Single Dad Sheriff (Harlequin American Romance) (6 page)

“Close your eyes,” she directed him, with a smile at his stubborn male pride. “Let them rest.”

He expelled a ragged breath. “How come you keep getting the duty of driving me home?”

“I'm low man on the totem pole.” She hoped like hell that was all it was. That the doctor and his wife were just too busy to drive patients home. She hoped she had just imagined the look that had passed between the sweet married couple and that they weren't trying to match her and the sheriff.

Maybe that was their contingency plan in case whoever eventually took over their practice didn't keep her on as the medical secretary. Since she might lose her job, did they intend to find her a husband to support her? They had finally had that talk with her—the one she'd feared was coming for a while, because she'd seen the reluctance and guilt in their eyes. As soon as they found someone to take over their practice, they were going to retire to a warmer climate.

She sighed now and pushed aside her sense of abandonment. It wasn't like eight years ago when her parents had retired on her and moved back to Germany when Jessie had needed them most—when she'd been pregnant, scared and alone. It wasn't like that now because she had Tommy; she wasn't alone. And in a year, she'd have her nursing degree.

“I could have called Eleanor or one of the deputies to drive me home,” he said.

“But you didn't,” she remarked. “Last time or this time. Why not?”

He sighed. “I don't know. I guess I've wanted to spend some time with you.”

Her heart raced then slowed with dread as she realized what he meant. “You're still working on keeping that promise to my son. You want me to tell you about his dad.”

“I'd rather you told
him
.”

“I will,” she said, “when he's old enough to understand.” Her breath shortened as a familiar panic returned. She knew she wouldn't be able to put it off much longer.

“I'm old enough,” Chance pointed out. “Tell me. Let me help you.”

“I don't need your help,” she insisted. “Tommy's my son. I can handle this on my own. I don't need the local sheriff involved in my personal life.”

“I don't want to get involved,” Chance insisted, “…with you.” The
especially
was unsaid but embarrassingly obvious from his tone.

She flinched even though she had already guessed he wasn't really attracted to her. But he kept looking at her. Even now when he was supposed to be resting his eyes, he studied her face. And not just her face. His gaze skimmed down her body, as well. As a secretary, she didn't have to wear a uniform to work. Since Forest Glen was pretty laid-back, she didn't have to dress up, either. She wore dark jeans and a green sweater in a thin fabric that clung to her breasts.

Her skin tingled in reaction to that intense stare of his. “Then maybe you should have had Eleanor drive you home.” For both their sakes.

“Yeah, I should have,” he agreed with embarrassing haste. “But I wanted to talk to you. About Tommy.”

She tightened her rein on her temper. He'd just been hurt, so she was not going to get mad at him. Calmly but firmly, she said, “I am not going to tell you about his father.”

“I want to talk about Tommy,” he repeated. “I meant what I said the other day in the sporting goods store. I'd be happy to spend some time with him.”

With her son, but not her.

“You think he'd be happy with just any old guy?” she asked.

“I'm not old,” he said, his voice a little sharp as if he'd taken offense.

She spared a glance from the road to his handsome, albeit battered, face and sniffed in reluctant agreement.

“And he doesn't want to play catch with a girl,” he reminded her, his mouth curving into a teasing grin. “I went ahead and bought that baseball glove.”

“I appreciate your offer,” she said honestly. Her son could use a man in his life for however long Chance Drayton stuck it out in Forest Glen. “I'll ask Tommy.”

“He's talking to you?”

She smiled with pride. “He's too sweet-natured to stay mad at me.”

“What about me?” Chance asked.

Her son's opinion of him mattered to the ex-Marine. Jessie's breath slipped out in a soft gasp. The man was nearly too good to be true.

“Show him your scars,” she said. She'd overheard him and Christopher discussing how the former soldier must have several of them.

“I don't have any scars,” he said, then grimaced as he leaned across the console and glanced at his face in the rearview mirror. “Well, not from Afghanistan.”

“That's good—given what you must have gone through,” she said with sympathy and curiosity.

“You don't want to talk about your past. I don't want to talk about mine.”

“I understand.” But she didn't. Not really. She couldn't imagine what he must have experienced. “Tommy might not be as understanding,” she warned him. “Boys like hearing war stories.”

He sighed. “Then I'm going to have to give him the same line you do—that he's too young to hear any of my war stories.”

“I'm sorry,” she said and lifted one hand from the wheel to reach across to him. Because his arm was wounded, scraped and burned from the air bag, she touched his leg instead. The muscles of his thigh tensed beneath her fingers, and she jerked her hand back. “I'm sorry,” she said again.

His breath shuddered out. “Jessie…”

Her hands shaking, she steered the car into his driveway and put it into Park. Then she turned to him. She couldn't mistake the look in his eyes, the heat of desire.

He reached across the console now and slid his fingertips along her jaw, lifting her face to his. “You're not interested,” she reminded him.

“I never said I wasn't interested,” he clarified. “I just don't want to get involved with you.”

“I don't want to get involved with you,” she said, but she leaned closer and lifted her mouth to his.

As he started lowering his head, his lips just a breath
from hers, she jerked back. A man was watching them from the shadows of Chance's covered porch.

His fingers tensed along her jaw while his other hand slid into her hair. “Jessie—”

She shifted against the seat, pulling farther away. “You have company.”

He turned then and peered out the windshield, first at the sports car with the Illinois plates and then at the man leaning over the teal-and-purple-painted railing near the front steps of the yellow farmhouse. “Damn.”

“Who is he?” she asked. She didn't recognize the blond-haired stranger, but she already resented him a bit for what his presence had prevented: Chance's lips finally touching hers.

“My lawyer.”

“Lawyer?” He wouldn't have had time since the accident to call the guy and summon him from another state, so he wasn't suing Mrs. Applegate. “Everything all right?”

“No,” he said. With a weary sigh, he eased away from her and pushed open the passenger door. Then he stepped out and turned back to her. “Thanks for the ride home.”

“You're not going to tell me anything else,” she realized with disappointment.

He shook his head.

Even though they hadn't kissed, her lips tingled from how close he'd been, his breath whispering across her skin—promising sweet passion. But she pushed aside her regret at the lost moment and summoned her common sense. Until she and Chance were ready to share their secrets, they sure as hell weren't ready to share any kisses.

“What the hell happened to you?” Trenton Sanders asked as Chance grimaced as he climbed the stairs to the porch, his sore ribs protesting every movement.

He ignored his friend's question and asked one of his own. “What are you doing here?”

When Chance had decided to move to Forest Glen, Trenton had sworn—with a dramatic shudder—that nothing would get him out to the
boonies
to visit—not even if the water supply turned into crude and the gravel gold.

“I've got news,” the lawyer replied. Apparently he'd come straight from his office with it because he still wore one of his trademark tailored suits in a dark gray. He hadn't even loosened his tie despite the long drive up from Chicago.

“It better be good news.” Or Chance might have to hurt him for interrupting what had promised to be a passionate kiss given the way Jessie had leaned into him, her eyes wide and dark with desire. He glanced toward the driveway as Jessie backed her small SUV onto the street.

Trenton followed his gaze. “Who's the hot redhead?”
He turned back to Chance and narrowed his eyes. “Did she do that to your face?”

Chance touched his jaw, wincing since the skin was still tender and raw from the airbag. Maybe Trenton had done him a favor. Considering the way Jessie kept Tommy from knowing anything about his dad, she was the last woman—next to his ex—that Chance should be kissing.

“You found a wild one, huh?” Trenton teased, his slick lawyer facade stripped back to the kid who had pitched to Chance on their winning team back in high school.

“What are you doing here?” Chance asked again, ignoring his old friend's inappropriate question. “You could have just called and told me what's going on.”

Trenton goaded him with a grin. “But then I wouldn't have been able to see your face—ugly as it is—when I gave you the news.”

Chance's heart skipped a beat. Had Robyn finally stopped stalling? Had a court date been set at last? “So tell me,” he demanded. “What's going on?”

“I got you a visit with your son.”

“What?” His eyes stung, and he wanted to blame it on the gas that had escaped the air bag. But he was too overwhelmed to bother lying to himself. After all this time, was it possible that he'd be seeing his boy again? “When?”

“His spring break from school,” Trenton replied. “Middle of April.”

Chance's breath caught; it was only a couple of weeks away. “Oh, my God. How'd you manage that?”

Trenton's brown eyes twinkled slightly. “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

Because Trenton Sanders earned his high fees with a reputation as the lawyer who had never lost a case. “Because you probably did.”

“I can't claim any credit for this one,” Trenton insisted. “Not without getting disbarred. But really, Matthew's the one who talked to his mom.”

“You talked to him,” Chance said—with gratitude and jealousy. He hadn't spoken with his own son, in person or on the phone, since Robyn had refused him visitation. She'd moved to an unlisted address with no landline. The only contact information Chance had for her was her cell phone, which she let go to voice mail whenever he tried to call. That was why he'd hired Trenton.

“That conversation never happened,” his friend insisted. “The important one is the one he had with his mother when he told her he wants to spend his spring break from school with his father.”

“And Robyn agreed?”

Trenton sighed. “Not easily. And only to this one visit. She won't agree to regular visitation.”

“That's why we have to take her to court,” Chance said. He hadn't wanted to, but she'd left him no choice since she wouldn't even speak to him. “I want more than one week with my son.”

“This is a great opportunity to prove to Robyn and to the judge that you're ready for Matthew,” Trenton pointed out. “That you have room in your house and your life for him.”

“Of course I do.” Everything he'd done since coming back from Afghanistan had been for Matthew. “This house—this town—is perfect for raising a child.”

“But your future here isn't secure, according to
Robyn's lawyer. That's what they're going to argue when we go before the judge.”

“I own this house free and clear.” he reminded the man who'd helped him negotiate probate. “I inherited it.”

“But the job is only interim,” Trenton said with a sigh. “The mayor and city council hired you on a trial basis only.”

And since Chance had taken the mayor's mother's driver's license that afternoon, that trial was probably over. The mayor had showed up at the accident scene, and he had been furious to find out that Chance had impounded her car and suspended her license. “If they don't elect me in the fall, I can apply for a job with the state police.”

“You want to wait until fall to go before the judge?” Trenton asked.

“Of course not.” He'd already been denied a relationship with his child for too long.

“Then you'll need to be able to prove that your future in Forest Glen is secure. Now.”

“I'll prove it,” he promised, grateful that he hadn't kissed Jessie Phillips. He needed to focus on building a life for his son—not letting a woman disrupt his own life.

 

J
ESSIE SLIPPED
into the back of the meeting hall, noticed her cousin waving and headed over to the vacant chair next to Belinda. “Since when do you attend town council meetings?” she asked.

“Since the yummy new sheriff's on the agenda,” Belinda replied with a wink.

Jessie glanced around the crowded room and
wondered how many other women, single and married, were there just to ogle the sexy young sheriff, too. She caught several people staring back at her. Her boss, Dr. Malewitz, and his wife Ruth waved. And Eleanor, the sheriff's secretary and dispatcher, turned around from the chair in front of Jessie and smiled.

Did everyone think that was why she was there—because she had a thing for the new sheriff? But she always attended the council meetings; she liked knowing what was going on in her community. After spending her childhood moving from one military base to another, she liked being a permanent part of a community.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the mayor, from the table at the front of the dark paneled room, called the meeting to order. Mr. Applegate droned on about approving last month's minutes and covered some new business before turning the floor over to the sheriff.

Chance moved to the podium at the front of the room and cleared his throat. He glanced around the crowd, his gaze stopping on Jessie. Her pulse quickened, and heat rushed to her face as other people noticed him looking at her. Then he spoke. “I want to tell everyone how much I'm enjoying my job as sheriff, so much that I would like to be included on the ballot for the election this fall.”

Applause rang out.

But the mayor's mouth gaped open in shock at the announcement, and he waved everyone to silence. “Are you sure about this, Drayton?” the bald-headed, portly man asked. “You've had an eventful couple of months—at least by Forest Glen standards.”

“Not by my standards,” Chance said with a reassuring grin.

“Really?” the older man challenged him. “You've had to make two trips to the doctor's office. Maybe this job is a little more than you can handle.”

Even from a few rows back, Jessie noticed how Chance clenched his jaw. Being a Marine might have prepared him for law enforcement but not for small-town politics. “I spent years on the police force in Chicago, and I did two tours in Afghanistan,” he reminded his interim boss.

“Yes, but you had an entire force to back you up in Chicago, and a platoon in Afghanistan,” Mayor Applegate pointed out. “Here, you can't even handle a traffic stop without your vehicle having to be towed.”

“Now, you all know that I'm the one who caused that accident,” someone spoke up, but her voice was just a weak quaver from the front of the room.

Jessie arched her neck, trying to peer over other heads to see Mrs. Applegate. Even standing, the elderly woman was tiny.

“And I'm awfully sorry about that,” she continued. “I could have seriously injured this young man. Or as he pointed out when he took my driver's license, I could have hurt someone else—” Then her voice grew stronger as she turned on her son. “Archie, you should have had the balls to take away my license when I first started having these accidents. You should have cared enough to get me off the road.”

The mayor audibly gulped. “Mother, I thought you didn't want to lose your independence.”

“It wasn't about me,” she snapped at her son. “You didn't want me to become dependent on you. You resent having to drive me to my appointments since the sheriff took my license. And it's only been a week.”

“Mother—”

“This young man is the best thing to have happened to this damn town in a long while,” she continued, undeterred. “He will truly protect and serve us.”

“Hear, hear.” Mrs. Wilson seconded her comments.

The room erupted into applause again. There was no doubt that Chance would win the election. It was Mrs. Applegate's endorsement that had elected her son as mayor. The realization that Drayton might become a permanent part of Forest Glen had Jessie fighting for air. With a nod at her cousin, she slipped from her chair and snuck out of the crowded room.

Tommy waited in the beautiful park outside the community building. Under the supervision of the school crossing guard, he played on the equipment with several other kids whose parents were also attending the meeting. As she crossed the lush, spring grass to where he climbed over the metal cage of the jungle gym, she braced herself for a battle to get him to leave. But he rushed up to her right away.

He wasn't looking at her, though. Instead he was looking at the man who'd followed her out. “Hi, Sheriff,” he said, his voice soft with embarrassment. “I'm sorry I was such a jerk last Saturday at Smith's.”

“You weren't a jerk,” Chance assured him, crouching to his level. “I'm the one who was a jerk. I shouldn't have made you a promise until I talked to your mom.”

Tommy nodded in acceptance. But Jessie felt his disappointment in a rush of guilt that overwhelmed her. She wouldn't be able to put off the inevitable much longer. If only she could lie to him without feeling even guiltier than she did now…

“I actually need to ask you a favor,” Chance said.

Her son's bright eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“My son is going to be coming to stay with me during his spring break.”

“You have a child?” Jessie said, beating Tommy to the question.

Chance clenched that strong jaw again and nodded. “He's just a couple of years older than Tommy here. I haven't seen him in a while, so I don't know what he likes. I don't have any idea what kids like nowadays, but I need to get his room ready for him. Will you help me?”

Tommy shrugged. “Sure. But Mom's the one who painted my room and stuff.”

“I'd be happy to help you,” Jessie found herself offering, if only because she wanted to know the story that darkened Chance's eyes with pain.

“I know, I know!” Tommy exclaimed, his voice ringing with excitement now.

Chance chuckled. “What do you know?”

She wondered if he'd be surprised by her son's intelligence, or if he'd already picked up on that for himself despite his lack of familiarity with kids. Even his own.

“You should build him a tree house,” Tommy said as if he'd figured out the answer to some complex problem, which he regularly did to the astonishment of the teachers who struggled to keep him challenged and engaged in school.

Jessie smiled. Her little boy might surprise other people, but she knew him well. “Really? A tree house?
What makes you think the sheriff's son would like that?”

“'Cause every boy wants a tree house,” he replied with a snort of disgust at her ignorance.

Chance nodded, as if Tommy had offered him very sage advice. “You're right. I always wanted a tree house when I was a kid. But I lived in a city like Matthew and his mom, so I couldn't have one.”

“So you gotta do it,” Tommy said with absolute resolution. “For both of you.”

Jessie suspected he'd figured there was something in this tree house suggestion for him, too.

“Can you help me build it?” Chance asked.

Tommy jerked his red head up and down in a vigorous nod. “Yeah! We'll make it so cool that he won't want to go back to the stupid city.”

Chance audibly caught his breath, and Jessie noted the wistful longing in his eyes.

“I'm going to need help with some other things, too,” he said. “Remember I told you I'm rusty at playing catch. Well, it's not just catch. I haven't played any other games in a long time.”

“I'll teach you,” Tommy offered.

The sheriff held out his hand, and the two males sealed their agreement with a firm shake. Then Tommy pulled away with a giggle. “I have to go tell Christopher that I'm gonna be building a tree house.”

“Hey, we need to get home,” Jessie called after her son, but he was already running back to his friend.

“Is that okay?” Chance asked. “Or should I have run it past you first?”

She turned toward him with a sigh. “That might have
been a good idea, especially after the last time you made an arrangement with my son.”

“Yeah, I wasn't thinking.”

“You're too excited,” she said, noticing how his eyes glittered just like Tommy's. “You haven't seen your son in a while?”

“Not since I deployed last time,” he said, his voice rough with frustration. “My ex filed for full custody because I volunteered for a second deployment after my first.”