Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(10)
“I’m sorry,” the sheriff said.
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t fix it. How can I even drive it home with the fender hanging like that?”
“I’ve got a wrench,” he said. “I can take it off for you. Or better yet, I could just call for a tow now. The tow truck can drop off your car at the body shop in Cottonwood Springs. Meanwhile, I can drive you home, and we can get you a rental car tomorrow. There’s no rental agency here in Branding Iron, but I can drive you to Cottonwood Springs on my lunch hour.”
“I teach school. I have to be here,” she said. “One of my roommates can drive me to work, but after that, I’ll need my own transportation. I want that rental sitting right here when I come out at the end of the school day.” She wasn’t going easy on him, but Grace didn’t care. The sheriff had damaged her car, and it was up to him to make things right.
“I know this was an accident,” she added when he didn’t reply right away. “But it wasn’t my fault, and I don’t deserve to be stranded because of it. You’re the sheriff. I know you have connections. Make it happen.”
She studied his reaction—a silent frown. Big Sam Delaney was a hunk, with his chiseled features and superhero physique. But that was beside the point. Right now what she needed was her car fixed and something to drive in the meantime. And she had to let him know she meant business.
“Give me till tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “There’s a chance I can have the towing company pick up the rental and bring it from Cottonwood Springs when they come to pick up your car. I’ll have to clear it with my insurance, but if that isn’t an option, I’ll find another way.”
“Fine.” Grace squelched the impulse to thank him. If he hadn’t hit her car she wouldn’t be needing his help.
Suddenly she felt exhausted. A few years ago a doctor had warned her that she was borderline hypoglycemic. If she felt extra tired, it could be a sign that her blood sugar was low and she needed to eat. Or maybe it was just the emotional stress of seeing her wrecked car.
The sheriff was all business now. “Clean everything you need out of your car, including the trunk. I’ve got some trash bags in the Jeep. I’ll get you a couple of those and give you a hand. After that, you can give me the key, and I’ll drive you home. All right?”
She nodded, found the key in her purse, and unlocked the car door.
“Daddy, I’m really hungry,” Maggie piped up. “Can we stop at Buckaroo’s when we go to Miss Chapman’s house? It’s right on the way.”
“How about it?” The sheriff caught Grace’s gaze. “It’s too early for dinner, but if you could do with coffee and the best pie in three counties, we’d be glad to have you as our guest.”
“Well . . .” Scooping odds and ends out of the glove box, Grace weighed the invitation. She didn’t want to be obligated to the sheriff, and she didn’t usually socialize with students outside of school. But Maggie and her father meant well. Turning them down would be churlish. And she did need to eat. “All right,” she said. “Just pie and coffee. Thanks.”
They climbed into the big vehicle. The sheriff boosted Maggie into the high backseat, then offered Grace his hand. “Watch that step, it’s a long one.”
“Thanks.” She clasped his hand for balance as she found the foothold and hoisted her weight upward. The contact with his fingers was electric. Grace willed herself to ignore the tingle that surged through her body before pulling away to settle into the leather seat.
“Buckle up, both of you.” He closed the passenger door.
“Daddy always reminds me to buckle up,” Maggie said. “He’s really careful that way. You can tell how much he cares about people. He’s a great dad, too, and a great sheriff. Everybody likes him. You will, too, ’specially once you get to know him.”
Grace fastened her seat belt. Maggie’s praise of her father seemed a bit much, especially the last bit about getting to know him. What was the child up to? Heavens to Betsy, was she matchmaking? Had her so-called strike been a ploy to get her handsome dad to come to school and meet her teacher?
If that was true, Grace couldn’t help feeling a bit flattered. But Maggie’s scheme—if that’s what it amounted to—was a bad idea for all sorts of reasons. Grace needed to nip it in the bud before things got awkward.
*
From the backseat, Maggie could see no more than the tops of their heads—her father’s dark brown, her teacher’s a few shades lighter. Did they like each other? It was too soon to tell. But at least her dad had invited Miss Chapman to go to Buckaroo’s with them. And at least Miss Chapman had said yes. That was a good sign.
Maggie couldn’t have planned better than the accident that had banged up her teacher’s car. At first, she’d feared it would ruin everything. But then she’d realized it might be helpful. The two of them would have to stay in touch, at least until the car was fixed. That would allow them more time to get acquainted—and more time for the magic to happen.
They wouldn’t have to fall in love; just liking each other enough to ease Big Sam’s loneliness would be enough for now. Was that too much to ask?
*
They parked at the curb outside Buckaroo’s. Sam climbed out of the high vehicle and went around to the passenger side to open the door. When he offered a hand to help Miss Chapman to the sidewalk, she took it. Her fingers were long and slender, their brief clasp smooth and warm against his palm. She smelled faintly of rosemary—not perfume, maybe soap or shampoo. Whatever it was, he found himself breathing it in, savoring the sweet, clean fragrance.