Snowfall on Haven Point Read Free Page A

asked. “You need some way to contact the outside world.”
    â€œWhy?”
    She frowned. “Because people are concerned about you! You just got out of the hospital a few hours ago. You need pain medicine at regular intervals and you’re probably supposed to have ice on that leg or something.”
    â€œI’m fine, as long as I can get to the bathroom and the kitchen and I have the remote close at hand.”
    Such a typical man. She huffed out a breath. “At least think of the people who care about you. Wyn is out of her head with worry, especially since your mother and Katrina aren’t in town.”
    â€œWhy do you think I didn’t charge my phone?” he muttered.
    She crossed her arms across her chest. She didn’t like confrontation or big, dangerous men any more than her daughter did, but Wynona had asked her to watch out for him and she took the charge seriously.
    â€œYou’re being obstinate. What if you trip over your crutches and hit your head, only this time somebody isn’t at the door to make sure you can get up again?”
    â€œThat’s not going to happen.”
    â€œYou don’t know that. Where is your phone, Sheriff?”
    He glowered at her but seemed to accept the inevitable. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “It should be in the pocket of my jacket, which is in the bag they sent home with me from the hospital. I think my deputy said he left it in the bedroom. First door on the left.”
    The deputy should have made sure his boss had some way to contact the outside world, but she had a feeling it was probably a big enough chore getting Sheriff Bailey home from the hospital without him trying to drive himself and she decided to give the poor guy some slack.
    â€œI’m going to assume the charger is in there, too.”
    â€œYeah. By the bed.”
    She walked down the hall to the room that had once been Wyn’s bedroom. The bedroom still held traces of Wynona in the solid Mission furniture set, but Sheriff Bailey had stamped his own personality on it in the last three months. A Stetson hung on one of the bedposts and instead of mounds of pillows and the beautiful log cabin quilt Wyn’s aunts had made her, a no-frills but soft-looking navy duvet covered the bed, made neatly as he had probably left it the morning before. A pile of books waited on the bedside table and a pair of battered cowboy boots stood toe-out next to the closet.
    The room smelled masculine and entirely too sexy for her peace of mind, of sage-covered mountains with an undertone of leather and spice.
    Except for that brief moment when she had helped him reposition the pillow, she had never been close enough to Marshall to see if that scent clung to his skin. The idea made her shiver a little before she managed to rein in the wholly inappropriate reaction.
    She found the plastic hospital bag on the wide armchair near the windows overlooking the snow-covered pines along the river. Feeling strangely guilty at invading the man’s privacy, she opened it. At the top of the pile that appeared to contain mostly clothing, she found another large clear bag with a pair of ripped jeans inside covered in a dried dark substance she realized was blood.
    Marshall Bailey’s blood.
    The stark reminder of his close call sent a tremor through her. He could have been killed if that hit-and-run driver had struck him at a slightly higher rate of speed. The Baileys likely wouldn’t have recovered, especially since Wyn’s twin brother, Wyatt, had been struck and killed by an out-of-control vehicle while helping a stranded motorist during a winter storm.
    The jeans weren’t ruined beyond repair. Maybe she could spray stain remover on them and try to mend the rips and tears.
    Further searching through the bag finally unearthed the phone. She found the charger next to the bed and carried the phone, charger and bag containing the Levi’s back to the