Lauri Robinson – The Sheriff's Last Gamble (страница 2)

Jake caught her arm, and though the heat of his touch had her toes curling, fury flashed in his mahogany-brown eyes.

“Gambling’s a dangerous game, Stacy. You’re going to get yourself shot.”

His concern was genuine, and that warmed her heart, but not even Jake McCrery would stop her from playing. “I’ve played in far worse places than Founder’s Creek.”

“Then go there to play.”

An unreadable poker face was one of her most prized accomplishments, but keeping it on right now was a struggle. Not only did Jake sound exasperated, he said the words like he meant them. Wrenching her arm from his hold, she started up the street. Anger snapped inside her, but more painful was the possibility he wanted her to leave. “I can’t,” she said.

“How much more do you need, Stacy?” he asked, keeping up with her quick pace. “You’ve won every dollar anyone had to lose. You own the biggest house in town, four businesses, and give out more loans than the bank.”

What he said was true and required no comment from her. Not even to point out it was five businesses. She’d won the livery three days ago off Ratcliff. He’d snookered it from Ted Holmes in a game of three-card monte, something she couldn’t let be. The Holmeses had six children and needed the livery to keep them fed and clothed.

“What more can you want?” Jake, still sounding frustrated, waved a hand toward the buildings neatly laid out in front of them. “The entire town knows Edward Blackwell is your father, not your uncle.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks. Her stomach had burned all morning, and unable to think of anything else she’d needed a distraction, which was precisely why she’d gone to Ma Belle’s—but seeing her necklace had inched her annoyance up several notches.

Fighting to keep her face expressionless, she eyed Jake from his boots to his hat. Of course his clothing, a black shirt tucked neatly into tan pants, fit him like the hide on his dandy horse, and told her absolutely nothing about what he’d done out at her family’s residence.

Nearly incensed out of her mind, she spun around and started walking again. Holding her temper , and not imagining him and Emma sitting in the parlor whispering silly things to each other, was next to impossible. But she did it. She even went so far as to ask, “Tell me, Jake, how are Edward’s cows today?”

“That’s just plain rude,” he snapped.

Stacy stopped again, turned to where he still stood a few steps behind her. Drawing on every ability she possessed to appear innocent, she tugged her brows together. “Why would you say that? Uncle Edward has several head of cattle.”

Jake lifted one of his dark brows.

Gambling was a form of acting, and she was a proficient gambler, therefore an accomplished actress. Creating a smile took a considerable amount of effort with her teeth clenched so, but she managed. “Did you think I was referring to Uncle Edward’s daughters? Shame on you.”

* * *

If there had ever been a woman Jake McCrery wanted to turn over his knee it was Stacy Blackwell. She’d turned the peaceful town of Founder’s Creek upside down and inside out since the moment she’d hit town, making his job, and life, a nightmare.

Stepping forward until their noses practically touched, and unable to refrain from cursing, Jake growled, “Damn it, Stacy, you know you were referring to Edward’s daughters. Your sisters.”

“Half sisters,” she insisted with something as close to hatred as he’d ever seen flashing in her sky-blue eyes.

No one could hide their emotions like this woman could, and that flash, no matter how brief, softened his heart several degrees. “Stacy,” he said, taking her arm.

She pulled it away. “Forgive me, Sheriff, I momentarily forgot you’re engaged to one of those girls.” Spinning on one high-heeled boot, she started up the street again, skirt swaying and parasol bobbing.

Chapter Two

After two hours of fighting off Emma Blackwell, the last thing Jake needed was a confrontation with this little hotheaded gambler, yet, he had no choice. Actually, if he was as honest as he claimed to be, he’d confess that sparring with Stacy sparked fire inside him. Then, if he admitted that, he’d have to come clean on the fact he was glad she’d came to town when she had—before he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

Catching up with the little stick of dynamite on heels, he grasped one elbow, propelling her down the roadway. “I’m not engaged to Emma and you know it.”

Stacy tugged at his hold, but without enough effort to break it. “That’s not the way she puts it.” Casting him a stare that was blank, except for a tiny twinkle, she added, “So you’re just in the courting stage, are you?”

“No, I’m not, we’re not—” Damn, she flustered him. “No,” he said sternly starting over. “I am not courting Emma Blackwell. Never have been and never will be.”

Chin up, eyes staring straight ahead, she continued to march beside him. “You oughta tell Emma that.”

“I have,” he insisted.

A puffed-up laugh sounded as she twirled her parasol and looked at him with an insolent grin. “She’s a little dim-witted, is she?”

Sliced right down the middle, Jake held his lips tight together. Half of him wanted to paddle her bottom soundly for being so snippety. It wasn’t becoming. On most women, that is. That’s where the other half of him came in, wanting to chuckle and agree Emma was a bit dim-witted.

Charming, in her own self-imposed little way, Stacy Blackwell made even being snippety adorable. Too adorable. To the point he forgot she was a gambler. A woman gambler. The one thing he could never accept in his life.

“Cat got your tongue, Sheriff?” she asked sweetly.

Planting a grin on his face as false as the one on hers, he increased his pace, pulling her along beside him. “No, I just don’t want the entire town listening while I box your ears for being so bad mannered and boorish about your own sisters.”

“Half sisters,” she admonished. “And I was only referring to one of them. I find nothing appalling about Anne Marie.”

“As you shouldn’t,” he remarked, guiding her step onto the boardwalk in front of his office. “She’s only fifteen.”

Closing her parasol so the edges wouldn’t catch on the doorway, she nodded. “And the poor dear can’t help who her sister is.”

Jake let that one slide as he pushed open the door and waited for her to cross the threshold. Once inside, he removed his hat, hung it on the nearby hook and gestured to his deputy who barely raised his head from the checkerboard atop an upturned barrel. “See to Shotgun, will you, Herman?” The palomino had followed them through town and now stood at the hitching post outside.

The only man Jake had ever met who could play checkers, every day, all day long, grinned brightly as he caught sight of Stacy.

“Sure thing, boss,” Herman said. “You want him settled in the livery?”

“That’s fine,” Jake replied, wishing the old coot were ten years younger and a whole lot faster. To be fair, Herman was a good man and made a fine deputy for the small amount of law work Founder’s Creek required.

Pausing near Stacy in his slow trek to the door, Herman said, “Make sure he doesn’t fiddle with my checkers. I’m about to win.”

The smile on her face could have brought down angels. May have, the way Herman’s face lit up.

“Don’t worry, Herman,” she said sweetly. “I’ll watch over your board.”

“Thanks, Miss Stacy,” the old man drawled, worship almost oozing from the words. “You sure are a darling.”

Jake wanted to squeeze his head at the tension growing between his ears. Even more so when Stacy patted Herman’s cheek.

“As are you, Mr. Watson.” She leaned closer then to whisper, “Miss Ruby has peach pie at the diner today.”

Herman gasped. “No?”

Stacy nodded.

“I’ll be gone a spell, boss,” his deputy said, roughing up his voice and hitching up his britches.

“That’s fine,” Jake answered. “Just don’t forget Shotgun.”

“I won’t,” Herman replied, now all but skipping out the door.

When the door shut with a soft thud that would have been insignificant in most cases, Jake had to draw a breath. The air in the room had taken on a life of its own, as it normally did when he found himself alone with Stacy. This little poker player was a very attractive woman and had a unique quality about her that drew men faster than the discovery of gold. Jake wasn’t immune to it, and that flustered him, yet when he was alone with her, like now, it wasn’t frustration that came to life inside him. He wanted her as he’d never wanted anything in his life.

She’d moved, now standing over Herman’s checkerboard, examining it thoroughly. When she repositioned a checker, Jake unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What are you doing?”

A glow lit her face. “Making it so he does win.”

Jake couldn’t help but point out, “He’s playing against himself.”

“So?” With a little shrug she added, “He still wants to win.”

“He’s the only one playing, he wins no…” Jake cut himself off with a sigh, knowing it was useless by the smug little grin on her face. He sat then, on the corner of his desk, and watched as she roamed the room, swiping a hand across things and then looking at her fingertips as if she were a dust inspector.