Книга - Support Your Local Sheriff

Support Your Local Sheriff
Melinda Curtis


Will he pass the daddy test?With his job in jeopardy, it couldn’t be a worse time for Sheriff Nate Landry’s recent past to come back to haunt him. But it would take an army to stop SWAT team leader Julie Smith. The fellow cop–and sister of his ex-fiancé—wants one thing from the beleaguered lawman: custody of the toddler son that Nate didn’t know he had.He may not be natural daddy material, but he quickly takes a shine to little Duke. And there are the feelings Nate’s been hiding for years. Only now Julie’s running for sheriff of Harmony Valley—against him. Time to retreat? Not if he wants a future with the woman he loves.







Will he pass the daddy test?

With his job in jeopardy, it couldn’t be a worse time for Sheriff Nate Landry’s recent past to come back to haunt him. But it would take an army to stop SWAT team leader Julie Smith. The fellow cop—and sister of his ex-fiancée—wants one thing from the beleaguered lawman: custody of the toddler son that Nate didn’t know he had.

He may not be natural daddy material, but he quickly takes a shine to little Duke. And then there are the feelings Nate’s been hiding for years. Only now Julie’s running for sheriff of Harmony Valley—against him. Time to retreat? Not if he wants a future with the woman he loves.


Nate grinned, no half smile about it.

The two sides of his mouth matched in upturned delight.

Julie almost fell over. That full grin. She’d never seen it before. It boosted him from handsome to gorgeous. He should smile like that all the time. Strike that. If he smiled like that all the time, he’d be irresistible. To women. To...her.

Deep inside her something shifted; something fit. And it fit as easily as her thumb on Nate’s worry stone. She looked away, refusing to name it or acknowledge it or think about what that something was.

But that grin. It made her wonder.


Dear Reader (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd),

Welcome to Harmony Valley!

Just a few short years ago, Harmony Valley was on the brink of extinction with only those over the age of sixty in residence. Now the influx of a younger generation is making life in Harmony Valley more fun than afternoon television for its gray-haired residents.

Sheriff Nate Landry had a tough childhood that made him reluctant to have children of his own, so when he met a woman who had faced her own challenges and wouldn’t be having children, it seemed like a sign. But things fell apart on his wedding day. Now, more than two years later, his ex-fiancée’s sister, Julie Smith, shows up with a toddler she says is her sister’s baby and his, and she’s got custody papers that she wants him to sign. After all Nate’s been through, his decision to let go should be easy.

I hope you enjoy Nate and Julie’s journey to a happily-ever-after, as well as the other romances in the Harmony Valley series. I love to hear from readers. Check my website, www.melindacurtis.com (http://www.melindacurtis.com), to learn more about upcoming books, sign up for email book announcements, and I’ll send you a free sweet romance read, or chat with me on Facebook at MelindaCurtisAuthor (https://www.facebook.com/MelindaCurtisAuthor/) to hear about my latest giveaways.

Melinda Curtis


Support Your Local Sheriff

Melinda Curtis






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author MELINDA CURTIS is an empty nester still married to her college sweetheart, despite raising three kids, flipping houses and writing full-time through many live-in remodels. Having been raised on a remote sheep ranch with grandparents who built houses from scratch made Melinda the perfect match for Mr. Curtis, who was raised by a family of contractors. Just don’t ask her to operate a drill, because she always seems to reverse the setting.

Melinda writes sweet contemporary romances as Melinda Curtis (Brenda Novak says of Season of Change, it “found a place on my keeper shelf”), and fun, sexy reads as Mel Curtis (Jayne Ann Krentz says of Fool For Love, it was “wonderfully entertaining”).


This book is dedicated to my sister-in-law, Lynn DeMerritt, who was the inspiration for April. Both Lynn and April went through cancer treatments that left them sterile, only to be blessed with a child after they’d lost all hope and their relationships fell apart. Lynn, you knew your fate and still showed the world love and grace. Your daughter is a blessing to me. I’m so happy that part of your story is being told in a book released on the first anniversary of your passing.


Contents

Cover (#u0dea9cfb-2688-5073-8ad8-0db73faeedf4)

Back Cover Text (#u6461e318-4e7a-59f6-a5a3-cfe938fab2ff)

Introduction (#u1a619f3e-2dc1-53fa-8933-66218399f3ae)

Dear Reader (#u3a3afbaa-98bb-515f-beef-0a508e4b213a)

Title Page (#u11470474-422a-5072-959a-33f151ef01fa)

About the Author (#uac248238-b607-5c95-8ddf-6c62d9213015)

Dedication (#u7fa3a73f-723f-51b3-8e1d-25b8be0f1362)

CHAPTER ONE (#ufdf7c0e0-e7ff-53f2-be4e-6adaa00fa5b7)

CHAPTER TWO (#u23fad6d4-b0e0-54a0-979c-79ddf5aaeb1e)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9e4837c9-f6b3-5c88-866f-21f909e7cc20)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u21dc48d9-23c6-5a74-8b1b-6a3cea52570c)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ubb6a9674-0257-5878-8f64-ccb5fc8431b1)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)

“WHAT’S THE EMERGENCY?” Sheriff Nate Landry, fresh from chasing chickens at Clara Barra’s house, took a seat on a creaky wooden pew in the back of the church. “Spring Festival meltdown?”

“The emergency is next,” Flynn Harris said in a hushed voice so as not to wake baby Ian in his arms.

Nate’s entrance met with turned heads, warm smiles and nods of recognition. The Harmony Valley Town Council was in session, better attended than some small-town basketball games. The meetings were held in the historic, steepled church downtown, being led from folding tables and chairs set up on the pulpit. That was the way of life in the remote northeastern corner of Sonoma County—casual, a bit of making do and a bit impromptu.

Flynn managed to brush reddish-brown hair from his eyes with his shoulder without disrupting his newborn’s sleep. “The emergency is Doris Schlotski.”

A little black rain cloud formed above Nate. As the only lawman in town, he prided himself on figuring out what made each resident tick. Doris Schlotski. She’d moved here four months ago and was a conundrum.

About three months ago, Nate had issued Doris citations for violating both the noise and pet ordinances. She bred Chihuahuas and her ten adult dogs barked 24/7. She’d argued that they were only small dogs and quieter than a neighbor’s Saint Bernard. A few weeks after that he’d issued her a citation for permanently parking her never-used fishing boat on the street. She’d argued that her driveway wasn’t wide enough for both her car and the boat. Just last week, he’d pulled Doris over for speeding. She’d argued that the speed limit hadn’t been updated in fifty years and was therefore invalid.

Nate was still trying to determine what made Doris tick, but he was done arguing. He bet Doris wasn’t. He bet she was here to argue about speed limits or public right-of-way or pet regulations.

Ian squirmed, rolling his head until the blue puppy blanket dropped unnoticed from his head and over Flynn’s arm.

The door behind them opened, bringing a nip of evening air. Harmony Valley was near enough to the Pacific Ocean to be cooled nightly by ocean breezes and thick fog.

Nate tucked the baby blanket snugly around the tufts of red-brown hair on Ian’s head.

Footsteps and whispers from the newcomers were covered by Mayor Larry recording a quorum on a request to rezone some property in the south part of town. The pew behind them groaned as someone sat down. At the front of the church, heads turned to see who’d entered. Inquisitive stares and nudges of neighbors followed.

Nate began to turn to see who had come in when Flynn nudged him and said, “Here we go.”

“Next on the agenda...” Mayor Larry squinted at his notes through black rectangular reading glasses. “‘Sheriff elections?’”

Abruptly, everyone faced forward, perhaps as shocked by the agenda item as Nate was.

The little black rain cloud above Nate’s head thickened. Doris wasn’t here to talk about speed limits or public right-of-way or pet regulations. She was here to talk about him!

Nate leaned closer to Flynn, keeping his voice down. “We don’t have sheriff elections.” He’d come to Harmony Valley nearly three years ago because the town was plain and simple. He’d been hired, plain and simple. He’d renewed his contract, plain and simple. Less than two hundred residents lived in town, most of them pleasant, law-abiding, elderly. Plain and simple.

At least, until Doris had returned to the area, breathing fire.

Doris approached the speaker podium like she was going to bulldoze it. She was shaped like a fireplug—short, compact, the promise of energy behind every step. Her gray hair didn’t dare curl or frizz, not even in the fog. Barely an inch long, it stood on end. She was a fireplug, all right. Only instead of spouting water, Doris spouted words. That woman could outdebate a presidential candidate.

Nate sucked back a grin. She hadn’t been able to talk her way out of those citations.

Something bumped the back of Nate’s pew just as Doris began to speak. “Mr. Mayor—”

Nate’s grin slipped free by half, poking holes in his rain cloud.

Mr. Mayor? Everyone called him Mayor Larry, at the mayor’s request. The aging hippie and tie-dye business entrepreneur was unorthodox, from his long gray ponytail to his tie-dyed attire and his penchant for naked yoga down by the river.

Doris continued to address those on the dais. “Madames Councilwomen—”

Nate’s war to contain the grin became more challenging. The three councilwomen weren’t into formalities either.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Doris continued in her high-pitched, grating voice. “We should be proud of many things in our community. The wonderful festivals we have. The resurgence of new businesses. And the low crime rate. But that isn’t good enough.”

Not good enough? The little black rain cloud sucked the oxygen from the old church.

“In this age of police misconduct, the people need a voice.” Doris had a death grip on the podium.

Nate thought it might be his death she planned.

“Can’t see,” came a little voice from behind Nate.

That innocent voice. It broke through the cloud.

Clop-clump.

It sounded like the tyke stood on the next pew back.

“That better, Juju.”

Doris wasn’t only upsetting Nate. On the pulpit, the town council murmured and shifted in their seats. Those in pews in front of Nate exchanged significant glances and whispered commentary.

“The people have a voice, Doris.” Councilwoman Agnes Villanova drew the microphone she shared with the other councilwomen closer. “Residents vote for representatives of our town. Your representatives then vote on issues of health, well-being and safety. Why, just this last year your town council hired two firefighters and renewed the sheriff’s contract.”

Short, spunky Agnes ran the town from her seat to the mayor’s right. Next to her sat Rose Cascia. Rose looked like a retired ballerina with her thin frame and her crisp white chignon. She might have pulled off New York sophistication if she didn’t tap-dance her way into rooms. At the end of the table sat Mildred Parsons. Mildred could barely see, despite her thick lenses. She was made of soft angles, from the snow-white curls in her short hair to her plump frame.

Nate loved those old ladies. They’d chase away storm clouds on a rainy day.

“Beg pardon, Madame Councilwoman.” The smirk in Doris’s voice carried to the back of the church without her having to turn around. “But I was talking about removing a layer of politics from the process.”

“A layer of politics?” Spritely Agnes had the heart of a saint and silver hair as short as Doris’s, except Agnes’s hair relaxed on her head. “Are you questioning our dedication to this town? Are you questioning our...ethics?”

The crowd murmured in disapproval. The mayor and town council had been serving for decades. They were wise. They were beloved. They always ran unopposed.

Nate drew a calming breath. Whatever agenda Doris had, the town council would thwart it.

“What I’m saying is clear enough that everyone in this room understands,” Doris said with the pomp of the self-important. “Everyone but you!”

In the midst of horrified gasps, a small hand landed on Nate’s shoulder.

“Hi.” Hot breath gusted in Nate’s ear.

Nate glanced over his shoulder into a pair of large gray eyes framed by a dark mop of hair. He’d never seen the toddler before, but the boy was cute and most likely the reason for the curious stares a few minutes ago.

Across the aisle, Old Man Takata beamed at the tyke and tapped the shoulder of his neighbor Snarky Sam, who owned the antiques/used goods store on Main Street. Sam’s smiles were rare. And yet he gave the kid a toothy grin.

The little boy touched his forehead to Nate’s and repeated, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Nate said softly, unable to resist returning the boy’s impish smile. “Be careful.”

Feminine hands curled around the boy’s torso and drew him back. Nate began to twist around to see who the hands belonged to when Flynn spoke again, halting him. “Do you think Doris would be more respectful of you if you wore a uniform?” Even in a whisper, Flynn sounded like he was enjoying this more than Nate. Of course, Flynn wasn’t the sheriff. He was part owner of a winery.

“I don’t need a uniform,” Nate whispered back, not enjoying this at all. He’d rather be chasing chickens. “I have a star on my truck and a badge in my pocket.”

Doris wasn’t the whispering type. In fact, she was practically shouting now. “I’m saying that we the people and only we the people should decide who serves our community. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with a sheriff—” without turning, Doris pointed behind her, toward Nate “—who badgers our residents, berates citizens for their lifestyle choices and bullies the elderly with citations and tickets they can’t afford to pay!”

“Freaky,” Flynn said louder, causing the baby to stir and loosen the blanket again. “It’s like you and Doris are psychically connected. She knew exactly where you were sitting.”

“She saw me come in.” Nate could solve that mystery more easily than the one involving what made Doris so bitter. “She can’t be this upset over tickets.”

Doris held up a sheaf of papers. “I have here twenty signed reports from residents about Sheriff Landry’s behavior.”

Nate didn’t think he’d given out twenty tickets in the past year.

“Twenty reports stating that Sheriff Landry gave them warnings rather than a citation with a fee attached. Whereas I...” Doris had worked into huff-and-puff mode. “Whereas I have received three citations in the past three months! I demand we let the people decide who protects us. I demand we fire the sheriff and hold an election!” She dropped the stack of papers on the podium like a rapper dropped a mic at the end of a show. Except she kept talking. “I demand—”

“In my defense—” Nate tucked Ian’s blue blanket more securely around his tiny shoulders “—the only way to handle Doris is to give her a ticket and drive away.”

“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry made a rare appearance in an argument. Normally, he delegated trouble to the town council so he could remain as neutral as Switzerland. “These are serious allegations. Please approach with your notes so we may look them over.”

Clod-clump. Clod-clump.

“Notes?” Doris snatched up the papers again, clutching them to her chest. “This is my evidence!”

Clod-clump. Clod-clump.

The gray-haired residents of Harmony Valley had probably never done the wave at a sports stadium. But their heads turned in the same rippled effect to stare Nate’s way, starting from the back of the church and moving forward. Grins and coos rippled through the assembled, almost as if—

The little hand returned to Nate’s shoulder, followed by a hot-breathed, “Hi.”

Another mystery solved. Residents were doing the neck-craning wave to watch an angelic toddler putting on a show behind Nate.

When Nate turned his head, he received another gentle forehead bump. “You’re an awesome little dude.” Nate ruffled the boy’s hair.

The boy’s gray eyes widened in delight. “I Duke.” He tapped his skinny chest and grinned.

The majority of the assembled chuckled. The majority being over age sixty-five and being grandparents or great-grandparents who appreciated precocious children.

Behind Nate, someone emitted a heavy sigh. Feminine hands drew the toddler out of view once more.

“For years—” Doris half glanced behind her as if sensing she was losing her audience “—you four have ruled Harmony Valley. Well, no more! The people want to be heard. The people want a say. The people want to vote for a sheriff of our own choosing!”

Nate sat back against the pew. He wasn’t the hand-shaking, promise-making, run-for-office type.

“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry hated discord and looked as if he was ready to break Robert’s rules of order and escape out the back. He started again. “Now, Doris—”

“Don’t you Now, Doris me. I want action and I want it now!”

“She slipped up there,” Flynn noted. “She said I.”

“The people...” Doris was quick with a correction. “The people want action now!”

“I’m going to remind the speaker,” Mayor Larry said carefully. “That there is a review process written in the town bylaws—”

“By you.” Doris scoffed.

The mayor tilted his head down and stared at Doris over the rim of his rectangular readers. “Written by the town council over seventy years ago.”

“Hi!” Duke shouted, completely stealing the limelight and bringing some much-needed laughter to the proceedings.

Doris spun, so upset at being upstaged her short hair seemed to tilt forward and take aim at the upstager.

The few residents not enamored of little Duke straightened and quieted like school children caught misbehaving. The rest kept on smiling and scrunching their faces in funny ways designed to encourage the boy, not calm him down. He really was a cute kid. Not even Doris was immune to his charms. Her expression seemed to soften.

“We should wrap this up so we can all meet that adorable young man in the back.” Agnes spoke into the microphone. “These are all good points, Doris. Therefore...” Agnes waited until Doris faced her again. “I move we hold a sheriff’s election as soon as possible. Say...this week, so as not to hinder our Spring Festival plans.”

Voices disappeared beneath a rush of sound, as if Nate was passing a semitruck on the highway with his windows down. His position was an inconvenience to the Spring Festival? His livelihood? His future?

The assembled were just as shocked as Nate. The church had fallen into a stunned silence. There wasn’t so much as a peep from Doris or Duke.

During the lull, Agnes elbowed Rose.

“Uh...” Rose looked as confused as Nate felt.

Mildred, who had a slight resemblance to Mrs. Claus, pushed her thick lenses higher up her nose and sighed. “I suppose... I second?”

Anticipating peace, the mayor beamed at the council. “All in favor?”

All three town councilwomen said, “Aye.”

“Motion passed.” The mayor closed out the meeting.

“An election?” Nate’s plain and simple world was suddenly not so plain and simple.

“Don’t sweat it.” Flynn stared down at Ian with a whole lotta love in his eyes. “You signed a new contract and you’re the only qualified candidate in town. In a week, you’ll win by a landslide.”

Nate’s future was out of his control. He didn’t think he’d sleep for a week.

“I Duke.” The little dude gripped Nate’s shoulder.

The woman’s hands drew him back.

“Juju,” the boy scolded.

In the past eighteen months or so, there’d been an influx of younger residents to Harmony Valley and a baby boom. Nate turned more fully in his seat to see who held his new friend.

Familiar gray eyes collided with his.

The storm cloud returned. And flashed with lightning.

* * *

“HELLO, NATE.” JULIE SMITH put nearly three years of disdain and disappointment in those two words.

“Julie.” Nate shot to his feet, steady as always, guarded as always. If Nate was the sheriff, he was off duty. He wore a brown checkered shirt and blue jeans, not a service uniform.

Duke was balanced on her thighs, his small hard-soled sneakers digging in for purchase as he reached for Nate once more.

Couldn’t Duke loathe Nate as much as Julie did?

Couldn’t Nate look as if the past few years had been one big heartbreak?

No on both counts.

Duke’s fingers flexed as he reached for Nate.

And Nate? It was annoying how good he looked. His black hair might have been in need of a trim and his chin shadowed with stubble, but his teeth hadn’t fallen out, his broad shoulders weren’t bullet ridden and, worst of all, he didn’t look sleep deprived.

The mayor and town council were still on the pulpit surrounded by animated residents with loud voices. Chaos had arrived in Harmony Valley, just not the way Julie had envisioned it.

The man next to Nate came to his feet. He wore a wedding ring, held a swaddled newborn, had spit-up on the shoulder of his yellow polo and New Dad bags under his eyes.

Julie gave him a sympathetic smile. Duke despised naps and could be a restless sleeper at night. Not as restless as Julie lately, but still...

The man with the baby cleared his throat, shaking Nate out of tall, dark and stunned mode.

“Flynn,” Nate said. “This is Julie, my...”

And there it was. That awkwardness Julie had been waiting years for.

She pounced. “I’m the sister of Nate’s ex-fiancée.”

Flynn slid a questioning look Nate’s way.

Her moment had arrived. Julie stood, scooping Duke to her hip with her left arm. “Didn’t Nate tell you he was engaged? He left my sister at the altar.” That wasn’t all he’d left, but Julie didn’t want to waste all her ammunition on the first volley.

Flynn didn’t look as shocked as she’d hoped. She blamed Nate. He inspired loyalty wherever he went. Even after being dumped, April had forbidden Julie to confront him. But that ban had been lifted. It was open season on the sheriff.

Duke toppled forward, letting his full weight drop between Julie and Nate, unexpectedly shifting Julie’s center of gravity. She slurped in air like it came through a clogged milk shake straw. The stitches beneath her right collarbone pulled sharply, tugging at nerves that quivered up and down her neck and shoulder.

Mom was right. The doctor was right. It was too soon.

And too late to back out now.

Julie drew on years of resentment, drew Duke back and drew down her chin against the pain. She was here for justice. She was here to make Nate suffer. Surely that wouldn’t take long.

Nate hadn’t been shamed by her announcement that he’d backed out of a wedding. He didn’t scowl or frown. He didn’t put his hands on his hips and try to stare her down. She’d forgotten he was a man of few words.

Julie was itching for words. Fighting words. “My sister, April, defeated cancer and the idea that it might return gave Nate cold feet.” She glared at Nate, daring him to contradict her.

“Not exactly,” Nate said in a gruff voice, not riled enough to fully engage in battle.

“What a pleasure to see a new babe in our neck of the woods.” It was the miniature old lady from the town council, the one with the relaxed pixie-cut silver hair. She bestowed Duke and Julie with a friendly smile, and then gave Nate the kind of smile grandmothers bestowed on favored grandkids before turning to Flynn. “Can the council borrow you for an assignment?”

Flynn accepted the job and edged past Nate, who was staring at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention.

Julie hoped April wasn’t smiling down on him. Her younger sister had always been the forgiving type.

“Who is this adorable young man?” An overly wrinkled woman with unnaturally black hair and a severe widow’s peak stood behind Julie and ruffled Duke’s hair.

“I Duke,” Julie’s nephew repeated, thrusting his shoulders back. He loved attention.

“More important, who are you?” A pale elderly woman wheeled an oxygen tank to Julie’s pew and adjusted the cannula in her nose.

“Oh, heavens, no. The important question is are you here to stay?” This from a rotund gentleman waggling a smile and bushy white brows.

At least ten elderly folk clustered around Julie’s pew, clogging the aisle. They leaned on walkers and canes and the pew itself, waiting for Julie’s answer.

“Is this how we treat visitors to Harmony Valley?” Nate asked them in a voice infused with patience.

For a moment, no one answered. And then someone said, “Yes,” which made the group laugh.

“Her name is Julie,” Nate said, still in patience mode. “And you can ask her questions some other time. Now, does everyone have a ride home?”

They dutifully nodded and pointed to their rides, or volunteered to take others home.

Amid the subsequent shuffle toward the door, Julie studied Nate some more, trying to figure out how he won everyone over.

He had that ramrod-stiff posture that signified confidence and a history of military service. His black hair was parted to the side where a cowlick prevented the hair over his forehead from lying flat. His brown eyes were serious more often than not, and when others were grinning he only allowed a half smile. He was bottled up and wound tight, keeping his emotions close to his chest. Even after he’d met April.

Which was weird. Everyone had loved April. She handed out smiles the way sample ladies handed out free food at Costco. She’d been the kid least likely to get in a fight and most likely to shed tears over sappy television commercials. She’d grown up to be a kindergarten teacher, of course. And she’d taught dance and tumbling to little ones for the recreation department. She was the opposite of Nate, who’d been a sniper in the Middle East, and Julie, who was now a sniper on Sacramento’s SWAT team.

Julie eased her aching shoulder back, ignoring the growing feeling of exhaustion. She nodded toward the podium. “Stirring up trouble, I see.”

“Trouble’s always had a way of finding me,” Nate said with a half smile.

Julie’s aim was off. Nothing was ruffling him. Nothing was satisfying her need for revenge. She’d have to hunker down for the long haul. She’d never been good at the long game, at chess or Monopoly. This time, the stakes were higher than bragging rights or a pile of paper money. This time, she had to be patient.

“Want Mama.” Duke collapsed against Julie’s shoulder, his forehead pile-driving into the only tender spot on her body.

Her sharp intake of breath caused Nate to dip his head and stare at her more closely. She smoothed her expression into her game face, determined that he only see what she wanted him to see—a strong woman who despised him.

“You got married.” Nate’s gaze was gentle.

She didn’t want his gentleness. She wanted his anger. She wanted to argue and shout and have him argue and shout back. “You think I’m married because...”

A small crease appeared between Nate’s brows, only for a moment. “Well...this little guy...”

A surge of satisfaction shored up sagging dreams of revenge. “You think a woman has to be married to have a child?”

The crease returned, deeper this time. “You’re a cop. Female cops don’t—”

“You’re a police officer?” asked the woman who’d been putting up a stink at the podium. She’d stopped at Julie’s pew. Doris didn’t smile. She didn’t coo over Duke. She eyed the pair like a cattle rancher at a bull auction.

Julie didn’t put much stock in the woman’s claims. Nate was many things, but he was a good cop. And Julie wasn’t keen on being sized up. But she wasn’t here to cause a ruckus about it either, so she said, “Yes, ma’am,” and ground her teeth at the interruption in her attempted takedown of Nate the Unflappable.

The woman stored that information with a brisk nod, and then moved toward the door.

“Mama.” Duke crooned softly.

Nate glanced around, perhaps catching on to where this was going, perhaps assessing how much privacy they had. Or how much they’d need.

The more public his humiliation, the better.

“I’m not married.” Julie’s smile felt the way it did when guys on the force made a crude remark and deserved reproach. “And Duke isn’t my child.”


CHAPTER TWO (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)

AND DUKE ISN’T my child.

The bottom dropped out of Nate’s world and his stomach plunged to the center of the earth.

“Who...” He washed a hand over his face and planted his feet more firmly on the church planks. “Whose child is he?”

“Look at him.”

Nate had been looking at Julie, at the delicate lines of her face and the stubborn tilt to her chin. She’d dressed as if she was prepared for a SWAT maneuver—a long-sleeved dark blue utility shirt, belted black utility pants and sturdy boots. But she held a toddler.

She should have been wearing faded blue jeans and a soft T-shirt. Her blond hair should have had bounce, not hung limply to her shoulders. The skin on her face should have glowed, not been washed-out. And the bags under her eyes... Had she spent too many nights on duty?

“Look at him,” Julie commanded.

Nate obeyed.

A roaring filled his ears. His heart began to thump faster than it had at the sight of Julie.

The little boy had the Smiths’ gray eyes and wide smiling mouth. Like most kids his age, he had thin, lanky legs. His sprouted from a pair of khaki shorts. The friendly sparkle to his eyes was all Smith. But the dark, unruly hair was hard to mistake as anything other than a Landry gift. And as for those ears...

Nate tugged one of his own.

The kid would grow into them.

The kid. His kid.

Nate felt as if he’d been shoved from behind, a blow that threatened to topple him. The only things holding him upright were the curled toes in his boots.

“You’re saying he’s mine,” he whispered.

“I’m saying he’s April’s.” If Julie had been born a man, she’d have been a fighter. Her chin jutted, daring him to take a swing, to pick a fight, to defend himself for leaving April at the altar when she’d obviously been pregnant with his child.

Take a swing? He could barely draw a breath. “How old are you, Duke?”

The boy—his son!—held up two fingers.

Nate breathed in. Breathed out. Fought a torrent of emotion—guilt, joy, anger—that further weakened his knees.

The guilt... Guilt was familiar. It rode in his back pocket every day, like his wallet. He had a past, one not suited to fatherhood. Then joy... Joy was a rare emotion for him. It tried to dance through his veins with the virility of being a father. But he wasn’t a dancer. And the anger... It was anger that plowed past guilt and joy. Anger that marched behind his eyes with pounding steps, prickled his skin and straightened his backbone. “The chemo sent April into early menopause. The doctor said she’d never have children.” The doctor had said no birth control was necessary.

“A miracle.” So smug. Julie had been waiting for this.

“It’s been three years.” News of miracles usually traveled faster than that.

Every step he’d taken. Every vow he’d made. Nate set his feet in a wider stance, straddling the abyss filled with shattered expectations. It was all he could do not to shout, not to shake the back of the pew, not to reject fatherhood because he’d never aspired to the job. “Where’s April? Why didn’t she say anything?”

“April didn’t want you to know until...” Julie’s jaw clenched and for the first time since he’d turned around, there was a crack in her bravado. “April passed away three months ago.”

Nate’s heart plunged to the floor and into the tilting abyss that had sucked normal from his world. No one had told him that either. And by no one, he meant Julie. “I’m sorry about April.” She’d been in remission on their wedding day. “Was it—”

“Yes, a brain tumor. Yes, cancer. She...” Julie swallowed, squeezing his son as if the boy was a beloved teddy bear. “It wasn’t easy.”

But she’d been there. Of that, Nate was certain. While he...he hadn’t been. Not for April. Not for Julie. Not for his son, who’d asked for his mother a few minutes ago.

Nate washed a hand over his face again, staring at Duke. “You should’ve told me. April should’ve told me.”

“Why are you so upset? You always said you didn’t want kids.” The fight was back in Julie’s tone and the flash in her gray eyes. “Besides, you lost the right of parenthood when you jilted April.”

Nate’s hands fisted at his sides. “A man has a right to know.”

“Why? You said you don’t want—”

“No mad words.” Duke put his small hand over Julie’s mouth.

Nate and Julie’s gazes locked.

No mad words.

It was something April used to say when Julie’s good-natured bickering with anyone turned into hot debates.

Nate shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Why are you here? Why did you come? Why now?”

Julie’s mouth formed the kind of hard line that made speeders like Doris sweat. “April wanted you to have custody, but I have the right to challenge if I can prove you’re unfit to be his father, which is where the Daddy Test comes in.”

A test. One he didn’t have to pass. Nate should feel relief. He should thank Julie for the information, reiterate his position about children and tell her to keep his son safe. He’d send monthly checks for Duke’s care, for birthdays and holidays. In the once-bumpy road that was his life, this could be smoothed over with the right words.

The right words didn’t come to mind. Nate leaned forward, hands gripping the back of the pew. “My parental rights won’t be judged by a bitter sister-in-law.”

“I was never your sister-in-law.” She turned slightly, putting herself between father and son. “And I have every right to judge you. You were my friend. I trusted you with my sister’s heart.”

He wanted to say that was her mistake, but it hadn’t been. It’d been his.

He and Julie had been in the same class at the police academy and had been hired by the same police force. She was attractive and smart, but off-limits since they were both focused on their careers. Besides, a woman like Julie would want to have kids and Nate had sworn the opposite. They’d hung out off duty with a group of law enforcement friends. She had a formidable presence and had become a cop because her father was a fallen highway patrolman. She put 100 percent into everything she did, whether it was a game of poker or pulling over a speeder. He liked that she did what was right and stood behind her decisions.

And then one day he’d been at a backyard barbecue with a bunch of their friends. He’d heard Julie laugh. He’d looked up to find Julie towing a delicate blonde across the lawn to meet him. “This is my sister, April. I made you two dinner reservations at a restaurant on the river. Don’t argue.”

“Ignore my sister,” April said in a voice as easygoing as sugar on toast. “I’ve been doing it for years.” And then April had looked up at Nate with Julie’s gray eyes and Julie’s wide smile.

Only she wasn’t Julie. He didn’t work with her. And April had won a bout with cancer, but wouldn’t be able to have children.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He’d given April a soft half smile. “I think your sister is onto something.”

* * *

“SO HERE’S HOW it’s going to go,” Julie said firmly, trying not to flinch when Duke dropped his head to her injured shoulder again. “I’m taking a couple of weeks off to see what kind of dad you’ll be.” That was a bluff. She wanted Nate to sign over custody of Duke to her tonight. The papers were in her backpack.

“A couple of weeks?” Nate’s dark gaze drilled for the truth. “How did you get that much time off?”

“It’s a combination of bereavement and vacation time,” she lied. Why wasn’t he focusing on what was important? Why wasn’t he squirming out of being a dad? “I’ve booked a room at the bed-and-breakfast in town.” For one night. When she’d walked into the church, she’d doubted she’d need to stay at all.

Nate drew back as if he’d gotten a whiff of dirty diaper. “Why don’t you stay with me?”

“With...” Nate’s offer jammed words in her throat. He should have been saying there was no reason to stay. That he didn’t want to be a dad. “Not a chance.” Bunk with the enemy?

Duke yawned. It was nearly eight o’clock, past his bedtime. Julie was spent, too, more energy draining every minute.

Nate placed a tentative hand on Duke’s wild curls. “He’s really... I can’t believe it.”

“Up.” Duke, being April’s kid and having never met a stranger he didn’t like, reached for Nate and fell forward in that all-in way of his. He’d leave with the mailman if Julie didn’t watch out.

He’d leave with Nate if Julie didn’t watch out.

Nate caught him, placing Duke on his hip as if he’d been carrying rug rats around all his life.

The town council, mayor and Flynn spoke softly on the pulpit. The last of the attendees filed out the door with friendly smiles their way. Julie’s hopes for a deep stab of revenge and a tidy wrap-up of loose ends went out with them.

“I tall.” Duke gazed around, yawning. He dropped his head to Nate’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Nate stood very still. His lips were pursed, but his jaw worked, as if he was wrestling words that wanted to be given voice.

Julie gave him time to reject the little boy in his arms, time to stand by his rote words from years gone by.

Seconds ticked by and still nothing.

“Give me his jacket,” Nate said finally, settling Duke closer. “I’ll walk you out.”


CHAPTER THREE (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE to follow us over.” Julie’s tone was as nippy as the evening air.

Nate deserved the cold shoulder for the choices he’d made regarding April. Deserved, yes. Enjoyed, no.

This was not how he’d envisioned seeing Julie again. Oh, he’d imagined her trying to rip him a new one. And he’d imagined himself standing and taking it. But a kid...

It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids or didn’t spend time around them. In fact, he’d just returned from a weekend with his sister, Molly, and her toddler. But one of his own? The answer should be no, thanks.

Julie undid the straps on his son’s safety seat.

He wanted her to hurry. He wanted to have his son in his arms once more. It made no sense. He wasn’t like Molly or even Flynn. He hadn’t longed for a child.

He stared up at the stately forest green Victorian that was the bed-and-breakfast, and Harmony Valley’s only hotel. “Have you checked in yet?”

“No.”

Unable to wait any longer, Nate edged Julie aside and picked up Duke.

“Want bed.” Short, sturdy arms wrapped around Nate’s neck.

Nate hugged him closer, drinking in the smell of toddler—sweat and dirty clothes and the essence of his son.

Julie had moved to the rear of the red SUV. She unloaded an open bag of diapers with a tub of wipes stuffed in it. A dinosaur-print bedroll came next, followed by a duffel bag and a backpack. She closed the hatch, groaning almost as much as the hinges on the hatch. Was she recovering from the flu?

“Let me carry those,” Nate offered.

“No,” Julie snapped, but it was a weary snap.

“Juju.” Duke leaned toward her, small arms outstretched, near tears. “Want bed.”

“Soon.” Julie slung the duffel over a shoulder (a sharp intake of breath), held the bedroll under an arm (a wince) and clutched the bag of diapers in her hand (looking like she might topple).

“Let me help you.” Nate lowered Duke to the ground and snagged the backpack.

Wailing, the toddler staggered dramatically to Julie and latched onto her leg.

“Duke.” Julie looked like she wanted to wail, too.

Without a word, Nate took the duffel, bedroll and diaper bag from her.

The front door opened. Leona Lambridge, the original proprietor of the bed-and-breakfast, stood in the doorway. Her thin-bladed features were sharper than surgical knives. She wore a simple navy dress that cast the gray in her tightly bound hair an eerie blue. She stared at them—an overloaded sheriff, a spent-looking aunt and a hysterical child—clasping her hands as if it helped her withhold verbal judgment.

Leona wasn’t a people person. Why she’d opened a bed-and-breakfast was a mystery to Nate.

Julie knelt, gathered Duke with her left arm and muttered, “The music from Psycho is playing in my head.” Cop humor. Meant to diffuse stress.

“Pay no attention to my grandmother.” Reggie, Leona’s granddaughter, edged past the old woman and hurried down the stairs to greet them. “I’m running the Lambridge B and B now.” Poor Reggie. She had to be working her fingers to the bone. She looked thin and haggard. Her long brown hair listless and her pert nose less than pert.

“She’ll run it until something better comes along,” Leona quipped. “She’s left me once already.”

“Your patrons missed me when I was gone.” Reggie took the diaper bag from Nate and smiled hard at Julie. “She’s friendlier than she’d like you to believe.”

Having known Leona a few years, Nate withheld comment.

Reggie scowled at him when he didn’t back her up. “Grandmother has friends in town. She’s retired. It’s not like I have to force her out of the house.”

“Oh, she forces me, all right. In hopes I’ll take back my ex-husband.” Leona retreated into the foyer where her hair seemed less blue and her countenance less sharp. “Or join one of Harmony Valley’s many causes.”

“Too much information for our guests,” Reggie muttered.

“My offer of a place to stay still stands,” Nate said to Julie. He had a studio apartment above the sheriff’s office.

“I’ll face the music of my own making, thank you.” Lugging Duke, Julie followed Reggie up the steps. “You’d best do the same.”

Nate noted Julie’s slow, measured steps. Her uneven breathing as she ascended the stairs. Her rigid posture and the tender way she held Duke. What had torn her apart?

Cancer?

She’d been favoring her left shoulder.

Breast cancer?

Nate bounded up the stairs, suddenly afraid Julie might collapse.

“I could like Ms. Smith.” Leona gave Julie a knowing smile. “She has a way with the sheriff. But—” she tilted her head and filled her expression with cheerful remorse “—the reservation was for one.”

“Casa Landry has room for two,” Nate said, if he slept downstairs on the cot in the jail cell.

“Poaching my business.” Reggie tsked and tried to look like there was much business to poach. “Bad form, Sheriff. Children under six stay free, Grandmother.”

“Want bed,” Duke crooned.

“As soon as we check in, little man.” But Julie didn’t move toward the door in her usual take-no-prisoners style. She blew out a labored breath and planted her boots on the porch as if it was an accomplishment just to make it that far. “Reservation for Smith.”

“Reggie needs your credit card.” Leona tried to smile, although it made her look as if she was having indigestion. “I need your assurance that your party won’t disrupt other guests.”

“By other guests, she means herself.” Reggie softened the remark with a more natural smile. “Thankfully, without her hearing aids she can only hear you if you scream. She hasn’t been disturbed at night yet.”

Julie was a woman of action, but she was loitering on the porch as if this was a social call and she wasn’t swaying with fatigue. Why? Because cancer was making a buffet of her strength. Nate was certain of it now. His certainty hollowed him with a sense of impending loss.

“Excuse me.” A man’s voice reached them from the sidewalk. “Is this the Lambridge Bed & Breakfast?”

“It is.” Reggie shoved the diaper bag into Nate’s chest. “Grandmother, show the Smiths to their room.”

“Yes,” Nate said firmly. “Show us now.”

* * *

WHEN JULIE WAS a kid, she’d had boundless energy. It was as if she’d gotten her share of energy, plus April’s.

April had asthma. April had painful growth spurts. April had flat feet, poor eyesight, lactose intolerance, skin that burned, toes prone to warts. You name it, April suffered through it. Not with Julie’s spunk, but with a gentle smile and a well-meaning joke.

Five days ago, Julie had been shot in the soft flesh near her shoulder. She’d lost a lot of blood.

Standing and carrying Duke. Fighting with Nate. Being out of bed. How quickly it all drained her reserves. She wanted to collapse on the chair just inside the front door. She didn’t want to carry her nephew and follow the Bride of Frankenstein up the stairs to a bedroom.

Seriously. Leona was a dead ringer for the black-and-white film icon. Give her a couple of neck bolts, tease up her hair, and she’d be ready for Halloween.

She was out of place in the house, which was beautiful and serene. It was like stepping back in time. Bead board. Wood floors. Old fixtures. Antique furniture. All lovingly cared for. By Reggie, no doubt.

“I’m curious.” Nate stared at Reggie and the man on the sidewalk. And then he turned to look at Leona. “You’re singing in Rose’s production of Annie for the Spring Festival?”

There was a shift in Leona’s posture, a preening. “Rose said no one else could play Miss Hannigan.”

Nate’s half smile twitched. He adjusted his hold on the load he carried. “Can you give us a sample?”

“I don’t do requests.” With a toss of her head, Leona led them with slow steps that made the creaking stairs wail as plaintively as Duke had outside.

The music from Psycho played once more in Julie’s head, but this time she was smiling as she climbed.

The pain meds are making me loopy.

Or they would be if I’d taken the pain meds.

When they reached the second floor, Leona gestured to an open door. “This is your bathroom.”

It was completely tiled and completely white. Not the best choice for the dirt little boys tended to bring inside.

Blessedly, a few steps later they were at a bedroom. The four-poster bed was huge, and the room was still large enough for a Tae Kwon Do match.

Julie set Duke down on the bed. Only the presence of Nate kept her from collapsing next to him.

She’d played sports in high school and trained in martial arts. She knew how to play through pain. But exhaustion. Exhaustion was different. Exhaustion took you out of the game.

“Breakfast is from 8:30 a.m. to 9:00 a.m.” Leona raised her eyebrows at Nate. “Visiting hours end at 9:00 p.m.”

Nate dropped Julie’s duffel on the chair near the cherry desk, placing the rest of her things around it on the floor, including the backpack with the custody papers. “That gives me ten minutes.”

Leona checked her slim gold watch. “Nine minutes.”

A smile snuck past Julie’s defenses again. Maybe she and Leona would get along after all. She could probably give Julie pointers on how to put Nate in his place.

Leona gave Julie what might have been a charitable smile if Julie was feeling charitable. “Credit card?” When she had it, Leona left. Her heels clacked briskly against the hardwood.

Nate picked up Duke’s dinosaur bedroll and shook it out on top of the bed, surrounding it with pillows. “Don’t let Leona get under your skin. She senses weakness like a wolf smells blood.”

“I could take her,” Julie joked, unable to get her eyes off Nate. She’d forgotten how nice he could be. He was supposed to be a jerk when she told him about Duke. He was supposed to reject Duke as his. He was supposed to be angry and insensitive. Julie could deal with angry, insensitive jerks all day long. It was the nice guys who undid her.

She needed her anger, if only for nine more minutes. “Don’t think I’m going to hand Duke over to you and walk away. You still have to prove you’ll be a good father.”

“Says who?” There was some of the anger she sought. A spark in dark eyes. A set to his jaw.

His reaction energized her. “It was April’s last wish.”

“Want bed,” Duke crooned, crawling toward the bedroll.

Nate stared at his son with wonder in his eyes.

Julie had to turn away. She should change Duke’s diaper and brush his teeth. She should go downstairs and sign the check-in paperwork. She should get a key to her room. She shouldn’t be thinking that Nate’s reaction to Duke made him Dadworthy.

She checked her cell phone. Seven more minutes.

She heard Nate remove Duke’s shoes. Heard him tuck Duke into the bedroll. Heard him whisper, “Sweet dreams.”

Nice. Nate had always been nice. Nice to those he worked with. Nice to those who obeyed the law. Nice. Until the day he’d asked to speak to April alone in the church vestibule. Until the week after that when he’d quit the Sacramento PD and moved away. Until he wasn’t by April’s side as she wasted away and whispered her last wishes.

How could a man who was so upstanding at work be so unreliable in his personal life?

Julie drew a labored breath.

“We need to talk.” Nate was behind her, being civil.

This wasn’t a civil situation. Julie turned on legs as stiff and unyielding as green two-by-fours. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He studied her the way they’d been trained at the academy, looking for signs of stress or emotional imbalance.

She forced her lips to make the journey upward toward superiority. “Tomorrow.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Breakfast. El Rosal. I’m buying.”

“We have a free breakfast here.” Needing something to do, she dug out a diaper from the bag, as if she was going to be a stellar caregiver and wake up Duke to change him.

Nada on that. The little man was hell on wheels when he woke up too soon.

His gaze turned as soft as one of Duke’s baby blankets. “It’s good to see you, Jules.”

“Don’t call me that, Landry.”

He gave her a rueful half smile, glanced at Duke one last time and then left.

She listened to his footsteps recede. She listened to the front door open and close. She listened to him drive away. Nate thought of himself as a good guy. And good guys sometimes did an about-face and came back to check on someone they thought was in need. Only when Julie was positive he’d left did she sink to the floor, resting her back against the footboard.

She texted her mother to tell her they’d arrived safely, assuring her she was all right. What a liar she’d become.

Leona appeared in the doorway, her eyes slanted with disapproval. “Are you sleeping on the floor?”

“No. I’m about to do my exercises for my back.” It wasn’t a lie if she was joking, right? “You can leave the key on the dresser with my receipt.”

“You don’t need a key.” Leona placed a handwritten receipt on the dresser with Julie’s credit card. “We don’t have locks.” She closed the door behind her.

“No key,” Julie murmured. No privacy. No way to lock Duke in here with her to prevent him wandering if he awoke at midnight. No pain killers. No revenge. No signed custody agreement. What a bust of a day.

Julie unbuttoned her shirt, drawing it carefully over her injured shoulder. Blood trickled from her collarbone. She peeled the bandage off, opened the diaper and shoved it under her bra strap.

She’d sit a few more minutes to gather her strength. And then she’d take her med kit into the bathroom, being careful not to bleed all over those white tiles.

Just a few more minutes...


CHAPTER FOUR (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)

AFTER LEAVING THE BED-AND-BREAKFAST, Nate drove around town, ostensibly to make his nightly rounds.

But it was more than worry for the town that kept him from bed. His mind was as jumbled as a box of well-used Scrabble tiles. As if being blindsided by Doris wasn’t bad enough...

I’m a father.

And April was dead. He’d need to visit her grave and pay his respects, maybe make a donation to a cancer-related charity.

I’m a father.

And Julie looked like she’d been run over by a bus. He’d need to contact a few of their mutual friends on the force and find out how bad her cancer was. He didn’t want to repeat the mistake he’d made with April. But that mistake hadn’t been one-sided. April had had a lot to say on their wedding day and she’d known...

I’m a father.

As were many of his friends in Harmony Valley. But unlike them, he didn’t know his son’s middle name. He didn’t know what he’d looked like as a baby. He didn’t even know his son’s birth date. Birthdays meant a lot to kids. They tended to remember birthdays as they got older.

Nate had been given a gun for his eighth birthday. It was a wreck of a weapon. The stock was duct-taped. The barrel scraped and the sight bent forward as if someone had used it for a cane. But it was a real rifle, not a BB gun like Matthew Freitas had gotten for his eighth birthday.

“Time you start acting like a man,” his father had said in a voice that boomed in their small kitchen. He’d stared at his wife making pancakes for Nate’s birthday breakfast with an arrogant grin. “Duck-hunting season is coming up.”

Nate longed to go duck hunting. They lived in Willows, California, where everyone hunted. It was practically a law.

“Bring your gun. Let’s go shoot.” There was a sly note to Dad’s voice that Nate didn’t understand.

Not that he cared. He’d played shooting video games at Tony Arno’s house down the block. Nate was a good shot. Wait until he showed Dad!

“No.” Mom sounded a little panicked, like she did when she didn’t have dinner ready and Dad pulled into the driveway. She came to stand behind Nate, drawing him to her with fingers that dug through to bone.

His little sister’s eyes were big. She tugged at the skirt of her Sunday school dress.

Nate bet Molly was jealous. She never got to do anything with Dad.

But Nate was eight. He was a man now. That meant Dad would take him hunting. There’d be no more cleaning toilets for Nate. No more dishes. No more dusting. No more butt-stinging whuppings.

Dad glowered at the women in the household. “The boy’s coming with me.”

Nate had naively stepped forward.

Someone stepped into the beam of Nate’s headlights and then leaped back.

A slender African American man stood on the sidewalk in a bathrobe, shuffling his bunny-slippered feet.

Nate slammed on his brakes. The truck shuddered to a halt, but Nate’s limbs continued to quake. He rammed the truck in Park and jumped out, bellowing, “Terrance! What are you doing out here?”

“Evening, Nate.” The tall, elderly man shoved his hands into his burgundy terry-cloth pockets. “You didn’t have to stop so...so quickly.”

“Of course, I had to stop.” Nate was yelling. He never yelled. Blame it on the night he’d had. “You’re walking around in your bathrobe and slippers.”

Policing Harmony Valley wasn’t about controlling crime. It was about keeping the peace. And peace required patience. The patience Nate usually had in deep reserve was at drought levels.

“I can’t do it, Sheriff.” Terrance’s breath hitched and his shoulders shook. His elongated facial features were accented by sad salt-and-pepper brows and sparse chin stubble. “I can’t go to sleep without Robin in bed with me.”

Nate heaved a sigh. Terrance had recently lost his wife of fifty years.

But this was the third time in a month he’d found Terrance walking around in his pajamas. The old man had been watching the sun rise from the top of Parish Hill when Nate drove by to check on reports of gunshots. He’d been watching the river pass by from the Harmony Valley bridge during Nate’s morning jog. And now...

A porch light came on at the house on the corner.

If anyone saw Terrance in his pj’s, Nate would have to do more than chastise him and make sure he got home safe. Doris would want him to issue a citation for indecent exposure. Agnes would want him to take Terrance to the hospital for observation, which might result in pills being prescribed. Pills Terrance wouldn’t take, because the antidepressants and sleeping pills his doctor had given him after Robin’s death sat unused in his medicine cabinet.

“Get in the truck and I’ll drive you home.” He’d get the older man something to eat and stay at his place until Terrance dozed off.

Terrance shook his head in a trembly fashion. The robe was worn and did little to keep out the cold. He was shivering all over.

Nate stood between Terrance and the porch, hopefully blocking the view of anyone peering out the front window. He swept Terrance toward the truck with both hands. “If you’re going to walk, you need to walk with all your clothes on.”

Except to shiver, Terrance didn’t budge. “I’m dressed for bed because I try to sleep and I can’t.” The mournful sound in his voice echoed on the empty street. “I always thought I’d go first. I should have spoiled her more. I should have told her I loved her more. I should have—”

“Get in the truck.” Nate closed in. “Turn those bunny slippers around and get in.”

“Are you arresting me?” Even the bunny ears seemed to be shivering now. “More important, are you making fun of Robin’s slippers?”

He was. Some levity was called for, otherwise he’d never get Terrance off the street. Nate put his hands on the older man’s shoulders and gently turned him around. “You’re telling me your feet are the same size as Robin’s?”

“Robin had long, elegant feet.” Salt-and-pepper brows dive-bombed blue eyes as he stared at Nate over his shoulder. “I feel closer to her when I wear her slippers.”

Locks turned in the door behind them. Out of time, Nate hustled Terrance into the truck.

“Sheriff? Is that you?” Lilac Miller wore a pink silk bathrobe, heels and what looked like a shower cap.

“Yes, ma’am.” Nate walked in front of the headlights so she could see him. “Sorry about the noise. A cat ran out in front of me.” He got in the truck, hoping Lilac hadn’t seen his passenger.

“I saw Lilac driving Doris to the market this morning out by the highway.” Terrance’s knobby knees bumped against the old metal dash.

Nate bit back a curse, adding Lilac to his to-do list tomorrow. She was dangerous on the road, and had promised him she wouldn’t drive unless it was an emergency. “Thanks for telling me.”

Terrance squirmed in his seat. “Should I mention I was walking in my bathrobe and bunny slippers?”

“Only if you want to spend a night in jail under my supervision.”

* * *

JULIE’S BREATH SOUNDED HOLLOW. Her throat felt dry.

Someone had thrown a smoke grenade. Despite the mask, Julie couldn’t breathe. Visibility in the house was like a midnight-thick fog in San Francisco.

A woman appeared before her, holding a baby and a weapon. The assault rifle was trained on Julie.

Julie tried to shout a warning to the officers behind her.

Too late. The woman’s finger squeezed the trigger.

Julie fired.

She couldn’t see. She didn’t know...

Her breath rasped. Her throat burned.

The woman closed the distance between them, pressing the muzzle of her gun into Julie’s shoulder. Julie wanted to run, but her legs were sinking into the floor.

Crying out, Julie fired again. Suddenly, it was April who held her. April, who crumpled to the linoleum, her mouth moving as she tried to speak one word: forgive.

Julie sat up, shaking and sweating. She’d fallen asleep on the floor of the bed-and-breakfast. The lights were still on, but the chill of the evening had seeped into the room. Into her.

Helpless. She felt so helpless. And sleep deprived. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly since she’d been released from the hospital. Not since she’d stopped taking the pain pills. But if she took them she couldn’t drive or care for Duke.

It took several minutes for the shakes to subside. Several more for her to trust her legs to hold her.

But peace of mind? That remained elusive.

* * *

“JUJU.” A WHISPER. A tug on the quilt.

Julie cracked her eyes open. She felt like sun-dried roadkill. Her eyes were gritty. Her mouth dry. And her head...it felt as if her skull had been stuffed with heavy mountain clay. She wanted to roll over and stay beneath the covers.

But there was her nephew. His black hair in a rumpled half Mohawk and his mouth set in his welcome-to-morning grumpy line.

Cheerful. She had to channel April and be cheerful. “Want to snuggle, little man?”

“No. Want milk.” He tugged harder on the quilt. “Juju.”

Julie squinted at her watch. It was seven thirty, late for Duke. “Okay. Okay.” She ran through the list. Shower. Clean teeth. Clean diaper. Clean dressing. Clean clothes. Could she distract a two-year-old for an hour until Leona’s official breakfast time?

“Juju!”

“Okay, I’m moving.” Julie folded her right arm to her chest and rolled slowly to an upright position. Duke didn’t look any better when she was upright. He was still rumpled and grumpy. She caught her reflection in the mirror hanging above the desk. She didn’t look much better. She looked ready to audition for a role as a zombie—dark circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks, hair in loopy tangles. “I hope we see Leona on the way to the bathroom. She could use a good scare.”

Thirty minutes later, Julie and Duke were dressed in jeans, sneakers and thick black hoodies. She carried a backpack with toddler supplies and the custody contract she wanted Nate to sign. He’d thrown her a curveball last night by not rejecting Duke outright. In all the years she’d known him, he’d always said he didn’t want kids. He couldn’t change his mind now. She wouldn’t let him. If he didn’t sign today, she’d put the Daddy Test into play.

“Me walk. Me walk.” Duke ran to the staircase.

“Wait.” Julie dashed after him, juggling the backpack and the umbrella stroller. “Hold my hand.”

Together, they took the stairs one at a time. When they reached the foyer, they peeked into the empty living room. Sunlight streamed across the antique wood-trimmed couch, a delicate coffee table, a Boston fern and the antique rocking horse. The wood floors gleamed. There wasn’t a dust mote in sight.

“Breakfast is at eight thirty,” Reggie said cheerfully from the dining room. “There’s coffee, milk and juice on the sideboard.”

“Milk would be fantastic.” Julie tugged Duke’s blue sippy cup from her backpack.

“Why do you say breakfast is at eight thirty, Regina, when you don’t mean it?” Leona stood at the end of the foyer beneath the stairs. Dark green sheath, low black heels, pearls at her neck, hands clasped at her waist and looking as if she didn’t want to let on she smelled something unpleasant.

Julie gave a tentative sniff to make sure Duke wasn’t fragrant—he wasn’t—before slipping into the dining room to fill Duke’s cup.

“It’s hard to believe Grandmother’s first review of the bed-and-breakfast was positive,” Reggie deadpanned, wiping the dining room table as if she only had a few seconds left to clean. “Customer service isn’t her forte.”

“Chad Healy appreciates good repartee.” Leona entered the dining room, stiff as starch. “The art of conversation is dying, being replaced by the Twitter and those hashtags you always mumble about.”

Reggie stopped cleaning and grinned, a real, live, genuine smile directed at her grandmother. “Did you joke with your father when the telegraph became obsolete?”

Leona didn’t answer, but the corner of her lip twitched. Those two may go at it, but they clearly enjoyed their banter.

“How about Great-Grandpa’s horse and buggy?” Reggie leaned on the table, coming in for the proverbial kill, her tone gleeful. “His gas lamps? His...” She faltered and glanced at Julie for help.

“Uh...” Julie drew a blank, having been tag-teamed before she knew she was part of Reggie’s team.

“You petty.” Duke grinned up at Leona. He wrapped his arms around her spindly leg and gave her a hug.

Leona stared down at Duke. Almost of its own volition, her hand drifted to the top of his head and gave him a pat.

Duke released her, still grinning. “Petty you.” He reached out and patted her bottom. And then he caught sight of his sippy cup and ran to Julie. “Milk!”

Leona’s cheeks were redder than a ripe strawberry. She walked woodenly out of the room.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.” Reggie stared at Duke in awe. “The Ice Queen melted. Honestly, I don’t think she touched me when I was growing up.”

Julie felt compelled to come to Leona’s defense. “I’m sure she must have—”

“Nope.” Reggie shook her head. “She was... Well, that’s not important. It’s been a challenge being here and your son gave me hope.” Reggie turned mahogany eyes filled with tears Julie’s way. “Thank you.”

A man appeared in the dining room doorway. “Am I too early for breakfast?”

“No.” Reggie clutched her cleaning rag. “Not at all. I just need to put it in the oven and...” She composed herself. “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee while you wait? Get to know our other guests and...make yourself at home.”

Julie sighed. A cup of coffee sounded like heaven.

Duke stopped sucking down milk and tugged on the umbrella stroller. “Out, Juju. Go out.”

“Can’t I have my coffee first?” Julie’s gaze drifted to the stack of mugs by the coffee carafe.

“Peeeeeze.” Duke hugged Julie’s leg and gazed up at her with April’s gray eyes. “Go peeze.”

Julie was a sucker for that sweet face. A cup of coffee would have to wait. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She’d take Nate up on his offer of breakfast. She’d start him on the Daddy Test. That’d make him squirm. The idea perked her up.

A few minutes later, having made her apologies to the other guest, Julie pushed Duke through the foggy streets toward the town square in a blue umbrella stroller. For being two, Duke was a solid kid. Pushing him wasn’t easy. Back in the day, as an older sister, she’d pushed April in her stroller. She’d whined, of course.

“People like you and me have to take care of others,” Dad had said in response to her complaints. As a highway patrolman, he’d been adamant about duty and responsibility.

He’d been her strongest supporter when she’d wanted to try out for Little League baseball instead of softball. He’d argued her case with the school board when she wanted to pitch for her high school baseball team. But in return, he’d made her volunteer for every charity that needed an extra pair of hands. He’d insisted she babysit April and help her with her homework. He’d nourished her competitive streak and her sense of responsibility. A burden and a curse, she’d once told Nate.

Thinking about how close she and Nate had been made her cringe inside. The inward cringe made her wound ache. Aching wounds reignited her need for justice.

“Tree.” Duke interrupted her thoughts and his milk consumption, pointing to a large fir tree.

A yellow tow truck drove past. The driver waved at Duke.

“Truck.” Duke turned in his seat to grin up at Julie, eyes so like April’s that her breath caught.

She forgot about vendettas, twinging gunshot wounds and the past. She let her chest fill with the blissful sight of the gift April had left the world. “Do you know how much your mama loved you?”

Duke’s grin deepened and he spread his little arms wide. “This much!” He sat back in the stroller and pointed to the town square, which was all grass except for one large oak. “Tree.” And then he pointed to the left, to a blue pickup with a gold star on the door. “Truck.”

Nate’s truck. Nate was at El Rosal. Julie’s steps slowed.

El Rosal was a colorful Mexican restaurant with outdoor dining fenced in by a low wrought iron fence. On the same side of the street a few doors down was Martin’s Bakery. Both seemed to be doing a brisk morning business.

Nate sat at an outdoor table with a thin, elderly black man. The sheriff wore a blue checkered shirt beneath a navy sleeveless jacket. He gave his dining companion that half smile she knew so well. Only it wasn’t the same half smile of old. Not the one he used to send Julie’s way, the one that said he couldn’t trust himself to release his feelings. This one said he liked the man across from him and he was comfortable letting his companion know it.

Julie’s throat ached with the feeling of loss. It shouldn’t. She’d lost Nate as a friend the day he’d left April. But looking at him now, at that open-book smile, she wondered if their friendship had been one-sided.

“You’re early.” Nate pushed back his chair and hurried to meet them on the sidewalk, the contained half smile giving nothing away. He bent down near Duke’s level. “How’re you today, buddy?”

“Great!” Duke thrust his cup in the air.

Julie’s gaze stumbled over Nate. No uniform. No gun belt. She had no idea who he was anymore.

Nate’s scruffy dining companion appeared at his side. He wore a wrinkled orange T-shirt and a dirty green zippered sweatshirt. He had bachelor written all over him. “I’m Terrance.” He slanted a frown Nate’s way. “Next time you put me in jail for the night, I’d like breakfast in bed.” He walked slowly away, as if he had nowhere to go.

“What did you arrest him for?” Julie asked.

Nate’s gaze followed the old man. “Annoying me.” There was the dry humor she remembered.

“And that’s against the law?”

“In my town, yes.”

It was Julie’s turn to frown at the sheriff. Maybe Doris did have a legitimate claim against him. That cheered Julie, even if she didn’t quite believe it.

Meanwhile, Nate’s gaze focused on Julie and the lines around his dark eyes deepened. “You should reconsider your accommodations and stay with me.”

“No, thanks. Terrance didn’t look all that rested.”

“Neither do you.”

She glanced past Nate to the bakery sign, a little of her confidence returning. She knew how to deal with this Nate—be firm.

“I see you’re tempted by the bakery,” Nate said, moving closer to Julie. “On the one hand, Martin’s will have those pastries you’re craving.” Nate took her left arm, leaving her no choice but to push the stroller to his table. “On the other, El Rosal has bacon.”

From his seat in the stroller, Duke gasped. “Ba-con?”

“Yep, bacon,” Nate confirmed.

“Are you trying to tell me what’s best for Duke and me?” Julie felt overheated in her thick black hoodie. She was sure it was because she resented Nate’s touch, his calm, his command.

“They have good coffee here, Jules,” Nate said in a soft voice that contradicted the warning in his dark eyes. “And apple fritters.”

She hated that he knew her so well. She also hated that three words softened her resolve—coffee, apple fritters.

“Ba-con?” Duke searched several tables for his culinary prize.

“We’ll get you bacon while Juju parks the stroller and takes a rest at the table.” Nate unbuckled Duke and carried him inside. Into his life and away from hers.

Julie felt cold. Not the cold terror when she’d been shot, but the vein-freezing cold she’d felt when April had drifted off in death. The alone kind of cold. Her toes stung with it.

She parked the stroller inside the low wrought iron fence and took a seat beneath a tall heater, feeling chilled.

The patrons outside were mostly elderly. A few people looked at her curiously.

“You’re staying at the Lambridge Bed & Breakfast.” The mayor came to stand next to Julie’s table. He was wearing tie-dye again today. His sweatshirt was a wild mix of purple and green. “Welcome to Harmony Valley. Whatever brings you to town...” He paused to see if she’d explain why she’d come. When she didn’t, he continued, “We hope you enjoy your stay and perhaps stay.”

The patrons at other tables beamed at her.

“Oh, no. I’m not staying.” Julie put her hands on the table, as if to cradle the coffee cup that wasn’t there.

The mayor was nothing if not the town’s salesman. “Don’t judge so quickly. How many towns can boast affordable living, a winery and views like this.” He pointed to a fog-shrouded mountain towering over the trees.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful when the fog burns off,” Julie allowed, lacing her fingers together.

The mayor pointed at her with both index fingers and backed away. “I won’t give up on you.”

“I can respect that.” Julie fought off the sudden need to yawn.

She couldn’t see Nate inside. She couldn’t see a waitress with a carafe of coffee. She was out of her element here and in her own skin. Her head felt heavy enough from lack of sleep to fall off her shoulders and there was a knot tightening beneath her right shoulder blade, about the place where Nate had stabbed her in the back years ago.

When they were rookies on the Sacramento police force, Julie had had to prove she was tough enough to fit in. Nate fit in just by putting on the uniform. They’d been working the same shift when they’d received a domestic abuse call. Julie pulled up to the house just after Nate did. It was the first time they’d responded to a call together. The first time Julie had been on a domestic abuse call.

The call looked bad from the get-go. Rundown neighborhood. Dingy white house. Dirt where a lawn should be. The crack by the front door handle indicated it’d been kicked in at least once before. It wasn’t the kind of place you sent a patrol officer alone.

“I’ll take point.” Nate’s hand was on his holster as he knocked on the front door. “Police! Open up!”

Inside the house, a gun went off. A woman screamed.

Nate drew his gun and kicked down the door before Julie could report shots fired and request backup. And then she drew her weapon and followed.

“Landry!” Julie tried to control the slight shake to her hands.

There were sounds of a scuffle deep inside the house. At the end of the hall, a woman appeared.

Julie flinched, nearly shooting her.

The woman was unarmed, her face bruised and bloodied. She carried a toddler with a red welt on his cheek. They were both crying.

Crap. Julie’s legs had felt as if she’d run the police academy obstacle course one too many times. She’d trained for worst-case scenarios, but Julie had never been in a situation like this before. “Get out,” Julie ordered the woman, keeping her weapon and her eyes trained on the end of the hallway as the woman escaped past her. “Landry! Answer me.”

Something hit a wall, shaking the entire house. And then there was a thud.

Julie turned the corner of the hall and looked into the master bedroom.

Nate sat on top of a panting shirtless man, cuffing his hands behind his back. He stared up at Julie, breathing heavily, one eye swelling and his lip bloody. Two handguns were on the carpet near the door. “Read him his rights.”

Later, as they’d worked on the report at the station, Julie put a hand on Nate’s arm. “That was stupid, running in there like that. He had a gun. He could’ve—”

“His wife didn’t think it was stupid since he was pistol-whipping her.” There was a dangerous edge to Nate’s voice that Julie had never heard before.

“Do you know them?” He hadn’t put that in the report. “Is this personal?”

“I’ve seen abuse before.” Nate’s jaw ticked. “It’s worth taking a bullet to save someone. He hit that woman and—” his voice roughened “—that little boy.” Nate stared at her, but he didn’t seem to see Julie.

She’d wanted him to. She wanted him to confide in her.

“Do you know what it’s like to feel helpless and trapped?” He did see her then. And behind his gaze was something so bleak, Julie almost couldn’t bear it. “Your options are taken away. Your spontaneity... Your personality... You can’t show anything. And your freedom...” His gaze turned distant again. “It’s like a storm comes in with dark, heavy clouds, and you have no shelter, no choice but to weather the storm.”

“Nate... I’m so sorry.” Was this why he never talked about his family? Because he’d been abused?

“Sorry?” Nate had sat back in his chair, suddenly completely in the present and completely angry. “I was talking about the victims.” He stood and went to get a cup of coffee.

She hadn’t believed him. But what she did believe was that Nate took his work to heart. And she’d respected him for that. Heck, she’d practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

Inside El Rosal, a waiter entered the main dining room through the swinging kitchen door. He held the door for Nate, who carried Duke and a large mug of steaming coffee. Duke clutched a piece of bacon in each hand.

The waiter opened the main restaurant door for Nate, and then followed him to the table. He had a swarthy complexion, thick black hair and a killer smile that probably netted him lots of tips. If he’d brought a coffeepot, Julie might have tipped him well, too.

Instead, she sighed and held up the sippy cup. First things first.

Nate set the steaming mug in front of Julie and sat down across from her, lifting a happy Duke in his lap. Julie’s lap felt empty. It was small consolation that Nate suddenly looked as if he’d been taken over by aliens and was just now realizing he had a small boy with him.

“Truck.” Duke grinned, pointing at Nate’s Ford.

“Truck,” Nate echoed.

The waiter leaned both hands on the edge of the table and beamed at Julie. He’d pinned his name tag—Arturo—upside down. “Sheriff Nate wanted to order you the empanada, which he mistakenly calls an apple fritter. He also wants to order pancakes and eggs for his little sidekick.” Arturo’s gently rolling consonants fell out of his smiling mouth like the cheery notes of a pop song’s chorus. “But my mama won’t accept the order until you confirm it. She says we don’t know you, but we know how bossy Sheriff Nate is.” He plucked the sippy cup from her hand. “Milk or juice?”

“Milk. And just this once we’ll go with the sheriff’s order.” She gave Nate a stern look and then mainlined the coffee.

“I know the difference between an apple fritter and an empanada,” Nate grumbled.

“The key to happiness is to establish expectations.” Arturo moved to a stack of wooden high chairs. “Both in dining and in relationships.” He carried one to the table, and then left them.

“Pay no attention to the talking fortune cookie.” Nate deposited Duke in the high chair like a pro. At Julie’s questioning glance, he gave her the tight half smile. “My sister has a twenty-month-old little girl and I’m one of the few people trusted to babysit Camille.”

Deep down, something inside Julie gave a plaintive cry of foul. She wanted Nate to be all thumbs with Duke, to generate disinterest and temper tantrums. Nothing was going right in Harmony Valley.

Arturo returned with the sippy cup, placing it in front of Duke. “Milk.”

“Milk.” Duke dropped bacon bits on the table and reached for the cup, only to stop midgrab and stare at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I dirty.”

Before Julie could set her coffee down, Nate was wiping her nephew’s hands with a napkin.

“Okay, I get it,” Julie groused. “You have experience with little kids.” Drat and darn. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Nate met her gaze squarely. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?”

She sat back, resisting the urge to touch her shoulder. He must have called someone from the force. “Why would I? We don’t work together. We’re not partners, friends or in-laws.”

He ignored her boundary setting. In fact, he steamrolled over her defenses. “You look like hell. I thought you were dying of cancer.”

Julie clung to her coffee cup and held her tongue.

“You’re not taking time off to grieve. You’re taking time off to heal and awaiting an internal investigation into the shooting.” Something passed over Nate’s face, a bleakness so fleeting, she couldn’t catch its meaning. “I heard it was your first.”

Her first kill, he meant.

Sweat traced the band of her bra. Only because the fleece of her hoodie was too thick and the heater above her too warm. Her toes were still cold.

“Don’t talk about it as if I was hunting deer.” Julie stared into her mug while Duke slurped his milk and black birds twittered and the morning fog dissipated and life went on happily for other people.


CHAPTER FIVE (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)

JULIE WASN’T DYING.

The relief when Nate had received the return text message this morning from Captain Bradford at Sacramento PD had lifted a weight off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how stressed-out he’d been until he’d nearly run out to meet her in front of El Rosal. Only her scowl had slowed his steps and kept him from wrapping his arms around her. Only her scowl and April’s assumption on their wedding day that he’d loved Julie more than he’d loved his bride-to-be.

Love Julie? He didn’t know how to love someone. That was something you learned by example from your parents.

And so, he’d brushed aside foolish emotions, stopped in his tracks and looked at Julie closely. Blood loss and trauma from being shot took a toll on a body. He’d expected Julie to look rested this morning. But this... She looked worse. Pasty complexion. Dark circles under her eyes. Mouth thinned with tension.

Perhaps his son was partly to blame. Nate’s niece was a good sleeper, but that didn’t mean Duke was. He knew from his sister that being a sole caregiver was draining. Julie didn’t have much energy left to drain. So he’d plucked Duke from the stroller and taken him to the kitchen to give Julie some relief. But when he’d returned, Julie had looked more haunted than before.

The midweek breakfast crowd at El Rosal was at its peak. People were starting their days with a hearty meal. Nate had a long to-do list, rounds to make, people to check up on. It would all have to wait. Unless there was an emergency, Julie was his priority, along with Duke.

Nate’s glance fell on his son. The boy had felt right in his arms when he’d carried him back to the kitchen. Long ago he’d decided not to be a father. Fatherhood should be a choice. Last night, he’d vowed to explain to Julie why he couldn’t be a father, without explaining anything at all. But first, he had to ease Julie’s suffering.

“You aren’t sleeping.” Nate could relate. He hadn’t slept much last night either. “You have to talk to someone about the shooting.” Taking a life was taboo. Breaking a taboo could rattle even the strongest person.

“I sleep fine.” Julie scowled, but the effect was ruined by the light breeze pushing wisps of blond hair across vacant eyes.

“You can talk to me,” Nate persisted. “Just like you used to.” When they’d worked together, she’d unloaded emotions with him like she unloaded bullets at the shooting range. It was part of her venting process. She’d talk and he’d listen.

Today, she let silence be her answer.

Nate wanted to lean across the narrow table, slip his hand to the nape of her neck and make her stop hiding, stop bottling up her emotions and tell him about it. About April. About the shooting. About her feelings for him.

Nate rocked back in his seat. Julie was as off-limits as fatherhood.

“Ba-con.” Duke picked up another piece, grinning at Julie.

She stopped glaring at Nate and grinned back at Duke.

He’d seen a grin similar to hers often on his sister’s face when she gazed at Camille. “You want to keep him.”

“Anyone with a heart would.” Julie lifted her chin, daring him to admit he didn’t have a heart.

She didn’t understand his childhood hadn’t been carefree and loving, as hers had been. He enjoyed children, but he was satisfied enjoying other people’s children. And yet, if he admitted that...if he signed over rights to Duke, Julie would leave town. She’d go home and pretend to be fine when the life she’d taken would be eating her inside.

Flynn entered the patio wearing faded blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt. He was a dot-com millionaire who dressed like a construction worker. Since he’d become a father, he’d been dressing like an out-of-work construction worker. He’d worn that same ratty T-shirt two days ago. Flynn didn’t quite meet Nate’s gaze. “Do you have something for me?”

Nate handed a thick envelope that had been sitting on the chair to Flynn. “Those are all the citations for the past six months.” Flynn had requested them last night. He was helping the town council investigate Nate’s job performance.

Flynn nodded his thanks and wove his way between tables to where the mayor sat in the corner.

Mayor Larry wore black yoga pants, an oversize sweatshirt and the false smile of a lifelong politician. He held Nate’s future in his hands. And not in a tight clasp either.

Would the mayor back him in the race? The breeze shifted, blowing cold air in Nate’s face.

“They’ll be talking about you.” Julie set down her mug, restored enough with caffeine and a change in topic to take a poke at him.

It was a weak poke. “I’m a sheriff, not an administrator.” He might be powerless about his career, but he could do something to help Julie’s.

“Sheriff Nate.” It was Agnes. The short town councilwoman carried a coffee cup from Martin’s and a pastry bag that Julie eyed with envy. “I meant to ask for an introduction last night. Who’s your friend?”

Nate introduced Julie and Duke. He was going to stop at names, but impulsively, he added, “Duke is my son.”

“I Duke,” the boy said proudly scratching his head and dragging his hair over the Landry ears. “You Nay.” He pointed at Nate.

Unexpectedly, happiness buoyed Nate’s cheeks, trying to lift them into a smile.

Duke’s words seemed to have the opposite effect on Julie. She was frowning.

“I see the resemblance now. He’s adorable.” Agnes gave Julie a kind, if shrewd, look. “Sheriff, I hadn’t realized you’d been married before.”

“He wasn’t. He knocked up my sister and jilted her.” The frown vanished and Julie’s face bloomed with color.

That color, that spark in her eyes. It almost made the awkwardness of his past worth telling.

“To be fair,” Nate said flatly, the way he gave testimony on the witness stand. “April didn’t tell me she was pregnant.” And didn’t that still sting.

“Do you mind if I use the town phone tree to spread the word?” Agnes tapped Julie’s shoulder with the back of her hand as if sharing a joke. “I’d like to say I’m pulling your leg, but we love gossip as much as we love our sheriff.” She gave Nate a fond smile. “Well, off to my meeting.” She joined Flynn and the mayor, but fiddled with her phone before engaging in conversation.

The phone tree. Julie had no idea what she was in for.

Nate felt compelled to warn her. “By midafternoon, everyone will know your name. But half the population will have gotten the story wrong. They’ll say I jilted you, and that Duke is our son.”

Our son. His gaze stuck on Julie’s gray eyes.

“I’ll gladly correct them.” Julie beamed.

She hadn’t smiled at him like that in years. A feeling long buried in his chest climbed into his throat. He didn’t have a word for that feeling. April had tried to call it love. But... Love for Julie? Love for her mercurial moods and her broad smile? For her dedication to her career, her need for justice and her bighearted, slightly naive view of the world? He appreciated all those things about her. He’d missed all those things about her. But love? If he truly loved her, how could he have lived without her for more than two years?

Arturo appeared with Duke’s sippy cup refill and three plates of food.

“Ooh.” Duke clapped his hands when he saw his pancake and eggs.

Arturo set Julie’s plate down last. “I had the kitchen add cinnamon glaze to your empanada.”

Julie’s eyes lit up. “Arturo, your wife is one lucky woman.”

“I’m not married.” Arturo clucked his tongue and gave her an appreciative once-over. “And neither are you.”

“She’s not interested,” Nate growled, feeling proprietary. He buttered Duke’s pancakes to keep from growling further at his friend.

“Who says I’m not interested?” Julie gave Arturo a calculated smile.

“This is why I’m single. Too many arguments.” Arturo laughed and moved to the next table.

“That’s not why he’s single.” Nate narrowed his eyes. “He thinks of himself as a ladies’ man.”

“The ladies love me,” Arturo tossed over his shoulder.

“Ladies over sixty-five,” Nate said, qualifying and loading his fork. “Ladies who tip well.”

Julie said nothing. Her attention had dropped to her plate. She’d never been much good at multitasking.

There was a lull in both conversation and argument while they dug into their food. Several minutes later, Duke was slowing down on his pancake, eating with his fingers and getting nearly as much in his mouth as on his face, hands and sweatshirt.

Julie was perking up. The empanada was nearly gone. Her coffee cup had been refilled again. But sugar and caffeine couldn’t erase the look of exhaustion on her face. She needed someone to care for her. Fat chance of her letting it be him.

Nate cleared his throat. “What was April’s criteria for my gaining custody?”

Julie pinned him with an intense gaze. “She called it the Daddy Test.”

Just hearing the name made him uneasy. “I take it April made the test up.”

“She did.” Julie nodded, a mix of superiority and satisfaction in her eyes. She didn’t expect him to pass.

The quickest way out of fatherhood was to fail. Little Duke was awesome and deserved a loving home with someone who knew how to provide it for him. Julie had already offered. She’d do an excellent job. So it made no sense that he said, “Your test won’t hold up in a court of law.”

“I know.” Color appeared in her cheeks. Arguing with him seemed to do that to her. “But I also know you won’t push the issue. We were friends once. You’ll wait to hear my evaluation.”

He shouldn’t. And he wouldn’t have. Except, the longer it took Julie to assess him, the longer she’d stay in Harmony Valley. Worst case, she’d have a chance to find some peace from the shooting. “If I agree, you have to stay for a month.”

She frowned. “I don’t have to agree to anything.”

“You can stay until the doctor clears you for duty.” He could make amends to April if he helped her get through this. Troubled and injured as she was, she couldn’t properly care for Duke or herself.

“The doctor will clear me for a desk job sooner if I pass my psych eval.” Her frown deepened to a scowl. She knew she wouldn’t pass anytime soon. “Besides, I can’t afford to stay here a month.”

“You could stay with me for free.” Before she made a decision, Nate’s phone chirped and vibrated.

In the distance, a siren split the spring air.

“I have to go.” Nate stood, hesitating as he looked down at his son, suddenly loathe to leave. He stroked Duke’s unruly black curls and said, “Be good.” And then Nate looked at Julie. “You, too.”

She scoffed.

Men and women of all ages were coming out of Martin’s and El Rosal. The volunteer firefighters were mobilizing, as were the lookie-loos. Nate needed to lead the pack, not trail behind.

“We’ll talk later,” he said to Julie, who looked like she was eager to join in on a good emergency call.

If it was excitement she was missing, she wouldn’t find it in Harmony Valley.

Nate checked his phone for the address, but it was just as easy to follow the volunteers and spectators up the switchbacks to the top of Parish Hill. Having arrived at a thinly graveled, rutted driveway belonging to a crotchety old man, some turned around when they saw the sign—Trespassers Will Be Shot. Rutgar wasn’t known for exaggeration.

Nate parked his truck along the two-lane road. He walked to the rear of the property with Gage, the town vet.

“What’s this I hear about you being a dad?” Gage wasn’t as tall as Nate, but they had the same long-legged stride.

Nate knew gossip in Harmony Valley traveled fast. But this was light speed. “Just found out he existed last night. He’s two.”

“That must have been a shock.” Gage spared Nate a searching glance. “And here I was telling Doc not to spread rumors.”

Nate fought the urge to smile, to preen, to high-five. Those were the responses of a proud and loving dad. Still, he wouldn’t lie about being a father. “Let Doc run with the news. It’s true.”

“Congratulations. I think I’ve still got some cigars from when Mae was born.” Gage slapped Nate soundly on the back. “While I’ve got you here... I’m still learning the emergency codes. What are we responding to? I don’t see smoke.”

“Injury.”

The closest thing they had to a doctor in town was Patti, a retired nurse practitioner. She was currently enjoying an Alaskan cruise. The first responders would stabilize and arrange transport to medical services in nearby Cloverdale, if necessary.

Nate and Gage reached the end of the driveway and a two-story house sitting on stilts. It was painted a dirty brown and surrounded by towering pines that had probably been saplings when it was built. The town’s fire engine was parked in front of the steps leading to the porch, where the home’s owner sat and howled his displeasure.

“No! The last time someone wanted me to be seen by a doctor, I spent days in the hospital.” Rutgar was a bear of a man, with gray-blond hair that swept past his shoulders and a long gray-blond beard that swept up dinner crumbs. His gaze roved around the gathered emergency workers. “Where’s Gage? He can look at my ankle.”

“Although you’re bullheaded, you aren’t a bull.” Gage wound his way through the crowd, followed by Nate, until they reached the two uniformed fire personnel. “And I prefer patients who don’t talk back.”

“What happened?” Nate asked Ben, the fire captain.

“Rutgar missed the top step, fell and slid to the bottom. Tried to catch himself with his foot on the post down here.” Ben turned his back to Rutgar and lowered his voice, although the gathered volunteers had no qualms closing ranks to hear better. “He needs an X-ray of his ankle. He says his head hurts and when Mandy tried to get him to stand, he vomited. He might have a concussion.”

“I’ll take him to the hospital,” Nate offered, despite wanting to get back to Julie and Duke.

“I can drive him.” Flynn joined them. “I know you’ve got things to do.” The new dad raised an eyebrow, daring Nate to contradict him.

Nate did nonetheless. “Are you sure? What about Becca and Ian?”

“How long can it take?” Flynn shrugged.

Hours, but Nate wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rutgar was more demanding than a toddler in the terrible-two stage. “I’ll send folks back down the hill so you can get your truck in.”

Nate walked toward the road, stopping at each car to convey the basics—that Rutgar had fallen and needed nonemergency medical care. Slowly, cars began to wend their way back downhill.

A classic blue Cadillac convertible swung wide around the switchback, nearly driving the faded green Buick that carried the town council off the road.

Nate flagged down the Caddy driver, who nearly ran him over before stopping in the middle of Rutgar’s driveway. “Lilac, you aren’t supposed to be behind the wheel.”

Lilac blinked behind her large tortoiseshell sunglasses and flung the end of her maroon paisley scarf over one shoulder before answering coyly, “Is that you, Sheriff?”

“If you can’t tell it’s me,” Nate said stiffly, “you shouldn’t be driving.”

“Pfft.” Lilac waved a beringed hand. “No one has twenty-twenty vision anymore.”

“Just those who drive legally,” Nate muttered. And then he added in a loud voice in case Lilac hadn’t put in her hearing aids, “There’s nothing to see here. Go home and park your car in the driveway.” Where he could see it on his rounds and know she wasn’t being a menace on the roads.

Lilac lifted her nose in the air. “Doris says I should be able to drive wherever and whenever I want.”

Annoyance pounded in his temples and threatened to flatten what little patience he had left. “The agreement you made after nearly killing Chad Healy was you’d only drive in an emergency.”

“There’s an emergency here.” Lilac let her foot off the brake and the Caddy lurched forward.

“Stop!” Nate slapped a hand on a blue bubble fender. “They’re going to be taking Rutgar to the hospital any minute. I need the driveway free of vehicles.” He’d cleared it enough to get Flynn’s truck in a few minutes before her arrival.

Lilac pouted. “I didn’t even get to see.”

“There’s nothing to see.” And he doubted she could make out the details if she stood on Rutgar’s steps next to him. “Rutgar may have sprained an ankle. No blood. No bone.”

“How did he fall? And when? And...” She pursed her lips. “Never mind. I’ll find the juice in the phone tree.” She put the car in Reverse, and then stared up at him with renewed interest. “So you’re a father?”

“Yes.” He snapped, as if the fact annoyed him, when it was Lilac who’d gotten under his skin.

After helping Lilac make a ten-point turn, Nate returned to the house to help load Rutgar into Flynn’s truck. It took both Nate and Gage to get him moving with a shoulder under each arm. Even then, when the big man staggered, all three men nearly stumbled.

“Wait,” Rutgar said when Nate tried to shut the truck door.

“I found it!” Ben hurried down the front stairs carrying a small red pillow with a cupcake silk-screened on it. Not exactly what one expected a fireman to rescue.

“Don’t judge a man by his pillow.” Without opening his eyes, Rutgar tucked the pillow beneath his back. “Jessica gave me this.”

“Jessica, who owns Martin’s Bakery?” Nate asked with a straight face. “Recently married?” Forty years or so Rutgar’s junior.

“There’s no other Jessica in town,” Rutgar huffed. “Do you know how hard it is to find a good woman? And then Duffy beat me to the punch. You’ve got to be quick when you find The One.”

Nate thought about Julie. She’d make someone The Perfect One. She was the kind of woman you went slow with. Not that Nate planned on going for Julie at all.

Nate closed the truck door and watched Flynn drive away. Only then did he notice the shot-up cans on the fence posts. It looked like Rutgar was holding target practice. Nate hadn’t seen cans set up like that in a long time.

Dad had driven far on Nate’s eighth birthday.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/melinda-curtis/support-your-local-sheriff/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.