Caught by the Sheriff--A Clean Romance

by Rula Sinara

  “You win. Let’s go. I’m too drained to argue,” Eve said.

  Carlos bounced Nim twice and she giggled hysterically.

  “Let’s go, kiddo,” he said.

  Faye’s eyes burned and she swallowed hard to keep tears from spilling over. She wasn’t sure why. Only that she wished Nim’s father was more like the man she was looking at right now. The kind of man her sister should have met before promising her life to Jim. A man she’d only just met herself, yet had been wishing for her whole life. And yet, if he knew the truth about her, as sheriff he’d have to arrest her, or at the very least take Nim away from her and into custody. A sick twist of fate that promised one thing—her wish could never come true.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SUN WAS brilliant this morning. Too much so. Faye shivered as she closed the blinds and curtains over Eve’s French doors that led to her deck. She couldn’t stop shivering.

  Eve was curled up on one end of the sofa with a tissue box tucked in the curve of her body. She had an essential oil diffuser blowing out vapors that she said would help their sinuses. Faye was game for anything. She was miserable. Feverish.

  Nim sat in her playpen with toys and books. The television was also set to a show that was supposed to be mentally stimulating for kids her age, according to Eve. Yes, Faye was already succumbing to the television babysitter, but being sick had to be a good excuse.

  She curled up in the armchair next to the couch and pulled a blanket around her.

  “What about the shop?” Faye asked.

  “I called Darla and asked her to stick a note on the door letting people know I’m closed for the day.”

  “This town really is like one big family.”

  “It really is. Unfortunately, in big happy families when one person gets sick, it makes its way through everyone.”

  “Mine came on so suddenly. And the stuff I took only took the edge off the fever. I still feel cold and achy.”

  “You’ve been stressed out. Running on adrenaline. The second you were able to relax, your immune system crashed.”

  “Guess it’s not all your fault for giving it to me, then?”

  “You’ll survive and be stronger for it.” She let out a moan. “I wish I could breathe.”

  “I wish I could stop shaking. And I hope Nim doesn’t get it.”

  “The essential oils in the air will help.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “I need to fall asleep again. You should tell me a bedtime story. Like what was happening between you and Carlos last night? I thought you didn’t trust him.”

  “There’s no story. Unless you have one. Did you tell him anything? I told you not to.”

  She couldn’t talk. She just wanted to sleep. Her brain felt all fuzzy.

  “No. But like I said, he noticed enough on his own.”

  “I felt sorry for Jordan.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t know he was mustering up the nerve to ask you to dance. And you said you had a headache.”

  “But I did. It wasn’t an excuse. Look at me. And he wasn’t about to do any such thing. He had his pup to look after. He didn’t even say anything when I gave him his card—probably threw it in his kitchen trash without opening it—and you think he wanted to dance? You don’t know Jordan like I do.”

  “Nothing like a little irritation to clear your sinuses and give you a burst of energy.”

  “I’m not irritated or energized.”

  “You sound like you are.”

  Eve whimpered and blew her nose again.

  “I’m not. Not at you.” She threw her afghan off and sat up slowly. “We need soup. I’ll look and see if I have any cans I can warm up.”

  Nim stood at the side of the playpen and started bouncing and repeating “Fa” over and over. The sound ricocheted against Faye’s skull. Eve put a pillow on her head.

  “Bless her tiny voice that’s not sounding so tiny right now,” Eve said.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll fix her lunch.” She tried to get up and felt off. Weak and dizzy. “We’re quite a pair today.”

  She remembered the time Clara had the flu, Jim was on a business trip and Faye had back-to-back customers and couldn’t pick up groceries for her until evening. How had she managed with a baby in the house? Guilt cut right through her bones and the relentless ache she’d felt since early morning spiked. If only she’d known how hard motherhood was, she’d have gone out of her way to do more. To be there for her sis. To put her needs first.

  “I have these vitamins and herbs that’ll help. I sip a tea made with oregano, thyme and astragalus all winter. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a fever like you do. It shortens a cold. I’ll make you some. Give me a moment, though. I’m moving in slow mo.”

  There was a knock on the door and Faye stiffened. Nim squealed and she and Eve both covered their ears in pain.

  “Shh!” Faye stumbled, half-disoriented, over to the pen to give Nim attention and keep her from yelling. What if this was it? The FBI or child protective services at the door? “Shh, baby. Quiet.”

  “Stay put. I’ll get it.” Eve dragged herself over to the door and looked through the peephole. She let out a breath and looked over her shoulder back at Faye. “It’s the police.”

  * * *

  CARLOS GRIMACED AS Jordan made his way up Eve’s steps with a reusable grocery bag that looked weighted down with something heavy. He hadn’t intended to get caught in the act. The last thing he needed was to be given a hard time.

  “Whatchya got there?” he asked, trying to look nonchalant. As if he wasn’t standing at Eve’s door carrying a giant pot with gloves on because the darned thing was still hot.

  Jordan frowned up at him.

  “Soup. Chanda made it and insisted I bring it over. She heard from Nora who heard from Darla who had a call from Eve this morning about not opening up shop because she’s sick. Her and Faye. What about you?”

  Carlos glanced down at the pot he was carrying.

  “Soup. I made it myself.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did.” Carlos stood a little taller.

  “Since when can you cook? You have my sister feeling sorry for you and making you come over all the time for a home-cooked meal.”

  “I never told her I couldn’t cook. She assumed I couldn’t—the whole bachelor stereotype—and when I told her about the recipes I have from my mother, she insisted that I didn’t have time to cook. Face it. Chanda likes to feed people and nothing’ll stop her.”

  “That’s for sure.” He looked at Carlos’s giant pot, then down at his bag. “Are you really going to one-up me in there? Can’t we just pretend I made this?”

  “Man, I love your sister’s cooking but this is my mother’s chicken tortilla soup—with extra cilantro and lemon for the vitamin C. I’d be one-upping you regardless.”

  “Not everyone likes cilantro.”

  “They’ll like it. Or they’ll be too congested to care. Besides, they’d eventually find out you lied about making yours and you’d never hear the end of it. From your sister, that is.”

  “You’re right. Wait a minute. She could’ve brought this here herself. She’s off work today.” So were the two of them.

  Carlos cleared his throat and curled his lips in to stop from laughing.

  “She could’ve.”

  The door opened before Jordan could answer and they both straightened up ready to impress...sort of...then slumped at the sight of Eve.

  “You look awful,” Jordan said. Carlos rolled his eyes and didn’t say a word.

  “Why, thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Jordan.” Eve sounded like a frog. Talk about role reversal. Maybe if Jordan gave in and kissed her, she’d turn into his princess. Eve looked at what they were carr
ying. “What’s all this?”

  “Soup,” they responded simultaneously.

  “You’ve both earned a lifetime pass for forgiveness. Come in. If you dare. You’ve been warned.” She held the door wide open.

  Faye was crouched next to the playpen, hanging her arm on its rim and leaning her head against it. She looked terrible. But he had the sense not to say so. She also looked different...beautiful.

  She wasn’t wearing any makeup. And seeing her there with her little girl tightened his chest and made it harder to breathe. He eased his way inside, afraid to disturb them. Not sure if she’d want his offering.

  “I made soup,” he said.

  Her lips parted and she looked at him bleary eyed, as if his making soup was that hard to believe.

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t like how weak she sounded.

  “I’ll put it on the stove and get some bowls. Eve, you okay with us taking over your kitchen?”

  She closed the door behind Jordan, who’d clearly never seen her place before. He stood there, holding his bag with the soup containers Chanda had sent over, taking in the scent of aromatherapy and earthy style.

  “Go for it.” She held out her arm to let Jordan know he was welcome to follow Carlos into the small kitchen, then she went back to the sofa and snagged three tissues from the box she had on the coffee table. Faye held her hand out and Eve passed her the tissue box. She took out the last one. Jordan pulled out another from the bag he’d brought and handed it to Eve.

  “I thought of that myself,” he said in a low voice as he passed Carlos in the kitchen. Carlos grinned. He didn’t know what he’d do without the brotherly sparring with Jordan. He enjoyed it too much. And he knew Jordan saw the humor in it, as well. Life needed a little humor. It was the only way to cope with all that was ugly in it.

  They ladled soup into bowls and took them over to the living room. Carlos set Faye’s on the table, then went over, helped her to her feet.

  “Come sit and eat a few bites. Jordan and I can take care of Nim. You both just eat and sleep.”

  “Have you ever changed a diaper before?” Eve asked. Both guys froze.

  “She’s not potty trained yet?” Carlos asked.

  “No, not yet. Just tell me if you think she needs changing and I’ll get up,” Faye said.

  He walked Faye over to the armchair, touched the back of his hand to her forehead and went back to the kitchen for a wet cloth.

  “We’ll manage. Just rest,” Carlos said.

  “Maybe we should give the doctor a call. Make sure it’s not the flu,” Jordan said, propping a pillow behind Eve and setting a bowl of soup in her hands.

  “It’s not the flu,” Eve said. “I’m sure it’s just a cold. No doctor. I can get better on my own.”

  “If you insist, but at least eat a little or drink the broth part,” Jordan said. “Can I get you anything else? Water? Tea?”

  “I made herbal tea in a pot earlier. Faye should have some too. I can get it.” She started to set her bowl down. Jordan put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ll get it. Sometimes it’s okay to let others help, Eve. This is one of those times.”

  She nibbled the corner of her mouth and slumped back, letting him take over.

  Carlos placed a cool cloth on Faye’s forehead. She lifted her hand to hold it in place. The look on her face expressed gratitude without words.

  “Did you take anything for the fever?”

  “Yes. I think it’s starting to kick in. I’ll try the soup in a minute. Thanks so much for that.”

  “Just get well.”

  He reached into the playpen and picked up Nim.

  “How about we get you some lunch?” he said, poking her playfully in the belly. She grabbed his nose.

  “Da da.”

  Dada. No one had ever called him that before. It rocked the ground under his feet. Caught him off guard. He avoided eye contact with Faye and took Nim to the kitchen. He wasn’t her father, but as soon as he found the man who was, he’d make sure the guy never hurt any woman or child again.

  * * *

  JIM POURED HOT water into the mug and dipped the tea bag several times. He loved this cabin. Not so much a cabin as a lodge, really. It had been worth the investment. Well built. Surrounded by western Pennsylvania’s trees and streams. Isolated.

  This was the only place where life slowed down for him. The one place where he could recalibrate. Reset. Think.

  He took the steaming mug over to where Clara sat, staring aimlessly outside the two-story window of the A-frame sanctuary. Sanctuary. That was the word that described it for him.

  “Here you go, darling.”

  She didn’t shift her gaze. He had to admit the scenery...snow-capped evergreens that stretched for miles beneath their cliff-side vantage point...was mesmerizing. He picked up her hand, kissed her knuckles and set the mug in her grasp. She complied, finally. It would have spilled, burning hot, onto her lap if she hadn’t.

  “No thanks?” he asked.

  “Thank you.”

  There. She’d spoken. She always did come around. Two words. Then after a while, five. Then ten. Then everything would be back to normal. She always forgave. Wasn’t that the meaning of unconditional love? The point of having wedding vows?

  “Can I get you anything else?” he offered. Because he was a generous man. He’d given her so much. He was asking for so little in return.

  “I want to go home. I want to hold my baby.”

  “You know it’s too soon, honey.” He brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek and she flinched. The bruise was fading nicely. “I’m so sorry I lost my temper. Please, forgive me. You know how much I love you. Everything I do, I do to make you happy. To make our lives better and build a legacy for our child. Perhaps...someday...children.”

  She cradled the mug with both hands now. He could see the movement in her slender neck as she swallowed. He brushed her long hair back over her shoulder. She almost cut it short once. Thank God he had seen the salon appointment in her phone reminders and asked her about it before the damage was done. He had been furious with her. Just thinking about the fact that he’d come that close to returning home from work to find her hair all cut off made his insides coil.

  He kissed her temple so as not to touch the tender area. She’d heal. His Clara would be okay.

  “A little longer. When the bruise fades, we’ll talk. You don’t like the public eye, remember? I’m doing this for you. Things are going well at work and there will be reporters, articles, news about my candidacy. I don’t think you can handle that stress right now. A person has to be strong, mentally stable, for all that. You know you haven’t been. Your depression. Anxiety. Clara, darling, being here away from it all is better for you. You should be grateful that I didn’t go the route of checking you into a facility.”

  “I’m not crazy. I want Mia. Let me talk to my sister. My parents, even.”

  Not her parents, for sure. Her parents and their political connections were half the reason he’d had his eye on her in the first place. Her parents liked him. Praised him. Would be his number one supporters as he ran for office. He chewed at the inside of his cheek until the coppery taste of blood assaulted his tongue. Now, see what she’d made him do?

  “Clara, sweetheart. What did your mother tell you the last time you tried complaining about me to her?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Say it. Right now. I heard every word of it when I walked into her kitchen, but remind us both.”

  “That I should be patient with you because you have a stressful job.”

  “What else?”

  “That men handle stress differently than women and that I need to be there for you.”

  “Exactly. You should listen to your mother.”

  Clara’s mother was better tha
n his had been. More loving and supportive. That’s why he had gone out of his way that day, in her kitchen, to compliment her pie and insist on taking over doing the dishes. He had shown her parents that they weren’t wrong about him by doing little things that mattered, like putting his arm around Clara and kissing her temple, holding her coat for her and the car door when it was time to leave and sending them a handwritten thank-you note for a lovely dinner. Because he was civilized and educated and if a person like him wanted respect, they had to behave in a manner that demanded it. That showed people he deserved it.

  He put his hand on Clara’s thigh.

  “And Faye? Your sister hasn’t even asked about you. You know she’s always been jealous of what we have. But she’s not good with kids. Can’t handle them. You know that. You shouldn’t have trusted her. You’ve only put her in trouble. The minute she found out the authorities were after her, she baled. I found Mia on our doorstep, and your sister? Gone. Ran off to save herself. Don’t worry about Mia. I hired a nanny with excellent references. She’s in good hands. I told you, darling, I’m the only person you can really trust. I’ve got your back. We’re in this together. We can make this right. Put the past behind us, fix the situation and move forward.”

  He watched her face closely to gauge her reaction. She didn’t move. Not a lash. He combed his fingers through her hair again. It didn’t matter. He was in control. Faye was under his thumb whether she knew it or not. They both were. And if Clara tried anything stupid...well... It was easy for an accident to happen out here. Very easy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TWO DAYS LATER and she was feeling so much better. Faye sat on the bottom step outside the cottage and let the sun warm her face. She was still too tired to dog walk, but told everyone she’d get back to it tomorrow. Nim was napping and Faye was relieved that she hadn’t shown signs of catching the cold. Yet. Chanda had come around yesterday to help out, since Carlos and Jordan had helped the day before.

  Whether it was Eve’s magical tea, Carlos’s family soup or his attentiveness that helped her and Eve get well quickly, she didn’t know. But it worked. And she had to admit that feeling his hand on her forehead every hour and watching him tend to Mia had made her forget the aches and pains. Leave it to a man like Carlos Ryker to give a woman’s immune system a boost. He was better than vitamins. And she suspected having Jordan around had had the same effect on Eve. Though her friend was too stubborn to admit it.