Protected by the Lawman: Lawmen of Wyoming, #1

By Rhonda Lee Carver

The hat. The gun. And the desire to protect.

 

Showing up to invesitgate a double homicide, Sheriff Phoenix Cade almost comes out of his boots when he sees the blonde--the only witness to the crime--covered in blood. He'd danced with her a few nights before and had every intention of getting her number until she threw up all over his shoes. Hell, his shoes would wash.

 

Ria Portman has spent the better part of six years convincing her family and friends that she could take care of herself. The accident took her sight, but it didn't take her independance. There were a lot of things she'd learned over the years, especially regarding men. They said they could handle her disability, but truth was, they lied.

 

When her assistant and client are murdered, she will have to rely on one man.

 

Phoenix is over his ex after catching her cheating, but relationships are like playing with fire. Can he let his guard down long enough to let his heart fall? He'll protect Ria with all that he has, but love is another story...maybe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rhonda Lee Carver
• Release date: Jan 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9798201178673

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

PHOENIX CADE THREW a dart, hitting the bull’s eye, just as he felt a slender hand touch his bicep. He spotted red-painted nails and the pretty green gaze of a cowgirl who had a smile that could knock the socks off a cowboy if he was interested. He wasn’t.

Hi there, handsome. She looked at him through a fringe of eyelashes.

Hello, ma’am. He tipped his Stetson.

You have the look of a deer in headlights. I’m Rae. After several seconds, she blinked and one corner of her mouth dipped. You don’t remember me, do you?

No, ‘fraid I don’t. He searched his memory and came up blank.

You wrote me a ticket last month. Speeding.

I’ve been known to write a few of those. This wouldn’t be the first time he was approached by someone he’d met while on duty. Not wearing his uniform shirt, star, or the utility belt with his weapon made him seem less official, and more approachable he guessed.  Not that he was looking for a good time tonight to begin with, but this sealed the deal. He never, ever, mixed business with pleasure.

And you dinged me for not wearing my seatbelt. Her bottom lip was protruding further as well as a shapely hip in tight jeans.

Uh-oh. He had a feeling she had a bone to pick with him. Safety first, ma’am. It’s the law. I’d rather pull you over than pick you up off the road.

Her overly-groomed brows scrunched, but she didn’t have much of an argument left after he pointed out the facts. Her smile returned full-force. Thank you for looking out for me, Sheriff. She walked her fingers up the buttons of his shirt while her irises swirled with an invitation. How about a dance? She darted her gaze down his legs to his worn boots, then back up. I bet you have nice moves.

I don’t dance.

Ever?

Never. Good evening, Miss. Touching the brim of his hat, he went back to take his stool at the bar.

Abbie, Wyoming was too small.

Phoenix rubbed his forehead, incapable of hiding his irritation. For once he’d like to get out of the house and away from the job, but a lawman always carried his badge. Hell, he ate, breathed, and slept the law. He spent more time at the office than at home.

See you around, Sheriff. He lifted his chin. Rae laid down what she owed on her tab, grabbed her purse and gave him a flirtatious wave. Ever change your mind about that dance, look me up. You have my address. She winked and sashayed her way to the door.

The bartender picked up Phoenix’s beer and sniffed. He stared. Smell okay?

Just checking to make sure someone didn’t drop a stupid-pill inside. No, it’s just in your head.

You lost me.

Apparently a lot of things are lost on you. Like come-ons from beautiful, available women. What is wrong with you, buddy? Bar owner of Time Stands Still and Phoenix’s best friend, Tate Mullens, placed the mug back on the bar and returned to his task of washing and drying the glasses.

Hell, I don’t know. This feels a lot like torture instead of a casual evening away from the office. I haven’t had a day off in weeks and I thought this would do me some good.

Are you getting old? Tate grinned. He’d bought the bar a few years ago after his job as a Wildlife Officer ended abruptly when he was mauled by a pissed off mountain lion. Only by the grace of a higher power did he survive the attack, but his twenty-year career did not. He still walked with a limp and had visible scars on his face, but folks around town, especially patrons, loved hearing Tate’s embellished stories of that winter night when he’d almost bled to death but somehow miraculously walked five miles to the highway where he was saved by a passing trucker. Each time the story was told it grew in proportion.

Keep in mind, you’re only a year younger than me. Phoenix grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl and popped them into his mouth.

Yeah, but I’m smarter. Tate laughed and added the glass he was drying on the shelf with the others.

How so?

I’m married. Studies have proven that a man lives a longer, healthier and happier life when he’s hitched.

Phoenix scraped his palm down his cheek. I like my life, buddy. I can come and go as I please. Sit around watching as many games as I want wearing only my boxers. Eat on the couch. Last time I was at your house Sue yelled at us for getting crumbs on her new leather sofa.

First, she didn’t yell. She only lectured. Second, that couch cost me a month’s wages. Your couch has more holes than a slice of swiss cheese. You make being single sound so pleasant, but if the life is so grand, why don’t you enjoy it more? Face it, you live at work so you don’t have to face facts.

That he couldn’t argue. I should be home catching up on the games I have recorded and then get some sleep, Phoenix mumbled.

You used to be so much more fun.

You mean pre-Sheriff days? Hell, I can’t even remember back as far as ten years.

No, more like pre-Katy days. Since you two broke up you’re about as fun as a horse with a bee on his ass. I’ve heard you’ve slept in a cell more than half this month.

At the mention of Katy, he felt a stabbing ache in his temples. Didn’t we agree to not mention her name again? I don’t mention your train-wreck with Amanda, do I?

Man, after this long you should realize you’re better off without her. Katy left, dude. You owe it to yourself to move on, smell the flowers left in the garden. Pluck one or two. Find someone who cares enough to tell you to keep your bare ass off the couch and watching the games to a limit. A woman who is waiting for you to come home so you won’t want to sleep on an old, dirty cot.

"I wear my boxers, like I said. And I have moved on," he grumbled.

Yeah, then prove it.

"And make your married ass jealous? Pfft." His cell vibrated in his pocket. Digging it out, he read the text message from his brother, Zander.

Dead body found at Tattleman’s Farm. Young girl. Homicide. Won’t be at mom’s for dinner this weekend. Z.

Keep me updated. P.

All okay? Tate asked.

Zander has a homicide on his hands. Phoenix dropped his phone into his shirt pocket.

There’s another workaholic. I don’t remember you two being overachievers in school. What the hell happened?

Phoenix laughed. Nah, we allowed Kiersten to be the star-child. After all, she was the only female out of five boys. He and his brothers had always protected their baby sister, even still. She was a special agent in Texas and took down big mob names and drug dealers, but they treated her like she was the same girl with the pigtails and missing front teeth. Phoenix, Zander, Cullen, Nixon, and Kace all took credit for making their sister the tough, independent agent. She blamed them for her relationship-rotations. Men apparently didn’t like her assertive, hard-as-knocks attitude, but Phoenix always told her, You just haven’t met the right one yet. He’ll soften you up and you’ll be happy to oblige.

Looks like you have a group of women who wouldn’t mind helping you out of your rut. They must like the brooding type. Tate grabbed a beer from the cooler, popped the lid and placed it on the tray for a waitress. Why not start there?

Glancing around to check out the tableful of women, Phoenix smirked. They were laughing and whispering, pointing right at him. He wondered which one of them he’d either ticketed for speeding, drunken disorderly, or littering. He was getting negative with age. Not my type.

Beautiful? Sexy? Luscious curves aren’t your type? There’s something wrong with you, man. I’ve been saying it since we were kids, but now I mean it.

Lifting his Stetson, Phoenix dragged a hand through his thick hair, reminding himself that he needed a cut, and replaced the hat low on his forehead. Do I need to remind you of the Rules of 3? Underage is off limits. No badge bunnies. Challenge provokes interest.

Hey, I carded them.

I’m talking old enough for maturity, not for alcohol. I don’t cross the south-of-the-thirty line. No matter how she looks or what she promises.

I can understand, but isn’t that what attracted Katy to you? She was hypnotized by the glistening star on your shirt.

My point exactly. Now, will you stop bitching at me about my relationship status. It’s getting old. I’ll call my mom if I need a sermon on how she’ll never have any grandbabies from her disobedient children.

Tate scratched his cheek.  I tell you what. You ask a woman to dance, any woman of your choice, and I’ll never mention your lack of a personal life again.

I don’t dance, like I told the woman over at the dartboard.

You used to.

Come on.

Seriously.

Just one dance? Hell, why was he even considering this? He didn’t come in tonight to meet anyone, or dance, but if it meant that it’d keep his buddy off his back, he was willing to do almost anything. Does this include no more trying to fix me up on blind dates?

That’s not me. That’s all Sue. I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy. You know she only wants everyone to be as lucky as she was when she met me.

How is it your head is that big without exploding?

All joking aside. Dance and I’ll convince Sue to never play cupid again.

Spinning on the stool, Phoenix leaned his elbows back on the edge of the bar and searched the crowd. If anything, he could at least pretend he was taking the offer seriously.

His gaze automatically landed on the group of ‘below thirty’ ladies who were now on the dance floor. One of them wore a sparkly tiara and a pink sash that read, Bachelorette. Going on forty, the oldest of his siblings, he was almost old enough to be the ladies’ father, and if he were, he wouldn’t want a man his age scoping out his young daughter. Bet or not, the twerking girls were off limits.

Standing at the jukebox was a blonde woman. She had a shapely figure and, earlier, she’d greeted him with a wide smile. Why didn’t he have the motivation to get up from the stool and move across the floor to her? A man had to follow his instincts and his attraction meter didn’t rise a notch.

Moving his gaze through the maze of tables, he could have overlooked the blonde sitting by herself in the corner if it wasn’t for how uncomfortable she appeared. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap and one corner of her mouth was twisted into a frown. She looked about as miserable as he felt. She didn’t seem interested in anything but staring at the neon sign on the wall. Did her date leave her? Step into the restroom? No possible way a woman this gorgeous and classy was alone.

She loosened her death grip and he watched the graceful movement of her slender hand as she reached for her glass, bringing it to her mouth and taking a long sip through the straw. Her tongue swiped across her upper lip to lick an abandoned drop and his stomach tightened. That hadn’t happened in a while. Putting the glass back, she gave her long, shiny hair a flip, exposing bare skin where the neckline of the shirt swooped down one shoulder. His gaze naturally followed the line of her arm to her tiny waist and over what he could see of her voluptuous hips. Grabbing his beer, he emptied the mug and prepared himself...

Rethink that option, Tate said.

Phoenix swiveled back to face his buddy. Why? She’s alone, isn’t she?

She’s also blind. She came in with her sister.

He turned back around to watch the woman, the only one he found interest in. Her blindness didn’t deter him. In fact, it encouraged him.

IT’S LATE. I SHOULD be going, Ria Portman said over the loud music, chatter, and the robust laughter from a nearby table. Everyone was having a good time it seemed, except her. Normally, she wasn’t such a sourpuss, but this just wasn’t her type of hangout. Her ears were hypersensitive and every sound seemed to resonate through her head.

Honey, it’s only nine thirty, Friday and my birthday, Kora said with disappointment in her voice. You won’t turn into Cinderella after dark.

It’s...well, I haven’t been out in so long... Not since she’d moved back to Abbie.

You mean since that dickhead, Jamie, dumped you for our cousin. You’re not committing a crime by having fun. Why not relax and sample some of Wyoming’s finest? You’ll certainly find a few here.

Why do you always come up with the most creative names for my ex?

"Dickhead is not my most creative. I could think of a lot better. After all, what kind of man does to a woman what he did to you?"

Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean he was obligated to stay with me.

Her disgusted moan made Ria smile. "You’re my sister and I love you, but sometimes your positivity rubs me the wrong way, Ri. He could have broken the relationship off with you without screwing Mary Beth. Eventually we’re going to have to talk about their wedding. You’re invited. I won’t be here to accompany you if I go to Paris."

Like I told you before, I haven’t decided if I’m going to attend. Ria lifted her glass and took a sip of the strong drink, squinting as it stung all the way into her stomach. What did you say the name of this drink is?

Magic Mango. It’s supposed to help you relax. You should go.

Home. Yes. I agree.

No, to the wedding.

She took another sip. Why?

To prove to them both that just because they stabbed you in the back doesn’t mean you still care. Call it closure, considering you didn’t do what I suggested from the beginning.

I wouldn’t take a baseball bat to his new Lexus. She gave her head a shake.

Fine, but you cried for weeks after you two broke up. He got the last word by dumping you, and now you need to shove up his ass the fact that you are doing marvelous without him. You deserve it, babe.

Marvelous might be a bit of a fabrication, but you have a point. I do deserve some closure. No, it’s ridiculous. I don’t have to attend the wedding to prove anything.

That you’re not over him? Ria opened her mouth to argue her sister’s point, but what could she say? See what I mean. Kora sniffed loudly.

It’s not how you make it seem. I don’t love him any longer.

No, he has made you scared to jump back into the saddle again.

Again, she couldn’t disagree. Instead, she downed her drink. Within minutes, the waitress was at their table asking if they wanted another. Ready to say ‘no’, Kora beat her to the punch. Yes, bring us both another.

You do realize I can’t drive if you get drunk.

I’d never put you at risk. There was a sadness to Kora’s voice that opened a door to the past.

I’m sorry...I didn’t mean—

I know you didn’t. I’m drinking Coke tonight.

Ria tilted her head. It’s your birthday and you’re not having a drink, and yet I am?

Let’s just say, I’m getting my sister out of the house and that makes me happy. Now about Jamie and Mary Beth... 

Yeah, who was it who introduced them? Ria said, tapping the table with a fingernail. As a massage therapist and blind, she kept them cut short. Low maintenance was necessary.

I introduced them, sure, but I didn’t rent them a motel room. He was a financial analyst and she had some questions about her finances. How was I supposed to know they’d wind up screwing in the bathroom and falling in love? Question is, how does a man with a little penis get all the pretty girls? Realizing how her words must have stung, she sighed. I’m sorry.

Don’t be. You’re right. About everything. He made a choice and it wasn’t me. Better that he realized he wanted something else before we married.

Enough talk about assholes. I know something else I want for my birthday.

A tall, sexy cowboy with a voice like Jason Aldean? I’m afraid that’s out of my capability.

Trust me, sis. I can manage that without help. There was laughter in her tone. I want you to dance tonight. Just one dance.

The waitress brought their drinks and Ria waited until her footsteps faded. Are you forgetting that I won’t be asked?

You’re blind, not dead. Stop acting like men aren’t interested. You keep shoveling road blocks in their paths.

I’m your sister. It’s your job to make me feel better.

Kora snorted. Babes, you’re beautiful.

Not only did Ria consider herself a woman that men didn’t notice, but she’d been blessed with her mother’s genes. Short and lacking in large enough breasts to take a man’s attention off the fact that she couldn’t see. Unlike her sister who had somehow been gifted with a perfect face and perfect figure. The chance of having a man ask Ria to dance was next to impossible. Fine. If a man asks me to dance, I’ll say yes. That should mollify Kora enough.

She squealed in delight and Ria laughed. At least one of them should have romantic notions for her love life.

Don’t look now, Kora whispered. There’s a cowboy at six o’clock heading our direction.

Are you being funny?

I wouldn’t joke when it comes to a cowboy.

Ma’am, care to dance? the deep voice brought Ria’s chin up. Who was he asking? I’m not dancing tonight. Kora shuffled.

Yes, you are. Ria kicked her sister’s foot under the table, then whispered, I don’t need a babysitter. One of them should have some fun tonight. Go on.

Are you sure? Kora didn’t sound convinced.

Yes, I’m positive.

And don’t forget the promise you made me, she reminded Ria.

Once she was sitting alone, Ria listened to one slow country song after another, tapping her foot to the beat and almost jumped out of her boots when the rich, husky voice said, Looks like you could use a dance.

She lifted her chin, nervously clasping her hands. Me?

Yes, you. Would you like to? The slight quiver in his tone told her he was humored.

I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.