Rebel In A Small Town. Kristina KnightЧитать онлайн книгу.
figure of the woman he’d always envisioned by his side.
It was always Mara.
And then she was gone, and a hotel bellhop arrived to pack her things. James had searched the airport and train station, but hadn’t found her. He’d called at least a hundred times before getting that first ‘this number is no longer in service’ message. That was when he tried email. Over and over and over until he realized she wasn’t going to answer.
James pulled open the small desk drawer next to the envelope slot. The little black jeweler’s box had dust on it, but he didn’t bother to wipe it off. Instead, he shut the drawer a little too hard, and a small corner of wood popped off the drawer face. He picked up the shard and tossed it into the trash can.
This was not what he wanted, not what he needed. Not now. Two years ago...he had been crazy in love enough to try to make it work, at least. But now there was too much at stake. James grabbed a beer from the fridge, then crossed to the back porch to drink and watch the sun go down. The beer was icy, the last rays of sun hot, yet they didn’t soothe him. He was still twisted up over Mara’s revelation.
He might still be attracted to Mara, but he’d gotten over loving her long ago. He was now the acting sheriff, and she’d nearly been arrested yesterday. It wouldn’t matter that she’d done nothing wrong. Perception was what mattered, and thanks to CarlaAnn the perception was that Mara Tyler was caught shoplifting her first day back in town.
Then, there was the complication from their graduation night escapade.
Over all of that was the baby. He wasn’t in love with Mara, and he wasn’t foolish enough to think only people in love could raise a child together, but did he even register in her thought process over the past year? He had gone along with Mara’s insistence of keeping things light and friendly. He hadn’t chased after her when she walked away. There was no way he could walk away from a child, though, and there was no way he could trust that Mara wouldn’t disappear on him again.
Everything about seeing her, about this situation was a mess.
The fact that Mara hid the baby from him for more than a year, and the fact that their years-long series of booty calls led to a baby? Those things would lead to gossip, and gossip about the present would quickly reignite gossip about the past, which could lead to his part in the school bus prank.
Thousands of dollars in damage had been inflicted on the bus fleet because, instead of just leaving the lights on as Mara had planned, James took it upon himself to deflate the front tires on several of the buses. The weight of the vehicles on the wheel wells had warped them beyond repair. The cost of the repairs pushed what would have been an annoyance for the school district into the realm of felony. James had anonymously paid restitution for the bus damage, and the statute of limitations was long past, so he couldn’t actually be charged with the felony. Still, who would vote for a sheriff who’d committed a felony—even an uncharged felony?
Who would want even a deputy with that kind of history, and without a job, what kind of father could he be?
He finished the beer and let the bottle hang from his fingertips while the porch swing gently swayed in the evening air.
There was the possibility the baby might not be his. James didn’t like to think of Mara with other men, but the fact was, the two of them hadn’t been in an exclusive relationship. They hadn’t been in a relationship at all. They’d hooked up throughout the Midwest whenever they were in the same areas. But then he returned to Slippery Rock and she went on with her hotel-hopping life. She could have had a man in every town.
James rolled his eyes. Now he was acting like some cheated-on wife in a bad movie. Mara was a lot of things, but she wasn’t the type to have a man in every city in the Midwest. If Mara said the baby was his, then it was, and he would have to deal with that. Would have to deal with the schmucks her parents had been and the damage they’d done to her. Would have to deal with her envy of his traditional childhood. Would have to deal with his parents, who had very specific ideas about what the life of James Calhoun should look like. He doubted those ideas included a woman like Mara.
The sun sank past the pine and spruce and oak trees lining the lakeshore, throwing the water into darkness.
What either of his parents thought about him having a child with Mara Tyler, though, didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had the child. Mara was the mother. James was the father. It might not be the family he’d envisioned when he bought this house, but it was the family he had.
He would figure out a way to make this work.
MARA STOOD LOOKING around her suite at the B and B on Friday morning, trying to find anything that could delay her trip to the orchard. There was nothing. The beds were made, the breakfast dishes on the tray in the hallway. Zeke was clean and dry and happy. Cheryl had left a half hour before. There was nothing more Mara could do on the Mallard’s account until Mike returned from vacation on Monday. She straightened the shampoo and body wash containers on the small vanity.
She had been in town for only a few days but had yet to make the trip to the orchard. Had spoken to Gran and Collin briefly on the phone once, but hadn’t told them about Zeke. Hadn’t told them about James.
All that would change in less than twenty minutes. She could only hope they wouldn’t walk away from her as James had done last night.
There was a big chance they would, and that would be on her. Because she hadn’t told them how very much she had missed them over the past year and a half. She had just cut them out. She’d invented reasons to cancel trips to the orchard, skipping phone calls and video chats. She had avoided them just as she had avoided James.
Damn it, if she could do the past two years over, she would have done them differently. Scratch that—not just the past two. The past ten, because from the moment she left Slippery Rock for college, she had been avoiding any kind of emotional entanglement, especially those that might mean pain. She kept their interaction superficial on those quick holiday visits. If her time with them wasn’t light and fun, her family would realize just how much she wanted to be part of their unit, and that would make it harder to stay away. Back then, she couldn’t be part of them, though, not without putting James’s future at risk because of that stupid prank. With her out of town, the investigation into what had happened that night had gone cold. But the town had their assumptions and even those quick trips home at first had started the talk up again. Then, once she was pregnant, she couldn’t because that would entail revealing the baby’s father. Telling them about James would put her—and him—right in the middle of town gossip. Could land one or the other of them in jail, and what good would that do? Was there a statute of limitations on vandalism?
Mara crossed the room to fluff the pillows on the bed and watched Zeke for a moment. He was sitting up, banging his baby fists against the tiny piano keys on his favorite mirrored activity set. His hair was the same color as James’s, but his eyes were more hazel. He was a good boy, a smart boy, and he deserved a father who would love him.
James was meant to be a lawman, destined to be sheriff. At some point he would find a pretty woman who would make the perfect sheriff’s wife, who would work with local charities alongside the ministers’ wives. He deserved that kind of life and, while she might crave the June Cleaver fantasy of life, Mara knew fairy tales rarely came true for people like her. If James couldn’t love Zeke, then she would love Zeke enough for both of them. But James had to be the one to walk away, and not just because he’d been caught off guard by the news. She would have to talk to him again, and soon. Right now, though, she needed to talk to her family.
She would have to face not only her lies of omission to James but also her family’s judgment. And she could only hope the gossip about graduation night would stay buried. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t matter that she was now a security expert or that James was a fine sheriff’s deputy. The only thing that would matter to Slippery Rock was that they had put the school in jeopardy.
Once