The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (6 page)

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jenkins.” His hand still in her grasp, she patted it and leaned forward. “You wouldn't mind keeping this between us, would you? I've never been in a jail before, you see, and I wanted to gain a better understanding of Shane's job.”

Claude nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I understand, Miss Ashworth. I'm aware of how sensitive to gossip our sheriff is.”

Beaming, she glanced at Shane, her expression one of satisfaction. He shook his head. The woman couldn't do anything the usual way, could she? He hoped Trevor Langston knew what he was getting himself into.

“Is there anything pressing you need help with, Claude?” he said.

“No, nothing important enough to take you away from this delightful young lady.” Releasing her hand with obvious reluctance, the banker grasped the door handle. “Will I see you at the church's nativity celebration on Friday evening, Miss Ashworth?”

“That's a question better directed to Shane.”

Claude pinned him with a suddenly steely gaze. “You are planning on escorting her, I hope.”

Shane hid a grimace. He made a point of avoiding these types of events. Singing about Christ's miraculous birth while confronted with the nativity magnified the hollowness inside him. All those church services he'd attended with the Ashworths, the sermons about eternal destination—what would he choose, heaven or hell?—would march through his mind, making peace impossible.

“If Allison wishes to attend, I'll make sure she's there.”

“That's what I wanted to hear.”

When he'd left, Allison turned to him with clasped hands. “What's the next stop on the grand tour? Your house?”

Chapter Six

A
llison was determined not to let Shane see her nervousness. This wasn't a romantic outing. He didn't wish for her company. He'd practically been ordered to escort her.

Descending the stairs, she gave her cranberry velvet skirts a little shake to adjust the stiff crinoline beneath. The bodice was constrictive, the long sleeves snug at the wrists, but the dress was one of her favorites. Shane turned from the mantel, his luminous gaze widening as he took in her appearance.

She ran her hand along the neat French braid trailing the middle of her back. “What? Is this not appropriate? Should I change?”

“No.” Stroking his whiskered jaw, he said, “You look... Christmassy.”

“Christmassy?” Like an ornament on a tree?

“Nice.” He cleared his throat. “You look nice.”

He turned his head away, giving her a chance to admire his dark suit. The midnight black hue made him seem more imposing than usual, but it also gave him a touch of city polish. His hair was neatly combed with a few stubborn locks falling over his forehead.

She moved closer to the fireplace, where the logs smoldered. “You don't look like a sheriff tonight.”

His lips curved into a smile, an actual smile, and Allison felt as if the floor beneath her feet trembled. His austere features assumed a masculine beauty that had her inching forward and desperately wanting to trace his lips with her fingertips.

Thankfully, his deep voice shattered the strange compulsion. “You're awfully preoccupied with my profession. Norfolk has an impressive police force.”

She made a dismissive gesture. “It's not the same. I know Tennessee isn't exactly the untamed West, but neither is it a sprawling metropolis. There are books written about men like you.”

He snorted. “My life is not a grand adventure.”

“You don't see it that way because, in your mind, you're simply doing your duty. To the people you help, you are that larger-than-life hero in the pages of a book.”

“I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree.” Running a finger beneath his collar, he tilted his head to the clock. “We'd better get going if you want to get there before the candle lighting begins.”

As he locked the door and led her into the nippy winter evening, she soaked in the vast expanse of twinkling stars. Twin lanterns hooked to either side of the wagon emitted a soft glow. “I'm sorry you were roped into taking me tonight. I know you'd rather be doing something else.”

“A few hours of Christmas carols won't kill me,” he drawled, assisting her up.

He climbed up on his side and, instead of taking his seat, reached into the wagon bed and brought out a thick, multicolored quilt. Unfolding the bundle, he bent over her and tucked it about her legs and lap. His face was near enough for her to feel the brush of his cool, minty breath across her cheek.

“Thank you, Shane,” she whispered, touched by his thoughtfulness.

The seat bounced a little when he lowered his large frame onto it. Seated this close beside him, she was aware of their variances in size and the fact he made her feel feminine and almost delicate.

With a nod, he issued quiet instructions to the horses. The wheels rolled over the rutted track. It was impossible not to bump into him. He shrugged off her apology. Allison glanced at his implacable profile, wishing he'd wrap his arm around her to hold her steady. Then she could snuggle into his side. But that would mean prolonged personal contact, which he didn't do. It would also indicate he felt at ease with her, that he felt affection for her, neither of which were true.

Focusing her attention on their passing surroundings—the forest on either side of the lane cloaked in mysterious shadows—she thought about her visit to his modest cabin. The one-room structure was so far removed from Ashworth House as to be laughable. Still, he took pride in his ownership. The wooden logs and chinking were in excellent condition, the puncheon floors and window glass clean of debris. What little furniture he had was of good quality. And while the single bed shoved against the wall and adorned with naught but a plain woolen blanket was a little desolate in her estimation, his home wasn't without personality.

Stacks of law journals and various periodicals had been visible on the small table beside the russet-colored cushioned chair. On a shelf near the fireplace, he'd stored a collection of games—dominoes, tabletop ninepins, chess. Years ago, during the afternoon hours after school, he and George could often be found in the estate's library playing checkers or some other board game. If the weather was nice, they'd engage in a game of kickball or football outdoors. Shane had possessed more aggression than actual skill in those physical games. Sometimes she would hide in the rose arbor and observe them, in awe of the almost frenzied energy coming off him.

“Do you still play football?”

He glanced over at her. “Mostly on holidays or special days when folks take a break from their usual chores.”

“Who do you spend holidays with?”

“The O'Malleys.”

Her curiosity about his relationship with them grew. “You're close to them, aren't you?”

“They're the closest thing to family I've got.”

She stiffened. Her hands braced on either side of her legs, she gripped the wood to avoid bumping into him again as the conveyance traveled around a bend and left the woods behind.

He heaved a sigh. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you and your family aren't important to me.”

Allison was grateful for the darkness. “There's no reason to deny the truth.” Could he detect the tiny wobble in her voice? “Your life is here. Has been for a long time.”

“Your father changed the course of my life. Without him, I'd be in jail or worse.”

“He loved you as if you were his own son.”

The silent accusation hung between them. Her father had given Shane a job and welcomed him into their home, but she'd seen no sign that the friendless, adrift young man ever fully lowered his guard with any of them.

He kneaded his nape for long moments. “He was the best of men.”

Emotion welled up inside. Some days the grief lay dormant, like a hibernating bear, and others it roared to life, reminding her of everything her father was missing. He would've liked to have seen how well his business was flourishing under George's leadership. He would've cherished being a grandfather.

“He would be proud of you, Shane.”

The faint lamplight allowed her to see his initial surprise and disbelief. Sorrow, and something akin to regret, surged in his blue eyes.

“I'd give anything to be able to talk to him again.” Where his hands rested atop his thighs, his gloves stretched tight across his knuckles. “I don't remember thanking him.”

Stunned by the raw admission, Allison reached over and squeezed his forearm. “My father was a wise man. He saw more than you realize.”

Shane's gaze returned to the lane. When he didn't acknowledge her gesture in any way, she removed her hand.

He nodded to the cluster of buildings comprising Main Street. “Almost there.”

Lamps shone in several of the windows. The white clapboard church was situated at one end of town. A golden glow lit up the night around it, allowing her a glimpse of the grand steeple soaring into the sky. Shane guided their wagon to the edge of the congested churchyard.

Their arrival didn't go unnoticed. A cluster of young men strolling past called out as Shane was helping her to the ground.

“Hey, Sheriff. Evening, paint lady.”

Allison stumbled. Shane's hands curved around her waist, preventing her from plowing into him. Bracing herself against his sturdy shoulders, she gaped at the retreating group.

“Did I hear that right?”

“Um, it appears you've earned yourself a nickname.”

She lifted her face to gaze up at him. He bit his lip to stop a smile.

“Paint lady?”

His heat radiated outward from where he still held her. It would be so easy to slide her hands up and around his neck...

“Could be worse.”

Awareness settled across his features as his gaze roamed her face, and his fingers flexed on her waist. Yearning, intense and demanding, curled through her.
Please don't let me go
, she silently implored.
Don't pull away.

“Here you two are. Glad to see you made it.”

Claude Jenkins's intrusion brought a grimace to Shane's face. Immediately, he put her away from him and turned to acknowledge the man and his wife. Behind the couple, a handsome man with wheat-colored hair, trim mustache and goatee and a penetrating blue gaze waited to speak to them.

Claude winked at her before leading his wife away. The stranger approached and clamped a hand on Shane's shoulder in a friendly manner, all the while studying her in the most unsettling way.

“Didn't expect to see you tonight. Is your lovely guest the reason you decided to join us ordinary revelers?”

Wearing a tolerant expression, Shane inclined his head her direction. “Josh O'Malley, meet Allison Ashworth.”

“One of the esteemed O'Malleys,” she quipped as he enveloped her hand in a firm shake. “Shane has spoken highly of your family.”

“Unfortunately, he's given us scant information about you. I'm here to rectify that.” Pulling her hand through the crook of his elbow, he winked down at her. “How about I introduce you to the rest of the clan and then you can tell us about yourself?”

“Don't trust him, Allison,” Shane drawled. “He's really after dirt that he can hold over me in the future.”

Josh's burst of laughter drew curious looks from passersby. “He knows me too well.”

She was enjoying this exchange too much to refuse. “I'd be happy to trade stories with you. As you might imagine, Shane hasn't been forthcoming about his life here. I'm particularly interested in his professional accomplishments.”

“It's a deal.” Josh's eyes gleamed.

He drew her closer to the church building. Shane trailed behind them, and she sensed the weight of his attention on her. Was he worried about what she might reveal? Or did he trust her judgment?

They paused at one of several long tables to procure mugs of fragrant apple cider. Cradling the large mug, she relished the warmth seeping through her gloves. Cognizant of the curiosity she aroused in the others, Allison wondered if it was due to her being an out-of-towner or her connection to their secretive sheriff.

Josh led her to a stand of gnarled trees that resembled pitiful broomsticks. Numerous adults chatted while kids dashed after one another, shrieking and giggling. At one edge of the gathering, a beautiful brunette waved them over, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Allison, allow me to introduce you to the love of my life.” Releasing Allison, Josh went and tugged the woman tight against his side. “My wife, Kate O'Malley.”

“It's nice to meet you, Allison.” Her smile was sincere. “There are quite a lot of us.” She wiggled her fingers at the group of men and women, adolescents and young children. “It can be a bit overwhelming at first.”

“As long as you don't expect me to remember everyone's names.”

Laughing, the couple drew her deeper into the fray. Shane remained on the group's edge, engaging in conversation with a striking-looking man with raven hair and an angry scar around his eye. She learned there were three brothers—Josh, Nathan and Caleb—and their cousins, five sisters who greeted her with curiosity. The most recently married, Jessica was the only one as yet without kids.

“You're the baker, right?” Allison addressed the redhead. “Shane was bragging about your talent.”

“Folks do seem to enjoy my baking.”

Her husband, Grant Parker, brushed a lock of her deep-red hair behind her shoulder. “She's being modest. Jessica's desserts are highly sought after around these parts.”

“My sister Jane is just as skilled.” Jessica indicated her identical twin sister, who was standing a couple of yards away with a tall, distinguished fellow. “She's busy with her kids and doesn't have time to bake as much as she used to.”

Allison had met only one other set of twins before, brothers in their midsixties who looked like mirror images of each other, much like Jessica and Jane. She tried to keep her fascination hidden.

“I confess to a weakness for sweets,” she said. “I will no doubt prove to be a loyal customer during my stay.”

The scarred man, who she'd learned was the youngest O'Malley brother, tugged a reluctant Shane to the middle of the group where she stood with Jessica and Grant.

“Interrogation time,” Caleb announced with a smirk. His brown-black eyes settled on her, and she felt sure she wouldn't want him for an enemy. “Miss Ashworth, will you kindly tell us the nature of your relationship with Shane Timmons?”

Josh tapped her shoulder. “The truth, please, Miss Ashworth, not the pat answer Shane's prepped you to give.”

Since Shane was standing beside her, she heard his slow exhale, sensed the flight-response of his body.

“I met Shane when I was twelve, and he was fourteen. He lived with me, my brother and father for many years.”

“This was in Virginia?” Kate said.

“Yes. Norfolk. My family has lived there for generations. My father, David Ashworth, built a successful business, which he bequeathed to my brother, George.”

“Allison works with George,” Shane inserted. “She oversees the hiring and termination process and ensures the employees have proper working conditions. In addition to all that, she's in charge of payroll.”

“I didn't realize my brother outlined my duties for you,” she said.

“George likes to talk business. You're part of that world.”

“What was Shane like as an adolescent?” Caleb asked, his keen gaze studying them both. She would've liked to ask what he saw that was so interesting.