Snowfall on Haven Point(42)
His jaw tightened. “Not to mention, if somebody in my department did this to me, I want them to see I’m still fighting.”
He was a stubborn man. She found it surprisingly attractive.
“What time?” she asked.
“We typically have a weekly briefing at ten every Thursday. If you could run me in on time for that, I was thinking I could catch a ride back later when the shift is over.”
That would mean hours of him sitting at his desk in an uncomfortable chair when he was still only a few short days out of surgery. She didn’t think that would be good for him.
“Or what about this?” she proposed, thinking quickly. “I have some Christmas shopping I’ve been meaning to do in Shelter Springs. I could drop you off at the sheriff’s department and take care of my shopping while I’m in town, then pick you up and bring you back here a few hours later.”
He frowned. “I don’t want to take up your whole morning.”
“You wouldn’t be,” she assured him. “This will be a good excuse for me to wrap up some errands. Really, you’d be doing me a favor.”
He somehow managed to look grateful and uncomfortable at once. “I’ll pay for your gas and time.”
“You will not,” she exclaimed. “I have things of my own to take care of in Shelter Springs. It’s no trouble at all to drop you off while I’m there. Since I’ve come to Haven Point, I’ve learned these are the things neighbors do for each other.”
“I have a feeling I won’t win an argument with you over this.”
“Smart man.” She smiled, but it slid away when she thought for a crazy moment that he was staring at her mouth.
“You said the briefing starts at ten,” she said, trying to pretend she wasn’t suddenly flustered. “I can pick you up at nine thirty—or earlier, if you need it.”
“Nine thirty works.” He didn’t look particularly thrilled about it. “Somehow when this is all over, I’ll figure out a way to pay you back.”
“Not necessary,” she said, her voice soft. “My debt to your family is larger than I can ever repay.”
He looked as if he wanted to reply, but the children came in arguing about who was the better elf, Buddy or Hermey, the elf with dreams of dentistry from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
“I’d better go before this breaks down into open warfare,” she said. “Kids, grab Sadie. And what do you say to Sheriff Bailey?”
She was gratified when Chloe and Will instantly stopped arguing and came to Marshall’s recliner.
“Thank you for the pizza, Sheriff Marshall,” Chloe said.
“It was super-duper delicious,” Will added.
To Andie’s surprise, her son threw his arms around Marshall and hugged as much as he could reach. The sheriff looked more than a little nonplussed but patted the boy’s back.
“Thank you both for doing such a good job at Christmas decorating.”
As she said her own goodbyes and ushered her kids out the door, Andie was rather horrified by how badly she wanted to do the same thing—just throw her arms around the man and hug him.
She knew the impulse was completely ridiculous, and so was the excitement fluttering through her at the prospect of seeing him again the next day.
* * *
THE ANTICIPATION DIDN’T abate overnight, as she had hoped.
The entire time she prepared breakfast for Chloe and Will, signed permission slips, found boots and hats and mittens, she was aware of it bubbling just under the surface. She did her best to ignore it, to tell herself she was being ridiculous, but all her internal lecturing didn’t seem to matter.
The day was cold but gloriously beautiful as she pulled into Marsh’s driveway, the snow a startling white against the brilliant blue sky and the dark pines along Riverbend Road. The driveway and sidewalks had been cleared of the few inches of snow dropped by the storm during the night. At least he wouldn’t have that worry to contend with, though ice would always be a treacherous concern for a man on crutches in the wintertime.
He opened the door before she reached it, as if he had been waiting there for her. Andie almost lost her own footing and it was all she could do not to gawk at the jarring change in him.
For days, she had seen him wearing only T-shirts and basketball shorts or sweats over his orthopedic boot, but now he wore a pressed shirt and tie, blazer and slacks. His hair was neatly combed and he was clean-shaven, without the usual dark beard stubble that, in combination with his assorted scrapes and bruises, gave him the look of a wounded, disreputable pirate.
She should have been ready for it. He was the sheriff of Lake Haven County, after all. He certainly couldn’t go to a briefing of his deputies wearing a Broncos T-shirt.