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“Gray.”
“Mercy,” he said, mimicking her disapproving tone.
Her lips twitched and she fought not to laugh. “You know good and well it doesn’t matter if he’s causing you problems personally, because you’re the sheriff now and your job is to make sure that there are no problems in the town for anybody. And Frank is most definitely causing poor Martha problems.”
Gray wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “You’re kind of cute when you’re lecturing me.”
“Oh,” she said, half-heartedly pushing away from him, though inside she was melting into a puddle of twitterpated goo. She caved pretty quickly, though, when his head dipped down to hers. She rose onto her toes to meet him and pressed her lips to his for a delicious second before dropping back to her heels.
“Do you know that man?” Gray asked with a subtle nod at a tall, thin stranger leaning against a pole across the street.
Mercy glanced over, trying not to make it too obvious, since Gray didn’t seem to want to draw attention to the fact that they were watching him.
“No. I’ve never seen him before.” She looked up at Gray with a worried frown. “Do you think he’s one of Josiah’s?”
“I don’t know. But it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m sure Josiah has eyes all over this town.” He pulled her in for a quick, one-armed hug. “Don’t worry,” he said, kissing her temple. “We’ll keep on our toes.”
She nodded, though she couldn’t quiet the worry pulsing through her. The man pushed away from the post and walked in the opposite direction down the street, and Mercy released the breath she’d been holding.
“Do you think Josiah will still come for his men?” she asked.
Gray shook his head. “I doubt it. I’m sure his spies are keeping him posted, so he’ll know that they were moved by now. And hopefully he’s too busy taking care of his hand at the moment. Give our men a good head start.”
He kissed her again. But another crash from the direction of the store drew their attention before they could get too involved in what their lips were doing.
“I guess I’m gonna have to arrest Frank,” he said, letting her go. Reluctantly. “At least I can give him a safe place to dry out.”
“By the way, I’m pretty sure that was your lunch he just dumped into the street,” she said.
Gray’s eyes widened at that and he huffed, jamming his hat harder on his head before marching off toward Frank, grumbling.
“Okay,nowI’m definitely going to arrest him.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gray walked toward Frank, not quite sure how to go about doing this. He’d never arrested anyone before, and he’d somehow escaped ever being captured himself. The prisoners who were on their way to the judge didn’t count, since he hadn’t technically arrested them.
He stopped in front of Frank, who was half-heartedly trying to help right the cart that he had toppled again, much to the dismay of Martha as he was doing more damage than good. She swatted at him, and he backed up, tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass in the street.
“Frank,” he said.
The man looked up at him, blinking his bloodshot eyes. “Who you?” he said, his words slurred.
Gray pointed to the star on his chest and Frank squinted. “Ah, look at that. We got a new sheriff?”
“Apparently,” Gray said.
“Is it time to get arrested?”
Gray nearly smiled. “Happen often, does it?”
“Ah sure. Once or twice a week at least.” He stumbled to his feet. “I don’t mind, though. The sheriff…the other one, not you,” he said, pointing somewhere to the right of Gray, “was kind of an ass, but he usually gives me a nice cup of coffee and lets me sleep a little.”
“Huh,” Gray said. “Well, I can’t offer you coffee…” He was starting to feel like he might be running a hotel instead of a jail. “I don’t have a new kettle yet. The last sheriff made off with the old one.”
“The sheriff stole the coffeepot? You gonna arrest him, too?”
Gray’s lips twitched before he could stop them. “Well, I’d like to, though I suppose I don’t rightly know for sure if he stole it exactly. It may have been his.”
