Page 21 of Cautious Love

“Shiloh, take it for what it is. This puts everything I’ve ever worked for on the line, but … just accept it,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road though I’m finding myself curious about the look on her face right now.

“Why?” she asks.

“What?”

“Why would you do this for me? You’ve tried to help me. I heard you were asking around. You know what I did, but I’m not in cuffs.”

“Do you want me to put you in cuffs?” I ask her and realize my mistake. That isnothow I meant it, but the corner of her mouth tips up and she looks away.

I’d like to tell her what I think of Grey and how I’d like to make sure he gets good old fashion western justice, even though she accidentally exacted some of her own, but I don’t because if she talked to anyone about tonight it could sink both of us. I’ve worked really hard for my position and the last thing I need to do is make Paxton look soft on crime.

“Where did you park Shiloh?” I ask her.

“Ten minutes the other way,” she says.

I groan and turn the truck around, heading back towards Grey’s. I pull a rag from the back and hand it to her. “Wipe your hands off.”

“Not Grey’s street, but the next one and three blocks down,” she says.

I follow her directions and come to a stop at an old 90s Jeep Wrangler.

“Thanks, Ledger. I — thank you,” she whispers.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

I probably shouldn’t let her out of my sight. I should be making a plan. A cover-up was not on my list of things to do today, or ever, but I started this.

“I think so,” she says, and gets herself out of the truck.

I wait for her to start it and drive away, and follow her to make sure she gets home okay.

But as we drive through town, close to the station, I realize she’d been living with Grey. She doesn’t have a place.

Shiloh pulls into Ella’s Inn.She’s living at the Inn.

That bastard is the one who should have given her the house when they broke up. But I can’t say I’m surprised either.

I pull in next to her and roll down the window.

“You didn’t have to follow me, you’re making me look bad,” she says with a half smile, and angles her head towards a group of people standing in front of their rooms with the doors wide open.

I don’t like this, and I don’t like that she’s here with them, alone with a bit of blood still on her face.

“Sorry I’m ruining your street cred, but are you sure you’re alright?”

None of this feels right.“Oh, I’ll be just fine, sheriff,” she says and lifts her shirt.

I raise a brow. “You sure you know how to use that? I’m not convinced.”

She sighs and her shoulders drop. “I’ve got it, Ledger, thank you,” she says. And I don’t know why hearing her say my name again does something to me, but it does, and it’s odd.

She walks up the stairs and disappears into her room.

The police officer in me says something doesn’t feel right. But the man who was raised by Dixie Hayes says, don’t you dare let that girl figure this out on her own. When someone needs help, you help them. That simple, and I did. I did the exact opposite of what I should have. But she needed help.

But maybe the bigger question is:Does she want help?

Chapter 7