Almost Heaven (2 page)

She studied him and the jack he was carrying and the nearly flat tire. “Fine. Thank you. The horses—”

“Will be fine. I've done this before.”

“Okay.”

She didn't sound happy, but Cameron bet that she'd let him do it. He wasn't about to budge, he'd been waiting for this chance forever, that's what it felt like.
If he had a choice, then he'd want her to stay and watch so they could talk while he worked.

He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't hang around. She kept her distance from men, not just him, and with good reason.

He felt her sadness every time he was around her. Now maybe he was imagining it, because he'd been there to arrest Jerrod Melcher, and he saw how bad she'd been hurt. That was likely to make any woman wary about men for a long time.

It was understandable.

As he watched her cross the road, jaywalking, heading straight to her family's coffee shop, a streak of pain jabbed through his heart. A widower was used to feeling a certain amount of pain down deep, but this was something different. Something that felt a lot like longing.

One thing was for sure. When Kendra looked at him, she didn't feel any positive emotion. Not a chance. When she looked at him she remembered that night. He could feel that, too.

Perhaps he should just leave her alone. Ask Sally at the Long Horn Stables for help instead.

Frustrated, he got to work.

 

It was
her
trailer, she ought to be dealing with it. But that stubborn sheriff had refused to leave, so what was she going to do? Stand there and make small talk? She didn't need his help and she was getting it any
way. It ate at her as the bell over the coffee shop's door jangled.

The welcome breeze from the air-conditioning skimmed over her, but it didn't cool her anger. Men were bossy, every one of them. Who did the sheriff think he was that he could just do what he wanted to her trailer?

Face it, you appreciate that he's helping.

Sure, but it still bugged her. She was hot, exhausted, and dealing with a flat tire in over hundred-degree weather would have put her over the edge. Well, at least close to it.

Because of Cameron, she was able to rest for a few minutes instead of dealing with one more disaster in a doom-filled day. She didn't want to be grateful to him. But she was.

See why it was a good idea to stay far away from men? Even the nice ones?

“Kendra? You look too hot, are you all right?” Gramma sat at the far end of the otherwise empty room, behind one of the cloth-covered tables. Ignoring her spread of papers and her open laptop, she examined Kendra over the lines in her bifocals. “Something
is
wrong. Why are you back so soon?”

“I'm fine and it's past closing time.” Kendra flicked off the neon sign and turned the Open sign in the window to Closed. “How long have you been in here slaving over the bookkeeping?”

“Goodness, let me see.” She checked her gold wristwatch. “For much longer than I thought!”

“You lose track of time when you're doing the books. I do the same thing.”

“I suppose so!” Gramma took off her glasses and wiped them on the corner hem of her stylish summer blouse. “I've lost two dollars and seventy cents I can't find anywhere. I'd just finish the deposit and say, forget it. But it'll be all I think about when I get home. Come, dear, sit down. You look as though you've got too much sun.”

“No need to fuss, I'm fine. I'm going to raid the kitchen and pray there are some leftovers in the fridge. I'm too beat to cook when I get home.”

“I knew it. You work too hard, sweetie. You can't work every minute of every day.”

“I take a few minutes off now and then.”

“Don't sass me, young lady. You've been skipping meals.”

“Not intentionally.”

Kendra ducked into the kitchen to avoid the lecture. She knew what was coming when Gramma got started. She loved her grandmother within an inch of her life, but how Gramma fussed! Kendra yanked open the industrial refrigerator and studied the contents. Jackpot!

Gramma's sandals tapped on the floor, announcing her approach to the kitchen.

“I can do it myself.” Kendra pulled a bowl of chicken salad from the top shelf. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich, too?”

“Me? You're the one needing to eat. Give me that. Where's the mayonnaise?”

“I said I'd do it and I meant it.” Kendra wrapped her grandmother into a hug and breathed in the honeysuckle sweetness of her perfume. “You've had a long day, and you don't need to make it longer by doing one single thing for me. You work too much.”

“I've got good help. The girls I've hired this summer have been a real blessing. There's the macaroni salad you like in the bottom shelf. No, let me get it.”

Kendra snatched the big stainless-steel bowl from the shelf. “Out. Go back to your table. Shoo!”

“Nice try, but I wrote the book on bossy.” Gramma dug through the pantry and came up with a wrapped loaf of homemade bread. “We'll both fix us something to eat while you tell me about your new horses.”

“You're a tricky woman, Gramma.”

“Thanks, dear, I try. Hand me the serrated knife.”

Kendra did as she was asked and found two plates while she was digging through the dishwasher. “I won the bid for the prettiest mustangs I've gotten yet. One is as wild and mean as a bull, but the others have potential.”

“You bought a mean horse?” Gramma's disapproval wreathed her soft, lovely face, as she cut thick slices of wheat-nut bread. “Is that safe?”

“He's a stallion.”

“I don't like the sound of that! Not at all. Boarding and training horses is one thing. But a stallion? How will you handle him? And he's wild, to boot!”

“I have a little tiny eensy-beensy bit of experience with horses, remember?” Kendra twisted open the jar of mayo. “I've been riding since before I could walk.”

“I didn't approve of that, either, the way your father would put you and your sisters on the backs of horses when you were nothing but toddlers!” Gramma's eyes twinkled, though. “He must be a good-looking horse, if you bought him.”

“He's a beauty. Bright chestnut coat. Perfect white socks. A long black mane and tail. And his lines…he's got some Arabian in him.” Kendra sighed. “Of course, he gives new meaning to the word
wild.
I'm sure I can tame him, so don't start worrying. I haven't been killed by a horse yet.”

“Heavens, I should hope not! You
do
have a way with them. I don't doubt that.” Gramma bit her lip as she layered meat mixture and cheese on a slice of bread. As if she were thinking better of saying anything more.

Kendra whipped the knife from her grandmother's hand. “You go sit down. I'll finish this up and bring you a cup of iced tea to the table. Go. Away with you.”

“You're getting just as bossy as me. I like that.” Planting a kiss on Kendra's cheek, she left the kitchen without further complaint.

That wasn't like Gramma at all, but Kendra was too exhausted to dwell on it. She put away the sandwich makings, grabbed two bottles of iced tea from the
case, shouldered through the swinging doors and into the silent shop.

With the wide bank of windows along the end wall, she had a perfect view of Cameron. He was rolling the tire across the street, apparently whistling as he went, looking like a hero in his navy-blue uniform.

“That Durango boy's helpin' you out, I see,” Gramma commented as she tapped keys on her computer. “Funny that you'd let a man do something like that for you.”

“Don't go reading something into it that's not there.”

“Is something there?”

How many times had they discussed this? “I'm not going to get married, you know. Ever. So don't start getting your hopes up. The truth is, I'm so tired I can barely pick up my feet and Cameron offered to help me. He helps with this kind of thing all the time.”

“Which kind of thing would that be? A tire low on air? Or helping a very pretty eligible woman?” Gramma's eyes twinkled as if she knew something Kendra didn't.

“If you're going to torture me about this, I'm taking my food and I'm leaving.” Kendra said it lightly, but she meant it.

The impenetrable titanium walls around her heart were sealed shut. They were going to stay locked tight. “I'm not interested in Cameron.”

“Then why, sweetie, is he fixing that tire for you?”

“Because he's a sheriff and I had a long day in the hot sun and no lunch.”

She took a big bite of her sandwich to prove it.

“Fine. All right. I believe you.” She held up her hands helplessly. “You can't blame a poor grandmother for hoping.”

“Oh, yes I can!”

“Only three of my granddaughters are married and have given me perfect grandchildren. There's no crime in wanting more. Marge's youngest girl married just last year and had a new baby boy last week. That makes for four grandchildren for her. I've got to keep up.”

Kendra rolled her eyes, her mouth too full to speak. What was the point? As if Gramma listened anyway. She had her definite opinions and nothing short of laser fire was going to change her mind.

“Cameron is certainly a good man, isn't he? He's so nice and courteous. Everyone raves on about what a fine sheriff he's been.”

“Yes, I'm sure he'll be reelected. Now, can we change the subject?”

“Look how handsome he is in his uniform. I have a weakness for men in uniforms myself. The first time I saw your grandfather in his dress blues…it does make a girl feel safe, doesn't it?”

“Stop.” Laughter escaped anyway. How could she be mad at her grandmother who so obviously loved the idea of marriage and happily-ever-afters?

But it wasn't for everyone. It even said so in the
Bible. God chose different paths for everyone and some women were meant to be married and mothers.

She wasn't. It hurt, but there wasn't anything she could do to change the direction her life had taken.

It wasn't as if she were alone.

Look at the blessings the good Lord had placed in her life. Her grandmother, her parents, her sisters, her friends and her horses. How many people actually got to do what they loved for a living? She'd always wanted her own riding stable, and that's what she had. She wasn't going to complain about her life. Not now. Not ever.

“Oh, where are the books off? This is the most aggravating thing on earth. Who invented bookkeeping, anyway? Whoever he is, he's a very bad man.” Gramma's frustration was good-natured as she held up her hand and gave the computer a death-ray glare. “I should just quit, but it'll keep bothering me if I do.”

“You're just tired. Let me take a peek.” Kendra pulled the ledger so it faced her. “It's probably just a transposition.”

“You are simply a wonder, my dear. Thank you.”

As she ate, Kendra squinted at the numbers and tried to make her eyes focus. Minutes ticked by as she studied the long row of numbers and paired them against the deposit slip. It had to be a coincidence that she'd chosen a seat that faced the windows, right? She wouldn't pick this spot on purpose because she had a perfect view of Cameron Durango kneeling in the hot
sun, working alongside Zach, her brother-in-law, who must have come over to help.

He may be handsome and kind and dependable, sure, but the steel doors around her heart stayed locked.

“Where are the checks?” Kendra tore her gaze from the window and noticed her grandmother's eyes were sparkling, as if she'd noticed where Kendra's gaze kept straying. “Oh, I get it. You think I'm interested in the sheriff.”

“Oh, no. Of course not.” She was the perfect face of innocent grandmotherly denial. “I was just thinking what a blessing it is that God sends us what we need when we need it most.”

“And that cryptic comment means…”

“Oh, nothing about Cameron coming to help you when you needed it, of course. Heavens, no! I was referring to you walking through the door when I was ready to give up in frustration. The checks are here, in the bank bag.”

Kendra waited while her grandmother slid the small dark bag across the table. Liar. Whether Gramma admitted it or not,
she
wasn't fooled one bit.

Why argue about it? There was no point. Her grandmother would come to understand in time and to accept Kendra's choices in life.

Cameron Durango, no matter how striking and protective and capable he looked in his uniform, would never be one of her choices.

Why did that make her sad? She decided her bar
ricades were weakening, probably because she was still so tired and hungry.

See? A girl needed to keep up her strength so she wasn't susceptible to random, pointless emotions. It
was
pointless to feel sad about what could never be made right.

She bit into the second half of her sandwich and went to work comparing the thick pile of checks against the deposit slip.

“H
ere's your problem, Gramma. It's right here. You've transposed a check amount on the deposit slip.” Kendra grabbed the nearby pen and made the corrections. “There. That should do it.”

“Wonderful! My dear, what would I have done without you?”

“You'd have found it without my help. I—”

The bell above the door jingled.

Cameron. She didn't need to turn around to know it was him. She
felt
his presence as surely as the current of August heat radiating through the opened door.

Why was she so aware of this man she hardly knew, as if he'd reached out and laid his hand on her arm? It was odd. She'd never felt this before with him or with anyone.

The door clicked shut, and he stood in the direct blast of the air-conditioning vent. Hat off, eyes closed,
his head tilted back in appreciation. He seemed to be enjoying the icy draft as it ruffled his short, dark hair.

“That sure cooled me down.” He clutched his hat in his big, capable hands. There was a streak of grease across the backs of his broad knuckles. “Good afternoon, Helen.”

“Sheriff.” Gramma's pleasure warmed her voice. “It's good to see you. Come in and cool down. Kendra will get you something to drink.”

“Oh, I will?”

Leave it to her grandmother to try to matchmake. As if it would do any good. And poor Cameron. He was struggling to be elected, and he had to be
desperate
if he wanted to change her tire in this heat. He shouldn't have to keel over from heat stroke because of it.

The chair groaned in the joints as she stood, although it could have been her knees, but she didn't want to think about the creaks in her joints since she'd turned thirty. Her tennies squeaked on the clean floor as she put as much distance between her and Cameron as she could.

“Iced tea or soda?”

“One of those flavored teas would do just fine.” Cameron followed her, as if he wasn't about to let her escape until he had her vote. Surely that's what this was all about.

She wasn't so sure when she turned around, with the cool metal handle in hand, and didn't notice the icy draft from the refrigeration unit. He was behind
her, and this time she didn't tremble. She fizzed, like those carbonated bubbles in a glass of cola. She felt bubbly down deep in her soul.

“Lemon-flavored, if you've got it.” His voice came warm, deep and as inviting as ever.

The bubbles inside her fizzed upward and she felt lighter than air. As if her soul turned upside down and wasn't sad anymore. How wrong was that? Get a grip, girl.

She handed him the squat bottle. “Anything else?”

“This is all I need.” He didn't move away as he covered the mouth of the bottle with his wide palm and twisted the cap. “Zach lent a hand, too, so we did double-time getting it done. You're all set.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

“Cameron. I've loosened your lug nuts, I think we ought to be on a first-name basis.”

“Aren't you funny?”

“I try to be. I get that way when I'm sugar-deprived.”

“I can take a hint. You want more of a reward for a job well done? My vote isn't enough.”

“I could use a snack.”

Was it her imagination, or was he trying to be charming? “Does the town council know what you're up to?”

“Why? I'm doing nothing wrong. Every cop has the civil right to doughnuts. Or those amazing chocolate cookies your grandmother makes if you happen
to have any lying around taking up too much space on your shelves.”

He was definitely trying to be nice. It was hard to shoot down a man complimenting Gramma's baking. Maybe that was one way to win elections. What did she know about politics?

“It's your lucky day.” Kendra spied two chocolate cookies left over from the day's sales, looking lonely on the pastry shelf below the hand-off counter. “Could you do us a favor and take them off our hands?”

“I reckon I could try. Helping the lovely ladies of this town is my beholden duty.”

He sure
must
want to be reelected, since he was trying so hard. As if he had any real competition anyway. From what everyone said, he'd been one of the best sheriffs the town had ever had. She grabbed the two cookies with a slice of waxed paper and handed them over.

He had a nice smile. Not flashy or too wide, but honest and easy. Sincere. “My stomach thanks you. Helen, every time I see you zipping around in that little red convertible of yours, I think I've got to get me one of those.”

“Nah, you're too stodgy, young man.” Gramma teased as she zipped up the bank's deposit bag. “You're better off in that sensible SUV you drive.”

“You're making me sound middle-aged, Helen. I don't appreciate that.”

“It's not my fault you're stuffy.” Laughing, Gramma
slipped the laptop into her shoulder bag and, clutching the deposit, she headed for the door. Much faster than usual.

“Gramma, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“The bank.”

“It's already closed.”

As if she'd temporarily gone deaf, Gramma didn't answer, just smiled sweetly as she backed through the doorway. “You keep up the good work, young man. It's reassuring to see a man who knows responsibility.”

Her grandmother tossed Kendra a knowing wink before snapping the door shut with a final jangle of the bell. That matchmaker!

“What was that about?” Cameron looked puzzled, which proved he couldn't be the best detective.

“It wasn't obvious? My other sisters are married off and providing her with grandchildren, so she's trying to find me a husband, I guess. Sorry about that.” Kendra rolled her eyes as she grabbed her half-full bottle from the table.

“Hey, I understand. My grandmother is the same way. She asked me for years every time I saw her, which was every Sunday for church, why I couldn't find a nice girl and settle down.” He ambled toward the door, talking conversationally.

The good-natured banter lifted a weight from her shoulders. Cameron was no threat. He was simply making conversation. He'd treated Gramma the same exact way.

More at ease, she followed him and dug in her shorts pocket for her keys. “So, how did you handle your grandmother?”

“I informed her that if I could find a nice girl, then I would marry her. The problem is finding a woman who's interested in
me.
”

“Sure, I can see why that's a problem.” Dependable man, handsome and fit and went out of his way to help others. She locked up and tested the lock—sometimes it was tricky.

“Once she saw it from a prospective bride's viewpoint, she stopped bothering me. She wouldn't want to inflict any nice girl with a husband like me.”

“There's more to life than having a ring on your hand, that's for sure.”

Was it a lie if you wanted to mean what you said, even if it wasn't the truth? Kendra wondered as she loped down the steps and crossed the street.

“Sure,” he agreed, keeping stride with her.

Was it marriage she was against, or the fear of trusting a man that much?

They'd reached his cruiser. “You should be safe to drive home.”

“Thanks again, Cameron. You have a good evening.” She strode around the back of the trailer, jingling her keys in the palm of her hand as she went, blond hair blowing in a long silken ponytail behind her.

Cameron bit into a cookie as he waited by his cruiser to make sure she got on her way all right.
Chocolate broke apart in his mouth, as rich as cake and made richer with sweet chunks of milk chocolate.

It
almost
soothed away his disappointment as Kendra's truck engine rolled over with an easy hum. Taillights winked on and the right blinkers flashed. She eased out into the empty street leaving only tire marks and a hint of dust in the air.

That didn't bode too well, man. She was sure quick to get rid of him. Not that he'd come across as an intelligent future customer. No, he'd yakked on about his re-election when what he should have done was ask her about the boarding fees at her stable.

Seeking refuge inside the car, he started the engine and flicked the air-conditioning on high. Not even the second chocolate cookie made him feel better.

Maybe some things weren't meant to be. And if they were, then wouldn't the Lord present him with another chance?

He was upset, and it wasn't only about the questions he
didn't
ask Kendra. He'd fibbed when she'd asked how he'd handled his grandmother's desire for him to marry. His nana was a fine woman, a real lady, and she worried about him being alone.

The truth was, he'd lost his heart when he buried his wife. He'd lived in darkness ever since her passing. His grieving was done, but the loneliness remained.

He'd loved being married. If he could find a woman that filled him up like sunlight, that made him alive
again, well, wouldn't that be something? Did true love happen twice in a lifetime?

He'd leave that answer up to the Lord. In the meantime, his workday was done. There was nothing else to do but go home. He would face the lonely house and the silent kitchen as he did every night and make a tuna-fish sandwich for supper while he listened to the world news.

Alone.

 

Alone.
Finally.
Kendra collapsed on her secondhand couch and let the window unit pummel her with blessed, cold air. Her fat tabby cat meowed a weak protest from the top of the cushion, but his demand for more treats was the last one in a long list.

She'd done everything. The new horses were in the paddock, the stalls in the stables were cleaned, the horses fed and watered, the trailer hosed out. She'd returned messages, paid a few bills and checked on a pregnant mare.

The cat's meow was louder.

“Pounce, can you wait two minutes? Just two? I don't think I can move.”

Meow.

“The treats are on the other end table. I can't reach them from here.”

Apparently tired of her excuses, the twenty-pound orange tabby leaped off the top of the cushion and onto Kendra's stomach.

“Okay, I'll get the treats.” Laughing, she rubbed
the cat's head, as he purred. The shrill ring of the phone had her reaching for the cordless handset tossed in the mess on the coffee table. “This had better be good.”

“Ooh, it is!” It was her littlest sister Michelle, trembling with excitement. Not that Michelle was all that little now that she was grown-up and married. “We're all on our way to the hospital. Karen was admitted about thirty minutes ago.”

“She's having the baby?” Excitement must have reenergized her, because Kendra found the will to stand up, carrying Pounce as she crossed the room. “Did you need a ride or is your hubby there?”

“Brody's locking up right now… Oops, I gotta go. He's dragging me to the front door.” Michelle was laughing. “See you at the hospital!”

Another niece or nephew to welcome into their family! Kendra tossed the phone onto the cushions to worry about later. She was going to be an aunt—again. She had to hurry. She had to drive. She needed caffeine. Good thing she'd made a pitcher of sun tea yesterday.

A swift brush along her ankles reminded her of her primary mission. The cat led the way to the treat bag and his demanding meow left no doubt. He was annoyed with her.

“I know, that phone was more important than you. I'm sorry, buddy.” She gave him an extra treat, rubbed his head while he purred gratefully and made
the long journey of about seven steps into the small galley kitchen.

Okay, so she hadn't done
all
her chores today. Bypassing the counter of dirty dishes, she rummaged through the back of the cupboard until she found a clean cup, dumped some sugar in for good measure and went in search of her keys.

Where were they? The cat was no help, as he was settling on his cushion in front of the air conditioner and couldn't be bothered with lowly human dilemmas.

“Found 'em!” On the floor beneath her tennies. “Bye, Pounce!”

The cat managed a disdainful frown, which Kendra took to mean he'd miss her.

Twilight was creeping into the long shadows as she started her truck, but that didn't provide any relief from the heat. No. At least she wasn't towing a trailer, so she punched up the air-conditioning. The sinking sun blazed bright orange and magenta in her rear and side-view mirrors, tailing her as she headed to Bozeman.

The sun had set in a lavender hush by the time she pulled into the hospital parking lot, found an available space as close to the front doors as she could manage and climbed out into the coming darkness.

“Kendra, is that you?” A man's voice rumbled behind her.

Her keys tumbled through her fingers and crashed to the pavement at her feet. She recognized his
deep, warm baritone instantly. Smooth move, Kendra. “Cameron. What are you doing here?”

“Startling you. Here, let me.” He knelt and retrieved her keys.

It was gentlemanly of him. If he hadn't spoken first, she might not have realized it was him right off. She was used to seeing him in his navy-blue uniform. Tonight he wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, belted at his lean hips, and scuffed boots.

He straightened to his full six feet and held her key ring on the wide palm of his hand. “I've come to your rescue again.”

“I guess. If you hadn't come along when you did, I'd have been in a real dilemma, being unable to pick up my own keys.”

“See? Glad I could be of service.”

“And just what are you doing here anyway? Following me?”

“You'd have noticed in your rearview if I had. Nope, my pager went off halfway through my supper. Big wreck on the highway.”

She'd taken the back road to Bozeman, not the highway. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A tire blew out, and the driver was injured. It was the father of a family on their summer vacation.”