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A Baby For The Deputy
Cathy McDavid
A BABY ON THE WAYA secret, no-strings relationship with Aaron Travers has suited Melody Hartman and just fine for the past eight months. The lives of the Mustang Valley veterinarian and the Deputy Sheriff have always been complicated—and are about to become more so because Mel is pregnant!Raising his toddler daughter and protecting his Arizona town are Aaron’s most important priorities. But this unexpected pregnancy is a life changer. The widowed single dad is ready to do the right thing and marry Mel. Can he say the three words she is waiting to hear? Will she think he wants to marry her only because of the baby? Or will she acknowledge that their feelings for each other run deeper than either of them realized?
A BABY ON THE WAY
A secret, no-strings relationship with Aaron Travers has suited Melody Hartman just fine for the past eight months. The lives of the Mustang Valley veterinarian and the deputy sheriff have always been complicated—and are about to become more so, because Mel is pregnant!
Raising his toddler daughter and protecting his Arizona town are Aaron’s priorities. But this unexpected pregnancy is a life changer. The widowed single dad is ready to do the right thing and marry Mel. Can he say the three words she is waiting to hear? Will she think he wants to marry her only because of the baby? Or will she acknowledge that their feelings for each other run deeper than either of them realized?
Aaron lifted her off her feet and hard against him.
“Is this a good idea?” Mel’s voice wavered. The message earlier had been hands-off.
“You can tell me no.” He lowered his mouth, stopping a millimeter shy of kissing her. “Otherwise, hang on.”
Hang on? Like to his shoulders? Weak in the knees, she decided maybe she’d better. Just as a precaution.
In the deepest recesses of her mind, a small voice shouted a warning to be careful. This was inviting danger.
She didn’t listen. Aaron smelled too delicious and felt too good for her to stop now.
“I’ve missed you, Mel.” He brushed his lips across hers, the touch softer than a butterfly’s wings.
The words she’d longed to hear. Aaron had never said them before, in this or any context. Missing her implied he thought about her when they were apart. Hadn’t she just ripped the rug out from under him with her pregnancy announcement? Yet, he admitted to missing her.
This wasn’t just a matter of growing feelings. There had to be more.
A Baby for the Deputy
Cathy McDavid
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Since 2006, New York Times bestselling author CATHY McDAVID has been happily penning contemporary Westerns for Mills & Boon. Every day, she gets to write about handsome cowboys riding the range or busting a bronc. It’s a tough job, but she’s willing to make the sacrifice. Cathy shares her Arizona home with her own real-life sweetheart and a trio of odd pets. Her grown twins have left to embark on lives of their own and she couldn’t be prouder of their accomplishments.
To the lovely and dedicated members of Cathy’s Crew—thanks for being part of my street team and helping me get the word out. You’re the best!
Contents
Cover (#ubdde0b20-cb36-581d-9618-2d91ee846147)
Back Cover Text (#uc5b2ef1f-e8e1-5199-bb5a-3704aa20044d)
Introduction (#u07c9a8ee-efe1-57c2-b5f0-63b173774a4c)
Title Page (#ueded1b63-f354-522e-8bb8-be6d5e84361b)
About the Author (#ud0d3b1dd-41b5-5151-b917-28a48a99809e)
Dedication (#uc8f6f329-1c94-5b48-9a00-8ce2d34eafd4)
Chapter One (#u02f8d6e6-91ad-5813-8005-561b3ea4633a)
Chapter Two (#u71f6658c-b020-5eca-be46-4d3e75a5f932)
Chapter Three (#u8c8c81d9-3f9c-5cd6-9bf1-b698f78d8f47)
Chapter Four (#u9a52c848-f845-505c-a51e-63f3e6d5f3e2)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ud151f536-92ed-5d70-befb-155275bc3c1c)
Sensing danger, Melody Hartman quickly straightened and scrambled out of the way. A split second later, the horse’s rear hoof sliced the air in the exact spot where Mel’s head had just been.
She pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. “Whew. That was close.”
“Sorry.” The horse’s owner, a tall, trim woman in her fifties, tugged on the bay’s halter. “This fellow has a temper. I should have warned you.”
“It’s okay.” Mel relaxed her grip on the surgical scissors she held and let out a sigh, grateful her instincts had once again paid off. “Not my first near miss.”
The truth was, Mel encountered far closer calls on a regular basis. As recently as this morning, she’d been knocked to the ground by a potbellied pig, narrowly missing the steely prongs of a pitchfork. Last week, she’d been stomped on by an eighteen-hundred-pound bull, miraculously escaping with only minor cuts and contusions. An infected cat scratch recently sent her to the emergency medical clinic.
Such was the daily life of Mustang Valley’s sole resident veterinarian. Dangers and difficulties aside, she wouldn’t trade her job for the world. Mel was living her dream. Quite literally. She’d wanted to be a veterinarian for as long as she could remember, and buying Doc Palmer’s practice when he retired a few months ago had turned that dream into reality.
“Think you should give him more tranquilizers?” the woman asked, shielding her eyes from the glaring Arizona sun.
They were at Powell Ranch, the largest and oldest horse operation in the area. The woman was one of many people who boarded their horses there and made use of the riding facilities.
Mel shook her head. “I don’t want him so sleepy he lays down on us. The wound’s right between his gaskin and stifle. He could pull on the flesh and inflict more damage.”
The bay was tied to a post at the far end of the outdoor stalls. He’d gotten into a scuffle with his neighbor, a shaggy and even more temperamental pony, who’d retaliated by biting the bay and leaving two gaping holes on his left rear leg. Unfortunately, the injury went unnoticed for a couple of days—the horse’s owner had been out of town. By the time she discovered the wound, it was inflamed, infected and just plain nasty.
Seeing the bay’s eyes drift close, Mel decided to make another attempt at removing the necrotic tissue. The procedure didn’t hurt the horse. He’d kicked at Mel more out of anger than pain. Also, just like some people, he wasn’t a good patient.
“Hold him steady,” Mel told the woman as she quickly snipped away with the scissors. Finishing that task, she cleansed the wound again and applied a liberal glob of medicated ointment.
“Are you going to stitch him up?” the woman asked, peering around the bay’s head.
Mel continued to assess the wound. “I don’t think so. The edges are too ragged for sutures to hold. Better we stick to a strict antibiotic regiment. You know how to give injections?”
“Me? I’m an old pro.”
Many livestock owners, especially those in rural areas, were capable of doctoring their animals to some degree. Vets were consulted for only the more serious cases.
“Good. I’ll leave you enough penicillin and syringes for two weeks. He’s going to need twice daily injections.” Mel ran her hand gingerly down the bay’s leg. “No sense bandaging the wound, either. It won’t hold.”
“He’d just chew it off,” the woman said with a resigned sigh.
Mel started to pack her case. Before closing it, she handed the woman her jar of salve. “Cleanse the wound at the same time you give him the injections and apply this. Call me if he’s not showing any improvement or the wound becomes reinfected.”
“Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”
“No problem.”
Mel carried her case to her truck while the woman returned the sleepy horse to his stall. Setting the case on the ground, she leaned against the hood and stifled a yawn. The bay wasn’t the only one who was tired. Mel had been up and hard at it since five this morning, nearly nine hours ago, with no break.
As she opened the storage compartment on her truck, she was struck with a sudden wave of nausea and light-headedness. Hugging her middle, she waited for the sensation to pass, hoping she hadn’t caught that flu bug going around.
Tomorrow was a big day. She, her two sisters and her new stepmom were throwing a huge sixtieth birthday party for her dad at the Cowboy Up CafГ© where her older sister worked. They still had a lot to do, and the last thing Mel needed was to be under the weather.
Fortunately, the nausea passed, and the next instant, Mel felt perfectly fine. That was...strange.
She might have thought more about it if not for a black SUV turning the corner of the horse barn, distracting her. The writing and logo emblazoned on each side identified the vehicle as belonging to the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Department. Three deputies were assigned to Mustang Valley and its nearest neighbor, Rio Verde. They were often spotted patrolling the streets, parked in front of people’s homes or, like today, at one of the ranches.
The driver’s door opened, and a pair of familiar leather cowboy boots hit the ground, followed by long legs clad in dark brown slacks and a khaki uniform shirt. Mel’s heart gave a flutter as it always did upon seeing this particular deputy, and she promptly forgot all about stowing her case.
As she watched, he walked slowly, yet deliberately, toward her. She imagined a twinkle in the vivid blue eyes he hid behind aviator sunglasses. Recalled how the bristles of his five-o’clock shadow tickled her palm when she cradled his cheek.
“Dr. Hartman.” He nodded in greeting.
Pushing aside her long braid, a silly, nervous habit she wished she could break, she smiled with more reservation than if they were alone. “Afternoon, Deputy Travers.”
“Is Ethan nearby? I was told I might find him with you.”
“Actually, he’s over there.” She indicated the row of outdoor stalls. “At least, he was earlier.”
“Thanks.” He tugged on the brim of his felt cowboy hat, hesitated briefly and then continued on.
A stranger might not realize they were well acquainted, and, to be honest, they preferred it that way. For the last year and a half, Aaron Travers and his family had lived in Mustang Valley, moving here when he transferred from the Phoenix Police Department. He and Mel occasionally ran into each other, as everyone ran into one another sooner or later in a small town.
There were also those encounters that weren’t accidental. But she and Aaron didn’t talk about them. Not with anyone else.
Once he’d passed and her heart rate slowed, she returned to stowing her supplies. The sensation of awareness he’d left in his wake wound through her, interfering with her ability to concentrate.
Bam! Another wave of nausea hit Mel, and she swallowed, willing her queasy stomach to settle. By some miracle, it did. A moment later she was fine, as if she hadn’t been nauseous at all.
She’d just finished preparing her invoice for the horse owner when Ethan Powell and Aaron—make that Deputy Travers—approached.
“Mel,” Ethan said, “do you have a minute? Aaron has some questions for you.”
“Sure.” She set down her invoice pad. “How can I help, Deputy?”
“Last night, three horses went missing from the Sanford place.”
Mel drew back in alarm. “You’re kidding!”
“It’s the third incident this month,” Aaron said. “I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with rustlers.”
“I can’t believe it.”
The first missing horses had been considered a fluke. A few even claimed they’d escaped their pasture and joined a wild herd often spotted near the Salt River. Then, after a second group of horses disappeared, people took notice. But horse rustling? That seemed like something out of the Old West. Not modern day.
“Why?” she asked, still grappling with the news. “None of the horses were particularly valuable. Mostly ranch stock.”
“Slaughter?”
Mel’s off-and-on sensitive stomach gave a lurch. She regularly dealt with the death of animals, many of the circumstances heartbreaking. As a result, she’d learned to cope. Still, the idea of horses being stolen for the purpose of profiting from their slaughter sickened her.
“Aaron’s visiting all the area ranch owners,” Ethan said. “Seeing if they’ve noticed anything suspicious in recent months and asking them to check with their employees.”
“What can I do?” Mel asked Aaron.
“You travel the valley on a regular basis,” he said. “Just keep your eyes and ears open. Contact the station if you spot anything out of the ordinary. Unfamiliar vehicles parked where they don’t belong. Strangers lingering or asking unusual questions. Don’t worry that you’re being overly paranoid.”
“Of course,” Mel said. “Absolutely.”
“I appreciate it.”
After another nod, he and Ethan wandered a short distance away, continuing their conversation. Mel studied them before returning to her invoice. She’d give it to the horse owner on her way out. After checking her schedule, she phoned her next customer and gave him a heads-up on her impending arrival.
She was about to climb into the truck when Aaron unexpectedly appeared in her peripheral vision. She turned, her hand resting on the door. “Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?” She automatically glanced about to see if they were being observed. Another nervous habit.
“You look pale.”
“Do I?” Mel touched her face, only to let her hand drop. “I got up early. And,” she added, suddenly recalling, “I missed lunch.”
“You work too hard.”
It was true. She did. But she had no choice. Not if she expected to make her monthly payments to Doc Palmer.
“Speaking of which, I’d better go. I have another appointment.” She smiled, wished for just a moment they were alone and started to slide in behind the steering wheel. She didn’t suggest calling him later. Chitchatting on the phone wasn’t something they did.
Aaron’s next words stopped her. “See you tomorrow. At the party.”
“You’re going?” That was a surprise. Mel had reviewed the guest list last night and knew his name wasn’t on it.
“Dolores invited us. She and Nancy are in the same Bunko group.”
“Right. I forgot.”
“You don’t mind?”
Mel dismissed his concerns with a nonchalant wave. “Dad’ll be glad to have you there. All of you.”
By all of you, Mel meant Aaron’s almost three-year-old daughter and his mother-in-law, Nancy, who’d lived with him and his daughter since the death of Aaron’s wife.
Granted, their arrangement might seem a bit unconventional to some, but apparently it worked. Nancy’s late daughter had been her only child. Watching her granddaughter during the day, sharing Aaron’s home, allowed her to stay connected while also providing him with a trustworthy and devoted caregiver. At least, that was how he’d explained it to Mel.
All at once, Ethan returned from wherever it was he’d gone and hailed Aaron.
“Go on,” Mel told him, and hopped in her truck. “I’m running late as it is.”
“Do me a favor. Eat and get some rest.” Before she could start the ignition, he placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.
She wanted to be mad. He was breaking their strictest rule. Except it was hard to be mad when her shoulder tingled deliciously at his touch and continued to even after he’d moved off.
Mel shut the truck door and drove away, almost forgetting to drop off her invoice with the horse owner on her way out.
Reaching the end of the long drive leading down the mountain from the ranch, she stopped and let the truck idle. Since she and Aaron had begun seeing each other, they’d both worried how people, like Nancy for instance, might be hurt. It was yet another reason for the two of them to keep their relationship casual and private.
Lately, however, Mel worried about her vulnerable heart. She hadn’t counted on her feelings for Aaron growing and did her best to hide it from him.
She let out a long sigh. What had seemed so simple at first was slowly becoming complicated. Aaron and his family attending her father’s party, and his mother-in-law developing a friendship with Mel’s stepmom certainly wasn’t helping matters. Neither was her upset stomach, which gave another lurch.
Nerves. And stress. Those had to be the reasons. Mel refused to consider anything else.
* * *
AARON WAS MAKING his third trip of the day to the Sanford place. The first time he’d arrived at 6:20 a.m. in response to the 9-1-1 call. He’d returned at 9:50 a.m. when Ken Sanford, Sr. called to say he’d discovered fresh tire tracks behind their far pasture—no one had driven the dirt road since before the last rains.
Now, Aaron was heading to the ranch for another look around, planning to focus on the cut fence where the thieves had entered the property. When his cop’s gut told him to persist, he usually did. There was always the chance he’d missed something during his previous inspections.
Horse rustling. Who’d have guessed he’d be investigating a crime of that nature in this day and age? A search of records at the station revealed the last such incident committed in Mustang Valley had been in the 1930s. Wow.
Aaron observed every detail as he drove, despite frequently traveling this road. He couldn’t help himself—too many years on the force. That didn’t stop the other half of his brain from wandering. Specifically to Mel. Not that he didn’t always think of her when they weren’t together.
She’d looked unwell earlier, and that bothered him. He understood the lines of fatigue on her pretty oval face. With her demanding schedule, that wasn’t uncommon. Rather, it was the lack of color in her cheeks and slowness of her steps concerning him.
She was almost always happy and vivacious—a ball of energy contained inside a petite package. Those qualities more than her sparkling brown eyes and curvy figure were what caused him to notice her two winters ago at the community’s Holly Daze Festival.
After that, it was hard not to keep noticing her and, eventually, talk to her. Just being in her proximity breathed new life into parts of Aaron’s heart and soul he’d thought forever darkened.
Dangerous feelings and ones he shouldn’t have. Not if he wanted the life he’d scraped together for him and his daughter, Kaylee, to remain calm, quiet and stable. Emphasis on the last word. That was why he’d quit the Phoenix Police Department and taken the less demanding job of deputy sheriff.
His phone abruptly rang. The personal one he kept in his vehicle, strictly for family and close friends. Snatching it from the cubby, he glimpsed his sister’s name and photo on the display. The picture of her and Kaylee was one of his favorites, taken during his sister’s last visit.
“Hey, Pickle.”
She groaned expansively. No secret, she hated the childhood nickname. Which was why Aaron insisted on using it.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Bad time to call?”
Hearing Joanna’s voice immediately thrust him back in time to their family’s rural home in Queen Creek and their life together growing up. She’d moved to Seattle a year ago, and he missed her terribly. She’d been his rock, his staunchest supporter and his sounding board during the many difficult months Aaron’s wife was ill and every day since she’d died.
“I’m on the road,” he said. “Have about ten minutes.”
“Don’t tell me.” Joanna laughed, the sound rich and vibrant. “A rancher let his hound dog run loose, and it got in with the lady down the street’s King Charles spaniel.”
He pretended to be affronted. “Believe it or not, there’s real crime in Mustang Valley.”
“Riiiiiight.” She drew the single word out over three syllables.
“We’ve had a recent rash of horse thefts.”
“No fooling? That actually sounds serious.”
“I’m on my way now to talk to the third victim.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Not yet. I’ve been interviewing the locals.” Most people didn’t realize that 90 percent of good detective work was questioning potential witnesses.
“Locals like Mel?”
Aaron paused, not wanting to give his sister any ideas. “She’s a regular at most of the ranches in the valley and might run across something.”
“How you two doing?”
“We’re not dating.”
“Hey, hey,” Joanna protested. “Don’t get mad. I think what you and Mel have is great. More couples should be as open-minded as you two.”
“Yeah.” Except, what Aaron and Mel had didn’t feel open-minded to him.
“Something wrong?” Joanna asked.
“I don’t know.” He blew out a long breath. “Lately, I’ve been thinking she deserves more than casual hookups.”
“Did she say so?”
“No.”
“Are you tired of the arrangement?”
“Yes, but not in the way you think.”
Joanna gave a delighted gasp. “You love her.”
He gave a start and steadied his free hand on the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t say that.” Not yet, anyway. “I like her. A lot.”
“Well, you should like the person you’re sleeping with.”
“Am I being a jerk? Taking her for granted?” It was the opinion he’d recently formed of himself.
“Come on. You and Mel have an arrangement. A good, sensible arrangement that works. Neither of you are ready or in a position for all the demands of a committed relationship. Yet, you’re human, and human beings require intimacy. You and she have come up with a creative solution. You get together a couple times a month for a few discreet hours of adult pleasure. No strings attached. It’s perfect.”
“Spoken like a psychology major.”
“Spoken like a feminist,” she said, correcting him. “I wish I could find someone with your progressive attitude. Beats being single.”
His sister was the only person Aaron had told about his and Mel’s secret arrangement, and there were days he wished he hadn’t.
Cripes, what was wrong with him? There was nothing sordid or dirty or wrong about what he and Mel did. She was completely on board. In fact, she’d been the one to originally suggest it. Yes, in a roundabout way, but not so subtle that Aaron hadn’t understood and, after a long, emotional tug-of-war with himself, agreed.
She was beautiful and smart and as sexy as hell. When they were alone, she displayed the kind of passion he’d always hoped to find in a woman. Which only increased the guilt eating away at him. He could and did tell himself he wasn’t being disloyal to Robin. She’d been gone nearly three years.
His heart argued differently, insisting he was dishonoring his late wife’s memory. Aaron’s mother-in-law would agree.
“Mel should be with a guy who can offer her more,” he said to Joanna. “A guy who’s emotionally free.”
“If that was what she wanted, she’d give you the boot.”
“Sometimes, I wish she would.” Then he could stop wanting what he couldn’t have and beating himself up over it.
“You’re worried about Nancy,” Joanna said, “and you shouldn’t be.”
“If she ever found out—”
“What? She’d leave? Go home to Ohio?”
“I don’t want that. She loves Kaylee, and Kaylee loves her.”
“If Nancy left, that would be her choice and her mistake to make.”
Aaron rubbed his suddenly throbbing forehead. His arrangement with Mel was supposed to be without strings and without angst, yet it wasn’t. In hindsight, they’d been silly and stupid.
He had, anyway. Truthfully, Aaron wasn’t entirely sure how Mel felt about him. She didn’t talk about it. Ever. And she didn’t encourage him to, either.
“You’re single,” Joanna continued. “It’s not fair that Nancy expects you to remain that way for the rest of your life.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You aren’t betraying Robin.”
“I made a promise to her,” he bit out.
“To never fall in love again?”
“To devote myself to Kaylee. I owe Robin that much. She gave up her life for our daughter.”
Joanna’s voice softened. “You couldn’t save her, Aaron. No one could. At best, she might have lived a few more months. And you probably wouldn’t have had Kaylee. A lot of people, me included, think she made the right decision.”
That didn’t lessen his loss, relieve his guilt or diminish his hurt.
A few weeks after learning she was pregnant, Robin began having severe headaches that over-the-counter pain relievers wouldn’t touch. Two weeks later, she was seeing a specialist and undergoing all manner of tests. Aaron would never forget sitting in the doctor’s office and hearing the diagnosis: inoperable brain tumor. And then hearing the prognosis: terminal.
Robin refused any treatment that might have extended her life because it would harm the baby. At thirty-four weeks pregnant, she’d delivered a small but healthy baby girl. Unfortunately, it was too late for her. The treatments she’d previously refused had no effect on her rapidly growing tumor, and she lost the battle when Kaylee was just a few weeks old.
Robin’s wish to be a mother had been fulfilled and, in the process, she’d given Aaron a last precious gift. He would do nothing to jeopardize Kaylee’s safety and happiness.
“Why don’t you talk to Mel,” Joanna suggested. “If you’re having doubts.”
“Or, I could just end things.”
“You could. Except that isn’t what you want.”
Should he tell his sister what he really wanted was to date Mel and not just sleep with her? No, Joanna would have a field day with that one, and Aaron wasn’t in the mood.
“Pickle, can I call you later? I’m almost at my next stop.” Not entirely a lie; the Sanfords were less than a mile down the road.
“Tomorrow. I’ve got plans later,” she added with a teasing tone.
“Have fun.”
“Oh, I intend to.” She laughed again.
Aaron disconnected, his thoughts a jumble. He really did like Mel and hated the thought of ending things. But he was being grossly unfair to her. She may think she preferred whatever this was they had, but deep down, she was a forever and ever kind of gal. Aaron wasn’t fooled for one minute.
A quarter mile up the road, he spied an older model pickup and rusty horse trailer pulled off to the south side of the road. The truck hood was up, signaling trouble, and someone sat in the driver’s seat.
He slowed, determining the driver to be a young woman. As he passed, she rolled down her window and waved at him. Aaron executed a swift U-turn and parked behind the trailer. A reddish-brown tail hung out over the rear gate and swished aimlessly.
Before getting out, he radioed the station, then proceeded with caution all the while making mental notes. The situation didn’t appear dangerous, but he took nothing for granted.
Nearing the driver’s door, he realized the young woman was on the phone.
“Good afternoon.” He looked her over. “Having some trouble?”
“I broke down. The engine light came on and then smoke started coming out from under the hood.”
“License and registration, please.”
“Have I done something wrong?” Her voice quavered.
“Just routine.”
Producing the required documents, she passed them through the open window, still clutching her phone. Aaron decided she must have maintained an open line as a precaution. Smart move. She wasn’t very old, maybe not even out of high school, and pretty, even with her torn jeans, faded tank top and ratty old ball cap. Add to that her disabled vehicle, and she was a potential sitting duck.
Aaron reviewed the documents, noting the eighteen-year-old’s name and home address of Flagstaff. He compared her face to the tiny picture. Something about her struck a familiar chord, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Be right back.” In his vehicle, he ran her name and license plate. Nothing significant came back. What had he expected?
Returning to her truck, he handed over the documents. “You’re a long ways from home.”
“I’m staying with my...with friends in Mustang Valley.”
“Are they on their way to help you?”
“Uh...no. I wasn’t able to reach them.”
“I see.” Aaron suspected she was coloring the truth and didn’t know why. “Do you have a roadside assistance service?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mom can’t help.”
“Because she’s in Flagstaff,” Aaron stated.
“Yeah. And at work. I’m not supposed to call her unless it’s an emergency.”
“This might qualify.”
The girl, Samantha, according to her driver’s license, shook her head. “I’m not calling. She’s busy.”
“And your friends aren’t available?”
In response, her mouth firmed to a thin line.
There was definitely more going on than she was telling him, and he didn’t trust her. Nonetheless, she’d broken no laws and was in distress. Not to mention her truck and trailer were a potential hazard and the horse would need water soon. Aaron had a duty to help her.
“Sit tight,” he said, and walked to the front of the truck where he inspected the engine. Heat wafted off in waves, and it made a soft hissing sound. The smoke she’d claimed to see was probably steam.
A moment later, she disobeyed his order and joined him, anxiously watching as if he might sabotage the engine rather than repair it.
“You have an old rag I can use?”
“In the, uh, trailer.”
“I’ll wait.”
She didn’t take long.
Aaron rolled up his sleeves and, using the rag to remove the radiator cap, inspected the water level. No surprise, the radiator was bone dry.
“You might have a leak,” he told her. “You should get this serviced right away. There’s an auto shop in town. Conroy’s. Ask your friends, they’ll tell you where he is.”
“Okay.”
Would she do it? She wouldn’t get far otherwise.
After filling her radiator with water from the five-gallon jug he carried in the back of his SUV for just this reason, he had her try to start the truck. Luck was on her side, and it turned right over, chugging like an old man having a coughing fit. She definitely needed to see Conroy.
Leaning her head out the window, she removed her ball cap. “Thanks for your help.”
Aaron slammed the hood closed and, wiping his hands on the rag, started for his vehicle. “You be careful, you hear?” He stopped and flashed her a smile.
She didn’t return it.
Reaching his SUV, he sat behind the wheel and waited for her to pull ahead. Once she had, he radioed in, giving an update and advising the other deputies to keep a lookout for her. That accomplished, he executed a second U-turn and made for the Sanford place.
Even though the girl’s name and license plate had checked out, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was exactly what Aaron had warned Mel to watch for: a stranger in an unfamiliar vehicle. The idea that a slip of a girl was involved with horse rustlers seemed preposterous. Appearances, however, were deceiving and something thieves might use to their advantage.
Turning onto the Sanford’s private road, he recalled the young woman removing her ball cap and nearly slammed on the brakes. That was it! The reason she’d looked familiar to him. Her physical description was almost an exact duplicate of Mel’s. Blond hair. Brown eyes. Five foot two in her boots. They even had a similar small cleft in their chins.
What were the odds of that?
Chapter Two (#ud151f536-92ed-5d70-befb-155275bc3c1c)
“Over here. Another three feet. Wait. No. Up against the wall.” Frankie Hartman barked orders in her customary bossy voice.
Mel exchanged looks with her younger sister, Ronnie. As if on cue, they both rolled their eyes and shuffled the table to the exact spot their older sister wanted. Which, it turned out, wasn’t so exact.
“Centered beneath the window.” Frankie motioned with her hands to demonstrate.
After two more shuffles with the table, Mel and Ronnie were released from their task and instructed to undertake another. There was still a lot to do before the party started at six, including all the decorating.
Mel had brought streamers, a banner, party favors, confetti and a case of champagne. Ronnie’s job had been to create a photo collage depicting their father’s life from birth to now. Frankie brought the barbecued beef, a family favorite and her specialty dish.
The owner of the Cowboy Up Café, and Frankie’s employer, had been kind enough to let them use the covered outdoor patio free of charge. With its built-in misting system, the patio was reasonably comfortable even in ninety-plus-degree temperatures.
The sisters were grateful. With several dozen people expected to attend, they’d definitely needed a large venue, equipped to feed so many mouths. And as if the location wasn’t perfect enough, the owner was giving them a discount on the side dishes and beverages.
“Napkins!” Frankie ripped open packages as if the success of the party depended on guests being able to wipe barbecue sauce off their faces and hands.
Mel and Ronnie took their sister’s theatrics in stride. Besides being the oldest of the Hartman sisters and a single mother, she was the Cowboy Up Café’s head waitress and self-appointed organizer of their dad’s party. She’d also stepped in—to the best of her twelve-year-old ability—when the sisters’ mother had died over twenty years ago in a horse riding accident. “We’re here,” a high-pitched voice trilled. “Sorry we’re late.”
Mel’s stepmom was accompanied by two very excited little girls: Frankie’s twin daughters.
“We got balloons,” Paige announced.
“And string,” Sienna added, holding up her booty.
They were dressed alike in matching shorts and tees but were as different as night and day in personalities and features. Tiny, fair-haired Paige took after the Hartmans while tall, doe-eyed Sienna resembled her father, who wasn’t and had never been in the picture.
“You wait until Mommy can help,” Frankie called from the chair on which she stood, hanging the Happy Birthday banner with Ronnie’s assistance.
Mel went over to the girls and scooped them both into her arms. They squirmed and giggled and squealed, loving the attention while pretending not to.
“Let us go,” they protested.
“Kisses first.”
The girls gleefully obliged.
“Can I help?” Mel asked. Blowing up balloons and taping them to the backs of chairs sounded more fun than laboriously writing out name tags.
“No scissors,” Dolores admonished.
Mel relieved her stepmom of the plastic sack and small helium tank she’d carried in. “Does that apply to me, too?”
“Depends. They’re sharp.” Dolores wagged a finger at her. “Can I trust you?”
“We’ll be careful.” Mel winked at the girls and then led them to one of the tables where they set up a balloon inflation station.
“Me first,” Paige insisted.
Mel distributed a package of colorful balloons to each girl while keeping the scissors for herself. “Remember to share and take turns.”
Ha! Like that was going to happen.
Of course, the pair was more trouble than help, but that didn’t matter. They were having a blast. Mel, too.
As luck would have it, Dolores excelled at writing name tags, and between the four of them, the room quickly took shape. Then again, they were old pros, having done this before. Most recently, they’d organized a wedding reception—for Ray Hartman and his new bride.
Ronnie came to stand beside Mel, having finished with bringing in extra chairs from the storeroom. “This is going to sound terrible.”
“What?” Mel asked.
“Is it wrong to miss Mom today?”
“No. Of course not. It’s Dad’s birthday. A milestone birthday.”
“I mean, Dolores is wonderful. I adore her.”
“Me, too.” Mel didn’t think there was a more perfect stepmom around.
Ronnie linked arms with her. “Sometimes, I have trouble remembering Mom. I hate that.”
“We were young. Don’t feel bad. It happens.” Mel surveyed the room. “I think she’d approve of this party. I also think she’d like Dolores.”
“She’d be proud of us,” Ronnie said with conviction. “And of how Dad always supported us. You know the date of their anniversary was one of the numbers Dad used for his lottery tickets.”
Mel laughed. “And to think we gave him such grief for buying tickets every week like clockwork.”
“None of us ever thought he’d win.”
But, then, he had. Last winter. The amount of the jackpot wasn’t staggering, about two hundred thousand dollars after taxes. But for the Hartmans, it was a fortune.
Livestock foremen didn’t typically earn a lot. Mel’s father gave all he had to his daughters, providing a comfortable, if modest, home and the basic necessities. After he won, he’d divided the money equally between the four of them, using his share to pay for his wedding to Dolores and their honeymoon.
“I almost refused the money,” Mel said.
Ronnie drew back. “Me, too.”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“Because he wanted us to take the money. And, frankly, we needed it. You couldn’t have bought Doc Palmer’s practice otherwise.”
“Probably not.”
Shortly after the elderly veterinarian announced his retirement, he’d approached Mel about buying his practice. She’d had to tell him no at first. Calling him the following month had been a dream come true.
“And forget Frankie buying that new house,” Ronnie said. “It wouldn’t have happened.”
“True.”
Frankie had been desperate to move out of their dad’s place. What new bride wanted to share her home with a stepdaughter and two rambunctious stepgranddaughters? Frankie had used the money from their dad for a down payment on a cute house in town and some new furniture.
“Mom would be really happy for us.”
Ronnie sighed contentedly. “She did always call us her fairy princesses.”
If not for a lack of handsome suitors, Mel thought, she and her sisters were living fairy-tale existences.
Did Aaron count? Not at the moment. She didn’t let herself imagine “someday” and what the future might hold for them if circumstances changed. Her energies were best focused on making the monthly payments to Doc Palmer and all those pesky necessities like food, clothes, repaying college loans and rent on the house she shared with Ronnie.
The simple and straightforward arrangement she had with Aaron was enough for both of them. At least, that was what Mel repeatedly told herself. Every time she caught herself falling a little harder for him, she remembered that he wasn’t ready or able to fall for her.
Her nieces came bounding back from showing off to their mother, balloons bobbing in the air behind them as if filled with jumping beans and not helium. Ronnie warned them to be careful, her tone a decent imitation of Frankie’s. Dolores chatted amiably while putting the finishing touches on the centerpieces.
Soon, they’d leave for their respective homes to change and freshen up before the party. In Frankie’s case, she’d pack the barbecued beef for transport and arrive early to start warming it.
Mel stepped forward, intending to gather the balloon supplies, when all at once her stomach lurched and the floor seemed to ripple beneath her feet.
Convinced she was about to embarrass herself, she muttered, “Be right back,” to Ronnie and speed-walked across the patio to the café’s main building.
By sheer force of will, she made it to the empty restroom and one of the stalls before losing her lunch. Waiting a few moments to be on the safe side, she slowly rose, the sensation of weakness persisting.
She felt her forehead. No fever. Or sore throat or runny nose. Other than intermittent nausea, she exhibited no other symptoms of the flu bug.
What was wrong with her?
Was it possible...? Could she be...?
No. She and Aaron had always been careful about using protection. Mel could not be pregnant.
Nonetheless, she counted backward. How many days since her last period? The answer sent a spear of alarm slicing through her. How had she not realized she was late? She wasn’t that busy.
Oh, God! Mel sucked in air, unable to catch her breath. Her skin burned as if she did indeed have a fever.
What would she do if she was pregnant? How would Aaron react? Would he be angry? Disappointed? Blame her? Accuse her of trapping him?
She stumbled out of the stall toward the row of sinks along the wall. Turning on a spigot, she splashed her face with cool water. It didn’t alleviate the panic building inside her. Staring at her worried reflection in the mirror only worsened things.
Drying her face with paper towels from the dispenser, she told herself not to cry. There could be any number of reasons she was late and nauseous. Working ridiculous hours, skipping meals and not getting enough sleep, to name a few. Plus, Mel had a history of being irregular. No sense freaking out until she knew for sure.
With a whoosh, the restroom door flew open and Dolores breezed in. Seeing Mel, she stopped midstep.
“Are you okay?”
“I think I have a touch of the flu.”
“Oh, no. I’d hate for you to miss the party, but maybe you should stay home and get some rest. You look awful.”
Mel tried to wave off her stepmom’s concern, only to rush to the stall she’d vacated minutes earlier. When she finally emerged, shaky but in one piece, it was to find Dolores waiting, arms crossed and brows raised.
“How far along are you?”
Mel’s knees, already wobbly, threatened to give out. “What?”
“I have three children of my own. I’m very familiar with morning sickness, even when it comes in the afternoon or evening.”
Mel started to object. Dolores’s kind expression changed her mind. The older woman wasn’t her mother. But she was Mel’s friend and, she hoped, a confidant.
“Please don’t say anything to anyone. Especially Dad. Until I know for sure.”
“Then it’s possible?”
“We’ve been careful.”
“I was, too. Both the second and third times.” Dolores reached for Mel and gave her a quick but warm hug. “Does the father know?”
Again, Mel thought of Aaron. How would he take the news? When would be the best time to tell him? “No. Not yet.”
“Do you love him?”
Mel had expected Dolores to ask the name of the father. This question left her nearly as shaken as the bout of nausea had.
Unable to answer, Mel mumbled an excuse and hurried past Dolores. It was one thing to contemplate her changing feelings for Aaron. Another thing altogether to voice them aloud.
* * *
MEL GAVE HERSELF a figurative pat on the back for surviving the past few hours. Shortly after escaping the restroom and Dolores, she’d returned to the patio and been immediately recruited to hang paper lanterns. Thank you, Frankie. After that, they’d all gone home to change clothes and then returned before the party started.
Mel didn’t typically procrastinate. It wasn’t her style. But her father’s birthday just wasn’t the time for dealing with potentially huge problems. Like, for instance, a missed period. Not even with someone as compassionate as Dolores.
Seeing the party went off without a hitch, celebrating with her family, those were her priorities. Tomorrow, she’d purchase the home pregnancy test—in Scottsdale where no one knew her—and hopefully eliminate one potential reason for her nausea.
Now that was Mel’s style. Every move was calculated in advance and every contingency explored. She liked it that way. Order and purpose equaled confidence and a sense of security.
If she turned out to be pregnant, a highly unlikely probability, she’d talk to Aaron and together they’d devise a new plan using the same equation. A plan that didn’t throw both their lives into complete and utter chaos.
“Here’s my girl!”
The next instant, Mel was swept up in a fierce embrace.
“Dad!” She giggled and squirmed, not unlike her nieces.
“Thank you for the party,” he said, releasing her.
“I can’t take the credit. It was Frankie’s idea, and she did most of the heavy lifting. But you can thank me for not allowing any Over the Hill and Grim Reaper party favors.”
“She couldn’t have pulled it off without your help.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
His gaze traveled the room. “Who knew I had this many friends?”
His daughters, for one. Mel’s dad had lived and worked in the valley for over thirty-five years. He was liked, if not loved, by many.
Not all the guests had arrived. Most noticeably absent was Theo McGraw, Ray Hartman’s boss and owner of The Small Change Ranch. Mel hoped the older gentleman would make it. He suffered from Parkinson’s disease, and some days were harder than others.
Also absent, and of more concern to Mel, was Aaron and his family. Perhaps he’d gotten called away on a last-minute emergency. Or, something had happened to his daughter. Mel tried not to obsess, which also wasn’t her style. But lately, he was constantly on her mind.
“You’re being modest.” She patted her father’s generous beer belly. That, and his gray beard, had made him the perfect choice to play Santa Claus at his granddaughters’ preschool. “You have lots of friends.”
“I’m a fortunate man.”
She noticed him watching Dolores. He often did, and the look in his eyes softened as if the mere sight of her melted his heart.
Someday, maybe someone would look at Mel like that. Welcome her home after a hard day at work. Slip into bed with her and wind his arms around her. Someone who didn’t cling to the memory of his late wife.
Oh, God! Had she really just thought that? Mel was ashamed of herself. She wasn’t normally shallow and unkind. Naturally, Aaron grieved his late wife. It had taken her father years to get over her mother’s death.
A group of nearby guests burst out in raucous greeting, distracting her. The source of the commotion became quickly apparent. Aaron, his mother-in-law, Nancy, and daughter, Kaylee, had finally arrived.
A grinning Aaron held Kaylee in his arms, balancing her against his broad chest. The shy little girl buried her face in his shirt when one too many people tugged on her silky curls or pinched her chin. Aaron patted her back with his strong hand and, bit by bit, Kaylee’s face emerged.
Aaron could do that. Make a person feel safe and sheltered. Mel had experienced it firsthand.
“Hey, there, birthday boy.” One of her father’s buddies hailed him. “Get over here before all the barbecued beef is gone.”
“See you later, honey.”
“Enjoy yourself,” Mel said to his retreating back, her attention remaining riveted on Aaron.
Eventually, their eyes locked. That was the usual outcome when someone stared long enough. She should step away. Engage the Powells or other clients of hers in conversation. Help Frankie with the food or Dolores with hosting duties.
She and Aaron had agreed not to draw attention to themselves in public, and here she was doing exactly that. Except, she didn’t break eye contact and neither did he. The connection Mel had been feeling lately intensified more and more until it practically sizzled.
Was it the same for him? If so, he gave no indication.
Mel’s nieces skipped over to Aaron and Kaylee, high on sugar from fruit punch and blobs of icing swiped from the birthday cake.
“Kaylee, play with us,” Paige pleaded with her friend. “We have balloons and bubbles and prizes.”
The little girl’s features lit up like a ray of sunshine after a storm, and she insisted her father put her down.
Aaron relented, holding her hand as if not quite ready to part with her. Mel was close enough to hear him say, “Don’t go far, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” she parroted in her sweet angel voice.
Mel’s nieces immediately grabbed her, and the preschool buddies scampered off, disappearing from sight.
“Are you sure she’ll be all right?” Nancy asked Aaron, ready to follow the girls.
Aaron waylaid her by saying gently, “She’ll be fine. Frankie Hartman is right there.”
The creases permanently etched into Nancy’s forehead deepened. “I’m going to get some punch.”
By sheer coincidence, or not, the punch bowl was located within a few feet of the game area where the girls were playing. If Aaron realized that, and he probably did, he chose not to address it.
Mel admired him for picking his battles. Nancy could be formidable. A self-defense mechanism, no doubt, from losing her only child at a young age.
Funny that Nancy and Dolores had become close. Then again, Dolores was the nurturing kind, taking the lost and lonely into her care. Hadn’t she done that with Mel’s father and, a few hours ago in the restroom, with Mel?
What if she was pregnant? Mel had tried hard to keep the thought at bay, but it crept back every few minutes, shouting, “You can’t ignore me,” in her ear.
As if sensing her distress—was he that tuned in to her?—Aaron glanced her way again. Confused and emotionally overwhelmed, Mel turned and snuck away in search of a quiet place.
Five minutes. That was all she needed. Time enough to collect herself and calm her frayed nerves.
Heading outside the cafГ©, she skirted the corner to an old hitching post that was still used today for customers arriving by single horse rather than two hundred of them beneath the hood.
Leaning her forearms on the thick railing, she let the warm breeze blow over her. A thin crescent moon hung in the sky above the mountains, waiting for dusk to fall and the stars to come out. Faint strains of piped-in music drifted to her from the patio.
“Hiding?”
Hearing Aaron’s voice, Mel jumped.
“Are you okay?” He strolled over to her, his eyes roaming her face. “What’s wrong?”
Did he have to look as good in jeans and a cowboy shirt as he did in his uniform? “Just tired. It’s been a long week.”
“You need to take better care of yourself.” He raised his hand and rubbed a knuckle along her jawline. The tender gesture nearly undid her.
It wasn’t like him to break the rules. Her, either. No intimacies away from the motel where they typically met. Boundaries were to be respected.
But, then, she remembered she was two weeks late.
“Aaron.” She suddenly wanted to confess everything. The fact she was late. Her increasing feelings for him. Her constant confusion.
Wasn’t that what couples did? Communicate?
Except, they weren’t a couple. They were sex buddies. At her suggestion and insistence.
“What?” he prodded.
“Nothing.” She pushed off the hitching post. “We should get back to the party.”
At that moment, an older pickup truck going too fast pulled into the parking lot, its tires squealing. Aaron tracked its slightly slower progress to the back row and the only available spaces.
“Someone you know?” Mel asked.
“If it’s who I think it is, I ran into her yesterday.” He was no longer Aaron but Deputy Travers. “Do you recognize the truck?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Just then, she heard the truck door slam and watched a young, slim woman navigate the parked vehicles, purpose in her stride. Rather than enter the cafГ© through the main entrance, she went directly to the outdoor patio.
“Maybe she’s someone’s plus one,” Mel mused.
“I’ll be back,” Aaron said, barely acknowledging her.
She’d seen this determination before when he was on the job. Did this stranger have something to do with the horse thefts?
“Wait!” She trotted after him, refusing to be excluded.
She reached the patio moments after Aaron. The young woman stood near the food tables, searching the room. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Where’s Ray Hartman? I need to talk to him.”
For a wild second, Mel thought the young woman was delivering a singing telegram. Except, she didn’t wear a costume. Unless one counted that ratty old ball cap.
“I’m Ray.” Mel’s father, beaming as if he, too, was expecting a birthday surprise, emerged from the crowd, a heaping plate of food in his hands.
“Do you recognize me?”
“’Fraid not.”
“I’m Samantha Egherman.” She glared at him. “Your daughter. I’m here for my share of the lottery money.”
Bursts of laughter vied with gasps of disbelief.
“Who’s that?” someone asked.
“She said she’s Ray’s daughter,” another answered.
“Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”
Mel was convinced she’d misheard the young woman. Then, like everyone else in the room, she looked at her father. His expression wasn’t one of surprise but rather guilt and resignation.
This couldn’t be happening. Samantha Egherman? Mel had never heard the name before.
Her ears started ringing, the sound increasing in volume until it blocked out everything else.
His daughter? That made no sense.
Slowly, Mel’s father set his plate on the nearest table. Facing the young woman, he said, “Samantha,” as if testing her name.
In that instant, Mel knew the outrageous claim was true. She had a half sister. More than that, her father had apparently known and hadn’t told anyone.
Chapter Three (#ud151f536-92ed-5d70-befb-155275bc3c1c)
Aaron and the other partygoers watched the train wreck unfolding before them with a mixture of surprise, embarrassment and sympathy for those involved. And, of course, morbid fascination. Ray repeating the young woman’s name was the equivalent of two locomotives colliding. Mel’s startled cry of distress was the first piece of wreckage flying.
Worried by the unsteady way in which she swayed, Aaron pushed past several people to reach her.
“I got you,” he said, grasping her elbow.
“I don’t believe it.” She lifted her face to his. “I don’t want to believe it.”
Well, who would? Discovering you had an eighteen-year-old sibling wasn’t typically on anyone’s bucket list.
“Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“Okay? You’ve got to be kidding.” She gave a brittle laugh and then bit back a sob.
“I’m happy to see you, Samantha,” Ray said. “Finally. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
The young woman glared at him. “Look. All I want is my money. Then I’ll get out of here.”
Her money? Aaron thought she had some nerve. Make that a lot of nerve. Ray had bought the winning ticket. The money was his to gift to whomever he chose.
“Is she scamming Dad?” Mel obviously didn’t see the resemblance between her and Samantha that Aaron had noticed yesterday.
“Just wait.” He increased his hold on her. “Give them a minute.”
Mel briefly resisted before relenting, which probably had more to do with Frankie’s warning glance than Aaron’s advice.
“Why don’t you have some supper?” Ray offered Samantha a smile. “You must be hungry. Then we’ll go home. Continue this discussion in private.”
“I don’t want any food,” she said, her voice tight.
“All right then.” He turned and addressed the entire room. “Thank you everyone for coming and making this birthday special. Please stay and enjoy all this great food. My...daughter—” he glanced at Samantha “—and I are leaving.”
After that, Aaron couldn’t stop Mel from rushing to join them. Her sisters, Frankie and Ronnie, beat her there.
“Dad,” Mel said, “you don’t have to do this. You have no proof she’s who she says she is.”
“I’m sorry.”
Aaron wasn’t sure which of his daughters Ray was apologizing to and what for.
“Is it true?” Frankie demanded. “Is she our sister?”
Ray’s smile faltered. “We’ll talk about this at home.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Samantha insisted.
“Oh, God.” Frankie blinked rapidly as if that could halt the tears filling her eyes.
“I know you.” Ronnie nudged Mel aside and pointed at Samantha. “I’ve seen you compete. You’re a barrel racer. A national junior rodeo champion. You turned professional this year.”
Being recognized visibly upset Samantha. She didn’t let it faze her, however, and rallied by raising her chin. “I know you, too.”
From the rodeo circuit or as her long-lost sister?
Ronnie must have wondered the same thing, for she asked, “Why didn’t you say something to me when we met before?”
Samantha’s answer was to raise her chin another notch.
People continued to gawk and whisper behind the shields of their hands. A few respectfully inched away. The gaps they left were instantly filled.
Aaron debated whether to don his deputy hat and clear the room or allow things to play out. He wasn’t on duty, no crime had been committed and no one was in immediate danger. Unless Mel’s fragile state counted.
He took a step forward. The hell with this being the Hartmans’ crisis to handle. Mel needed a friend, and he was that first and foremost.
His next step was blocked by Nancy, who held Kaylee’s hand in a death grip. “Let’s go home, Aaron.”
“Not yet.” He wasn’t leaving without talking to Mel.
“Kaylee’s upset.”
He glanced down at his daughter, who stared over her shoulder at Mel’s nieces, a forlorn expression on her face. If she was upset, it was at having to abandon her friends.
It was on the tip of his tongue to chide Nancy for overdramatizing things. Instead, he nodded at their neighbors who were gathering their things.
“There’s Geo and Leslie,” he said. “Why don’t you ask them for a ride home?”
Nancy frowned, not liking the idea. “What about you?”
“I’ll be home soon.” Aaron bent and gathered Kaylee close. “I love you, jelly bean.”
“I wanna stay, Daddy.”
“You’ll see your friends at preschool on Monday.”
Kaylee pouted. In another minute, she’d be whining. In two minutes, she’d be crying.
“I’ll be home in time to tuck you in.” Aaron straightened. He’d been ready to promise, then stopped himself. With the demands of his job, he couldn’t always be where he wanted, when he wanted, and he hated disappointing Kaylee.
Except, this was personal and not work related. He didn’t have to stay.
“Will you tell me a story about Mommy?” she pleaded.
Guilt pricked at him. “Of course.”
Nancy wasn’t the sole keeper of Robin’s memories. Aaron’s stories tended to be less eloquently spun than Nancy’s, but they were told from the heart. He made sure Kaylee knew how much she’d been adored by Robin and how much Robin had been adored by him.
“Bye, Daddy.”
Aaron watched his daughter and Nancy until the patio door closed behind them. By then, thankfully, more guests had left, their tongues wagging, Aaron was sure. A few kindly individuals began clearing tables and packing food. No one had heeded Ray’s invitation to stay.
Mel, her sisters and Ray stood shoulder to shoulder, presenting a united front. Samantha, for her part, didn’t flinch. She either had a lot of nerve or was desperate.
Because he couldn’t just stand around doing nothing, he grabbed a heavy-duty plastic bag and began collecting trash. When Mel noticed him, he mouthed, You okay?
She shrugged limply. Her red-rimmed eyes indicated she’d been crying or trying hard not to.
He wished he could comfort her. Wrap his arms around her. Without conscious effort, he pictured them lying nestled softly together in the aftermath of making love. In those moments, he let himself imagine a life beyond stolen evenings here and there. Unfortunately, the fantasy always vanished the instant he set foot inside his house.
It did now, too, as Samantha continued causing a scene.
“Fine,” she spat out. “I’ll follow you in my truck.” She made for the door, her boots clomping on the concrete floor.
A chagrined Ray hurried after her. He was either escaping the wrath of his wife and daughters or attempting to head off disaster. Perhaps a little of both.
“Are we just going to let them leave?” Mel demanded of her sisters.
“Hell, no,” Ronnie and Frankie chorused.
“Maybe you should give them some time alone,” Dolores said.
The three sisters blinked at her in disbelief.
She crossed her arms. “I’m serious. And you know I don’t usually put my foot down. Ten minutes, then you can go. For now, let’s finish cleaning up.”
“What about the girls?” Frankie asked, more to herself than anyone else. “I can’t just leave them, and I don’t want to take them. For obvious reasons.”
All eyes fell to Dolores, who gave an expansive huff.
“Thank you,” Frankie said, taking the huff as agreement to help.
“We’re not excluding you.” Mel at least sounded apologetic for all of them taking terrible advantage of Dolores.
“Meet you at the house,” Dolores said. “And tell your father to leave me the car. He can catch a ride with one of you three.”
Frankie called after her. “Bring the leftover barbecued beef home. Everything else can be stored in the restaurant cooler.”
Dolores stopped midstep. “Anything else?”
“Um...no.”
Aaron gave Dolores a lot of credit. She was coping very well with a difficult and awkward turn of events no one had seen coming. She also wasn’t protesting when Mel and her sisters took advantage of her generosity. He hoped they let Dolores know how much they appreciated her.
One by one, people were leaving. He supposed he should hit the road as well−−except his legs disobeyed his brain and took him in the direction of Mel. She’d already had a rough time tonight and appeared to have a rougher time in store.
When he neared, she actually brightened as if glad to see him.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t care how late it is.”
“Thanks for staying. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” Glancing around first to make sure they weren’t being watched—everyone’s attention remained elsewhere—he brushed her hand. “I’m here for you, Mel.”
When he would have walked away, she quickly touched his arm. “That means a lot to me.”
More stolen moments. They were fast becoming not enough.
Outside, the parking lot was considerably less full than earlier. As Aaron crossed it, raised voices drew his attention. In the back row, Samantha stood beside her junkyard truck, its hood raised. Ray was with her, and the two of them argued bitterly.
Aaron hesitated, reminding himself yet again that this was none of his business. If only the law-enforcement officer in him didn’t view the situation differently.
Uttering a low groan of frustration, he changed direction. Mel would probably be mad at him for interfering, but Aaron didn’t feel he had any other choice. Here was a powder keg on the verge of exploding if ever he saw one.
* * *
“IS THERE A PROBLEM?” Aaron asked.
Samantha’s laser-beam glance said butt out.
Ray, on the other hand, responded with relief. “Aaron. Samantha’s radiator is leaking and her truck won’t start. I offered to help.”
What Ray left out, but Aaron had picked up on, was that Samantha refused any assistance.
Aaron inspected the engine, Samantha peering over his shoulder. “I’m assuming you didn’t drop by Conroy’s.”
“I would if I had the money,” she snapped.
Luckily, Aaron had refilled his water jug the previous night. “My vehicle’s parked over there. Be right back.”
“I’ll pay for the repairs.” Ray reached in his pocket for his wallet.
“You got forty thousand dollars in there?” Samantha asked. “Because I figure that’s my share. Two hundred thousand dollars split five ways.”
Aaron wasn’t surprised Samantha knew the amount Ray had won. He’d chosen not to remain anonymous, an option given to winners. As a result, an article had appeared in the local paper, and he’d been interviewed by several TV stations, during which he’d stated his plans for the money. Links to both had made the social media rounds.
In five minutes of online searching, Samantha would have found out everything. Which indicated she’d known about Ray and her sisters or someone else did and told her. Her mother, for instance?
That still didn’t explain why she felt entitled to a share of the winnings. Perhaps Mel had been close to the truth when she accused Samantha of scamming her father. If not that, then something else. Aaron hadn’t trusted Samantha from the moment they’d met.
He also didn’t believe her motives were entirely bad or selfish. She struck him more like a scared kid. He knew from both professional and personal experience fear could drive a person to behave in ways they normally wouldn’t.
“I’ll give you what’s left of the money,” Ray said to her.
“How much is that?”
“Let’s start with the truck repairs.”
By the time Aaron returned with the water jug, Mel and her sisters were flying across the parking lot, bags and containers jostling at their sides. Aaron couldn’t help thinking here came the disaster Ray had attempted to head off.
“What’s going on?” Frankie demanded, out of breath.
Samantha responded as she had before by going stonily silent.
“Nothing.” Ray moved toward the young woman as if to shield her.
It didn’t go unnoticed, judging by Mel’s widening eyes and Ronnie’s narrowing ones.
“You should have told us.” Tears roughened Frankie’s voice. “We had a right to know.”
“Not here,” Ray said. “We’ll talk at home.”
That triggered a loud debate among all the Hartmans. Aaron heard the words “betrayal” and “lied to” uttered more than once.
“Excuse me.” He squeezed past Mel with the heavy water jug. Ray had already removed the radiator cap. Using his pocket flashlight, Aaron verified that the radiator was once again bone dry.
Mel appeared beside him. “You’re helping her?”
“I’m assisting a stranded motorist by filling her radiator with water. Not taking sides.”
“Sorry. This is tough.” She swallowed and looked around. “As you can see, we’re all a bit rattled.”
“Go slow. Try not to make judgments or rush to conclusions. Give your dad and Samantha each a chance to tell their story.”
Mel glanced over at the others, several feet away, and lowered her voice. “I’m not sure who to be angrier at.”
“What you’re feeling is natural. But it’s important you keep listening no matter what.”
“You sound like you’ve been through this before.”
“I worked on the Phoenix police force for eleven years and responded to my share of domestic dispute calls.”
“Is that what we’re having? A domestic dispute?”
He bent, unscrewed the cap on the water jug and lifted it up to the truck. “You’re a family with a problem.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” She watched him as he filled the radiator.
Finishing, he set the jug down and called to Samantha. “Jump in there and give it a try.”
The young woman fled to the truck cab as if she couldn’t get away from the Hartmans fast enough and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered twice, then started.
“She really does need to get that radiator leak fixed,” Aaron said to Ray.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Aaron wasn’t the least bit disappointed this gathering was over. His part in it, anyway. Soon, he’d be home and telling Kaylee another story about her mother.
“You two are on a first-name basis?” Mel asked.
“I met her yesterday when her truck broke down on the side of the road.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“There was nothing to tell at the time.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” She scrubbed her face with her hands and groaned. “What a mess. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“I’ve been subjected to far worse.”
“On those domestic dispute calls?”
He was glad to see her mouth curve in the beginnings of a smile and leaned closer. “How you feeling? Stomach still bothering you?”
“Frankly, I forgot about it in all the, um, excitement, shall we say.”
Only a few inches separated them. Aaron shifted his weight, closing the distance to almost nothing. If they were alone, and oh how he wished they were, he’d gather her into his arms and kiss her over and over until he’d driven every thought of their respective families from their minds.
“What’s going on here?”
They sprang apart, separated by Ray’s voice and the surprise lacing it. Turning, they found not only Ray but Mel’s sisters staring at them.
“Dammit,” Aaron said under his breath. This was his fault. He should have been more careful. He and Mel had been getting laxer and laxer lately.
“Dad,” she started, then faltered.
They were spared from having to explain whatever it was her family thought they saw when Samantha’s truck suddenly quit running. Her attempts to start it again resulted in a horrible grinding sound.
“Shut it off,” Aaron hollered, afraid continued effort might result in severe damage.
Samantha scrambled out of the truck. Her mouth was set in an identical stern line Aaron had seen all three Hartman sisters wearing earlier. He was beginning to think looks weren’t the only quality they had in common.
By now, evening had given way to night. Above their heads, the parking lot lights flickered and crackled with an electrical hum. A few daring nighttime insects ventured down from the lights. One had the nerve to tangle in Samantha’s hair.
She swatted at it furiously. “What now?”
“I’ll call Conroy’s in the morning,” Ray said. “He’ll send the tow truck. You can leave your truck here. No one will bother it.”
“And in the meantime?”
“Where are you staying?”
Samantha hesitated, wilting a little under the pressure of being scrutinized. “The inn.”
Morning Side Inn, like a lot of establishments in the community, was horse friendly. Behind the main building, the owners had constructed a corral and dirt RV lot for guests to use during their stay, which explained what Samantha had done with her horse and trailer.
The inn was also expensive. If she couldn’t afford to pay for her truck repairs, she certainly couldn’t afford to stay at the inn for long.
“I can drop you off there later tonight,” Ray said. “Once we’ve finished talking.” He fished his keys from his pocket. “Let’s meet at the house. Samantha, you can ride with me and Dolores.” He turned in a circle and frowned, suddenly realizing his wife had been missing all along.
“No way am I riding with you,” Samantha stated frimly. “I’ll walk to the inn. It’s not far from here.”
“I think we should talk tonight,” Ray insisted. “The sooner the better.”
She scrunched her mouth to the side, debating what to do. Suddenly, she pointed at Aaron. “I’ll ride with him.”
Reactions ranged from surprise to displeasure to resistance. Aaron didn’t blame them. He’d already intruded enough on what was a private matter. Besides, someone else needed him more. “I can’t take you. My daughter’s expecting me home any minute.”
“What if I drive you?” Frankie asked Samantha.
The young woman raised her chin like before. “If he doesn’t take me, I’m not going.”
Aaron had witnessed this same stubbornness in Mel, usually when she refused to give up on a sick or injured animal. Also, the one time he’d broached the subject of them dating like a regular couple.
She’d insisted what they had suited them both. Why complicate matters? Lately, he’d been thinking he should have argued more. She deserved better than what they had, even if she didn’t believe so. And he had started wanting more, even if he refused to admit it.
Their gazes briefly connected, and he wondered if she also ever reconsidered their arrangement.
“This is probably best handled by your family,” Aaron said to Samantha.
“They’re not my family,” she contradicted him. “I already have one. My mom and dad and two brothers.”
Again, everyone except Ray seemed taken aback by the news, eyes widening and jaws going slack. What other secrets was he keeping?
Mel was the first to speak. “Maybe you should drive her to Dad’s house. We certainly can’t keep standing here all night.” Before Aaron could refuse, she added, “I’ll go with you.”
No one brought up the obvious. As deputy sheriff, Aaron was familiar with the town and didn’t need directions. Could Mel be trying to find time alone with him? As alone as they could be with another person sitting three feet away.
That wasn’t why Aaron ultimately agreed to drive Samantha. It was the scared look on her face. She was a kid in trouble, though no one else apparently saw it. If his daughter ever needed help, he hoped a responsible and trustworthy person like himself stepped in.
An unofficial vote was taken, and Aaron found himself in his SUV with Mel in the front, Samantha in the back and a heavy silence surrounding them. Guess he’d been wrong about Mel’s motives.
“Take a left,” she instructed when they reached the parking lot exit. “Turn east onto Harvest Street.”
Traffic was never heavy in Mustang Valley, with the exception of holidays when the whole town came out to celebrate. With each occasional vehicle passing them in the opposite direction, the interior of the SUV was illuminated by oncoming headlights.
Aaron caught quick glimpses of Mel’s profile. She was just as scared as Samantha. He also understood why—her entire life was changing—and was glad he’d come along for her, too.
Chapter Four (#ud151f536-92ed-5d70-befb-155275bc3c1c)
The Hartman home was about four miles past where the paved road leading out of town ended and the dirt road began. Mel’s parents had built it soon after her father accepted a head wrangler position at The Small Change Ranch, using the entirety of their meager savings for construction. The house was a short distance from the ranch and until recently, her father had ridden to work every day.
He told people the reason he quit was because his favorite horse had been retired and put to pasture, not that his arthritis had worsened. Mel didn’t have the heart to dispute him. Her father was a proud man.
“What about your friends?” Aaron asked Samantha, glancing again in the rearview mirror. Mel noticed he’d been doing that a lot during the drive.
“What about them?” Samantha said tersely.
“Are they expecting you tonight?”
“No.”
“Have you called them?”
Samantha gave another terse reply and slouched into her seat.
Mel frowned. Really? Aaron was attempting chitchat? And who were these supposed friends of Samantha’s anyway?
“What if they’re worried?” Aaron asked.
“You always this nosy?”
“Comes with the job.”
Gauging by her tone, Samantha didn’t like Aaron better than Mel or the rest of them. So why insist on him driving her?
The two had another brief exchange, and Mel’s irritation escalated. Perhaps because Aaron had obviously learned details about Samantha and Mel knew nothing. None of them did. Except her father. He’d known her name, at least. And that she existed. He was certainly on good terms with Samantha’s mother. Or, had been at one time.
A sister. Mel had another sister. She silently did the math. Her dad and Samantha’s mom must have met one, no, two years after Mel’s mother died.
Pain burned inside her chest. Plenty of people would defend her father, saying he hadn’t been married when he and Samantha’s mom met and that two years was a reasonable period to mourn before entering into a new relationship.
Only it didn’t feel reasonable to Mel. The man she remembered had been devastated to his very core, blaming himself for a freak riding accident he couldn’t have prevented even if he was there when it happened. Afterward, Mel’s father could barely drag himself out of the house to buy groceries or take the girls to a school function. He’d gone to work every day only because he’d needed to support his family—what remained of it.
Date? Engage in dinner conversation? Laugh? Have sex? It was beyond Mel’s ability to take in, and she hugged her middle.
“Cold?” Aaron asked, already adjusting the air conditioning.
“I’m fine.”
She quietly fumed. Why hadn’t her father told them about Samantha? It made no sense. Having a child with another woman was a big deal. Life altering. Did he think they’d never find out or not care if they did?
“Why now?” The words erupted from her, and she twisted in her seat to confront Samantha. “Why pick today of all days to suddenly show up?”
“Does it matter?” Samantha stared out the passenger window.
“You crashed my dad’s birthday party and demanded forty thousand dollars. I’d say I’m owed an explanation. All of us are.”
Samantha’s head snapped around. “You haven’t wanted an explanation for eighteen years. I could ask you, why now?”
“Wait just a minute. I had no idea—”
“And that’s my fault?”
Mel opened her mouth to protest, realized the futility of it and instead swung back around, her tenuous hold on her temper threatening to break. She did not like this person. This stranger. This interloper.
“He’s not the great guy you think he is,” Samantha said.
“How do we even know you’re his daughter? You could be making the whole thing up.”
“Did he act like I was making it up?”
Mel wanted to scream. This could not be happening. It had to be a mistake. A terrible joke gone horribly wrong.
The next instant, Aaron’s hand reached across the console for hers.
“Relax,” he said softly. “There’s no use getting upset.”
She should have shaken him off and would have if not for the warmth flowing through her and the knotted muscles in her neck slowly loosening. Damn him for sensing what she needed, which at the moment was a nonjudgmental friend in her corner.
Opening her fist, she linked her fingers with his, marveling at this tiny intimacy. For the first time away from the motel, they were holding hands, and she had to admit, the sensation was nice. It was also something she could get used to if she let herself.
“You two together?” Samantha asked from behind them.
Mel snatched her hand away, the remark hitting much too close to home for her liking. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
“Right.”
Mel imagined Samantha rolling her eyes.
Aaron grinned and shrugged, not the least bit bothered.
If only Mel could be as unconcerned as him. But she couldn’t. Not when she secretly, sort of, wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Or was that back a level since most couples began by dating, not sleeping together whenever the time was right and they felt like it.
Her hand drifted to her belly. Could she be pregnant? If yes, their relationship might jump ahead two or three levels overnight.
She remembered her plan to purchase a home pregnancy test tomorrow. Well, so much for that. With Samantha’s appearance and her outrageous demand, the day, and entire weekend, had taken a crazy turn. She’d be lucky to get to the store by Tuesday.
One good thing, she hadn’t felt nauseous for a while now. Perhaps it was the flu after all.
Without being told, Aaron turned the SUV onto the road leading to her father’s house.
“I’ve been here before,” he said in response to Mel’s raised brows. “Your house, too.”
“Make the rounds a lot?”
“I like to keep tabs on certain people.”
Did he? “Is that also part of the job?”
His response was a smile.
What did that mean? That he personally watched out for her and her family? Why, for heaven’s sake? Sure, he cared for her, but not like that.
“How much farther?” Samantha demanded with growing impatience.
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