Falling For The Sheriff. Tanya MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
too proud to admit she needed some.
Her father, a professor at the University of Houston’s anthropology department, was sweet in a detached, absent way, but he was better with ancient civilizations than living people. Damon’s parents adored her, but they’d retired to an active senior community in Florida a year before their son was killed. Since she and Damon had both been only children, that left her with just one other close relative. Gram. Affection and a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time warmed her.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the memory of summers past. When her father had gone on digs between semesters, she’d stayed with Gram and Grandpa on their small farm. Those idyllic months in the town of Cupid’s Bow, Texas, had soothed her soul. Chasing fireflies, tending tomatoes in the garden, fishing in the pond, helping make homemade ice cream to put on Gram’s award-winning apple pie...
Although Grandpa had died last year, Gram was still in Cupid’s Bow and as feisty as ever. She’d mentioned, though, that it was becoming more difficult to take care of the place by herself and frequently complained that she didn’t get to see enough of Kate and Luke. What if they moved in with her? It could benefit all three of them.
Or maybe it would be a horrible idea.
Kate had to try, though. If things didn’t change, she could too easily imagine Luke growing into the same kind of thug who’d killed his father. It was time for drastic action.
Cupid’s Bow, here we come.
When Sheriff Cole Trent walked into his house the second Saturday of June, he was met in the living room by three irate females. It was only six in the evening, but from the looks he was getting, one would think he’d been out all night. Mirroring their grandmother, his five-year-old twins had their hands on their slim hips and their lips pursed. The family resemblance was unmistakable, although the girls were blonde like the mother who’d run out on them instead of dark-haired like Gayle and Cole.
He sighed. “I know I’m a little later than anticipated, but—”
“A lot late,” Mandy corrected.
Alyssa’s blue eyes were watery. “You promised to take us swimming.”
“I didn’t promise. I said I’d try.” Lately, not even trying his hardest seemed like enough. Once the girls had started kindergarten, they’d become hyperaware that they didn’t have a mommy like most of their classmates. Last month’s Mother Day had been particularly rough. “Maybe we can go to the pool tomorrow. For now, how about I take you out for barbecue?” He made the offer not just to appease the girls but because he was too worn out to cook.
After a morning testifying in county court and an afternoon of mind-numbing paperwork, Cole’s plans to get home early were derailed by the Breelan brothers, three hotheads who never should have gone into business together. The shopkeeper who worked next to their garage had called Cole with a complaint that the Breelans were trying to kill each other. After throwing a few punches—and an impact wrench—Larry Breelan was spending the night in a cell. Deputy Thomas was on duty to make sure neither of Larry’s younger brothers tried to bust him out. Or tried to sneak in and murder him, depending on their mood.
Gayle Trent shook her head. “Out to eat again? When was the last time these poor girls had a home-cooked meal?”
Lifelong respect for his mother kept him from rolling his eyes at her dramatic tone, but just barely. “I made them fruit-face pancakes for breakfast. And two nights ago we had dinner at your house. With Jace and William,” he reminded her. She’d spent so much conversational energy trying to fix up Cole with various single women that she might not have noticed his brothers were even there.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Speaking of home-cooked meals... Do you remember my friend Joan who owns the little farm down by Whippoorwill Creek? We’re in quilting club together and she’s signed up to help me inventory donations for the festival auction.” The four-day Watermelon Festival every July was one of the town’s biggest annual events.
Cole had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. From the gleam in his mother’s eye, she clearly wanted something, and he doubted it was for him to donate an item to auction.
He cleared his throat. “Girls, why don’t you go brush your hair and find your shoes so we can leave?” As they scampered off to the far-flung corners of the house to search for the shoes that were always mysteriously disappearing, he returned his attention to his mother, as wary as if he were investigating suspicious noises in a dark alley. “So, what’s this about your friend Joan?”
“Her granddaughter, who used to summer here as a kid, is moving to Cupid’s Bow with her son. We thought it would be neighborly if you and the girls joined us at the farm for a nice Sunday dinner tomorrow. Joan’s inviting other people, too. It’s a welcome party,” she added, “not a romantic setup.”
“Would you swear to that during a polygraph test?”
“Are you calling your own mother a liar?” she asked, looking highly wounded while evading his question. “Not everything is about your love life, you know. Joan’s great-grandson won’t have many chances to meet kids until school starts again in the fall. I’m sure he’d love to meet the girls. And they’d have fun, too. They were bored silly cooped up in the house with me all afternoon. Joan’s farm is like a petting zoo.”
“Mom, I—”
The cordless phone on the end table rang, temporarily cutting off his words. Gayle glanced at the display, then smirked in his direction. “Becca Johnston.”
His stomach sank at mention of the PTA president who’d been relentlessly pursuing him since her divorce was finalized. “Tell her I’m not here.”
“And I can also tell Joan you’ll be there for the dinner party tomorrow?” Without waiting for his response, she picked up the phone. “Hello? Oh, hi, Becca.” She paused pointedly, one eyebrow raised.
Later, he and his mom were going to discuss the laws prohibiting extortion. For now, he gave a sharp nod, exiting the room to change into civilian clothes and get his girls out of there before his mother talked him into anything else.
Behind him, he heard Gayle say, “Sorry, dear. You just missed him.”
* * *
“WE’REGOINGTO live out here?” Luke’s voice reverberated with horror as he stared through the passenger window.
The movie he’d been watching on his tablet had ended a few minutes ago and he seemed to be truly registering their surroundings for the first time. During the peaceful stretch when he’d had his earbuds in, Kate had taken the opportunity to remind herself of all the reasons this relocation was going to be wonderful for them. Sure, Kate didn’t have a job yet—and Cupid’s Bow Elementary wasn’t exactly a rapidly growing school—but she still had paychecks coming through the summer. She could give voice lessons or piano lessons if she got Gram’s old upright tuned.
“Yep.” She smiled at the picturesque pastures and blue skies. It was after six o’clock, but the June sun was shining brightly. “No traffic, no constant city construction—”
“No internet connection, no cell phone reception,” Luke predicted.
“That’s not true. Last time I visited Gram, I used my cell phone.” She didn’t volunteer the information that she’d had to stand with one foot in the laundry room and the other on the attached porch, leaning forty-five degrees to the left while holding on to the dryer. Maybe service had improved since then.
“This is the middle of nowhere! Nobody could possibly live here.”
She jerked a thumb toward the side of the road. “The mailboxes suggest otherwise.” She appreciated that the mailboxes they’d passed were spread out at roomy intervals. They’d had a nice enough home