Patricia Thayer

A Taste of Paradise


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continued to work his knife. “Did you take him into custody?”

      “No, he climbed in his car, but before he drove off, he told me to tell you that he’d be in your office the first thing in the morning to file a complaint.”

      “Okay. I’ll handle it, Ryan.”

      The deputy stepped up onto the porch. “Sheriff, I swear I went by the book.”

      Nate had had several run-ins with Easton. His family had been in the valley nearly as long as the Hunters and about half that time they’d been feuding. At every opportunity Kurt Easton reminded Nate that his family had lost everything.

      “I know you did, Ryan. I’ll take care of it in the morning when my shift starts.”

      The deputy looked relieved. He was happy the sheriff would have the responsibility of dealing with one of the most prominent men in town. “Thanks, Nate.”

      Nate kept slicing at the block of wood. “Just because he’s a councilman doesn’t give him any special privileges. He broke the law. Now, get back on patrol. You can start by driving by the construction site just to make sure things are quiet. You were off last week when someone threw a party down there. It was probably kids, but I’d like you to keep a close watch.”

      Ryan nodded. “Sure. ’Night, Sheriff,” he called as he headed back to the patrol car.

      Nate watched him go, knowing what he had in store in the morning. There was no doubt that the fifty-something lawyer would be waiting for him, hoping he could stir up some trouble for a Hunter.

      “Was that Ryan Clark?” His mother’s voice broke the silence of the quiet night.

      Nate glanced up as the tall slender woman came out the screen door. Betty Hunter had turned fifty-five this year, and although she had a few gray hairs mixed in with her light brown, she looked years younger. She’d taken up running ten years ago after her husband had died suddenly of a heart attack. Along with a healthy diet and teaching at the elementary school, that had helped to keep her youthful figure.

      “Yeah, he had a question,” Nate said, running his knife over the wood in the dimming light.

      “It’s finally starting to cool off.” She took the chair next to his. “What are you starting on now?”

      “I’m not sure,” he said, though already a design was forming in his head.

      “Whatever you carve, it will be beautiful.” She smiled. “I’ve told you a hundred times, you should sell those figures.”

      “Then I wouldn’t enjoy it as much. How could I relax if I had a production line going?”

      “I’m not talking about a production line. But you could make extra money, maybe it could help you with your goal.” They both knew she was talking about the ranch.

      He stopped his knife. “I’m sheriff, Mom. I don’t have the time.”

      “Nathan…” she began, then paused. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, probably too much. And maybe that’s my fault. I’ve relied on you too much since your father’s death.”

      “Mom, I only did what Dad would have wanted. You needed me. Shane and Emily were still kids.”

      “But you gave up so much. And you’ve helped Shane start his business and Emily…” Her voice grew hoarse with emotion. “I never could have afforded college for her without your help.”

      “I wanted Em to have the same chance to go to school that I did, even if she plans to go work in Hollywood.”

      “There’s still time to change her mind, but God knows she’s stubborn,” his mother said, turning her attention back to him. “I only wish I could help you have your dream.”

      He didn’t like it when his mother got sentimental. He stood. “I’m happy, Mom. I’ve got a good job and family.”

      At one time he’d had a lot of dreams. Nate thought back to college, when he was a wide receiver trying to make it to the pros. He nearly did, too, until he’d gotten hurt, then suddenly he wasn’t in demand any longer.

      So the injured hometown boy returned home, but only for as long as it took his leg to heal. Even when his father had asked him to stay and help out with the ranch, Nate wanted out of Haven, and he took off to the sheriff’s academy. No sooner had he graduated and was about to take a job in the Phoenix area, than his father died of a heart attack. Nate rushed home to help his mother and younger brother and sister. But he couldn’t keep the bank from taking the Double H. They all moved into town and he took the deputy’s job. Four years ago he’d run for sheriff. Maybe if the townspeople had known he’d been a selfish bastard, he wouldn’t have won so easily.

      Over the last few years, he’d realized that he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. His family’s roots were deep in this valley and he wanted the ranch back. He owed that much to his father, especially since he was the reason Ed Hunter had mortgaged the property in the first place—to help pay for his son’s college education.

      His mother’s voice interrupted his reverie. “What about the Double H?”

      Yes, that was his one remaining dream. In its run-down condition, the old place wasn’t worth much to anyone but him. Nate hoped to be the only bidder at the auction, praying he could get the ranch pretty cheap. Funny, for years all he’d wanted was to travel the world. Now he couldn’t think about living anywhere else.

      His thoughts returned to Tori. Her sudden arrival had brightened his mundane life. But that was about as far as he was going to take it. She’d probably hang around a few days, then call a friend and be gone. It was a good thing. A woman like Tori wouldn’t be happy in a small town like Haven. He’d bet his next paycheck that she was San Francisco society. Just look at the car she drove. Still, he was impressed by how hard she’d worked to clean up Sam’s apartment, and how she hadn’t once complained after her first grueling day waiting tables at the café. And he hadn’t missed how good she looked in her uniform, nor had any of the other male patrons.

      “I hear there’s a visitor in town,” his mother said.

      Nate shrugged, not wanting to show too much interest. “Tori Sheridan. She’s staying until her car is repaired.”

      “Is that why she’s working for Sam?”

      Nate frowned. “You seem to have a lot of questions about someone who’s just passing through.”

      “Mary Orwell told me about the new waitress.” She shrugged. “It isn’t often we get new people in town.”

      “Mom, she’s won’t be around long. Tori has a life back in San Francisco.” And probably a man who cared about her, he thought.

      “Maybe she’ll stay for a while if she meets someone special.”

      “I know what you’re thinking, Mom. And I’m going to put an end to your hopes. I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone. I helped Tori when she was stranded on the highway and helped her get a job with Sam. That’s all. Even if I were interested, I have nothing to offer a woman right now.”

      “Son, you have a lot to offer,” his mother insisted.

      “Oh, yeah. An apartment over my mother’s garage, and soon all my money will be tied up in buying and restoring a run-down ranch. Besides, it’s been so long since I’ve gone out on a date, I probably wouldn’t remember how to carry on a decent conversation.”

      His mother stood and kissed him on the cheek. “Since when is conversation the main priority?” With a wink, she turned and walked back into the house.

      Nate groaned in frustration as he leaned against the pillar and stared out at the quiet street. For the past two days, he’d fought to keep his mind off Tori Sheridan and had failed miserably.

      For the first time in a long time, he was interested. But something