Robin’s arms tightened around her middle. She couldn’t have been more irritated if he’d blown her a kiss. Why couldn’t he be old and fat? If she intended to build a successful practice in Waterloo, she had to get along with people. Even if someone tried to make her feel embarrassed for standing in her own house and looking out her own window!

Before he drove to the corner, Charlie regretted his childish impulse. When he’d seen her figure backlit in the front window, he hadn’t been able to resist letting her know he’d seen her. Especially after her lack of gratitude when he’d taken the trouble to stop and offer to change the tire.

His dented male ego urged him to forget about the prickly new vet. Either she wasn’t interested or she liked playing hard to get, but either way, he didn’t need the aggravation.

Charlie wasn’t so conceited that he expected every woman in town to fall at his feet—even though more than a few of them had. Ever since grade school, he’d been popular with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, in the short time he’d been sheriff he’d come up against that same brittle shell Dr. Robin Marlowe wore on a couple of different occasions. Both of the other women had been victims in one way or another, one raped by a stranger and the other abused by her husband.

Charlie’s fingers tightened on the wheel as he remembered the two women, one hardly more than a girl and the other looking older than she should. Bullies sickened him.

Robin aroused his curiosity, both professional and personal. Was she a victim, too, or was she just in different to the Winchester charm?

Either way, it was nice she had Mae Simms living right next door. Mae had been Charlie’s teacher the year his mother ran off. He’d hurt too much to actually confide in her, but she’d gone out of her way to be kind to him and he’d never forgotten it. She and Ed would look out for their new neighbor, no matter how prickly Robin turned out to be.

Charlie sat at the four-way stop, trying to figure out the best way to approach Robin again. He was about to remove his foot from the brake pedal when a black Honda ran the stop sign on the cross street, nearly removing the front bumper on Charlie’s Jeep. He got a quick glimpse of four boys in baseball caps as the car sped by, and he wondered how the hell they could have missed seeing his official vehicle with its rack of lights on top, as noticeable as an elephant wearing a diamond tiara.

Damn it. He was supposed to be off-duty. Slapping the steering wheel with the flat of his hand as he glanced both ways, Charlie hit the lights and siren. He rounded the corner and stomped on the gas in hot pursuit, laying a nice patch of rubber as he radioed his location to dispatch.

Robin had already walked outside to deal with her flat tire when she heard the police siren slice through the early evening peace like a cleaver through a cube of butter.

“Hotshot show-off,” she muttered under her breath. No doubt Sheriff Winchester enjoyed flashing that tin star, throwing his weight around and playing with guns.

The last thought made her shiver. She didn’t like guns. They made her nervous. She’d grown up in Chicago and she respected the police, but Sheriff Tex was almost too handsome, with matching dimples and an ah-shucks drawl meant to melt women like overheated candle wax.

Good thing Robin was immune to that type of macho charm, or concern for his safety might distract her. The sound of the siren had faded by the time she’d managed to confirm that her spare actually had air. She was trying to make sense of the diagram she found with it when Ed Simms walked up.

“Let me do that for you,” he said, extending his hand for the jack.

With a sigh of mingled defeat and relief, Robin handed it over.

“I want you to come with me out to Winchesters’ spread,” Doc Harmon told her the next morning after he’d ended his phone call.

Since Robin had arrived at the clinic, coffee in hand, she’d met Erline, found out where the supplies were kept and learned how to write up a bill for her time.

“Have they found more dead cattle?” she asked.

“Not as far as I know, but one of Adam’s Appaloosa colts took a spill. He’s like an overprotective mama with his Appies, and he wants the colt’s leg checked out.”

Robin glanced at Erline, who was sitting behind the desk filing her nails. She appeared to be fond of bubble gum and low-cut blouses, but she’d introduced herself with a friendly grin and she seemed competent, even though she’d admitted to a phobia toward reptiles.

“I couldn’t work for a vet who treated snakes,” she’d confided after she’d shown Robin how to write up an invoice for prescription pet food. “I’d quit on the spot.”