Support Your Local Sheriff

“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

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

“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.