Montana Skies

RISSA MATHEWS glanced into the rearview mirror and groaned when she spotted red and blue flashing lights. "Oh, great. Oh, this is justgreat!" She took her foot off the gas pedal and rolled to a stop off the road, the police cruiser following closely behind. Swearing under her breath, she reached beside her for her purse. It wasn't there. Mouth open in panic, she leaned over to feel beneath the empty seat beside her. Had it slid in between the passenger seat and the door? "No, no, no, you've got to bekiddingme." "Put your hands where I can see them," a deep baritone ordered from her left. "Slowly." Raising her head, she found herself staring into a pair of thickly lashed green eyes set amidst a sun-browned face and sharp, angular features. A broad-rimmed Stetson covered the officer's head and a khaki uniform shirt stretched across his wide chest, but it was the sun's reflection off the man's badge that had her imagining it was laughing at her. She'd been pulled over by North Star's very own sheriff. What were the odds onhimletting her go? Rissa straightened--slowly--and immediately noticed from her higher position in the truck that his hand rested on the butt of his gun. "Ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?" "Not exactly." Who had time to pay attention to the speed limit when summoned by an irate principal? "You were driving seventy-nine in a fifty-five. License and registration, please." "Oh, ah..." "Is there a problem, ma'am?" Rissa looked at the empty seat beside her, her hands fisted in frustration. Why today of all days? "I don't have it," she admitted, her voice low. "M-my license. I mean, Idohave a license, but it's--I don't have it with me." Her embarrassment heightened when one of the sheriff's eyebrows rose in response to her words. "I see.... Your name?" "Rissa Mathews." "And where were you going in such a hurry in the Rowlands' new truck, Ms. Mathews?" The casually posed question didn't disguise the underlying query, and Rissa realized if she didn't talk fast, she'd not only wind up with a ticket she couldn't afford, but also a free trip to jail until he could determine whether the truck was stolen. Then where would her daughter be? Probably right beside her."Do you know the Rowlands?" she asked, hopeful. "I'm Maura's cousin--I'm staying at the Second Chance and helping Seth and Grace. You can call and confirm I have permission to drive the truck." The sheriff stared at her, his gaze assessing. Maybe loosening up a little? She and Maura resembled each other, had the same hair and build passed on from their mothers. "I just might do that," he drawled with a bit of a western twang, "but first tell me why you were speeding. Are you on an errand for the ranch?" She wanted to say yes, but she would be lying and she was a horrible liar. The Second Chance was a fully operating year-round ranch and vacation resort, one for physically impaired guests and their families. Guests could ride horses, fish, snowmobile and ski with full thought and consideration given to any special needs. Maura had made two trips to town this week to obtain something for a guest so trips into the small town weren't unusual. "No, but...I'm late. I ran out of gas and had to walk back to the ranch and borrow the truck. Now my daughter's waiting for me to pick her up at school, I'm late for appointments Ican'tmiss, and--" She clamped her mouth shut. If he were going to give her a ticket there was nothing she could do about it. Rambling certainly wouldn't help, and doing so only reinforced the typical first impression most assumed when they spotted her blond hair and curvy frame. But pride or no pride, she couldn't afford a ticket. Smothering a moan, she rubbed her aching temple. "Look, Sheriff, I know you've probably heard every excuse under the sun when it comes to people trying to get out ofStockham, Kay is the author of 'Montana Skies ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373713950 and ISBN 0373713959.