Sarah And The Sheriff

Sarah And The Sheriff

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by Allison Leigh

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The hometown hero returns…

And for Sarah Clay, that was the bad news—because Max Scalise had rejected her outright seven years ago. And now Max was back in Weaver, working as a sheriff and everywhere she turned. His slightest touch still caused her traitorous body to quake, but Sarah knew better. Didn't she?

When it came to Sarah,


The hometown hero returns…

And for Sarah Clay, that was the bad news—because Max Scalise had rejected her outright seven years ago. And now Max was back in Weaver, working as a sheriff and everywhere she turned. His slightest touch still caused her traitorous body to quake, but Sarah knew better. Didn't she?

When it came to Sarah, Max was as much in love with her as ever. But he'd returned home to find that eyes that had once gazed at him with such trust now turned away. Still, he was a wiser man now…a man determined to win back her love. Even if it meant telling secrets that weren't his to reveal…

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Men of the Double-C Ranch , #1819
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The first time Sarah saw the name on her class roster, she felt shock unlike anything she'd felt in years roll through her.

Elijah Scalise.

Not that daunting of a name, really. It surely suited the dark-haired eight-year-old boy who'd soon be joining her third-grade class. She had made a point of not looking at the boy's picture, even though she was perfectly aware that there was one. It was framed in a plain gold frame that sat on his grandmother's desk in the classroom right next to Sarah's classroom. Genna Scalise often talked about her grandson, Eli.

Sarah hadn't expected to ever be the boy's teacher, though.

She set aside the roster on her desk and went to the window that overlooked the playground. Frost still clung to the exterior corners and she could feel the coolness of the pane radiating from it. Outside, the bell hadn't yet rung and children were clambering over the swings and jungle gym. Winter scarves flew in the breeze and boots crunched over the crispy skiff of snow scattered across the playground.

Despite the cold, they were enjoying the last few minutes of freedom before they had to settle down into their seats. Until they broke for recess in a few hours, that was.

Nothing like feeling carefree.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt as carefree as they looked.

Which wasn't strictly true. She could probably pick the exact date on the calendar when she'd stopped feeling carefree.

Her gaze slid to the class roster. "So, why didn't you tell me the news?, The chipper female voice drew her attention to the doorway of her classroom.

"Hey, Dee. What news?"

"About the new deputy."Deirdre Crowder was the sixth-grade teacher and at five-foot-nothing, she was about as big as a minute. Her blue eyes were mischievous. "He works for your uncle, girl, but you could have shared the wealth. A new, single man suddenly in town and all that. If it were the week before Christmas rather than Thanksgiving, I'd consider him to be our very own Christmas present!"

Sarah now had years of practice under her belt at keeping her true thoughts to herself. "Go for it," she said with a smile. "He's my new student's father. And you know I don't get involved with my kids" fathers."

Dee's eyebrows lifted as she sauntered into the room. Her shoulder-length blond hair seemed to crackle with the energy that kept it curled in loose ringlets. "I may have only come to Weaver a year ago, but as far as I can tell, you don't get involved with anyone. What's with you?, She joined Sarah at the window. "If I had your looks I'd be dating every available man in town."

"There is nothing wrong with your looks," Sarah countered. She'd heard Dee's opinion plenty in the months since school had begun in August. "Deputy Tommy Potter thinks they're about perfect."

"Oh, Tommy." Dee shook her head, dismissively. "Unless he was going to arrest me for something, or wants to spread a little gossip, that boy moves about as slow as molasses in winter. He has no gumption." She pushed up the sleeves of her bright red sweater and pointed out the window. "Since it might as well be winter, with all that snow on the ground, you can just imagine the snail's pace I'm talking about."

Sarah's lips curved. "You're the one who moved to a small town, Dee. Could have stayed in Cheyenne where the pickings were more varied."

Dee pressed her nose against the cold window-pane, looking not much older than the children playing outside. "Have you met him? The new deputy, I mean? I heard he comes from Weaver."

If Sarah hadn't been prepared to see that name on her class roster, she definitely wasn't prepared to discuss her new student's father. "He left Weaver a long time ago."

"Yeah, but you did know him, right? Most everyone in Weaver seems to know everyone else."

"Maybe by sight," Sarah allowed. Though the Clay family had its history with the Scalise family—history that had nothing to do with her experience with him. "Talk to Genna," she suggested. "She's his mother. She could tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Max."

Her throat tightened.


At the mention of Genna, the most senior teacher at Weaver Elementary, Dee turned her back on the window. "How's she healing up, anyway?"

"Fine, last I heard." Sarah felt a little guilty that she didn't know more. That she hadn't made a more concerted effort to visit Genna herself. After all, they were coworkers and had been since Sarah began teaching at Weaver Elementary nearly six years ago. Genna was a friend of her mother's. Her aunts!

"What was she doing skiing at her age, anyway? It's no wonder she broke some bones."

"Anyone can have a skiing accident, even someone who's barely twenty-five," Sarah said pointedly.

Dee grinned impishly and rolled her eyes. But Sarah was spared her comment when the bell rang, sharp and shrill.

"To the salt mine," Dee said, heading for the classroom door. "Want to head over to Classic Charms one night this week? See if Tara's got anything new in?"

Sarah nodded. The children outside had scattered like leaves on the wind when the bell rang, and now she could hear footsteps ringing on the tile floor in the corridor. "Sure."

Classic Charms was the newest shop to open its doors in Weaver, though it had eschewed the new shopping center area for a location right on Main Street.

Dee swiveled, deftly avoiding a collision with the first trio of kids bolting into Sarah's classroom.

Sarah began passing out the workbooks she'd corrected over the weekend as the tables slowly filled. She had seventeen kids in her class this year.


Eighteen, now.

They sat two to a table, usually, though she had enough room for them to all sit separately if need be. Some years were like that. This year though, had so far been peaceful.

"Thanks, Miz Clay." Bright-eyed Chrissy Tanner beamed up at her as she accepted her workbook. "Are we having science today?"

"It's Monday, isn't it?, she asked lightly and continued passing through the room. Her attention, though, kept straying to the door.

Sooner or later, Eli would be there. Her gaze flicked to the wide-faced clock affixed high on the wall and noted he'd have three minutes before he'd be tardy. Not that she'd enforce that rule with a brand-new student on his very first day. She wasn't that much a stickler for the rules.

* * *

"Why do I gotta go to school?, "Because."

Eli sighed mightily. "But you said we were going to go back to California."

"Not for months yet."


Max Scalise pulled open the passenger door of the SUV he'd been assigned by Sawyer Clay, the sheriff. They were already late, thanks to a conference call he'd had to take about a recent case of his. "In."

His son, Eli, made a face, but tossed his brown-bag lunch and dark blue backpack inside before climbing up on the seat.

"Fasten the belt."

The request earned Max another pulled face. He shut the door and headed around to the driver's side. As he went, his eyes automatically scanned the area around them.

But there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just bare-branched trees. Winter-dry lawns not quite covered by snow. A few houses lined neatly along the street, all of them closed up tight against the chill. Only one of them had smoke coming from the chimney—his mother's house that they'd just left.

Genna was as comfortably situated as she could get in the family room, where Max had lit the fire in the fireplace as she'd requested. She had her heavy cast propped on pillows, a stack of magazines, a pot of her favorite tea, the television remote and a cordless phone.

Outside the houses, though, there were no particular signs of life.

Meet the Author

A frequent name on bestseller lists, Allison Leigh's highpoint as a writer is hearing from readers that they laughed, cried or lost sleep while reading her books.  She credits her family with great patience for the time she's parked at her computer, and for blessing her with the kind of love she wants her readers to share with the characters living in the pages of her books.  Contact her at

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Sarah and the Sheriff (Silhouette Special Edition #1819) 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 2 reviews.
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