Her Small-Town Sheriff

Someone to her left raised their hand and asked about the schedule. Phoebe tapped her pencil on the desk, listening intently, trying to make the most of her time here, even though she’d had to coerce herself to come.

Forcing herself to talk about painful things was always, well, painful, and she felt like she had when she’d gone to the dentist for a root canal.

Fortunately, they had Novocain for a root canal. But for handling grief? No such thing.

When all of the questions had been answered, Rebecca said, “All right. I’ve gone over the basic structure of the course and covered the schedule in depth. Now, if you’ll remember, I mentioned working with a discussion partner outside of class.”

Everyone in the class murmured their assent along with Phoebe.

“Okay, there are twelve of us, and since Randy and Joanna are married and want to be partners, we’ll need to count off by fives to make five groups of two.” She pointed right. “Start here and count off, and then we’ll partner up, get to know each other for a few minutes, and adjourn.”

Everyone dutifully said their number, and Phoebe uttered “five” when it was her turn. The counting hit the back of the room, and the last person to speak—a guy with a vaguely familiar deep voice—said “five” after a pause. The counting ended.

Phoebe drew her eyebrows together. She hadn’t noticed any men in the very back of the room when the class had started…

Gathering up her things, she stood and turned around to see who she’d be working with. Only to be met with the dark, piercing, none-too-happy yet surprised gaze of Sheriff Carson Winters.

She blinked as her heart tripped over itself. Freezing in midmotion as she slung her purse over her shoulder, she almost whacked the woman standing next to her.

Oh, no. What was he doing at a grief-counseling class? His wife had left him and Heidi, yes. Did death of a marriage count? Probably so…

A new depth of empathy grabbed ahold of her and twisted. Automatically, a prayer rose inside of her. Lord, please help the Winterses through this, and give them the strength they’ll need to heal. And help me, too, please. I think I’m going to need it.

Because as a woman out to keep her life on an even track, spending any one-on-one time with the compelling Carson Winters was the very last thing she wanted to do.

Chapter Four

“So, it looks like we’re discussion partners.”

As Phoebe spoke, Carson arranged his face in a neutral expression and smothered the need to snort.

Figured he’d get paired up with the pretty blonde, who looked even nicer than he remembered, dressed in a black belted coat, jeans and hot-pink scarf that really played up the blue in her eyes.

Actually, getting paired up with anybody wasn’t exactly thrilling him; he’d been planning on dutifully sitting through some lectures, maybe filling out some forms or something. Alone. He hadn’t counted on sharing himself—or his feelings—with anyone.

Especially not the engaging ice-cream-store owner.

Belatedly, he realized that Phoebe was obviously here because she was dealing with grief herself. What was her story, anyway? And why was he so interested?

He rolled a shoulder. “Yep, looks like we are.”

A pause. “You don’t look too happy about being here,” she said, hitching her purse up.

Guess he was a bad actor. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she said, surprising him. “I promised my mom I’d come, and…well, let’s just say it’s hard saying no to her.”

Again, his interest flared; who was she grieving? Guess he’d find out soon enough. “Then we’re in the same boat.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I promised Lily I’d come,” he said.

“Ah. I see.”

“But I’d never have come of my own volition. I’m not much of a talker.” Especially when it came to what ailed him.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Look, if you’d rather have another partner…”

“I didn’t want any partner,” he said, his jaw ticking. “So don’t be offended.”

Her mouth thinned. “Well, that makes me feel better.”

He sighed. “I’m handling this badly, aren’t I?”

“Pretty much,” she replied, nodding.

“Sorry.” He laughed under his breath. “This kind of stuff isn’t my strong point.” Susan had always said he was a bad interpersonal communicator and liked to hold things close to the vest. She’d been wrong about a lot of things, but right about that; he’d been raised to keep his chin up, no matter what.

“I don’t think anyone likes talking about painful stuff,” Phoebe said, softly, her eyes shimmering. “Especially grief.”

Before he could respond to Phoebe’s comment, Rebecca clapped her hands. The class quieted and all eyes looked her way.

“While you’re talking with your partner, please discuss why you’re here, all right?” Rebecca said. “That way, everyone will be on the same page, and no one will have to ask an insensitive question. And feel free to go somewhere more comfortable to talk. Class is over for tonight. See you all next week.”

Phoebe turned to him, her eyebrows raised. “You want to spill first?”

His throat burned. “Quite frankly, no.” Rebecca’s suggestion to share their history made sense, but he honestly didn’t know how he could even utter CJ’s name without crumbling.

Without reliving his failure.

“Yeah. Me, neither,” Phoebe said ruefully. “Looks like we’re at an impasse.”

Other members of the class began filing out, although a few stayed, talking in small groups. Rebecca, who’d been making the rounds, walked up.

“How’s it going, you two?” she asked.

“Not so good,” Phoebe said. “We both feel…awkward about sharing.”

That was putting it mildly.

“That’s natural, completely normal,” Rebecca replied. “This opening-up process frequently feels wrong and problematic at first.”

She had that right. Sharing his agony felt so not right, so against his natural instincts to keep everything within himself. His gut told him to clam up and ignore his feelings and hope they just went away.

Rebecca leaned against a desk. “Dealing with grief is difficult, no doubt about it.”

Exactly. Handling CJ’s death had been the hardest challenge Carson had ever come up against. And that was saying a lot, given his occupation.