Prince Charming Wears a Badge (3 page)

“What did that other person do for their service hours?”

He looked at her with his deep-set, dark brown eyes. As a teenager she'd thought of them as puppy-dog eyes, but on a grown man they were downright sexy. “He loaded and unloaded mulch into a truck and spread it at the elementary school. He did some other landscaping, too.” Tyler glanced at her and took in her outfit from head to toe. “I'm not sure landscaping is right for you. Besides, you're not dressed for work like that.”

She heated at his perusal. “I have clothes to change into.” In truth, she'd worn her office clothes, hoping the Chief of Police would see her as a professional and not someone ready to do hard labor. Not that she wasn't strong, but if she had to do community service, she might as well do something that would benefit the community. It never crossed her mind that Tyler would be the person holding authority over her. She doubted he'd give her any kind of break, though, no matter how she'd dressed.

“That's good.” He clicked keys on his computer again and the printer in the corner, partially hidden by banker's boxes, came alive.

Tyler stood to retrieve what he'd printed. He glanced at the page and then handed it to Callie. “You can report to this address tomorrow morning at eight. There's a volunteer group, mostly seniors, who have planned a clean-up of the city streets.”

“Are you talking about picking up trash?”

His dark, well-groomed eyebrows rose. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Her hands clenched and unclenched automatically. “Of course not.” She rose. “I'll be sure to be on time.”

She was outside his office when she heard him add, “You might want to wear gloves and shoes you don't care about. Oh, and long pants. You never know when you'll run into poison ivy or the occasional snake.”

She shivered at the thought. “Great,” she muttered to herself. She should have guessed that he'd give her a nasty job rather than one she was actually suited to. He hadn't even asked about her skills.

For that matter, he hadn't asked her anything about herself. Was he still holding that outburst against her? The one she hadn't held back that last night before leaving for college? She'd thought letting him walk her home from that party would be nice. She'd planned to leave for college the next day and he'd made it clear all summer that he was interested in her.

But even if she could go back and do everything differently, there was no way to a happy ending. One of two things would have happened regardless. Either her stepsister would find a way to hurt her physically or emotionally because she wanted Tyler for herself, or, sooner or later, Tyler would have discovered how dysfunctional her family really was. What he'd witnessed that night was a mere hint of the reality.

Fine. His disinterest didn't bother her. She had things to do and she'd get them done and get out of town.

She should have thought to bring old shoes with her, not that she really owned any. She tended to clean out her closet every spring and donate to the local women's shelter. They were always looking for gently-worn work clothes, shoes and purses so disadvantaged women could go on job interviews and hopefully make new lives for themselves and their children. Callie was happy to help them out.

She got into her car and turned the air-conditioning up to maximum. She twisted her long hair into a bun and secured it with a few bobby pins from her purse. The heat in Tyler's office had been stifling. The town was obviously in a financial bind if it couldn't replace the AC or even Tyler's ancient computer.

She pulled out of the small visitors' parking lot next to the police station and headed to her appointment to see about a room for rent. It was the only option she'd found on Craigslist within a twenty-mile radius.

Callie could have lived out of a hotel, but she preferred to not waste her hard-earned money. And she'd save a lot if things worked out with Mrs. Thompson.

The house was a few blocks from the police station. When Callie had lived in Whittler's Creek, this home had been occupied by Mrs. Thompson, her husband and their four children. The children must be grown by now since the youngest was only a year older than Callie. Mrs. Thompson had been the one who'd listed the rental.

The large Victorian home with its wrap-around porch sat on an oversize corner lot. It was probably a hundred years old, but from the outside it looked pristine. Especially compared to her father's house that was only about half as old.

The pale blue painted clapboard and white gingerbread trim appeared fresh. The lawn was mowed and there were flowers blooming everywhere Callie looked. Definitely a pleasant place to come home to after picking up trash all day.

When she'd communicated by email with Mrs. Thompson yesterday, Callie had discovered that the woman had turned her home into a boardinghouse after her husband died. Callie assumed it was for financial reasons. One of her daughters had been living with her but had recently moved out, leaving an empty room to rent.

Parking beside the curb, Callie straightened her clothes and walked to the front door. Even close up, she could see how well-kept the property was.

Mrs. Thompson answered the door almost immediately after Callie rang the bell. “Come in! Come in!” She stepped out of the way for Callie to enter. If Callie hadn't known Mrs. Thompson was in her late fifties, she would have guessed her as being closer to fifty. The petite woman with auburn hair and not a single gray had a welcoming smile and an energetic attitude to go with it.

She drew Callie in for a hug, catching her off guard. “It's so good to see you after all these years,” Mrs. Thompson said.

Callie hadn't known Mrs. Thompson very well, but the woman obviously remembered her. Mrs. Thompson had been the team mom on Callie's softball team and she had also been the room mother in her third-grade classroom.

Mrs. Thompson kept an arm at Callie's waist as she ushered her from the entryway, down a short hallway and into the kitchen with its white cabinets, yellow walls and royal blue accents. “Come, we'll have something to drink and you can tell me what you've been doing.” She named both hot and cold drinks.

Callie swallowed, still in shock by the warm reception. “Coffee sounds good.” Unlike the police department, the AC in Mrs. Thompson's house was in good working condition.

“So, tell me what you've been up to, Callie,” Mrs. Thompson said as she busied herself getting the coffee.

“Well, since grad school, I've been living in Silver Spring. I'm a financial analyst at a large firm in Bethesda.”

“How wonderful! I'm sure you're great at what you do.”

Again, Callie didn't know how to react to Mrs. Thompson's enthusiasm. She hadn't gotten even close to that reaction from Tyler. He'd appeared guarded. Did he really hold what happened all those years ago against her? Couldn't he at least be friendly?

She'd been nervous as hell when she'd first seen him today. He was a mature version of the handsome teenage boy she'd crushed on in her past life, but her teenage reaction to him hadn't changed. Her mouth had gone dry, her heart beat double-time and words had been hard to find.

“I'm doing something I love,” she told Mrs. Thompson, “so I think that helps to make me good at it.” Callie didn't know why else she was so successful at choosing the right investments to make others a lot of money, but it had certainly been financially rewarding for her personally, as well.

Mrs. Thompson set a cup of coffee in front of Callie, who'd taken a seat at the counter. “What do you like in it?”

“A splash of something white,” Callie said with a smile. “Skim, whole milk, cream, half-and-half. I'm not choosy. I think needing to add it is psychological because I've told myself I don't like black coffee.”

The two women chuckled while Mrs. Thompson retrieved some cream from the fridge. They spoke for a few minutes about things going on in town while they drank their coffee.

“I never asked you why you're back,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I'm guessing it's family related.”

“Something like that.” Callie wasn't ready to divulge too much yet, especially before her family knew she was in town.

“I get it. You need a place to escape instead of staying at your parents'. Sometimes family can be overwhelming.” Mrs. Thompson took the last swallow of her coffee.

Callie merely nodded and then changed the subject. “So you've been renting out rooms for several years?”

“Since right after my Jeffrey died. It's been almost five years now.”

“I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Thompson.”

She nodded. “Thank you. And, please, none of this Mrs. Thompson nonsense. I'm Poppy to everyone.”

“Poppy.” Callie still felt like the young girl who used to live in Whittler's Creek, not an adult on the same level as others in town.

Poppy put their cups in the dishwasher. “I think I told you the rent is one fifty a week and that includes breakfast and dinner. We do family style for whoever is here at six o'clock. If you miss it, there are always leftovers for you to heat up later.”

Callie nodded. The rent on her condo was four times that and no meals were included. She'd often thought about buying a condo or house instead of throwing away so much money on rent, but with the unstable real estate market, it was too big a risk. And she'd probably never buy a house. A bigger place to take care of wasn't practical since she had little spare time as it was.

“I'll show you around and you can decide if this is the right place for you,” Poppy said as she led the way through the dining room and into the living room. “Feel free to use any of the rooms down here. I like my guests to feel as if this is their home, too.”

Callie knew before going upstairs to see her bedroom that she would accept Poppy's invitation to stay here. She'd never lived anywhere that was this welcoming. Her current home was just a place to return to when not working. She had no one to greet her or to miss her. No pleasant family dinners—not that she'd grown up with them.

“Here's where you would be staying.” Poppy gestured to the doorway at the top of the open staircase.

Callie stepped into a large room that held a queen-size bed with brass headboard and footboard, a full-length mirror on a brass stand and a small love seat positioned in a bay window that let in lots of light.

Poppy opened a door to show her a small closet and then crossed the room to open another door. “This is the only room on this floor with a private bathroom.”

“This is a wonderful room,” she told Poppy. “I'd love to stay here.”

Poppy smiled. “I'm so glad to hear that. My daughter, Molly, really loved this room.”

Another question popped into Callie's head. “So who else is living here right now?”

Poppy pointed to the next doorway down the hall. “This room is being rented by a young man going through a divorce, but he told me just last night that he'd be moving out at the end of the week. So I'll need to put another ad on Craigslist.”

Callie was wondering if she'd like his room even better when Poppy said, “His is the smallest and has no private bathroom.”

“What about those two rooms?” Callie pointed down the hall. “Is one of them yours?”

“Oh, no. I've got my own suite in the attic. Those rooms are rented by my nephew and his two young daughters. I hope that doesn't make you change your mind. I forgot to mention that there would be children in the house. Although they're very well behaved.”

Callie smiled. “That's not a problem at all.” She wasn't used to being around kids, but how difficult could it be for what she hoped would be a short time before she went back to her old life? And then she remembered who Mrs. Thompson's nephew was.

“Oh, you might even know my nephew. I think you're about the same age and he grew up here, too. It's Tyler Garrett. His sweet little girls are Alexis and Madison.”

CHAPTER THREE

L
ATER
THAT
MORNING
Callie was finally settling into her room.
Poppy was Tyler's aunt.
Amazing how much she'd blocked out when she'd moved away.

She'd been surprised to hear that he and his daughters lived with Poppy. She would have expected Tyler had a place of his own. Especially with two children.

Poppy hadn't mentioned Tyler's wife. Had Poppy not mentioned her because she wasn't someone from town whom Callie would remember? Or was Tyler a single dad with custody of his children? He might even be a widower for all she knew.

She'd hung up what she could in the small closet and used the large oak dresser with a beveled mirror for the rest of her things. Then she checked her email on her laptop and didn't want to think about what she was missing back at work.

Close to lunchtime she decided to take a walk to see how much things had changed in town. She'd really like to go for a run to rid herself of her pent-up energy and frustration, but it was too hot and humid for that. Early morning or dusk would be a better time.

She'd changed into shorts, a tank top and her running shoes earlier, so she closed the door to her bedroom as she left and exited the house through the front door. There were no outside locks on the bedrooms, only a lock when you were inside the room. Obviously the crime level was pretty low and locks weren't a necessity. Just one more thing she'd have to get used to again while being back in a small town.

She headed the few blocks toward the downtown area, such as it was. Just as Tyler told her, Pratt's Furniture Store had expanded into the space where Garrett's Hardware used to be. Next to Pratt's was a bakery that hadn't been there before. A gift store was next to it, also new since she'd lived here.

On the other side of the street was the First National Bank, looking exactly as she remembered with its tan-brick façade. She crossed the street when she saw that the little drugstore next to the bank was still there.

This was where she'd hung out after school when she was able. She wondered if they still had the counter and a few booths where they served juicy burgers and shakes so thick you needed a spoon to eat them.

She opened the glass-and-metal door and stepped inside, feeling like a teenager again. Nothing had changed. The counter and booths were still there, the Formica chipping on the tabletops as was the wood laminate on the benches. The stools at the counter, circa 1950s, were metal circles with red-vinyl inserts that had seen better days.

“Callie?” The woman behind the counter was staring at her, eyes wide.

Callie smiled. “June!” She came up to the counter where the woman stood on the other side. “You're still working here!” She sat on the empty stool in front of June. “How are you?”

“I'm good,” June told her. “And you look like life is treating you okay, too.”

“Thanks. I'm surviving down inside the beltway.” These days she could add “barely” to surviving and still not be accurate enough.

June was probably in her early forties by now. She'd been a young mother working at the drugstore when Callie was in high school. Her husband had gone on disability after he was in a tractor accident at their farm a few miles from Whittler's Creek and June had taken the job to make ends meet.

Callie ordered a burger and shake, figuring she'd run off the excess calories later. After June sent the order to the short-order cook, she turned back to Callie and asked, “So what brings you to town? I haven't seen you in what? A decade, at least.”

Callie should come up with an answer for the question that would be asked every time she ran into someone she knew.

“I've got some things to take care of in town,” she said vaguely, hoping June didn't have a follow-up question.

“Well, it's great to see you.” She had another customer to take care of and she stepped away.

Callie spun her stool a hundred and eighty degrees and looked around again while waiting for her food. A feeling of déjà vu came over her, or at least a step back in time.

It wasn't long before June delivered her food. Callie hadn't realized how hungry she was until she smelled the burger in front of her. “Thanks, June.” She put a blob of ketchup on her plate for her fries. “So what have you been up to? How are your kids?”

The two caught up while Callie ate, interrupted occasionally by other customers. So far, no one else had come in that Callie recognized.

She was wiping her mouth after her last bite of burger when the bell over the door rang, signaling that someone was entering the store. Callie turned in that direction. It was her stepsister, Wendy Carter. Their gazes collided. Wendy looked away first, as if uncomfortable. Interesting. Not the same cocky teenager Callie remembered.

She couldn't help but notice Wendy's appearance. Her jeans and plaid shirt looked like they'd been washed a hundred times or more. Her hair needed something—a cut, deep conditioning—Callie couldn't say. And her complexion... Callie had never seen anyone with such a sickly appearance. She was pale, with tinges of green and yellow on one cheekbone. As if she'd been bruised a week or so ago.

“Hello, Callie,” Wendy said stiffly when she came up to the counter. “I didn't know you were in town.”

“I got here yesterday,” Callie said just as stiffly.

“What can I get you, hon?” Thankfully, June interrupted their awkward exchange to take Wendy's order.

Callie had nothing more to say to the stepsister who had mentally and sometimes physically tortured her when they were growing up in the same house.

While Wendy placed a take-out order, Callie pulled out the money she'd stuck in her pocket to pay the bill June had left when she'd delivered Callie's food. Even the handwritten green checks that had to be added manually were the same as when she was a kid. She didn't bother asking if they now took credit cards. She'd planned ahead and taken out cash from an ATM before she'd arrived in Whittler's Creek. Callie laid enough money on the counter to cover the bill, as well as a healthy tip.

“Have you been to see my mom and Bart?” Wendy's question caught Callie by surprise.

“Not yet.” Not until she gathered her courage.

Wendy didn't comment, merely nodded and then concentrated on a fingernail.

After waving goodbye to June, Callie was almost out the door when Wendy said just loud enough for Callie to hear, “You don't belong here.”

Callie turned to Wendy, wondering if she'd heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

Wendy sneered. “You heard me. Go home. No one wants you here.”

Callie remembered to breathe, in and out, in and out.

When her stepsister turned away, Callie assumed Wendy had nothing more to say.

So she continued out the door to the sidewalk and relaxed her hands when she realized her nails were digging into her palms.

* * *

I
T
HAD
BEEN
a
long afternoon of frustration.

Tyler's job had been straightforward until that email about financial fraud showed up in his in-box. He'd spent the afternoon trying to find someone to audit the town's finances, but no one could do it for at least another month.

Thirty days was way too long to wait. It would give whoever was responsible the time to find out that an investigation was under way.

He'd appropriated a storage locker for all the records and they'd finally been moved, so at least they weren't cluttering up his office anymore.

He closed his computer and straightened his desk before letting the receptionist know he was leaving for the day. “I'll have my cell if anyone needs me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donna mumbled. “You say that every day. When was the last time anything happened in this town?”

Tyler had to think a minute. “When Mr. Rawlins got drunk and was waving a shotgun around.”

Donna's eyebrows rose. “You know that was last month, right?”

“Seems like last week,” he quipped. “And how quickly you've forgotten the standoff at the bank that secured this job for me in the first place.” She did have a point, though. His job was mainly administrative.

Not that he expected to stay in this position until retirement, but he couldn't complain when the job and this town gave his daughters the stability they needed.

A little while later, he arrived at Aunt Poppy's, his family's temporary home, to hear giggles and commotion coming from the kitchen. He headed there to greet his daughters and see what they were up to.

Aunt Poppy watched the girls while he worked, and staying with her just made sense while their house was under construction. This week they were attending a day camp to give his aunt a break.

“Hey, what's going on in here?” The words were barely out of his mouth when Alexis and Madison came running into his arms. He picked them both up and squeezed, making them giggle even more.

“Hi, Daddy.” Alexis, the older of the two, kissed his cheek loudly. Madison, two years younger at four, did the same to his other cheek.

He was about to ask about their day when he noticed Callie across the room. She was hard to miss in those formfitting shorts and tank top.

He put his libido in check and got down to reality. What was she doing here? For that matter, what was she doing in the same room with his daughters?

“Where's Aunt Poppy?” he asked instead when he didn't see her anywhere nearby.

“She ran an errand,” Callie explained. “I said I'd be here with the girls until she got back. I'm renting a room from her while I'm in town.”

She was staying here? He was silent, wondering how to tell her to stay away from Alexis and Madison without causing an incident.

“You don't mind, do you?” Callie's puzzled look told him she didn't know why it would be a bad idea for her to be around his children. “I don't have much experience around kids, but yours have been great. And Poppy only expected to be gone twenty or thirty minutes. She needed something for dinner that she forgot to buy earlier. I offered to go, but she said it would be faster for her to go since I wasn't familiar with the store.”

“Um, no. It's fine.” He put the girls down, purposely not looking at Callie when he answered. He'd speak to his aunt privately about his concerns.

“Ms. Callie was telling us about when she used to go to the same camp as us.” Alexis was bouncing as she spoke.

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh. And she even took a bus like we do.”

He glanced at Callie and then back at his daughters. “You know I went there, too.”

“You already told us that, Daddy.” Madison was very serious. “But you don't remember singing the same songs as us. Ms. Callie has been singing them with us. She knows all the words.”

“Well, let's not wear her out. Who wants to go on a short bike ride before dinner?”

Both girls raised their hands and began dancing around the kitchen. “Can Ms. Callie come, too, Daddy?” Madison had stopped moving to ask the question.

He glanced at Callie then back at Madison. “Well—”

“I don't have a bike to ride,” Callie told Madison. “So you'll have to go without me.”

Tyler didn't know if she was giving him an out or if she really didn't want to go, but he was grateful for her answer.

“Go put on sneakers and I'll meet you at the garage after I change clothes.”

When the girls were out of earshot, Callie said, “I'm sorry they put you on the spot. Don't feel obligated to include me just because I'm staying here now.”

He decided to be honest with her. “I won't. In fact, it would be best if you avoided being around my daughters.”

* * *

SHE
AWOKE
THE
next
day with a feeling of dread. Picking up trash along the side of a road was not her idea of a productive day. Remembering Tyler's advice, she donned jeans and a T-shirt. Then she put on the pair of shoes she'd picked up last night at the big-box store that had opened outside of town since she'd been gone. For ten bucks, she could afford to ruin them. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured a baseball cap—another new purchase—around it. She applied a slathering of sunblock to her exposed skin and put the bottle into her small backpack, along with the water bottle and energy bars already there. Then she headed downstairs to grab breakfast and the prepackaged Greek salad she'd bought for lunch.

Driving to the community center, she thought back to her reaction the previous evening when Tyler had announced that he'd prefer she avoid being around his daughters. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. His comment had confused her, but she'd been too shocked to question him about it. Instead she'd gone for a long run to blow off steam.

Callie arrived early at the designated meeting place. A few people were at the community center already and she introduced herself, leaving out the real reason she was there. Tyler had told her that everyone else was there voluntarily, so no one should think twice about her participating.

“We're so glad to have you join us,” a tall gentleman, probably somewhere around seventy, told her. “I'm Gary, and this is my wife, Liz.” He gestured to a petite woman about the same age with neatly styled, short blond hair.

Callie smiled and shook hands with both of them. “I'm Callie James. Nice to meet you.”

“Are you new in town?” Liz asked.

“Actually, I grew up here. I'm back for a visit.” That was pretty close to the truth.

“James?” Gary scratched his head. “Are you related to Bart?”

Callie shouldn't have added her last name during the introduction. “He's my father.” She'd be more careful from here on out because she didn't want her dad hearing that she was in town before she could contact him herself. It was bad enough that Wendy knew she was in Whittler's Creek.