The Sheriff Catches a Bride (8 page)

As her guards approached down the center aisle and looked at each seated woman in turn, she knew what happened next hinged on her ability to channel her American youth into the present moment.

She listened to Carla’s music and watched the approaching men out of the corner of her eye. Catching the beat, she began to nod her head.

“You like it, don’t you?” Carla said. Her voice was dim beyond the music flowing from the earbuds, but Fila caught her meaning.

“Yes, very much,” she said with a wide grin. She allowed the beat to take hold of her and she nodded her head with a more exaggerated motion. She recalled watching music videos as a girl, dancing with her American friends and trying to copy the moves of her onscreen idols. She snapped her fingers along to the beat, and shimmied her shoulders a little.

“It’s terrific, isn’t it?” Carla asked.

That’s when Wahid leaned over their seats and caught her eye.

Fila didn’t skip a beat. The chorus came on and she started to sing along, pitching her voice much louder than the submissive murmur she’d adopted back in the village. Carla, laughing, joined in and together they sang, bobbed, and shimmied to the music. Wahid’s gaze slid along the seats.

Ten seconds later he was gone.

Fila fought back the nausea that swept over her in waves. Saved by music. Saved by laughter.

She was home.

The one flaw
in Rose’s plan was a lack of electricity. She needed somewhere to plug in her power saw and Carl Whitfield’s woods didn’t come with an outlet. She couldn’t work at Emory’s place, either, for obvious reasons, so she took a chance and headed for the Cruz ranch, phoning Autumn from her truck. As she’d expected, Autumn welcomed her right over, and when she pulled up in front of the Big House, she met her on the front porch.

“Tell me about this project of yours,” Autumn said, craning her neck to see the lumber in the back of Rose’s truck.

“It’s a secret. It’s really important you don’t tell anyone else.”

“A secret, huh? Sounds exciting.”

“It is,” Rose confessed. “I need a place to paint, somewhere accessible only to me. I’ve thought it through and decided to build it from scratch.”

Autumn raised her eyebrows. “Why don’t you paint at home? I thought you had a studio in the carriage house.”

“It’s a long story, and it probably wouldn’t make sense if I told you,” Rose said, knowing you had to live with Emory to understand what he was capable of. “I appreciate you letting me cut some boards here.”

“Where will you build the studio?”

Rose bit her lip and shook her head.

Autumn’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Really? Not even Ethan?”

Autumn had the grace to look abashed. “I guess you’re right, you’d better not tell me. Is it somewhere safe?”

Rose thought of Cab ensconced in Carl’s house right next to the woods. “Yes, I think so.”

“Okay, but you know how this town is. It won’t stay secret for long.”

Autumn was probably right, but she hoped it would stay secret for a few months, long enough for her to reconfigure her life. By then she’d have a new plan and maybe she wouldn’t need to be secretive anymore.

“I don’t know why you aren’t in art school, anyway,” Autumn said. “And why aren’t you exhibiting the work you’ve already done? You could definitely sell more paintings. I love the one of yours we have in the living room.”

Rose liked it, too. It was one of her best; a fall landscape, all oranges and browns, with a herd of cattle in the distance.

“You’re the only one who wonders that,” Rose told her. “My parents think it’s a waste of money and Jason thinks it’s downright ridiculous.”

Autumn pressed her lips together. “Your family should support your dream, but if they don’t you have to support it on your own.”

“I guess that’s what I’m trying to do. I don’t have the money for art school, but I do have enough to build a cabin art studio. At least I’ll get to paint in peace.”

“That’s a good first step. You’d better build fast, though. It’s going to snow any day now.”

“I’ll get started right now,” Rose said. She hugged Autumn. “Thanks—you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Just invite me over someday when you get sick of being alone,” Autumn said. “Sometimes I need to get away, too.”

“I will,” Rose said. “First, I need to cut a bunch of boards. Do you have an outside power outlet? I have a battery operated drill, but my saw needs power.”

“No problem,” Autumn said. “Why don’t you come inside for a minute first, though, and I’ll make you a cup of cocoa. That will keep you warm while you work.” She led the way inside the house. When they entered the great room, however, Rose wished she’d stayed outside. She’d mistakenly thought no one would be around at this time in the day, but Ethan, Jamie, Rob and Cab had just entered through the back door, and were taking seats around the dining room table. Her heart zinged when she saw Cab, but then it sank. Four men to get interested in her project. Four men to try to supervise her and tell her what to do.

Was there any such thing as a battery operated power saw? If only she could hide in the woods while she built her tiny cabin.

Rose hesitated in the entryway, but didn’t see how she could escape notice. Sure enough, Autumn said to Ethan, “Rose is going to saw up some boards outside after we have a cup of cocoa. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Fire away,” Ethan said affably. “I’ll come and help you set up.”

“That’s all right, I don’t need any help,” Rose said, following Autumn into the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Rose clamped her mouth shut to block the words fighting to pour out. She didn’t want help. She wanted the space to do something on her own, for once. Her way. Was that so hard to understand?

“What are you building?” Cab asked.

She noticed the glances the others shot her way. She didn’t want to answer the question. In fact, she was beginning to think coming here at all was a huge mistake. “A kind of shed,” she said finally, shooting a frown toward Autumn.

Autumn’s brows went up at the lie, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she went behind the kitchen counter and got to work on the cocoa.

“What kind of shed?” Cab asked.

“A shed shed.”

“Ah.” Cab didn’t press her further, but she could tell he was thinking hard. In fact, a second later, he drew a pencil and small pad of paper out of his shirt pocket and started sketching. “What size were you thinking?” he asked. “Eight by ten?”

Her fingers spasmed but she stopped herself before they formed fists. Was he going to draw her a blueprint?

“Not quite so big,” she said. “But I’ve already got plans.”

He didn’t even glance up. “I’d put a window here,” he said, sketching rapidly. “South facing, to get a lot of light. You’ll lose some storage space, but it’ll make the building far more usable.”

“I already have plans,” she repeated.

Rob bent over Cab’s drawing. “You’ll want some shelves there for your smaller tools. Maybe a pegboard, too,” he said, pointing. “Are you going to run water to the place, Rosie? Like for a potting shed?”

A familiar paralysis stole over Rose. This was just the way she felt when Emory barged in and started cleaning the carriage house. This was her cabin they were talking about—her getaway place—so why were Cab and Rob designing it? And why couldn’t she stop them?

Because she couldn’t do so without being rude—without hurting their feelings. And she always put men’s feelings ahead of hers. She couldn’t stop Emory, couldn’t break the lease on the carriage house, couldn’t tell Jason she wanted to go to art school… couldn’t split up with him.

The truth of the matter hit her like a two-by-four to her forehead; she lived her whole life in fear of stepping on anyone’s toes. But the more she pulled herself back and tried to make everyone happy, the closer they all crowded in and until she had no space for herself.

Hence the need for a cabin in the first place.

The cabin now being overtaken by the men.

“I’ve got to go get started,” she squeaked and fled the room. As she shrugged on her jacket and boots she was aware of the silence she’d left behind her. She bolted out the front door and over to her truck where she briefly considered hopping in and driving away.

No. She needed that cabin and once it was built everyone would leave her alone. She only had to put up with a little more interference while she cut the boards. As long as she stuck to her guns, she’d get what she wanted.

By the time the door opened behind her, she’d hauled her circular saw out of the truck bed, along with some lumber. She had a sheet of paper that listed all the lengths she needed to cut. She’d planned everything down to the last board. Hopefully once she was finished here she wouldn’t have to come back.

“Are you okay?” Cab asked, coming up behind her as she set up her newly-purchased sawhorses near the Big House’s outside plug.

“Sure,” she said.

“You left a little abruptly.”

He wasn’t going to let it go, was he? She turned around. “Look, it’s nice that you guys want to help, but I want to do this alone. That’s the whole point.” Cab was silent, but his gaze was on the sawhorses. “What?”

“The cord of that saw isn’t going to reach the outlet. Ethan’s got an extension cord. Want me to get it? He’s got a table saw, too. It’ll do a better job for you than that one.”

Rose counted to five.
He’s only trying to help
, she told herself. “Why?”

“With a table saw you can line up the cut and you have something to guide the wood against. That circular saw requires you to cut freehand. You probably won’t make the cuts as straight as you’d like.”

Really? She hadn’t known that.

“It’ll only take me a minute to get them,” Cab said.

“Okay,” she said and knew she’d been beaten again.

Cab walked to Ethan’s workshop
with a light step. He’d worried for a minute there he’d gotten on Rose’s nerves with his attempt to design the shed, but now that he’d prevented her from using the wrong saw things were back on track. He’d show her his design a little later, when she realized how much he knew about woodworking. He was glad he had the afternoon off. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than doing a project with Rose.

Building a shed together. It wasn’t quite the same as building a house, but it was similar. Maybe she’d come to see he was a better partner for her than Jason…

Whoa, time to pull back on that train of thought. He wasn’t trying to undermine Jason. He was only being a good friend. A friend who was somewhat concerned about the idea Rose was building a shed at all. He wondered exactly where she planned to put it. If she was building on Emory’s lot, that meant she expected to stay there a long time. Which meant she had no plans to leave Jason.

Ten minutes later, he set up the table saw, plugged it into the extension cord and turned to Rose. “Okay, what’s first?”

She frowned. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.”

“Just hand me a board and tell me the dimensions you need. I’ll make the cuts for you.” He held out his hand.

“No,” she said, sounding annoyed. “I’ll do it.” She pulled a piece of notepaper out of her pocket, consulted it, put it back and grabbed a two-by-four out of the pile. Cab stepped back as she approached the saw.

“Do you know how it works?” he said, coming up behind her once he’d avoided getting clipped by the board.

“I can figure it out.”

“You’d better mark your cut first. Here’s a tape measure.” He pulled it out of his coat pocket. Lucky he’d thought to grab it from Ethan’s workroom.

“I’ve got one.” She produced a much smaller tape measure from her own pocket. She put the board on the ground, knelt down beside it and made the measurement.

“Remember the saw blade actually takes off a little of the wood as it cuts. You want to set the blade to the side of the mark,” he said.

Rose dropped the tape measure and pencil and stood up. “I know how to measure and cut a board.”

Cab straightened from where he’d been bent over her to watch. “Well, sure, but…”

“But what?” She faced him straight on.

Was she mad at him? What did he do? “The measurements can get thrown off by the way you cut,” he explained.

She didn’t say anything.

“I don’t mind looking over your design,” he offered, uneasy at her silence. “I’ve got some experience with this kind of thing and I can point out your mistakes.” A funny look came into her eyes and Cab had the feeling he should probably stop, but he just wanted to get this next bit out. “And it doesn’t seem like you’ve thought about your foundation at all. That’s probably the most important part. Did you think about a foundation?”

“Get out,” Rose said.

“What?”

“Get. Out. Of. Here.” She glared at him. “I mean it. Get out!”

Ethan, Jamie and Rob came around the side of the house, drawn by her shout. “Is everything okay here?” Ethan asked. “Cab, what’s going on?”

“For God’s sake, would you all just leave me alone?” Rose stuck her hands on her hips. The four men stared at her.

“I’m not sure,” Cab answered Ethan. “I was helping her…”

“I don’t want any help!” Rose cried. “I mean…” She visibly fought for control. “Thank you, Cab, very much, but please—I’d like to do this on my own.”

“Is that my saw?” Ethan asked, coming closer. Jamie and Rob faded back around the side of the house.

Rose flashed a desperate look at Cab.

“I told her she could use it,” Cab hastened to say.

“That’s fine,” Ethan assured him. “Rose, let me just show you a few things.” He came around and picked up the two-by-four Rose had marked minutes before. He turned on the saw and positioned the board. “You hold it like this,” he said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the din of the motor. “Guide the wood but don’t push it, otherwise you’ll burn out the blade.”

Cab stood by, burning with impatience as Ethan showed Rose everything he’d wanted to tell her. Why had she flown at him like that? And why wasn’t she doing the same to Ethan? Judging by the look on her face she’d like to, although she was keeping her thoughts tightly under wraps now. When he was done with the first one, Ethan went on to cut more boards, and although Rose pressed her lips into a thin line so hard the skin around them went white, she didn’t say a word. When she wasn’t marking the measurements on the boards, or handing them silently to Ethan to cut, she kept balling her fingers into fists. Delicate fists.