Chapter Nine
The cottage felt overly quiet after all the Boudreaus left, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.
Dusty remained behind, the holiday cheer lingering in the air along with the scent of cinnamon and pine.
Sharon began wrapping up the leftovers, and he grabbed the plates still loaded with the frosted Christmas cookies they’d decorated earlier.
She found herself watching him as he carefully tucked wax paper between layers of star-shaped cookies.
His large hands moved with surprising gentleness, and she realized how comfortable she felt around him.
It wasn’t just the feeling of safety and protection he gave her—it was something more.
There was a closeness there, something unique because she’d known him for such a short time. Yet it felt…right.
When their fingers brushed as she handed him another stack of cookies, a jolt of awareness shot through her. She quickly pulled her hand back, hoping he hadn’t noticed the slight tremor that followed.
“I think that’s the last of them,” Dusty said, closing the lid on a tin of cookies. “I swear, Ms. Patti always brings enough food to feed half of Shiloh Springs whenever she gets folks together.”
Sharon smiled. “The Boudreaus don’t seem to do anything halfway, especially Christmas.”
Dusty glanced at his watch. “I should probably be going, let you get some rest.”
“How about some coffee?” she offered, not ready for the evening to end. The thought of being alone in the cottage suddenly made her uneasy, memories of earlier at the diner and the people looking for her rushing back.
“You sure?” His eyes searched hers, and she wondered if he could read her fear.
“Yes,” she said, perhaps too quickly. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”
Something softened in his expression. “No place I’d rather be.”
Minutes later, they settled in the living room, the Christmas tree lights casting a warm glow over the space.
Sharon curled into the corner of the sofa while Dusty took the armchair, his long frame relaxing into it.
She couldn’t help noticing how the firelight played across the angles of his face, highlighting his strong jaw and the thoughtful set of his mouth.
A comfortable silence fell between them. The fire crackled in the hearth and outside, light rain began to fall. Sharon watched as Dusty’s gaze darted toward the window at a sudden gust of wind. His vigilance reminded her of why he was here in the first place.
“I know it’s crazy, but I feel like I’m being watched all the time. Especially since this afternoon. Do you think they’ll come back?” she asked, voicing the fear that had been lurking beneath the surface all day.
Dusty’s expression grew serious. “I don’t know, but I doubt it.
Rafe and I pretty much escorted them out of town.
Told them they weren’t welcome here. But I’m not taking any chances.
” He nodded toward his jacket hanging by the door, and she knew his service weapon was within reach.
“The sheriff’s office has stepped up patrols around here too.
” He met her eyes. “But I promise you, Sharon, we won’t let anything happen to you. ”
The intensity in his gaze made her heart beat faster. To distract herself, she changed the subject. “What about you?” she asked. “Have you always lived in Shiloh Springs? What were you like growing up?”
Something flickered across Dusty’s face—hesitation, perhaps. He set down his mug and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Sharon noticed a muscle working in his jaw, as if he were weighing how much to share.
“No,” he said finally. “I’m not from around here originally.”
“Where’d you grow up?”
“Hollywood, actually.”
Sharon blinked, surprised. “Hollywood? As in California?”
A half-smile tugged at his mouth. “The one and only.”
“What were you doing there?”
Dusty’s gaze drifted to the fire. “I was an actor. Appeared on a sitcom that ran for several years. ‘Most Wanted: A Family.’ It was big in the late nineties.”
Sharon’s eyes widened. “You were an actor?”
“I was.” He nodded. “Not the star, but I had a good supporting role. Played the wisecracking neighbor kid, Scotty.”
“Wait—” Sharon set her mug down. “You were Scotty? With the catchphrase? ‘Well, ain’t that a kick in the pants’?”
Dusty winced. “That’s the one.”
“I used to watch that show!” Sharon couldn’t hide her amazement. “You were great in that show. You stole every scene you were in.”
“Some would say that,” he admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable with her recognition.
“Why did you leave? The show ran for what, six seasons?”
“By the time I was thirteen, I’d outgrown the part.
Not just physically—I was getting taller than the actor who played my dad—but emotionally too.
” Dusty’s voice grew quieter. “I was burned out on all the Hollywood drama. The emptiness of it, the gossiping, the backstabbing. It became too much, even for a kid.”
Sharon watched his face in the firelight, seeing new depths there. She resisted an urge to reach out and touch his arm in comfort.
“What was it like? Being a child star?” she asked softly.
Dusty sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Complicated. The good parts were really good—I got to meet amazing people, travel, and earn more money than most adults. But the bad parts…” He trailed off.
“Like what?”
“Like never knowing who was genuine and who just wanted something from you. Like having adults tell you who to be and how to act, both on and off screen.” His voice took on an edge Sharon hadn’t heard before. “Like having your childhood mistakes plastered across tabloids.”
“That happened to you?”
“When I was twelve, I got caught joyriding in a stolen car. A stupid kid’s mistake.
I wasn’t driving, but my buddies thought it would be rich to steal a car from the studio parking lot and have some fun.
Only it didn’t turn out to be fun. They weren’t arrested, because they weren’t rich and famous, just kids who hung around the studio while their parents worked behind the scenes on the show.
Basically, they got a slap on the wrist and told to not do it again.
For me, well, it was the start of a downturn that got plastered on TV tabloid shows and magazines nationwide.
It was the whole ‘Child Star’s Downward Spiral into drugs and alcohol.
’ Didn’t matter that it was a pack of lies.
I never did drugs in my entire life.” He shook his head, a rueful expression crossing his face.
“My parents tried to shield me from it, but you can’t hide from that kind of attention. ”
Sharon felt a rush of sympathy. “I can’t imagine dealing with that at such a young age.”
“I took responsibility for what I did. But it taught me a valuable lesson in choosing my friends better, who to listen to, and that I needed to trust my gut. After my role ended, I walked away. Changed my name from Xavier Holloway to Dusty Warner. Wanted something completely different, so I couldn’t be tracked easily.
My family moved around a lot after that—Oklahoma, New Mexico, Nebraska.
Even tried North and South Dakota for a while.
We wandered from state to state, town to town, until I turned eighteen.
” He paused. “That’s when I decided I wanted to find a place where I could settle down.
My parents were getting divorced, and I wanted something…
more. A sense of stability. A place and a profession where I could make a difference. ”
“And that’s when you decided on law enforcement?” Sharon asked.
He nodded. “Worked in a couple of big cities first. Dallas, Houston. Learned the ins and outs of the job. But big city living brought with it its own challenges. I decided I wanted to try a slower pace. A chance to just…breathe.”
Outside, the rain pinged against the roof, coating the pines with sparkling droplets hanging from their needles. A branch snapped somewhere in the darkness, and Sharon jumped slightly. Dusty’s hand instinctively moved toward his hip where his weapon would normally be.
“Just the rain,” he said after a moment, but his eyes remained alert, scanning the windows.
Sharon hugged her arms around herself. “Sometimes I feel like this is never going to end. I’m always on edge, feeling like I’m being watched. Even now.”
“You’re safe tonight,” Dusty assured her, his voice firm. “But tomorrow, I’m going to talk to Douglas and Ms. Patti about installing some security cameras, make sure they’re positioned right.”
“Douglas mentioned that tonight. Said that his sons are in security, and they could get added security installed. I said no, but now I’m thinking it might be a good idea.
I just hate putting them out, making them incur a cost I can’t repay.
” Sharon wrapped her arms across her waist, grateful for his presence, but hating the fear that had become her constant companion since she’d run from Cooper.
“They wouldn’t offer if it was an imposition. I bet Douglas has been planning on adding security to this place anyway, and you’re giving him an excuse to work with his boys to get it done.”
“Can I ask you something personal?” she said, wanting to return to safer conversational ground.
“Shoot.”
“Do you ever miss acting? You were good at it. If I remember right, you were nominated for an Emmy award twice.”
A small smile played on his lips. “I was decent. Had good timing, they said.” He considered her question.
“But no, I don’t miss the acting itself.
I miss some of the people. There was this woman, a lovely older lady who played the next-door neighbor.
She’d bring me homemade cookies, listen to my problems. Real cookies, not these prop things they’d have us pretend to eat on camera. ”
“No one ever recognized you here in Shiloh Springs?”
“Once or twice over the years. Mostly people passing through town.” He shrugged. “Most folks just see what they expect to see—a small-town deputy, not some washed-up former child actor. None of the Boudreaus have mentioned it, so I’m guessing they don’t know. Rafe might, but that’s about it.”
“You’re hardly washed up,” Sharon protested.
Their eyes met, and she felt a strange flutter in her stomach. Dusty’s gaze lingered on her face a moment too long before he looked away, clearing his throat.
“I don’t regret leaving Hollywood. I’ve got a good life here. When I got the chance to become a deputy sheriff in Shiloh Springs, I took it,” he continued. “Left the big city behind, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Sharon found herself moved by his story—the child star who’d turned his back on fame to find something real. Something meaningful. It explained so much about him, his self-containment, his watchfulness. They all added up to a man she found herself admiring more each time she saw him.
“Do you ever miss it?” she asked. “The spotlight?”
“Not for a second.” Dusty’s answer came without hesitation. “What about you? Do you miss the big city?”
Sharon considered the question, looking around the cozy cottage with its handmade decorations and family photos. Thought about the kindness the Boudreaus had shown to her, a total stranger.
“Less and less,” she admitted. “Especially now.”
Their eyes met again, and something passed between them—understanding perhaps.
Or something deeper. Sharon felt her cheeks warm and looked down at her coffee mug, suddenly aware of how easy it would be to lean toward him, to close the distance between them.
But she couldn’t, not with a possible murder charge hanging over her head, and the threat of Cooper looming over her, ever present, keeping her life in constant turmoil.
The grandfather clock down the hall in the office chimed softly, marking the hour, but neither of them moved.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling a loose shutter.
Sharon tried to tell herself the quickening of her pulse was just lingering anxiety about the events in the diner, not the way Dusty’s presence seemed to fill the room.
“You should get some rest,” he said finally, his voice a touch lower than before. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes,” she agreed, though the last thing she wanted was for him to leave. “I suppose it has.”
When he stood, she did too, suddenly awkward in the small space between the couch and coffee table. He was close enough that she could smell his aftershave—something woodsy and clean. For a moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes, a flash of heat quickly suppressed.
“I’ll swing by in the morning,” he said, stepping back, creating distance. “If you need anything, dial 911. Works here same as it does in the big city.” He said the last bit with a grin.
Sharon nodded, both relieved and disappointed at his professional tone.
As she walked him to the door, she wondered what would have happened if she’d been brave enough to close that gap between them.
If she’d acknowledged the attraction that seemed to simmer just below the surface every time they were together.
But with danger still lurking, with her life in Shiloh Springs still temporary, it was better this way.
Safer.
Wasn’t it?
“Lock up behind me,” Dusty reminded her, his hand on the doorknob. “And promise me you’ll call if you need anything. You’ve got my number. Doesn’t matter what time.”
“I will,” she promised. “And Dusty? Thank you. For everything.”
He nodded once, his expression unreadable, then stepped out into the rainy night. Sharon watched through the window as he made a careful circuit around the cottage, checking windows and doors before getting into his truck.
Only when his taillights disappeared down the driveway did she double-check the locks herself.
She wasn’t about to skip her routine, even though she’d watched him check outside.
As she made her way back to the living room to collect their coffee mugs, she noticed his warm scent still lingered in the air.
She tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest as she turned off the Christmas tree lights. Told herself it was just the return of fear now that he was gone, not the absence of something—someone—she was quickly coming to need.
Even though she didn’t believe it.