The Sheriff's Runaway Bride. Arlene James
shut up until I’m ready!” a man bawled right in her face.
“Who is that?” Zach asked, turning in their direction.
“I want to go now!” the woman insisted plaintively.
Kylie wracked her brain. “Uh, Janey … Janey …” She shook her head, unable to find a last name.
“I said be quiet!” the man shouted, launching into a diatribe about whiny, self-centered women.
“That’s Rob Crenshaw. He’s about my age and a friend of Vincent’s.”
Nodding, Zach strode forward. Without thinking, Kylie followed, drawn by Janey’s sobs. Zach didn’t pause, just walked right up and threw his left arm around Rob’s shoulders in what looked like a companionable gesture.
“Rob,” he said calmly. “Rob Crenshaw.”
That surprised the younger man enough to shut him up and have him turning a stupefied gaze on Zach.
“Do I know you?”
“Deputy Sheriff Zach Clayton. How do you do?” Zach said, offering his right hand for a shake. Rob automatically took that hand and then seemed to have some difficulty letting go again. Zach turned him and walked him several steps away from the woman. While the two of them spoke quietly—actually, Zach did most of the talking—Kylie went to Janey.
“You okay?” she asked, patting the other woman on the back.
Heavily freckled and wholesome-looking, with pale hazel eyes and sleek, chin-length, dark-brown hair tucked behind her ears, Janey sniffed and nodded, confessing in a small voice, “He gets like this every time he drinks.”
“I thought alcohol wasn’t allowed on the green.”
“It’s not. He showed up with a snootful.”
Just then, Rob turned and lurched toward Janey. “We’re going,” he announced tersely, seizing her by the upper arm.
Kylie glanced at Zach, who stood with his hands at his hips, watching. “Do you want to go with him?” Kylie asked quickly.
For an instant, Janey hesitated, but then she nodded and let Rob pull her away. Zach watched to make sure Janey was driving. Then he removed his sunshades, folded them, stowed them in his shirt pocket and strolled toward Kylie. She turned as he drew near, and he once more fell into step beside her. They a put a few yards between them and the small crowd that had gathered to gawk.
“You handled that quite easily.”
Zach shrugged. “A bully never expects anyone to stand up to him. He’s surprised when people don’t cower or slink away. If you know what you’re doing, that can give you an upper hand.”
“I guess the badge doesn’t hurt, either.”
“Not a bit,” he admitted with a grin.
He walked her toward her parents. Reverend West stood waiting for them at the edge of the church lawn. Somehow, John West always managed to look as cool as a cucumber, and today proved no exception. His chinos held crisp creases, and the white of his Old Glory T-shirt fairly glowed in the fading light. He stepped forward at once, offering his hand to Zach and greeting Kylie with a nod.
“You two obviously work well together.”
Zach seemed as eager as Kylie to quell talk that involved the terms “you two” and “together.” They both began speaking.
“Oh, I was just talking to Janey.”
“A little private conversation between me and Crenshaw.”
“I wasn’t involved in anything.”
“It’s my job. The badge does most of the work.”
Reverend West laughed and stepped forward to drop one hand atop Zach’s shoulder and the other atop Kylie’s. “I have a couple of spots open on the helpline ministry team with our Church Care Committee.”
Zach flashed a pained look at Kylie.
“Oh, I’m, uh, on call twenty-four hours a day.”
“And I work shifts,” Kylie put in quickly.
“One evening a week,” West said, not in the least deterred. “I believe it will fulfill the voluntary community service requirement of the county sheriff’s new community involvement initiative.”
Zach twisted one corner of his lips into a wry grin. “So it will.”
The reverend looked to Kylie, saying, “I’ll speak to Erin. Make sure she doesn’t schedule you to work during your assigned hours.”
Kylie swallowed a sigh and nodded.
“I’ll tell Martha to expect you for training this Wednesday after prayer meeting then.” With that, West slid his hands into his pants pockets and strolled off in another direction, whistling complacently.
Backing up a step, Zach sent Kylie a loaded look and said, “Remind me to watch my step around him from now on.”
“You and me both.”
“He’s slicker than suntan oil. Glad he’s on the good side.”
“There is that,” she agreed with less enthusiasm than she probably should have displayed.
“Well, I’m working,” Zach said after a moment, shooting a glance at her parents. “Best get back out there.” He walked away with a nod and a wave.
Kylie let out her sigh in one long, tired breath and turned to face her parents, who had watched the whole thing from the comfort of their lawn chairs, bottles of cold iced tea in their hands. Seeing the look of consternation on her face, they both burst out laughing. After a moment, Kylie joined them. For more than a year she’d avoided Reverend West’s enlistment campaigns, and now, in the blink of an eye, she’d been caught. Her gaze drifted across the green until it settled on Zach Clayton’s broad shoulders. At least she had company in the trap.
Kylie sat down on the grass next to her parents. Over the next hour or so, they watched a steady stream of mostly women trek to and from the church. Finally, her mother rose from her chair. “Keep Dad company while I check the supplies in the bathrooms, will you? We don’t want to be poor hosts, and things need to be stocked for Sunday.”
Kylie pushed up to her feet and waved her mother back down. “No, I’ll take care of it.”
“You sure?” Lynette asked even as she sat again.
Nodding, Kylie started toward the church. She knew how hard both of her parents worked. She could do this one small thing for her mom.
“The extra supplies are in the closet behind the sanctuary,” her father called. Kylie flapped a hand in acknowledgment and moved away. “It’s open,” he went on, “but you’ll have to go into the building from the front.”
She climbed the front steps and went into the building.
Crossing the small foyer, she passed through a door on the left. A quick check showed that the paper products were, indeed, running low. Kylie went out again and pushed through the double doors that closed off the darkened sanctuary. She could barely see, but she didn’t turn on the overhead lights. Instead, she went around the edge of the large, pew-lined room and out again through a door behind the piano. She did turn on a light in the back room and propped the door open with a cloth-covered brick, placed there for that purpose, while she went to the far corner of the cluttered space.
Her father had often complained of the lack of a light inside the closet, but it hadn’t been wired for electricity. Kylie unbolted the rarely opened back door and pushed it wide to let in as much light as possible before going into the closet to gather supplies. She carried them back to the vestibule and stocked the restroom, then returned to lock up and turn off lights. Just as she passed through the door behind the piano and into the storage area again, a hand clamped down on her