Page 21 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

Ryder’s attention swiveled to Hudson. His expression morphed into recognition.

“No way.” Ryder’s mouth pulled sideways in a grin. “Hudson Kane.”

“Ryder.”

“You got old.” Ryder closed the distance, and they shook hands, the clasp turning into a brief, wordless shoulder grip. “Last time I saw you, you were teaching Wyatt how to gut a fish wrong so Mom would do it for both of you.”

“That was one time.”

Ryder chuckled. “Worked, though.”

“And you got a kid.”

Ryder’s grin grew. He wobbled Ellie’s pom-pom. “Being a dad is the best thing ever. Whatcha doing back in Aurora Cove?”

“Work,” Hudson said.

“Right.” Ryder’s gaze moved from Hudson to Sarah. His eyebrows climbed.

Sarah sighed. “No.”

Ryder looked delighted. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Ryder’s eyes dropped to the credentials clipped at Hudson’s belt. “Deputy U.S. Marshal, huh?”

“Something like that.”

His grin skewed. “Mom’s gonna love that.”

“Daddy.” Ellie had gone rigid against Sarah’s hip, entirely consumed by a crisis of cosmic importance, mittened hand jabbing toward the diner’s pink-lit window. “Marsha-mallows. Blubbs need marsha-mallows. Lots.”

“We’ll ask Louisa.”

“Lots, Daddy.” Ellie wriggled, and Sarah set her back on her feet.

Whatever Ryder had been circling around evaporated entirely, engulfed by the gravitational pull of Ellie’s marshmallow crisis.

“Good seeing you, man.” Ryder was already turning, Ellie’s hand finding his again, the pull of the diner door and its promise of cinnamon-sugar warmth doing what it always did to anyone under the age of four. “You sticking around a while?”

“For now.”

“Good.” Ryder’s eyes found Sarah’s for just a second—a small flag planted somewhere she’d have to deal with later, probably over a beer with Caleb smirking in the background.

“Bye-bye, Tantie.” Ellie blew her a kiss from three feet away.

Hudson watched Ellie disappear through the diner door, a softness in his eyes she hadn’t witnessed before. The lot went quiet again as the diner door swung shut.

Sarah turned, suddenly aware Hudson wasn’t watching the diner anymore. He was watching her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looked away first, out toward the street, jaw doing that thing he did when he wasn’t going to say what he was actually thinking. “I forgot you were good with kids.”

Sarah glanced over. “Forgot?”

“A lot of things, it seems.” The corner of his mouth sloped upward. “You used to organize half the neighborhood.”