You're the One That I Want

by Susan May Warren

  “She’s huge,” Casper said as he put his arms around them, pulled them close. “Oh, wow, I missed you.” He closed his eyes, smelled Raina’s skin, her hair, and felt the sense of what he’d left behind acute and full inside him. He’d forgotten this feeling of wholeness, of home.

  Or maybe he’d just been trying to survive missing it.

  Raina curled one arm around his waist, put her head on his shoulder. “I was so worried about you. Kyle came to the house looking for you, said you’d been arrested in Alaska.”

  He leaned back and caught her face with his hands. “Not arrested. Don’t worry; we’ll clear this up.”

  Then he didn’t care who was watching or that the rest of the family might find it out of place—this was his family, his future wife, his daughter. He kissed Raina with a sort of possession that had him realizing just how much he feared losing her.

  But it dropped away as her lips softened. She sank into his embrace, surrendering to his kiss, belonging only to him.

  Oh, Raina. He shouldn’t have worried. “You’re even more beautiful than in my memories.”

  On Raina’s hip, Layla began to squirm, to cry out.

  “I’ll take her,” Casper said, setting Layla on his arm and unzipping her jacket. “Hey there, little girl. Remember me?”

  Apparently not because she stared at him, then began to cry, wriggling in his arms, turning toward her mother.

  Raina shucked off her jacket, hung it on a peg, and reached for Layla. “She just woke up,” she said, but Casper couldn’t deny the fist in his chest.

  Of course she didn’t remember him. After all, he’d been gone for over half her life. And before then . . .

  He swallowed the bite of disappointment and stroked Layla’s back as Raina quieted her. “Ready for this?” he asked.

  She lifted her shoulder, her lip caught in her teeth. He touched her face, ran his thumb down her cheek. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered.

  She managed a hint of a smile, then looked past him.

  Casper drew in a breath and turned.

  Owen had found his feet, Scotty standing behind him. Casper tried to imagine what Raina might see. Did she remember the night Owen had charmed her onto the back of his motorcycle? He didn’t know the details, hadn’t wanted to ask, but now he hoped her memory didn’t play out the rest of the night. Or even the next day, when Owen had treated her like she meant nothing already to him.

  What if she saw the man who’d sidled up to her at Eden and Jace’s wedding and suggested, in his arrogant, sultry voice, that he might protect her from Casper.

  Casper stuck his hands in his pockets, dismissing that memory before it grabbed him around the neck, propelled him into another fight.

  But maybe she saw the different Owen, the broken aftermath, with the eye patch, the wiry beard, the long curly hair, the way he held his arm across his body. Wounded, even fragile.

  “Hi, Raina,” Owen said quietly.

  “Owen.”

  Ingrid had gotten up and moved to stand by John. Behind them, the early afternoon light filled the house as if the heavens might be watching.

  Grace pulled the cookies from the oven, apparently on their way to burning.

  “This is . . . ,” Owen started, then swallowed.

  “This is Layla. Your daughter.”

  Owen seemed frozen, barely able to breathe. He swallowed again, then made to reach out. But he dropped his hand, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about, ‘Hi, Layla. I’m your daddy’?”

  No! Casper nearly leaped forward to catch Raina’s words before they could finish. Owen was not her daddy.

  He must have taken in a sharp breath because Owen glanced at him. Casper tried to warn him with a look, but Owen turned back too quickly to Raina.

  “Right. I . . .” Owen took a step forward. “She’s so beautiful, Raina. She has your hair . . .”

  “And your blue eyes. And sadly, your rather crabby disposition.”

  She probably meant it as a joke, but it fell flat. Casper saw it on the face of his mother, his father. Even Owen, who winced.

  Casper was instantly at Raina’s side, wanting to rescue her, but Owen beat him to it.

  “I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about everything. I . . .”

  And if Casper’s eyes worked, his brother seemed to be . . . tearing up? Oh no—

  “Aw, Raina, if I had known I got you pregnant, I would have . . . I should have . . .”

  Then as Casper watched—as everything turned to ice inside him—Owen reached out for the sofa and gingerly lowered himself to one knee. “I know it’s a little late for this, but . . . do you want to marry me?”

  “What. Are. You. Doing?” Casper’s voice turned into a locomotive, tunneling out from some dark place inside him, and he advanced on Owen, grabbed him by the shirt. “Have you lost your mind? She’s marrying me—”

  Owen stood up, bracing himself on Casper’s arm. “What do you want me to do here? I screwed up, and I’m trying to fix it. Trying to make it right. I mean, that’s what Darek did, right? When Felicity got pregnant with Tiger, he—”

  “Please leave me out of this,” Darek growled.

  “Isn’t that what I’m supposed—what we’re supposed to do?” He gestured to Raina, to himself. “You’re the one who told me to come back and be a father. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Casper still had him by the shirt. “Not like this.” Not at all like this. “Excuse us,” he snapped and jerked Owen toward the den.

  “Don’t hurt him!” This from Grace, and when he threw a glare over his shoulder, she added, “I’m just saying, remember he’s wounded!”

  “Not that wounded,” Casper said, even as Owen gripped his wrist.

  “Let go of me—”

  Behind them, Casper heard Scotty say, “Don’t worry—they’ll be fine. I’ve seen this before.”

  “So have we,” Grace said, and maybe she was right; they wouldn’t be fine.

  Casper shut the door behind him and rounded on Owen, barely resisting fisting his collar, slamming him up against the wall.

  “Calm down—”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Owen held up his hands and sank onto the old sofa, family pictures on the wall reminding Casper to breathe as Owen rubbed his chest as if trying to restart his heart. He glared at Casper, looking ten years old, indignant, confused. “Stop shouting.”

  “I’ll stop shouting when you stop opening your stupid mouth! Really? Proposing? That’s your brilliant plan?”

  A knock, and before he could bark, Stay out, Scotty came in. She took one look at Casper and closed the door. Leaned against it and folded her arms. “He’s got a point, Owen. If I remember correctly, you proposed to me. What is this, your panic go-to?”

  Owen looked appropriately stricken. “Sorry, Scotty. I—”

  “Forget it. I’m glad I walked away from that in the nick of time.”

  “Hey! What do you expect from me? She had my baby,” Owen said. “And she’s standing there, and my brain just went blank—”

  “So you proposed?” Casper turned, ran his hand over his head. “Might I remind you, she’s already taken.”

  “Maybe I should say that to you.” Owen pushed up from the sofa, landing hard on his feet. “I hate to say this, buddy, but if we’re looking for proof as to who Raina fell for first, I think the answer’s pretty clear.”

  Casper lunged for him.

  Owen dodged, and there was Scotty, stepping in, using her elbow to land a jab in Casper’s chest. “Ho-kay, that’s probably enough.”

  Casper rubbed his chest. “I should have never brought you back—”

  “That is a good question, Bro. Why did you bring me back if you didn’t want me to do the right thing by her?”

  “Because you’ve never done the right thing in your entire life! Why would you start now? I thought you’d take a look at the colossal responsibility it is to raise a daughter and r
un for the hills. Face it, Owen, you’re not right for them.” There, it was out. Or almost all of it. His voice pitched low. “The ‘right thing’ is for you to agree to sign away your parental rights so I can legally become her father.”

  Owen stared at him, his expression slowly morphing from shock into something Casper knew too well.

  The same emotion he’d felt when he realized Owen had slept with Raina.

  “Wow,” Owen said, his voice lethal. “So this is what it feels like to be betrayed by your own brother.”

  Everything—the fury, the heartache, the pain of watching the woman he loved bear his brother’s child—burrowed down, centered in one blinding core of heat. “Yeah, this is exactly how it feels to be betrayed by your own brother. Trust me, I should know.”

  Silence.

  Scotty blew out a breath. “Casper, let’s go to the sheriff’s office.”

  She reached for him, but he jerked away from her. “Not on your life. I’m not leaving him here with Raina.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do, grab her by her hair and drag her to my cave?” Owen snapped.

  Casper wanted to strangle him with his bare hands.

  The door creaked open and John stood in the gap. He looked at Casper, then at Owen, his expression grim. “Kyle’s here.”

  Kyle Hueston. The local deputy. Casper didn’t move. “Why is he here? I haven’t killed anyone. There’s no need to drag me in like a criminal.”

  “Yet,” Scotty said. “And let’s keep it that way. C’mon.”

  “I’m not going in.”

  “Yeah, actually, you are,” Scotty said, but she stayed put.

  “He’s not staying here with Raina.”

  Something sparked in Owen’s expression. Then he sighed. “Get outta here and go clear your name. I promise not to make any sudden moves.”

  “Casper . . . ,” Scotty said.

  And then he was saved by Raina, who pushed the door open. She looked at Owen, then turned to Casper. Her hand landed on his chest, right over his thundering heart.

  “Casper, take a breath here. I’m not going to marry Owen. Ever. I love you.” She slipped her hand into his. “And I’m not going anywhere. Please go with Kyle.”

  It was the please that got him, along with her beautiful brown eyes, and the fact that the sooner he answered Kyle’s questions, the sooner he could return and finish this.

  It occurred to him, however, that he might be the one grabbing Raina and fleeing as far as he could from Owen and from the mess he’d made by dragging his younger brother back to Deep Haven. He let her lead him out of the room to where Kyle waited, eating a cookie. Ingrid held Layla, bouncing her on her hip. Casper walked over, picked up his daughter, and pulled her against himself, breathing in her sweet, powdery scent. She wiggled in his arms, but he didn’t care.

  He kissed her fat cheek, then handed her to Raina and smiled weakly. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll go with you, Son,” John said.

  Casper just nodded. Then he let Kyle lead him away.

  “Sorry about my boys.” John drove the family truck on the tail of Kyle’s cruiser, and now he glanced at Scotty.

  He seemed like a nice man. Imposing, perhaps, but maybe that’s where Owen and Casper—and even their brother, Darek—got it, along with the bravado, the confidence, the sense that life wouldn’t knock them over, at least not for long. His eyes were kind, despite the look he’d given Casper as they left.

  As if he might not be completely on board with Casper’s vision of the future.

  Family drama—she saw it simmering just below the surface. The sooner she dropped Casper off and escaped, the better.

  And hopefully before Ingrid Christiansen offered her another chocolate chip cookie. Not that Scotty could be swayed into staying by the aroma of fresh-baked cookies or even the sweet reunion of Owen and his family, the overwhelming sense of belonging. But with Owen holding her hand, the unfamiliar feeling of family had woven right through her, and for a long second she’d forgotten that she didn’t want the entanglement of people stepping into her life, worrying, caring. Forgotten that she didn’t want Owen’s thumb caressing her hand, holding on like he needed her. Wanted her there.

  As if he’d meant that kiss in the car, nearly convincing her it might all be real.

  Until . . .

  Owen taking a knee in front of Raina was exactly what Scotty needed to snap her brain back to reality. To remember why she was really here.

  “Believe me, Mr. Christiansen, this is nothing compared to the hospital when Owen woke up. I thought Casper was going to go for his throat, and for his part, Owen would have ripped out his IV defending himself. They really are brothers.”

  “It’s been . . . Well, Owen hasn’t made it easy for any of us. Especially Casper, who’s taken this the hardest.”

  “And why not? He seems to love Raina and the baby, and Owen is about to mess everything up.”

  John’s hands tightened on the wheel.

  “But . . . I take it you think that Owen should marry her.”

  John offered what looked like a conciliatory smile. “Thank you for all you did for him. It certainly seems that he’s smitten with you.”

  Smitten. “No, sir. I think that’s just nervousness. He was a bit . . . concerned how you might all react when he came home.”

  “Hmm.”

  Coming back down the hill, the town of Deep Haven fanned out before them, the Victorians among rustic log cabins edging the dark-blue curve of the harbor. Evergreens dissected the autumn tumble of color as it fell into the bowl of the town, the sky overhead streaked with the barest hint of cirrus clouds. The sun had passed the apex now, starting to spill marmalade rays into the far horizon.

  “It’s beautiful here. Reminds me of Homer. Except there’s already snow on the ground there.”

  “You’re a cop there?”

  “Detective. Or I will be soon. In Anchorage. Homer was too small for my own good.”

  Another hmm from John.

  They followed Kyle’s cruiser as it wound through a neighborhood of cabins until it pulled up to the sheriff’s office, a nondescript brick building on a hill overlooking the lake. A couple more cruisers sat in the parking lot.

  Scotty got out with John and followed Casper into the building. A few vinyl chairs anchored the small waiting room. A woman behind glass at the reception counter buzzed Kyle in through the locked door to the administrative offices. He gestured for Casper to go first.

  “John, you need to stay here.”

  “Not on your life,” John said.

  Kyle raised his chin, and Scotty turned to John. “I’ll go in. I’ll make sure everything’s okay. Sit tight.”

  It was like telling a moose to sit down and have tea. John looked at her, his face granite.

  Then he sighed and lumbered over to the chairs. Picked up a magazine. Rolled it in his big hands and turned away from her to face the window.

  Probably to hide the frustration she saw growing in his shoulders, the set of his jaw.

  Kyle frowned but held the door open for her. He led Casper to an interrogation room, closed the door behind him, then faced Scotty with business in his eyes. “I know you did us the courtesy of bringing him back, but we don’t need any help—”

  “Listen. My own department isn’t much bigger than this, and I know it helps to have fresh ears—and eyes. I barely know Casper, I’m unbiased, and frankly I think it’ll keep everyone back at the ranch from freaking out. So what do you say you let me listen in?”

  Kyle considered her a moment. A tall man, wide-shouldered, confident, he still seemed the type to listen first. Especially when he threw a glance at John, standing at the window in the waiting area as if contemplating a jailbreak.

  Everyone just needed to calm down. She had no doubt they’d sort this out in fifteen minutes, and Casper would be back home in an hour, probably proposing to Raina. After all, it seemed to be the MO of the Christia
nsen men.

  How fun to be one of the many victims.

  “Fine. There’s another room for viewing.” Kyle opened the door beside the interrogation room. “Just don’t get in the way.”

  She paused before entering the room. “Kyle, just between us, how good is he for this?”

  For a blink, she saw behind the cop to the friend he must be. “Monte was found in a ravine not far from the Christiansens’ house. They had two reports done on him. The first came back inconclusive, saying he might have died from exposure. That’s what the paper printed. But then we had a second one done, and it suggested he died from a blow to the head, one they believe occurred before the fall—and that’s when they opened the murder investigation. And he had two freshly broken ribs, although he might have gotten those when he fell into the ravine.

  “But while the forensic evidence is lacking, there’s plenty to connect Casper to his disappearance.” He sighed. “I hate this part of my job—interrogating and arresting friends.”

  Scotty nodded as she closed the door behind her and stood at the window, watching Casper through the one-way glass. He had taken a seat, folded his hands on the table, but he apparently didn’t realize anyone could observe him because he held an all-out internal dialogue with himself, shaking his head, looking at the ceiling, as if still at home with Owen.

  Taking him apart, piece by piece.

  She should have driven the rental to town; then she could leave as soon as Casper walked out the door, cleared. In fact, she should be on her way now—except for the slightest niggle of doubt.

  Something about Casper’s initial reaction to the news of Monte Riggs’s death didn’t sit right with her.

  Kyle entered the interrogation room, tossed a file on the table, and sat down opposite Casper. “Hey, pal. Big day—bringing Owen home.”

  “Let’s get this over with. I don’t know anything about Monte Riggs’s death.”

  “Just take a breath, Casper. Let’s start from the top.”

  Kyle had his back to Scotty. Casper faced her, his lips tightened into a bud of frustration. To her, he looked tired, his shirt rumpled, wearing a layer of scruff on his chin that gave him, yes, a bit of a criminal hue. Maybe she should have suggested a shower, a shave.