“And yet,” he said, “here I am.”

  Her hands dropped away from Prissy’s neck, but she didn’t turn around. “There was no need to track me down.” Her voice sounded broken. “I’m fine.” She wiped furiously at her cheeks. “Seriously, Wyatt, I’m fine.”

  She was not fine.

  “Talk to me, Remy.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently guided her around to face him. The devastation in her eyes had him asking, “Are you still in love with him?”

  Wyatt’s gut told him her anguish was bigger than a broken heart. Still, he needed to know.

  “I’m not still in love with Matt. I don’t know if I was ever in love with him.” She pushed out a hard breath. “I think I was more in love with the idea of love.”

  Wyatt had known this. Deep down he’d known. He wasn’t sure how. Except to say that he knew Remy. She wasn’t the kind of woman that fell apart over a man. “Then what’s got you so upset?”

  Before she answered, Prissy shifted between them, reminding Wyatt they had an audience. An audience with a tendency for taking sides, and never his. Right now, the alpaca seemed perfectly calm. But the shirt he wore was one of his favorites. No need to take chances.

  He grabbed Prissy’s bridle. “Hang tight,” he said to Remy. “Be right back.”

  Avoiding any sudden moves, he escorted the animal to her pen. As if sensing the gravity of the situation, Prissy high-stepped alongside him without a single show of rebellion. “If you behaved like this more often, we could become friends, you know.”

  The animal made a happy humming sound in her throat.

  Wyatt pulled to a stop at the open gate, making a mental note to rethink the latch entirely. Prissy danced in place, eyeing his shirt with a speculative gleam. “Do it,” he warned. “And my offer of friendship is off the table.”

  The alpaca batted her big brown eyes, then dutifully trotted into her pen. “Good girl.”

  Wyatt returned to where Remy stood watching him, her gaze distant and sad. Although her tears had dried up, he could tell she was hanging on by a thread. The proof was in her rapidly blinking eyes and pale, pale skin. He pulled her into his arms and counted it a victory when she didn’t resist.

  “Now?” she whispered into his shirt, her voice sounding frail and a little watery. “Now you’re nice to me?”

  “I’m always nice to you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest. “Oh, Wyatt. Why did you have to come looking for me?”

  “You needed me.”

  Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. She shoved out of his arms. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

  “Talk to me, Remy. Tell me why running into your ex-fiancé upset you so much.”

  She stepped further away from him. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Oh, but you can. And you will. You’ll start by explaining—”

  Hearing the cop in his voice, Wyatt cut off his own words. The last thing Remy needed was an interrogation. He tried a different approach. Taking her hand, he pulled her to the porch steps. He waited for her to sit beside him to say, “I want to help you, Remy. But I need to know what I’m working with first.”

  She placed her elbows on her thighs, leaned forward and dropped her gaze. “You’ll think less of me.”

  “Never.”

  “Trust me on this. You won’t look at me the same.”

  “Remy.” Wyatt slung an arm over her shoulders, then retreated when she flinched. “Remy,” he said again. “There is nothing you can say that will change how I feel about you. Nothing.”

  “Okay. I’ll say it quick.” She hesitated. Then words started tumbling out of her mouth, coming right on top of one another. “It started with a routine checkup. I’m young, healthy, nothing to worry about, right? Except, maybe not so healthy, after all. I’d been having some issues. Nothing that concerned me, not really, but I brought it up with my doctor. She had some ideas as to what was causing my pain.”

  “What kind of pain?”

  “Not important.” Lifting her chin, Remy went on to explain about a series of tests her doctor ordered. “She was reluctant to give a definitive diagnosis, but the results all pointed to the same thing.”

  Wyatt’s heart dropped to his toes. “Cancer?”

  “No.” She shut her eyes, sighed, opened them again. “Endometriosis. Lots of women suffer from the condition. It’s painful, but not life-threatening.”

  Wyatt wasn’t seeing the problem, and then he did when she said, “Bottom line, the odds are stacked against me of ever conceiving a child.”

  Wyatt heard the devastation in her voice. Her misery was a living, breathing thing vibrating between them. He understood her pain and grieved with her. Remy adored children. “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure she even heard him. Her gaze remained focused on a spot off in the distance. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  “When I told Matt, he said all the right things. He claimed my diagnosis was no big deal. If I couldn’t have children the old-fashioned way, no problem, we’d try other methods. If all else failed, we would adopt. And that was that.” She heaved another, longer sigh. “Or so I thought.”

  Although several responses came to mind, Wyatt stayed silent, letting Remy tell her story.

  “Matt broke off our engagement two weeks after my diagnosis.”

  From that one sentence, Wyatt understood everything.

  “When he broke up with me, he told me—” She stopped, shook her head, tried again. “He told me I didn’t fit in with his plans for the future. He has political aspirations, after all, and I wasn’t suited to be a politician’s wife.”

  “He actually said those words?”

  She nodded. “I asked if he was breaking off our engagement because I couldn’t have children. He said that wasn’t the reason.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “I had my doubts,” she admitted. “His answer was too pat. But today? When I saw that Kylie was pregnant? It...caught me off guard.”

  Wyatt hadn’t liked the man on sight. Now he really disliked him. “Matt’s a fool.”

  Remy gave him a watery smile. “You have to say that, you’re my friend.”

  “This isn’t a hard one to figure out, Remy. He’s a fool. He let you go.” What man in his right mind would walk away from this amazing woman? You did.

  Suddenly, Wyatt saw all the lost years with alarming clarity. Sure, he’d been a teenager. Nothing but an idealistic kid with big dreams. But Remy’s brothers had been wrong about one thing. Wyatt hadn’t been toying with her affections. His interest in her had been sincere.

  Could they have built something from their mutual attraction? He would never know. Could they start over and try again? He wanted to find out.

  * * *

  Wyatt was still thinking about Remy later that night after he put Samson to bed. He spent the next two hours on the internet researching endometriosis. Remy was right, mostly. Worst-case scenario she could have considerable trouble conceiving, especially as she aged. But there was nothing definitive to say she couldn’t conceive. Matt really was a fool.

  The next morning, Wyatt came to the same conclusion. Remy’s ex-fiancé had made a huge mistake letting Remy go. She was well rid of the guy.

  Wyatt rehearsed in his mind what he would say to her. But when he dropped off Samson at the animal clinic, she seemed back to her old self. He hadn’t expected that. “You sleep okay?” he asked.

  “I’m good, Wyatt. Thanks.” Her voice sounded normal, but she didn’t quite meet his gaze. That alone told him she wasn’t fully recovered. If he had more time, and they were alone, he would have pressed the issue. As things stood, he left her, promising himself they would revisit the conversation another time.

  His morning got hectic after that. The calls through dispatch came in rapid-fire succession. Still a deputy down, Wyatt had to answer two himself. The first was a code violation by a construction company. The second was to break up a fight out at the lake between two teenage boys trading punches over a girl.

  Wyatt arrived at his office in a foul mood, brooding over the situation, knowing the boys would surely be back at each other’s throats as soon as he left. He could use a shot of coffee. No, actually, what he wanted was Remy.

  He was too busy to stop by the animal clinic. A text would have to do. Samson behaving?

  She responded with three red hearts, followed by We’re playing hooky. We’re out at Casey’s airstrip cuddling puppies and teaching them tricks.

  Wyatt sighed.

  Samson and Roscoe say hi.

  He sighed again. Remy was definitely feeling better today.

  He was called out to Thunder Ridge Rides and Guides next. The all-purpose adventure company provided hiking, biking, skiing, climbing and rafting excursions.

  As the highest officer in the county, Wyatt had to use a variety of skill sets in the name of law and order. Over the next several hours, he coordinated with the fire department and a volunteer S&R team in an effort to rescue a young couple who’d left their group despite the guide’s warning. They’d encountered a protective mama bear and her cub. The two had taken refuge on a tree branch that collapsed under their weight and sent them over the edge of a cliff.

  Thankfully, this occurred after the bears had vacated the vicinity. The husband sustained a broken arm and leg, while the wife had received nothing more than a few scratches.

  They were both lucky to be alive.

  Once they were rescued off the cliff and were on their way to the hospital, Wyatt returned to his office. He received two more calls that took him out of the building.

  He was barely settled in his chair when Doris appeared at his desk, hands on her hips. “You’re being run ragged. When are you going to hire that new deputy?”

  Wyatt answered in what he considered a heroically neutral tone. “After I interview possible candidates, which can’t occur until you send me the file of resumés you promised to pull together.”

  “You haven’t checked your email today.”

  Wyatt hated it when Doris stated the obvious. “As you yourself pointed out, I’ve been a little busy today.”

  “Well, right now you’re not busy.” She arrowed a finger in his direction. “The file is sitting in your inbox. I took the liberty of organizing the candidates with the most work experience and commendations, to the least. Work your way down from top to bottom.”

  And that was why Wyatt put up with the woman’s snark. “You’re amazing.”

  “Don’t I know it.” She left his office, but not before she said, “Happy hunting, Sheriff.”

  “Thanks.” Wyatt weeded through the list, then sent Doris a new file with his top five candidates and a request to set up first-round phone interviews ASAP.

  He checked his phone, saw that Remy had sent him another text. Heading out to McCoy’s now.

  What’s happening at McCoy’s?

  He’s teaching Samson and me the fine art of face painting.

  Why?

  Possible petting zoo activity.

  Okay, that made sense. Have fun.

  Remy responded with a thumbs-up.

  Wyatt stared at his phone, briefly wondering what, exactly, was involved with face painting. One sure way to find out. He clicked on the search engine and took a tour of several websites before Doris appeared at his desk again. “We have an intercom system, you know,” he reminded her.

  She ignored him. “There’s an emergency out at the senior center.”

  Wyatt checked his watch. “My shift ends in twenty minutes. Have Brian take the call.”

  “You were requested by name. So, you better get over there right away.” Expression giving nothing away, she reached across his desk and switched off his computer monitor. “The caller said it’s urgent.”

  “Was someone hurt?”

  “Guess you’ll find out more once you get there.” Doris was surprisingly nonchalant for an urgent call, which indicated this was probably one of those calls. The kind that was urgent only from the caller’s point of view. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances. Wyatt hustled over to the senior center. Not sure what he was walking into, he texted Remy before entering the building. I may be late picking up Samson. You okay with that?

  It’ll cost you.

  He smiled. Yep, Remy was feeling better. He shot back another text. How much?

  We’ll work out the details later. She’d added a winky-face emoji.

  Smiling, Wyatt returned his phone to its case and entered the senior center. Built by a prospector who’d made his fortune in the silver mines, the building itself had been updated several times in its 120 years of life, the most recent five years ago. Lots of history and charm mingled with modern conveniences that included a small movie theater, a spectacular rec room that doubled as a ballroom for Friday night dances and a one-lane bowling alley in the basement.

  Wyatt stepped inside the building, looked around, sighed. All quiet. He approached the welcome desk, where a beefy guy somewhere in his late thirties sat reading a paperback novel by Steinbeck. He wore a handwritten badge that said Leo on the first line and Volunteer on the second.

  Leo-the-volunteer greeted Wyatt with a smile full of crooked teeth. “Hey, Sheriff. What are you doing here?”

  “My office received a call about an emergency.”

  “No kidding?” Two bushy eyebrows slammed together. “No one told me anything about an emergency.”

  Wyatt frowned, then heard, “Sheriff! At last, you’re here. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  The speaker was none other than Mavis Miller, Reno’s grandmother. She was a lively older woman, full of personality and somewhere between eighty and a hundred—even Reno didn’t know her real age. She favored bright polyester tracksuits, and was the owner of the Wash and Spins, a hybrid dance studio and laundromat. She currently wore her hair in her signature ballerina bun.

  “Mavis?” He’d been calling her by her first name at her insistence since he was twelve. “You call my office about an emergency?”

  “I did, indeed.” She patted her bun as if to make sure it was still there.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  “We’re down a man. I called my grandson, but he was unavailable. You’re here now. And...” She ran her gaze from the top of his head to the tips of his boots. “You’ll do quite nicely.”

  “Hold up. What do you mean you’re down a man?”

  “You’ll see.” She took his arm and led him down a hallway toward the rec room. Not a single hint of urgency rolled off her. Getting a real bad feeling, Wyatt attempted to pull his arm free.

  Mavis held on tighter, then steered him into the rec room.

  “We have our man,” she announced. “Class can now begin.”

  “Class?” he croaked. “What class?”

  “Our Monday night ballroom dance lessons, of course. We’re a little heavy on female participants this week.” Wyatt looked around and took a quick inventory. There wasn’t a single person in the room with a Y chromosome. Not one.

  What had he just walked into? “Where’s the emergency, Mavis?”

  “It’s like I told you. We’re down a man.” Mavis ran her gaze over him again. “You’re a man, right?”

  “Yes...”

  “You can dance, right?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “You will when I’m through with you.” While Wyatt was adjusting to the horror of that unsettling statement, Mavis dragged him deeper into the room. Dragged being the operative word.

  He counted eleven occupants, all of whom hadn’t seen seventy for at least a decade. A few wore flowing dresses with big, billowy skirts. Most were dressed in variations of tracksuits similar to the one Mavis wore, plus sparkles. Lots of sparkles.

  He bent down to stare Mavis straight in the eye. “Let me get this straight. Your emergency is that you need a man, any man, basically a warm body to partner with your—” How did he put this delicately? “—students?”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Sheriff. You’re much more than just a warm body.”

  Agreement came in the form of hoots and whistles. “Apparently, I need to explain the definition of an emergency.”

  As if sensing she was about to be on the wrong end of a lecture, Mavis wagged her finger at him. “You are a public servant, Sheriff. You were elected to serve the public. We—” she swept her hand in a wide arc to include her students “—are the public, aren’t we?”

  She wasn’t wrong. And to be fair, this wasn’t the first time Wyatt had been called out to an emergency that wasn’t actually an emergency. “I’ll stay for one dance, Mavis. One.”

  A woman approached him with a speculative gleam in her eye. Wyatt couldn’t recall her name, but she looked vaguely familiar. “You’ve grown up real nice, Sheriff. I used to change your diapers when you were a baby.”

  Wyatt decided to be a good sport. “I don’t remember that at all.”

  This received a round of laughter.

  “All right, girls, and boy.” Mavis winked at him. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Eleven pairs of eyes locked on him. In that moment, he understood how a fox felt right before the hounds were released.

  Mavis motioned for Wyatt’s previous babysitter to take her place as his partner. “Stand with your feet hip distance apart,” she told him. “And hold Genevieve like this.” She placed his hands in the proper position, one on the woman’s shoulder, the other at her waist. “Now. Step your left foot forward like this. Your right one next. And then the left again.”

  Public servant, he reminded himself as he followed Mavis’s directions. As a former athlete, he understood the basic mechanics of using his mind to control his body. He could still pick a target out of two dozen moving bodies, pull his arm back and hit his man with spectacular accuracy. The waltz, he quickly discovered, was a billion times more complicated.