to Rebecca and he followed his new discussion partner out into the cool evening, belatedly wondering how smart it was to spend any personal time with the lovely Phoebe Sellers.

Or to share his grief and pain when he suspected doing so would feel as if he was yanking his heart out all over again.

* * *

The Coffee Cabana was closing in half an hour, so it was deserted when Carson held the door open for Phoebe and she stepped inside the place.

Inhaling the scent of fresh ground coffee, she waved to Blake Stonely, the thirty-something owner who’d bought the place last year, and then grabbed the first table by the door, feeling the need to not be tucked away in some intimate corner with Mr. Cute Sheriff.

Carson took off his hat and set it on the extra chair at the table she’d chosen. “What can I get you?” he asked.

He’d insisted on paying for her coffee when they’d arrived on foot at The Coffee Cabana, Moonlight Cove’s own little version of coffee and pastry paradise.

Phoebe looked up at him and automatically said, “Coffee, black, thanks.” She was gonna need fortification to get through this meeting.

However…maybe the caffeine was a bad idea if she was actually planning on sleeping tonight. Which she was. “Actually, make that a decaf, would you?”

He nodded and headed up to the counter to order.

She watched him go, her eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and narrow waist, again noticing that he walked with a natural economy of movement she found attractive. Ripping her gaze away from him, she admonished herself for noticing anything about him at all. She had bigger things to focus on here.

Such as getting stuck with him as her discussion partner. Well, not stuck, exactly. He was a nice guy and all, and would probably make someone else an excellent sounding board. But did it have to be her?

She’d already promised herself to stay disengaged from the Winters family. This little situation hardly qualified. Carson would be privy to her untidy business before long, and he’d know all about Justin. And her personal heartbreak.

She unbuttoned her coat, telling herself to calm down, to keep perspective. This new development wasn’t the end of the world. She should know; she’d lived through the seeming end of her world when Justin had died. No contest here.

Okay. So. Everything was fine. She needed to relax and go with the flow and, as Rebecca had said, respect the process. To heal the wound on her heart, she had to make a choice that wasn’t comfortable—how true—but that would lead her to a better, more settled place. Eventually.

Besides, she’d already told Carson she was game if he was, and it wouldn’t be cool to ditch him now because she was an emotional wimp.

She straightened the sweetener holder, then jiggled her foot under the table, waiting for him to return, going over what she needed to do in the next twenty minutes.

Loosen up. She stopped shaking her foot.

Talk. She cleared her throat and opened her mind to sharing what had happened to her.

Listen. She steeled herself to hear about Carson’s story.

Deal. Tricky. But, hopefully, not impossible.

Carson came back with two cups of coffee and two apple tarts, complete with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. “Thought you might be interested in something sweet,” he said, putting her coffee and treat, along with some utensils, on the table before her.

She blinked, her mouth watering. “How did you know those are my favorite?”

“I didn’t.” He sat and grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder. “They just looked good.”