Sheriff's Choice - Jacki James Page 0,1

of his shirt to wipe his eyes. “This is the third time this month they’ve gotten out.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to talk to him. This time the gate was left open though, so that was probably just a careless hand.”

“Probably so, but if I wanted to work with cattle, I’d have stayed on my family’s ranch.”

I didn’t know much of Trent’s story; he’d moved here shortly after Sheriff Trainer retired and I became sheriff. At first, the county didn’t want to hire anyone to fill my previous position as deputy, but I made it clear that I wasn’t working seven days a week, so they gave in and hired Trent. He was raised on a ranch in east Texas, and that knowledge helped him to get the job. Cowboys are a different breed, and having someone who understood that was helpful.

“I hear ya, but it’s part of the job. I couldn’t reach Larry, and we can’t have these cows out blocking the road and causing accidents.”

“Could be worse, I guess, could be pigs,” Trent said with a chuckle. “Have you ever tried to catch loose pigs?”

“Can’t say I have, but I bet they’re hard to catch.”

“Tricky fuckers. We had a bunch at home. I hated those things. They’d get out, and my grandfather would yell for us to all come help. Ridiculous.”

“Sounds like fun, actually.”

“Guess that depends on what you mean by fun. There are worse ways to grow up though, that’s for damn sure.”

“Yep, a lot worse.” I nodded in agreement, and my mind flashed to three little kids huddled together in a dirty, run-down trailer waiting for their mother to come back. Their mother—who had just been busted for cooking meth in the trailer next door. Not all my horror stories came from my time in the city, like most small towns, we had our fair share of drugs here in River Gorge.

Back at the station, I sent Trent home. We had a long weekend ahead of us with the opening of The Watering Hole. We’d never had a bar here in River Gorge, and I wasn’t sure how it would go. We were planning to be available for any trouble and keep watch for drunk drivers. I’d finished writing up the report on the Grayson cattle and filed it away when my friend, Kyle, walked in.

“Hey, Eli. How you doing?”

“Doing good,” I said, looking at my watch. “Is it coffee time already?”

“It is. Busy morning?”

“Nah, Larry Grayson’s cows were out again.”

“Oh, what an exciting life you live,” he mocked.

“Like you’re one to talk,” I said as we walked across the street to the coffee shop.

There were a few people waiting for their coffee, so we stepped in line. My order would be simple. I drank my coffee hot and black, even in the summer. The last thing I wanted was for someone to add a bunch of sugar and stuff to it, making it more like a dessert than a cup of coffee. Kyle, on the other hand, was looking at the menu trying to decide what he wanted to drink.

The young man in front of us stepped up to place his order, and the barista greeted him. “Hey, Cody.”

“Hey, Tony. How are things?”

“Good, what can I get for you?”

“I don’t know. Do you ever have a day where you think if you have to make even one more decision your brain is gonna explode?”

Tony chuckled and said, “How about a Caramel Nut Mocha? It has hazelnut in it. I can even make it as a frappe if you want it cold, and that would be great with your scone.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“See,” Kyle whispered. “I’m not the only one who likes my coffee to taste good.”

The young man took his coffee from Tony, and as I stepped forward to the counter, he surprised me by stepping backward right into me. He let out a gasp and spun around so quickly he teetered to one side and almost dropped his coffee. I reacted without thinking. I steadied him by placing one hand on his side and caught the coffee with the other.

“Sorry,” he said, lifting his eyes to mine. Damn, he was stunning. I let my gaze trail down over his body—dark hair, beautiful green eyes, and god, the tattoos. The sleeves on his shirt were rolled up, revealing the tattoos that reached his wrists. I wondered how much of his body was covered in the gorgeous ink. I’d never understood the attraction of tattoos, but on him, they