“No! No, thank you, I’ve got everything covered here.”

  “Your sidewalk certainly makes it seem like you got it covered. In rocks.” Trent winked and squatted to scoop up a few. “Never saw much point in gardening alone,” he said. “Never saw the point in gardening at all, to be honest, but when my grandparents did it, they always did it together.”

  “I’m definitely new to it,” Marianne admitted as she dropped down beside him. Trent held up a white rock that gleamed in the sun.

  “Where do you want these?”

  “Along the edges of the flowerbeds, to keep the dirt from washing into the street.”

  Trent lined up a few rocks where Marianne had pointed, working them into the dirt so they’d be tough to kick away. “So, what kind of place are you opening here?”

  Marianne blinked. “Aunt Celia didn’t tell you? I’m bringing back the Honky-Tonk, new and improved.”

  Trent paused in his rescue mission, a rock in each fist. “Celia never said anything about some grand reopening. I thought it’d be a restaurant, or somewhere more…” He gestured at Marianne. “Somewhere classy, upscale. You know, for the doctors when they get off work.”

  Marianne reached behind him to grab a stray rock. “Doctors don’t like country music? They don’t like to dance? Besides, this place is—it’s tradition, right? I figured the locals would be glad to see it back.” She kept her tone carefully neutral. Trent realized she must have detected the note of resistance in his voice.

  “Look, I’m not saying I wouldn’t,” he explained as they rose together. “But the Bend’s changed a lot since the Honky-Tonk opened. It started with the hospital, all the new folks it brought, but it isn’t just that. The town’s been growing. Folks have more options. The Tonk hadn’t seen much business in years, not like it used to back in the day.”

  “I can handle competition, Sheriff,” Marianne said stiffly. “And this place means a lot to me, like it did to my aunt. If I can give it a new life, don’t you think it deserves that?”

  Her confidence should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. Trent glanced at the porch, remembering all the off-duty nights he had spent leaned up against the railing under the stars, chatting with familiar faces behind the soft glow of cigarette embers—fewer and fewer faces with each passing year. This place was packed with tradition, but tradition hadn’t kept Celia in business. How could some newcomer succeed where the town mom had failed? Everyone loved Celia, and it still hadn’t been enough.

  “I happened to drive by here a few days back. Did I see a brewing vessel on the porch?” Trent peered past Marianne, through the new saloon doors. He couldn’t see the vat now, but he guessed he wouldn’t. Brewers didn’t keep that sort of thing out front. “I thought you were opening one of those fancy brewpubs, y’know, food and craft beers. We don’t have one of those.”

  Marianne actually flinched at that, and she took a step back. “It’s just one fermenter,” she said. “And to open a proper brewpub, I’d need more than—well, it doesn’t matter.” She wiped her hands on her pants. “I’m bringing back the Honky-Tonk. That’s what I’ve budgeted for, and that’s what I’m doing. If you’ve got a problem with that—”

  “No, no, I don’t.” Trent raised his hands in submission. Had he been mansplaining? His brother’s girlfriend had taught him that word—when a man comes along and tells a woman her business. “Sorry,” he said. “If you can pull it off, that’ll be great news for me. I’d love to see the Tonk back on its feet.”

  “That makes two of us.” Marianne’s smile was back, fainter than before. “I do plan on varying what we serve. Not just the same old beers. That alone won’t make this place a brewpub, but it could be a draw.”

  Trent removed his hat and raked a hand across his scalp. She’d need to bring more than one beer to the table if she wanted to bring the crowds back to the Tonk.

  “You’re making a face,” said Marianne. “What are you thinking?”

  Trent bit back a laugh. “You really want to know?”

  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 off her plans flew from his mind. Instead, he found himself wanting to sample those determined lips for himself. Find out if 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. He doubted she’d go for it after his foot-in-mouth moment, but he still 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 sun on her fair complexion. “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 you’ll have a fight on your hands, building the Honky-Tonk back to what it once was. I’d like to offer to help you in whatever way I can, but I can’t guarantee you’re not setting yourself up for disappointment.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said. “Really, I do. But I don’t need any help.” She indicated her neat little garden with its freshly planted rosebushes. “I’ve run a business before, and I’ve got it covered.”

  “Oh? What kind of business?”

  Marianne pressed her lips into a tight line. “I, uh…I ought to get back to this.” She turned to her garden. “Thanks for your offer, but—”

  “Hold on,” Trent cut in, not wanting to end their conversation on a sour note. “This beer you’ll be selling, the one you’re brewing in that vat, if you tell me about it, I could spread the word. Get folks excited to try it for themselves.”

  Marianne brightened at that. “Hey, that’d be great. It’s actually a new recipe. Have you ever tried beer brewed with coriander? It has an excellent flavor. A staple of all good Belgian wits. This is my first time brewing with it, but so far, so good.” Her smile widened, and her blue eyes sparkled. “Tell you what, when I’ve perfected the recipe, you can have a sample.”

  “I can’t accept gifts,” said Trent, automatically, regretting the words the moment they were out of his mouth.

  “It wouldn’t be a gift,” said Marianne. “You’d be doing me a favor. A taste test. You’d be my guinea pig.”

  Trent knew he should decline, but he nodded instead. “I could do that,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  Marianne’s face lit up. “Thanks. You’ll be a big help.” She put on her sun hat and bent back to her gardening. “I thought I’d use a yellow rose for the label, to match the ones I just planted. Thought it’d make a nice theme, to spruce the place up.”

  “Yellow rose?” Trent frowned. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but someone had to tell her. “Don’t bite my head off, but those are gonna be pink. My brother’s got the same ones out on his ranch, and, yeah. They’re pink.”

  “Oh, for—” Marianne snapped her mouth shut, likely on a curse.

  “Happy gardening,” said Trent. “I’ll be looking forward to trying out your special brew.” He tipped his hat in farewell and headed around back, grinning as Marianne’s 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. Lockhart Bend didn’t need a new honky-tonk, but some nice, classy brewpub? He could see that. And he could see Marianne running it, with her clear passion for brewing.

  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

  Marianne loved roses. If she had to pick a favorite flower, it would be roses, hands down. But now, her freshly planted rosebushes just seemed to mock her. She couldn’t walk by them without thinking of Sheriff Trent Wild, and that gleam in his eye as he picked holes in her plans.

  A few days had passed since their stormy encounter, and Marianne still had the sheriff’s smug expression firmly fixed in her brain. It didn’t help matters that she found Trent quite attractive. Irresistible, even, at least based on looks. His personality was a different story. The last thing she needed was some tall, dark know-it-all sniffing around while she tried to carve out her place in the world. She’d thought this through, damn it. She would make it work.

  “Thanks a lot, Aunt Celia,” she muttered to herself as she dropped her chin into her hand. “Not everyone wants or needs to be looked after.”

  Still, Marianne couldn’t help the way her eyes kept flicking to the front doors of the Honky-Tonk. The wireless internet at her new house was still buggy, so she had been forced to bring her laptop to the bar to research her competition. The Tin Horseshoe up the road also sold beer, but they were a greasy spoon as much as a pub. They didn’t have dancing, and they didn’t have live music, two of the main draws of a real honky-tonk. Her closest direct competition was six miles out of town, a cruddy little rathole on the side of the road called the Boot Stomper. Just driving by there, she’d felt her scalp crawl. If that was the competition Trent was talking about…

  Her eyes darted to the doors again, checking the parking lot for Trent’s police car. A plastic bag blew by on the hot summer breeze, not quite a tumbleweed, but she groaned all the same.

  Trent had warned her he would stop in again, hadn’t he? Well, what was taking him so long? It wasn’t like Marianne wanted him around, but not knowing when or where their paths might cross again made her nervous. Better to get it over with sooner rather than later. 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 barstool and hurried to the entrance, slowing her pace at the last second to gather her wits. 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 flattered him in her memory, not in the slightest—not his hair, not his eyes, not his broad, powerful shoulders. Today, Lockhart Bend’s sheriff was out of uniform. It seemed unfair that he should look so totally at ease in blue jeans and a T-shirt; how did he make the off-duty ensemble look so damn good? Wasn’t the uniform supposed to be the fantasy, the secret spice?

  Belatedly, she noticed the woman at his side, a pretty blonde with a bright, infectious smile. Something twisted unpleasantly, deep in her stomach—not jealousy, not that. Not over Trent. But who was she, that woman, with her sparkly pink tee?

  “Doesn’t matter,” muttered Marianne. Because it didn’t. What mattered was, Trent was here. Clomping up the steps. Marianne braced herself. This was a man who might, at any moment, turn from ally to nemesis if she didn’t watch herself. She should keep that in mind, not his companion.

  “Sheriff Wild!” Marianne exclaimed as she pushed open the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Don’t act so surprised to see me.” He grinned, and Marianne’s stomach flipped like she’d just started a ride on 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 package at her. Marianne blinked in surprise and accepted his offering. His blonde friend—girlfriend?—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,” said Trent. “Seeds. Yellow roses. You’ll want to plant them next spring. They grow pretty quick, and they’ll last you a while.”

  Marianne flushed at the assumption she wouldn’t know when to plant them, but she couldn’t deny that Trent’s gift had touched her. “Thank you. And welcome, both of you, to the new Honky-Tonk.”

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

  Why the hell should it concern you? Marianne smiled big and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. You really thought 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. Even now, his smile held a hint of mischief, a wicked promise of flirtation to come. Or 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 with a friendly nod. “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? Pleased 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. And we both know Trevor’s been too busy to leave it.”

  “So true.” Sabrina pulled a face. “It’s been so long since anyone’s seen him in town, 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 twin? 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 scoping out my competition when I got distracted. I could definitely use a break for a minute.”

  “We won’t get in the way,” Sabrina promised as the three made their way inside. Trent stopped at the bar to scope out the front room, but Sabrina skipped past him to peer into the back.

  “Oh, wow!” She found the light switch, and the back room blazed to life. “Would you look at that buildout? I can’t believe how much you’ve been getting done right under our noses! I love this whole stage area. Is that for live music?”

  “That’s right,” said Marianne. She was about to say more, but Trent beat her to it.

  “The tarps outside do a good job hiding the construction.” He glanced at Marianne, but she couldn’t read his expression. She had a feeling she didn’t need to. She doubted his opinion had changed since their first meeting.

  “I put in acoustic panels to get the best sound. And I thought I’d do theme nights—karaoke, maybe. I’ve still got the machine from, uh…I’ve got a machine.” Marianne pulled a face. She’d bought the machine with Simon, for their place in Denver. “All that’s left to do is varnish the floors and fix up the kitchen, and then we’ll be ready for our grand reopening.” She threw Trent a glare, daring him to argue, but he was studying the antlers nailed over the bar.

  “You kept the place just the same,” he said. “Same vibe, same décor.”

  Marianne bristled at the judgment in his tone, 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 open your doors?”

  “Well…once the kitchen’s done, I should be good to go,” Marianne said hesitantly. “And there’s some barstools needing refinishing. I guess technically everything’s in place to open in a week, but I figured I’d time the grand opening for the Summer Festival next month. That way, I’ll catch the crowds in town for that. They’re going to be thirsty, and I’ll have plenty for them to drink.”

  Sabrina exchanged glances with Trent, and Marianne sensed something shady afoot. Trent and Sabrina might not be together, 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 as Sabrina took over.

  “Because,” Sabrina said, “we just came from the town hall. Their water main broke, and they flooded out overnight. There was supposed to be a big meeting held there next week, but now they’re looking at major repairs. So we thought, maybe…” Sabrina caught her lip between her teeth and nudged Trent in the ribs.

  “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 let the mayor know he can host the meeting here.”

  “Oh, wow.” Marianne touched her forehead to reorient herself. Simon’s voice filled her head, whispering doubts. She wouldn’t be ready. The space was too small. What if the building didn’t pass its inspection? She’d have to cancel. Cancel on the mayor.

  She dug deep for her own voice, and at first, she couldn’t find it. She’d let Simon speak for her, think for her, for far too long. But then she heard herself, quiet but clear, and what she heard made her pulse race. This is your chance, so grab it. Take that bull by its horns.

  “Only if you agree to it,” Sabrina put in quickly. “We know it’s short notice. But it’ll be a chance for you to show off the new space, and drum up some goodwill ahead of your opening. Think of it as free advertising, or—” Sabrina broke off mid-sentence and pulled up the edge of a tarp. “Oh, wow! Get a load of all this stuff!”