Page 22 of The Formation of Us

“How do you intend to apply oils and balms without asking your patrons to remove their clothing?”

She tried to step around him, but he caught her elbow and stopped her from opening the door.

“Mrs. Wilkins, I’m responsible for what goes on in this town, and I want to know what manner of business you’re running. How will you and your aunts provide these massages?”

“With our clothes on!” She tried to jerk her elbow free, but he held fast.

“Let go of my sister!” Adam pushed between them, shielding Faith with his skinny body. His chest heaved and his fists clenched at his sides. “Leave her alone. She didn’t do anything to you.”

Duke yanked his hand away as if he’d touched a hot poker, ashamed that he’d been gripping her so tightly. He was used to apprehending men. He would never handle a woman roughly. But damn it, he couldn’t allow anything, including Faith’s pretty face, to stand in the way of doing his duty. He’d taken an oath and he would uphold it come hell or high water.

“All right, son.” He nodded to acknowledge the boy’s anger, but spoke to Faith. “I hadn’t meant to insult you, or to hurt you.”

She put her hands on Adam’s shoulders and turned him to face her. “I need to talk with the sheriff.” Adam opened his mouth, and she shook her head to silence him. “Go check on Cora while I have a final word with him. When I finish here, I want to get the rest of the cabbage planted.”

Adam glared at Duke. “You better not hurt her,” he said, then stormed inside and slammed the door.

Duke felt a mix of admiration and concern for the boy. Adam was justified in his anger, and right to defend his sister, but if he wasn’t careful, he could be heading down a path that would put him on the wrong side of the law.

“I’m sorry I pushed you.” Duke rolled his aching shoulder and released a sigh of regret. “Adam told me you dislike men. I guess I haven’t helped improve your opinion of us.”

A startled look crossed her face. “I never . . . I dislike being bullied is all.”

“I hadn’t meant to bully you. But it’s my job to look out for the residents in my town.”

“I know that.” She rubbed her elbow and met his eyes with an openness that shocked him. “I’m one of those residents too, Sheriff. My aunts and I are struggling to build a new life here. If my business doesn’t thrive, I can’t support my family. I’m out of money, and I’m mourning someone I love, but despite being desperate and so scared I can hardly take a full breath, I’ve never once considered performing the crude services you’ve unfairly accused me of selling.”

A slap across the face couldn’t have been more effective in snapping him out of his single-minded pursuit of information. Shame snaked through his gut as he looked through the greenhouse window. Adam stood amidst the mass of greenery, watching them. The plants were stretching upward, alive and healthy, proof that Faith was selling herbs. No harm had come from the balm she had given him, or from the massage Iris gave his mother, or from the existence of Faith’s greenhouse.

Chagrined, he blew out a breath. “This is a peculiar business you’ve opened, and I won’t deny being skeptical about what you’re doing here, but I had no right to insult you, and no intention of doing so. I’m sorry.”

“Sheriff Grayson, everything I do here is with the intention of helping people improve their health. How can that be bad?”

He didn’t question her sincerity, but his gut insisted there was something about these women that would bite him the minute he turned his back.

“Did my balm help your shoulder?” she asked.

“For a few hours.”

“But your shoulder is growing worse, isn’t it?”

It was, but he wouldn’t admit it.

“I can see that it is, Sheriff. Your grimace gave you away when you took your handcuffs off your belt for Cora.”

“I’m fine.”

“Lift your arm then.”

“What?”

“Lift your arm above your head.”

He stared at her, liking the challenge in her eyes, but confused by her odd request.

“You can’t do it, can you?”

He didn’t know because he hadn’t tried. It hurt too damned bad just maneuvering his arm into his shirtsleeve.