LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Four

      Tucker called in Cody, his deputy, so he could take the morning off to get the banister rebuilt. And he needed the physical exertion—needed something to occupy his mind, but it wasn’t working. He’d been thinking of nothing except holding Suzie in his arms all morning.

      What a jerk he’d been. He’d rescued her, and then instantly his pulse had ramped up and he’d been looking at her as if she was his long-lost love. And she’d seen it, too.

      He slammed the hammer to the nail with enough force to test the foundation poles holding the stairs in the air. He needed the exertion that working with his hands would provide. Riding his horse across the ranch would have been his number one choice to exert his pent-up frustrations—as far away from Suzie Kent as he could get. But she needed the banister and despite knowing that she was just inside the building, it was where he needed to be.

      His reaction to her had stunned him. She was the wife of the man he owed his life to. Widow. His brain corrected. And free to find a new love.

      That his thoughts had even hinted at going there angered him. He owed Gordon his life, and he owed Gordon’s widow and child his support to help them maneuver through the wreckage he’d caused in their lives. But to think about her in terms of a love interest—nope, she was way out of bounds to him.

      And yet there was no denying that he was attracted to her. Or that she’s the kind of woman I’ve been looking for all of my life.

      But there was no chance for there to ever be anything between them—and he had no right even thinking about it. Feeling cornered, he placed another nail in the base of the banister railing and then moved up the steps to hammer in the next one. Six more to go, and not near enough to get rid of the anger fighting inside of him.

      He was a man who took action. He’d had to watch his mother die of cancer when he was fourteen and there had been nothing he could do about it. He’d sworn then that he’d make a difference in the lives of others and the marines had drawn him. He’d wanted to make a difference in the world. Time after time he’d pulled his men back from death, or as many as he possibly could. He’d been able to make a difference in their lives and those of their families. Unlike his own. Cancer was a war that many were able to defeat, but his mom had not been one of them.

      He’d never thought about what watching helplessly as one of his men gave his life for him would cost—not only the soldier’s family, but him.

      He didn’t like it. He couldn’t control it. But he was going to fix it. And being attracted to Gordon’s widow was the ultimate betrayal of his friend. Tucker had been sixteen when that first group of boys had started filtering in, and Gordon had been two years younger when he’d come to Sunrise Ranch the year it opened. Tucker and Gordon had hit it off instantly.

      It had been a surprise when Gordon had ended up in his marine unit. They’d celebrated, not realizing that it would come down to one of them living and the other dying.

      Tucker closed his eyes, thinking about it. Kenny Chesney’s “Who You’d Be Today” played through his mind, as it did so many times when he thought about Gordon and the others who didn’t come home.

      “Woo-hoo, Tucker!”

      At the excited singsong holler he opened his eyes, to see Mabel Tilsby, owner of the Dew Drop Inn, weaving her way across the street toward him. A tall, stout woman, she had the heart of a missionary, and that was a good thing because Tucker was pretty sure an angry Mabel could take care of herself.

      “You are doing one great job,” she said, drawing to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. “These old stairs have been here since the beginning of time, and they did need repairing.” Hands on hips, she grinned up at him. “I was out front this morning when I saw them break. Thank goodness you were there to save our new resident!”

      He glanced across the street and saw that she had a straight shot of the stairs from her front door. He groaned inwardly knowing exactly what Mabel saw—him holding Suzie in his arms longer than necessary.

      “Yeah, I should have checked these out a long time ago when I was making my rounds at night.” It was known by everyone that he still walked the square on foot each evening to make sure everything was secure. An odd thing, some might say, since Dew Drop was such a small place and the crime rate was low, but even small towns had problems. And it was his job to make sure his tiny hometown stayed safe.

      “You can’t fix everything, even though you think you’re our superhero sheriff,” she said jovially.

      Tucker had always liked Mabel. She was a tower of a woman, and with her big-boned frame could almost have been a linebacker if she’d been born a male. His mother used to say that a tall person needed bigger feet to balance out their height, and that Mabel needed her larger size to balance out her large and loving personality. He believed it, too. Mabel would just as soon pick you up and hug you in half as shake your hand.

      “Nope, but I can try.” He grinned back at her.

      She waved him off. “You got it honestly from both sides of your family. I’m going to go inside and introduce myself. Have to tell that girl how much I loved Gordon. I always smile thinking about that boy. Ta-ta for now.”

      And she was gone, disappearing inside the shop. Suzie would hear a lot of good stories about Gordon from Mabel since he’d worked for her as a bellboy whenever she needed help.

      Tucker went back to hammering.

      And his mind went straight back to thinking about how Suzie Kent had felt in his arms.

      * * *

      Though the previous owners had left the shop in decent shape, such as it was, there were spiderwebs and dust in the nooks and crannies. She had busied herself cleaning, getting it ready to paint. Paint worked wonders, and she was counting on it for the store.

      The thump of the hammer outside was a continual reminder that she’d made a fool of herself by looking up into Tucker McDermott’s eyes like a love-starved widow. How humiliating that cliché was. The more she thought about it, the worse it got.

      In addition came the guilt that she’d done so with Tucker. It would have been bad with anyone—but Tucker? It was awful. Guilt engulfed her. And even if Tucker hadn’t been the man

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