Stirring up the Sheriff (Wildhorse Ranch Brothers Book 3) Page 2

  "The Honky Tonk isn't just a name. It's a kind of establishment," he mentioned, in case she wasn't aware. Marianne actually rolled her eyes at this, and he didn't blame her. It was condescending as hell to bring up, but he was trying to regain his conversational footing after the unexpected news.

  "Well…I might have to put in for a new name," Marianne replied as she bent to twist the hose off. "Maybe we could have the town vote on it. What do you think?"

  Trent removed his hat and raked a hand across his scalp. "You really want to know what I think?" he asked.

  Marianne straightened, wiped her brow, and crossed her arms. "I can take it," she assured him. Her mouth quirked in a small, ready smile, and Trent was struck once more by how stunning she was. For a moment, any thought of warning her against her plans flew from his mind; instead, he found himself wanting to sample those determined lips for himself. He imagined they tasted as sweet as their candy-pink color suggested.

  It had been a while since Trent had so badly wanted to flirt with a woman, and he hated that he had already closed the door on an easy opportunity with Marianne. He wanted to establish himself as firmly on her side. He wanted her to consider him an ally, someone she could trust…so there could be no holding back what he said to her now.

  "I think your aunt wants me to look out for you. Make sure you get settled in all right," he said.

  "I never asked either of you to do that for me," Marianne interrupted, but Trent put up his hand.

  "I would have done it with or without Celia's request." His gaze lingered on her for a second too long, and Marianne's cheeks flushed a little. Then again, maybe it was just the momentary exposure to the sun. "I want us to be friends, Miss Stanton."

  "Then feel free to call me Marianne," she invited.

  Trent nodded. "And you don't need to call me 'sheriff.' Trent is fine." He turned his hat over in his hands a moment before replacing it on his head. "It's my personal opinion that any changes you make to the Honky Tonk are going to be met with resistance by the town. The bigger the change, the bigger the hassle it might be for you in the long run. I'd like to offer my help, but I can't guarantee that people—myself included—won't be put off by whatever you've got planned here."

  "I appreciate your concern," she said. "Really, I do. But I don't need any help." She indicated the neat rows of her garden, the freshly-turned soil (what wasn’t now on her skin and clothes, anyway). "I've got it covered…and I think that anyone resistant is going to like what I come up with. Have you ever tried beer brewed with coriander? It's excellent. A staple of all good Belgian wits. I've never brewed with it before personally, but I'm excited to try. I'll promise you the first sample."

  Marianne waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and while Trent couldn't deny it was a cute look, he still had to be the bearer of bad news. "That what you're planting here? Coriander?" he repeated.

  Marianne grinned. "Of course!"

  "Because what you've got in your hand is rosemary," he stated. "It used to be my grandma's favorite. I'd know it a mile away." He tipped his hat in farewell as Marianne's jaw dropped in dismay. He made his way back around the side of the Honky Tonk, grinning as her expletives followed at his heels. Maybe he had better give the new girl a day to cool off before he tried talking her out of her grand scheme again.

  Trent had no doubt that Marianne Stanton would come to see things his way. And if he'd be seeing a hell of a lot more of her in the process…then he considered it a double win.

  3

  Marianne

  To think she used to enjoy the smell of rosemary! Now, it just reminded Marianne of her crushing humiliation in front of Sheriff Trent Wild.

  A few days after their initial encounter, Marianne still had the sheriff's smug expression firmly fixed in her brain. It probably didn't help matters that she found Trent Wild more than a little irresistible…to look at. His personality was a different story. The last thing she needed was someone tall, dark, and fixed in his ways sniffing around while she tried to forge herself an independent place in the world.

  "Thanks a lot, Aunt Celia," she muttered to herself as she dropped her chin into her hand. "It's not like everyone wants or needs to be looked after."

  Still, Marianne couldn't help the way her eyes traveled occasionally to the front doors of the Honky Tonk. The wireless at her new house was still buggy, so she had been forced to bring her laptop to the bar to research specifics on brewing with rosemary. She might be able to concoct a fragrant, refreshing pale ale out of the inadvertent mess she had made of the garden…but every time she got close to defining and jotting down the perfect recipe, she couldn't help glancing up to check the parking lot for a police car.

  Trent had warned her he would stop in again, hadn't he? Well, what was taking him so long? It's not like Marianne wanted him hanging around, obviously, but not knowing when or where their paths might cross again made her nervous. Better to get it over with. She was determined to see him again, if only to confirm to herself that she had exaggerated the memory of his strong jaw, his dark eyes, his easy smile that sent shivers racing through her—

  A car door slammed, and Marianne jumped. She slid down off her bar stool and hurried to the entrance, only slowing her pace at the last second to appear outwardly more calm and collected than she felt. On the inside, her heart thundered with excitement…and the storm only worsened at the sight of Trent Wild strolling up to the curb. She barely noticed the woman with him.

  She hadn't exaggerated him in her memory, not in the slightest—only today, Lockhart's sheriff was out of uniform. It seemed unfair that he should look so totally at ease in blue jeans and a T-shirt; it seemed unfair that he should make the off-duty ensemble look so damn good. Weren't sexy civil servants supposed to be a revelation when they were all dressed up, and not the other way around? At least, that was what every made-for-TV chick flick she had ever seen had told her.

  But this wasn't a romantic comedy. This was a man who might, at any moment, turn from ally to nemesis if she didn't watch herself. She should probably keep that in mind.

  "Sheriff Wild!" Marianne exclaimed as she pushed open the door. "To what do I owe the visit?"

  "Don't act so surprised to see me." He grinned, and Marianne's stomach flipped like she'd just dropped over the edge of a rollercoaster. "I told you I'd be around to lend a helping hand, didn't I?"

  Marianne flushed. "But I don't need any—"

  He interrupted her protest by thrusting a hand out toward her. Marianne blinked in surprise and accepted the bundle of packets Trent gave her. The blonde beside him grinned, her eyes flicking happily between the two of them as if she were afraid of missing a single expression.

  "What is this?" Marianne asked.

  "Little welcome present," he said. "Coriander. Enough to last you through more than a few potential mishaps."

  Marianne heated to her ears at the implication, but she couldn't deny that his gift touched her. “Thank you.”

  She turned to the woman at his side. Trent's partner was pretty, young, and bubbly. Marianne smiled in surprised delight when she noticed that the earrings dangling down past her heart-shaped face were in the shape of pint glasses. Marianne couldn't help liking her on sight…even if she were in a relationship with Trent.

  Why the hell should it concern you? Marianne wondered as she smiled big and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. You really think a guy who makes a uniform look that good would still be single? Get over yourself, Marianne.

  Still, she couldn't shake the impression that Trent had been checking her out from the moment they first met. Did he just have a wandering eye?

  "Marianne, I'd like you to meet my brother's girlfriend, Sabrina," Trent introduced the two of them. "She's the adventure coordinator down at Wildhorse Ranch."

  "Oh?" Marianne's eyebrows shot up. She tried to keep any noticeable relief out of her voice. "How do you do, Sabrina? It's a pleasure to meet you."

  "Right back at you!" Sabrina shook her hand, crisp
and chipper. "It's great to finally meet you! Have you met Trevor yet? He's Trent's twin brother."

  "Marianne just moved to the Bend," Trent explained. "I doubt she's had time to make it out to the ranch or that my brother has had much time in his busy schedule to make it off."

  "So true." Sabrina pulled a face. "It's been so long since anyone saw him in town that Trent keeps getting mistaken for Trevor today. Must be because he's out with me."

  Trent grimaced, and Marianne caught the expression before it quickly vanished again. What was that about? Didn't Trent get along with his brother? Less than two weeks in town, and she was already finding local mysteries to investigate.

  "Come on in." Marianne held the door open in invitation. "I was just, well, trying to do a little of everything." She swept a hand toward her open laptop. "I was fixing one of the bottling lines before I got distracted. I could definitely use a break from work for a minute."

  "We won't get in the way," Sabrina promised as the three made their way over to the brewing room viewing window. "Oh, wow!" Sabrina cupped her hands around her face as she gazed in. "Would you look at that buildout? I can't believe how much you've been getting done right under our noses!"

  "The tarps outside do a good job of concealing it all," Trent remarked. Marianne shot him a look, but she couldn't read his expression as he spoke. She had a feeling she didn't need to. He had stated his opinion of the bar's renovations loud and clear upon their first meeting.

  "I'm not hiding anything, if that's what you're implying." She fisted her hands on her hips. "I have every permit in place. All that's left to do is varnish the floors and tweak a few things on the assembly line."

  "And grow some coriander," Trent reminded her. "I suppose you intend to do that overnight?"

  Marianne bristled, but Sabrina wheeled back around to her before she could retort. "You really do look almost ready!" the blonde enthused. "When do you expect to throw open the doors?"

  "Well…all I really need to do is wait for the floors to dry overnight," Marianne said hesitantly. "I guess technically everything's in place to open in a week if you just wanted to use the space, but I need another month to have enough beer brewed. I was planning on opening in time for the Spring Festival."

  Sabrina exchanged a look with Trent, alerting Marianne that something was up. They might not be boyfriend-girlfriend, but they certainly conspired as if they had a long history of working as a team.

  "Why?" Marianne asked the two of them suspiciously. Trent cleared his throat and backed off from the window as Sabrina took over.

  "Because," Sabrina said, "we just came from the town hall. A major water pipe broke, and they sprang a pretty nasty leak overnight. There was supposed to be a big meeting held there next week, but they have to do some major repairs. We wondered if…"

  Sabrina caught her lip between her teeth and nudged Trent. "The town's been buzzing about your renovations," he added. "We came over to see what sort of shape you were in. If you agree to it, I'll report back to the mayor that they can host the meeting here."

  "Oh, wow." Marianne touched her forehead to reorient herself. A million and one doubts scrambled to hold her attention, and all of them presented themselves to her in Simon's voice. Thankfully, the lone thought she heard in her own voice rang the loudest: opportunity.

  "Only if you agree to it," Sabrina put in quickly. "We know it's short notice. Actually, it was Trent's idea that we ask you." Then, before Marianne could even think of a sufficient comment to express her surprise: "Oh, wow! Get a load of all this stuff!"

  The “stuff” Sabrina referred to—and there really was a load of it—was all the old furniture and torn-up equipment Marianne had deemed redundant during her renovations. For a lack of any better solution, she had temporarily piled it all up against the wall in the Honky Tonk's main lounge.

  "I actually wasn't sure what to do with it all," Marianne admitted. She was still trying to wrap her head around their unexpected offer. "Do you know a dump I might take it to?"

  "Dump?" Sabrina exclaimed shrilly. "You're just going to throw all this in the trash? You're sitting on a goldmine, Marianne!" She gesticulated wildly toward the pile like she had just uncovered a fairytale dragon hoard.

  No matter how much Marianne squinted, she couldn't see what Sabrina saw. "You want it? You'd be doing me a favor by taking it, actually."

  "Really?" Sabrina squealed.

  "Don't mind her." Trent came up on her left side unexpectedly; his shoulder brushed hers gently, and Marianne experienced an unexpected flood of warmth at the connection. "She's fanatical about upcycling. But if there's anything you want us to take with us, we came in my brother's pickup."

  "Are you leaving so soon?" The question was out of her mouth before she could think to hold it back. Trent raised an eyebrow at her, and Marianne flushed. "I mean…I meant the two of you. Obviously. Don't you want a quick tour? If you're going to bring the Honky Tonk up as a viable option with the mayor, you should at least see the rest of it."

  "The two of you go ahead." Sabrina waved them off without looking, transfixed by the trash pile. Marianne found herself admiring the way the other woman could see so much possibility in the stuff she had deemed worthless. Marianne considered herself a dreamer, but she was also practical. She was good at exercising her imagination in the brewing room, but outside of it she sometimes came up short.

  She exchanged a look with Trent to see if he was still game, and he nodded. They left Sabrina behind them as they strolled back toward the brewing room. Marianne swiped her keycard, and Trent pushed the door open first so he could hold it for her.

  She had an ulterior motive in all this, of course. She was determined to prove to Trent that the Honky Tonk's next evolution was a good idea for Lockhart Bend.

  He was her first critic. Time would tell if he was her toughest.

  4

  Trent

  Trent knew exactly what Sabrina was up to by sending him off alone with Marianne. His brother's girlfriend was as smart as she was scheming, and it wasn't just recyclable material she hoped to whip into new shape. She had made it known to Trent time and again that, now that his two brothers were close to getting hitched, she intended for him to be next. With one look at Marianne, Sabrina had obviously made her mind up about who he should set his sights on.

  Not that Trent could blame her. It wasn't just her impressive command of curse words that had taken his breath away the first time they met. Marianne was, frankly put, the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

  He followed her now, enjoying the view from behind as much as he enjoyed the prospect of time alone together. Maybe he could get used to Sabrina taking the reins on his love life after all.

  "So this was all your idea, huh?" Marianne asked him over her shoulder. "The town meeting and everything?"

  "What can I say?" Trent shrugged. "I wanted to get a peek under your tarp."

  She half-laughed, half-scoffed in surprise as he drew up beside her. He liked the way her cheeks pinkened at his turn of phrase and the way she seemed to struggle with words in the aftermath.

  "Really?" she said finally. "And here I thought that maybe you wanted to see me fall flat on my face in front of everyone."

  "Never."

  Clearly the thought of failure was on Marianne's mind. He hadn't thought any of his warnings were getting through to her, and it surprised him to see such a chink in the steely woman's armor now. He had thought their banter almost playful; could it be that she saw him as an enemy?

  "You know I'm rooting for you, right?" Trent asked as they stopped by one of the assembly lines. The whole back of the building was filled with a fresh-bread smell, presumably the fermentation happening in the tanks.

  Marianne repositioned a few bottles and checked the reading on one of the tanks. "Are you?" She didn't sound convinced.

  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were looking for an opponent to come up against," Trent said. "Either that, or you don't have a lot of experience let
ting other people support you."

  He didn't know what made him say it, and he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He had brushed up against an old wound in his attempt to get to the heart of her. Marianne stopped fiddling with a dial. She kept her back to him. Trent suspected she wanted to hide whatever expression she wore.

  He thought to apologize. For whatever reason, the words wouldn't come. He stepped up beside her instead, offering the warmth of his proximity, willing it to be a comfort and not an invasion. Marianne started a little and turned into him, but she didn't back away.

  "I think the best way to get through life…is to not rely on outside support. It might fail you when you most expect it to be there." She tucked a piece of hair back into place behind her ear. "Shall we continue with the tour?"

  "I wasn’t aware it had started."

  He gazed down at her, but Marianne remained resolute in not meeting his eyes. What is it that made you come all the way down here? he wanted to ask her. What are you running from?

  "This is the brewing room, Sheriff Wild."

  "I can see that," he said quietly.

  He wanted to catch her chin and raise those blue eyes back up to meet his. His hands slid out of his pockets, but maybe broadcasting his intention was enough. Marianne's gaze snapped to him, but he watched the ice in it thaw slowly. Her lips parted, before she decided to hold back whatever thought she had been about to voice. She indicated the next tank in the line, and they moved on.

  "Fine," she said. "While we're noticing things, why don't I tell you something I noticed about you?"

  "Sure. Notice away."