1 Depth of Field by Audrey Claire Read Free Book Online Page A

poured the detergent, a little heavy-handed for my taste, but I remained silent about it. “I have a house, but I haven’t exactly furnished it yet.”
    “Oh.” I considered this. “I’m guessing you’re not used to doing your own laundry. Your wife out of town or not here yet?”
    The silver eyes flicked to me, amusement brightening them. Wow, subtle, Makayla. I felt like I had been smoother in the past with chatting up men, but perhaps I never was. Maybe I’d lost the ability after my experiences in the past. Either way, there had been no one in the last five years, no one of consequence anyway.
    Trying to get out from under that knowing look, I busied myself with my own tasks of sorting clothes, dumping piles into washers. I walked over to the change machine and ran a twenty, retrieved my quarters, and then returned to the machines. Only after I had placed the money into the slots and thrust the mechanism to activate the machine did I recall I had not followed my normal routine. Just great.
    “I’m not married,” the sheriff said out of the blue.
    I blinked up at him, and ignored the thrill I felt at the news.
    “I’ve been divorced about six months, estranged for much longer,” he explained. “I didn’t have to do my own laundry.”
    I wondered what that meant. Did he have a girlfriend to do it for him? When he started to mix whites with darks, I believed his story. “Hold on, there. Don’t mix them unless you want dull or dyed shirts. I’m thinking the good people of Briney Creek won’t have much confidence in a sheriff who can’t dress himself properly.”
    He chuckled, and I liked his laugh, a deep and husky sound. “They should worry about whether I can keep them safe.”
    “Sheriff—”
    “Call me Spencer.”
    His instruction silenced me for a moment. All I could do was stand there staring at him, and then I shook myself to try it out. “Spencer.”
    He appeared pleased, but I had no intention of speaking his name that way in front of others. I chided myself on the heels of such a thought, as if he and I had plans to be alone other than by accident.
    To keep myself from looking like a woman starved for a man’s attention, I busied myself teaching him how to separate his clothes. “It’s a good thing you keep it simple with wardrobe. You don’t want to wash your suits in these machines. Those can go to the dry cleaner’s.”
    He frowned. “I know that much.”
    I grinned. “Uh-huh. You do the rest. I’m not washing your clothes for you, Sheriff. Spencer. You can handle it.”
    He revealed a smile that could light up the room, surprising me after such grumpiness from the moment I met him. I again put the previous attitude to the stress of the new job and silently wished him success. In companionable quiet, we worked together, and when I was done loading my machines, I strode to the back of the shop to a row of interlocked chairs and sat down in one. Soon Spencer joined me to drop into one of his own. I couldn’t help noticing how long his legs were, how muscular as he stretched them out and crossed his ankles. He was such a handsome man, how had his ex-wife allowed him to become estranged and then divorce him? Of course, I knew it wasn’t all about looks, but when you’re alone for a long time, you tend to think nothing could make you give a man up short of abuse and unfaithfulness. Had he been guilty of either of these, or was it her? Again, what the heck was she thinking?
    “I feel you assessing me,” he commented, and I started.
    “I wasn’t,” I lied.
    Disbelief radiated in his expression. I refused to give in, and he shook his head. “You’re stubborn.”
    I wanted to tell him he didn’t know me very well, but he was too right.
    “I was a cop in Alexandria.”
    “Virginia?”
    He nodded. “It’s the same old story. I worked a lot. She complained. I…”
    When he hesitated, I speculated.
    “Her family had money.” He spoke the words simply, but the tightening of