Babies And Badges (American Baby)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “I was just gonna ask if you wanted me to take Cassie’s car out on patrol tonight? You know—kind of use it as a decoy? No one in a million years would ever guess it was me behind the wheel.”

  “You got that right,” Noah said with a snort on his way out the door.

  “Then you think it’s a good idea?”

  “No,” he said, already outside, jangling keys in hand. “But hey, gotta give you brownie points for trying.”

  AN HOUR LATER, Noah was on his third cup of the stale black coffee Brenda had put in a thermos for him, and had just pulled onto the King Road lookout point, hoping that since Zane hadn’t been home when Noah had driven by there, at least from up here he’d have a great view of most of the kid’s favorite haunts.

  This time of night—or he guessed that it was now morning—he was usually up here hassling drunk teens who were getting it on in the back seat of their mom and dads’ sedans. But tonight, Noah was on his own with the chirping crickets and her. Cass. Her laugh so addictive that even in the short time he’d known her, it’d become like a drug he could never seem to get enough of. Those eyes he could lose himself in if she gave him the slightest invitation. That damned fire-red hair of hers he was just itching to get his fingers into.

  To prove it was only lack of shut-eye giving him such wild urges, he yawned.

  How easy it would be to fall asleep.

  To wake refreshed. Happy in the knowledge that Cass and her all-too-many temptations would soon be on their way.

  Trouble was, he couldn’t nap when he had work to do. Damned boring surveillance work that from this vantage point gave him a clear shot of a big chunk of the county along with all of Floyd’s south pasture. It seemed unlikely that Zane would strike the same place twice, but he’d been dumb enough to do that very thing three times before, meaning at least odds were in Noah’s favor. Once the kid had it in for someone, apparently he enjoyed terrorizing them again and again.

  Rumor had it Floyd had ticked off not only Zane, but a bunch of other neighboring kids by blocking the dirt road cutting through his south pasture. If you happened to be a teen late for school, barreling down Floyd’s rutted trail shaved a good twenty minutes off your trip.

  Closing his eyes for a split second, Noah rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. Hard to believe he’d once been as belligerent as any of the kids he was now constantly reprimanding. Just when he felt like rounding up the lot of them for a nice long stay at the county jail, Noah remembered himself at that age. And how old Sheriff Bowles had given him a second chance.

  How would he have turned out if he hadn’t been given that chance?

  Hard to say.

  Back then, with his folks always fighting, the only thing Noah had wanted was to escape. Fast cars, faster girls, fast-acting cheap booze that if only ’til the next morning’s hangover somewhat dulled the pain. His parents had taught him early on that marriage was nothing more than one big fight. Yet what had he gone and done just as soon as he’d cleaned up his life? Hooked up with Darla.

  One blustery long-ago October night, after drunkenly barreling his old Ford truck straight through Riverdale High’s football field only to slam it head-on into the visitor’s-side goalpost, Noah, his livid daddy, Sheriff Bowles and Coach Lockhart had all had a Come to Jesus meeting concerning the course Noah was taking with his life.

  By the end of the hour lecture, over grim-faced handshakes, in exchange for not having Noah formally charged and sentenced, the men had agreed to tame him the old-fashioned way. Meaning Noah’s father essentially turned his son over to the coach, who had in turn promised to make his life a living hell, starting off by ordering Noah to repair the damage he’d done to the field. From there, Noah was made slave to the team, always with the threat looming over his head that if he didn’t do exactly as he was told, he’d be headed to the slammer instead of the locker room to pick up more dirty towels.

  A year later, Noah ate, slept and breathed football—turned out he’d been pretty good at it, too.

  A fact which he’d discovered by accident one day when he and quarterback Munchie Stevens had been out horsing around with the ball before practice. By the end of that week, Coach put Noah in the game as first-string running back. When Riverdale won that year’s state championship and the next, scouts from all over had come to see him and his friends play.

  It was no surprise when the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville offered Noah a full-ride scholarship.

  His freshman year, he’d met up with Darla. She was a Tri-Delt. Once you try Delta, you’ll never go back. Tall, blond, always telling him he’d hung her moon and her stars—damn he’d fallen quick.

  Quick and hard.

  Kind of the same way he’d died when after they’d gotten married the summer between his junior and senior years, that Dallas Cowboy agent had come sniffing around. Promising him things country boy Noah had never dared dream of. Cars, cash, houses, vacations…

  That crisp autumn, he’d played like a well-oiled machine.

  Flying like an angel, said the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.

  And then he’d dropped like a stone.

  And all those dreams—poof.

  Disappeared, just like all dreams tend to do when exposed to the sun. Just as magically as Darla had entered his life—she was gone. Presenting him with divorce papers just before Christmas break. Just after the team doctor had told him with a solemn shake of his head there was nothing more he could do.

  Sorry son, but I’m afraid that knee’s never gonna be right. We did all we could, but…

  Swiping at a stupid sentimental tear for all that could have been, but was evidently never meant to be, Noah hardened his jaw and stared at that empty field, ignoring the dull ache in his knee.

  Come first light, he had to get Cass and her brood not only out of his town, but out of his mind. Something about the way that woman looked at him—the way those precious babies looked at him—stirred old longings best left buried.

  He’d tried the marriage route already. He’d sworn to love and protect and honor and cherish, and look what that’d gotten him. A big, fat divorce packet lying on his doorstep Christmas Eve.

  Yep, he thought, gazing across Floyd’s windswept fields dotted with round bales of hay and about four-dozen head of cattle. It was high time he swore off all women. Starting with Darla, adding every supposedly wounded member of that damned support group, and ending with Cass, every last one of them was trouble.

  Trouble he’d lived half his life knowing full well to steer clear of.

  So how come ever since Cass and her girls had entered his life, remembering his longtime vow to stay single was suddenly so—

  A knock sounded at his patrol car’s window.

  Noah jumped a good six inches, sloshing hot coffee all over his bum knee. “Dammit!”

  From outside came the low, familiar rumble of his dad’s laughter. “Jimmy said I’d probably find you up here.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” Noah scowled his way out of the car. After slamming the door, he flung what remained of his coffee into the weeds before setting the empty paper cup on the Blazer’s hood. “Question is, what’re you doing here?”

  The older man took a deep breath, gazed up at the stars. “Just got in from the square dance up on Round Mountain. Checked my machine, and saw that for the fifth straight day you still hadn’t called. What can I say? I was worried.”

  “Whoa,” Noah said, narrowing his eyes. “Back up. You? Square dancing? What’s up with that?”

  “This dog might be old, but he ain’t dead,” his father said with a wink. “Speaking of which, heard you’ve been doing a little barking yourself. Wanna tell me about her?”

  “No—and nice, subtle transition, there, Dad.”

  “I aim to please.” Right hand pressed to his chest, he did a sure-footed jig, kicking up enough dust to choke a horse.

  “You been drinking?” Noah asked.

  “Just high on life, son. High on life. Now come
on, tell me about her—or did you really think I came up here just to shoot the breeze with the likes of you?”

  Chapter Seven

  “You look awful,” Cass said the next morning, watching Noah edge through the front door. His normally neat sandy brown hair stuck out at crazy angles, and Cass had to squelch the urge to smooth it back into place.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way—more like I’m worried.”

  He shrugged.

  Never a good sign where he was concerned.

  “I made you breakfast,” she said in front of the kitchen sink, glad she’d already dressed in another of her standard black dresses. Somehow, being dressed in her business armor—as her friend and co-worker, Chloe, dubbed Cass’s seemingly endless array of black cotton, linen and silk—made her feel better equipped to deal with Noah. Not that being with him was a chore, but more like a lesson in frustration. Whenever she was even in the same room with him, she had a hard time knowing what to do with her hands. As for knowing what to say, she’d abandoned all hope of coming across as the confident, always composed businesswoman she was in Little Rock. For now, the best she could hope for was sounding logical!

  “Great,” he said, setting an official-looking beige hat on the counter. “I’m starved. What are we having? Eggs? Bacon?”

  “Better,” she said, drying her hands on a dishtowel before crossing to the stove. “An egg white, tofu and sprout omelet sprinkled with chives, fresh-squeezed orange juice and oat bran muffins with sugar-free plum preserves.”

  “Oh.”

  “Okay then,” she said with forced cheer. “Let’s eat. Today’s a big day.” While he took a seat at the cozy oak table, she bustled about the kitchen pouring their juice before taking the muffins from the oven. She put them in the cloth-draped basket she’d long since laid out on the counter, then added a pretty crystal bowl of preserves.

  “Wow,” he said once she’d joined him at the table. “This is quite a spread considering it’s barely past seven. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” When instead of eating, he just stared at his plate, she said, “Go on, dig in.”

  Looking almost reluctant, he finally reached for his fork.

  After eating for a few minutes in companionable silence, and after wishing the fat-free meal filling her belly was having the same playful effect on them as their burger had yesterday at lunch, Cassie said, “I, um, rescheduled that Fayetteville limo service to take the babies and me home. They’re going to put my car on a trailer.”

  Over my dead and bloated body. Noah fisted the white cloth napkin she’d ironed, then slapped it to the table. “Nope.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Look,” he said. “I appreciate your having gone to the trouble of hiring a fancy limo service and all, but round here, we do things a little different.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, that a girl goes home with the man who brought her.”

  “I’m still lost.”

  He rubbed his hands over his eyes and sighed. “I’ve already made plans to take you. I bought car seats. Jimmy’s getting the department trailer out of storage.”

  “But how is taking me back to Little Rock official business?”

  “It just is, all right?” Noah sighed.

  It was official because getting her out of town was the only way he could figure to get his mind off her and her cute kids and back on his job. And since he’d been acting in a semiofficial capacity when he’d offered her roadside medical assistance, that made it his duty to see her safely home.

  All the way home.

  Even better, the trip would provide much-needed closure. Something about this curvy little health nut was a trifle too attractive, too tempting. Tempting for what, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the sooner he got her out of his house, the better off he’d be.

  “Noah, I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said, “but I promised to take care of you the day we first met, and I damn well keep my promises.”

  Pushing her chair back from the table, Cass grabbed both of their plates and carried them to the sink. She’d finished her omelet, but Noah had hardly touched his. Just like he’d hardly touched her tofu alfredo the night before.

  He had to start eating more of her healthy concoctions or her feelings were going to end up hurt. But then why did he even care? He’d already established the fact that she was going home—today.

  “Look,” he said. “This isn’t a topic I generally talk about, but maybe you’ll better understand where I’m coming from if I let you in on something.”

  She once again joined him at the table. “I’m listening.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair.

  Stared out the window.

  Sighed.

  “Pretty early in my career,” he said, “I was first on the scene of a wreck after a big ice storm. It was bad—the storm, but especially the wreck. After doing this work for a while, you can kind of bet sick odds on who’s going to make it, and right off, I could tell the woman driver didn’t have a chance.”

  Cassie covered her mouth with her hands.

  “So anyway, I went ahead and called an ambulance. I mean, I’m all for miracles, but in the meantime, I felt so helpless. All I could do was sit there, holding her hand while she talked about her kids and husband, and how much she loved them. Elsie—that was her name—had two little boys. She wanted me to find their pictures in her purse, but seeing how there was now a tree where the passenger side used to be, I couldn’t find it—her purse.” Just thinking back to the horror of that day, Noah’s pulse raced and his palms began to sweat.

  “Her husband’s name was Hank,” he said a few minutes later. “Never forgot that. Toward the end, she said real plain, ‘Tell Hank I love him. Tell him he was my best friend.”’ Noah swiped at a few tears, sniffed. “So anyway, I felt responsible for her, Cass. I was in charge, and I let her die. On my watch, her life slipped right out of my hands.”

  Cassie shook her head. “That’s crazy. She would’ve died whoever showed up first. And sounds to me like it was a good thing you were there. Who else would’ve made her last minutes count?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said with a violent shake of his head. “I let her down, but that day on the side of the road with you, Cass, I told God He might’ve taken her, but He wasn’t taking you—or your babies. I made a vow to watch out for you, and come hell or high water, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  She stared at him, opened her mouth to say something, then clamped it shut, instead wrapping him in a hug.

  “Noah…” A long time later, she pulled back, brushed the hair back from his forehead. “The fact that you feel compelled to see me and the girls all the way home is an incredibly heroic gesture, but completely unnecessary. I know you mean well, but the way you’re so insistent on this point, it reminds me of the way Tom used to monitor my every move.”

  “Yeah, but whereas your former schmuck of a husband was watching out for his monetary interests, I’m watching out for you.” Standing, he said, “Truth be told, I really haven’t wanted you here, needing me 24/7, but helping you deliver Noelle and Hope was a pretty sacred moment for me, and no matter how awkward this is for us both, I’m afraid I have no choice but to watch out for you ’til you’re all safely back in Little Rock.”

  “But I already told you, I—”

  Hands on her shoulders, he kissed her cheek. On the surface, it was an innocent kiss. One he would have given his favorite aunt Cookie. But the feelings that had been evoked by pressing his lips to Cassie’s petal-soft cheek and breathing in her perfume were anything but friendly. They’d left him hungry. Wanting not her cheek pressed to his lips, but her mouth. He was tired of being her friend while wanting to be so much more. But why?

  He made the mistake of looking at her.

  Really looking at her.

&n
bsp; At her jade-green eyes staring at him all wide-open and questioning, and he promised himself just as soon as he’d dropped her and her girls off at their home, he’d take a few days off. Go fishing. Maybe rent a cabin over in Eureka Springs and hang out counting squirrels. Anything, just so he’d never again have to see her pained look of bewilderment.

  “Thanks again for breakfast,” he finally said. “I’m going to grab a quick shower, then we’ll be on our way.”

  JIMMY SLIPPED his key into the rusty padlock securing the gates to the Pritchett County storage lot, then pushed those gates open with a loud creak. After that, he swore he’d heard angels sing, for what else could be singing when he was gazing upon such a freakin’ heavenly car?

  There, before him, was all 186.3 inches of Cassandra Tremont’s sleek yellow Thunderbird convertible.

  And by God, given the choice between Pamela Anderson Lee agreeing to become his wife, or spending the rest of his life with this car, he’d have gone for the car.

  And now, he was actually gonna get to drive her!

  Sure, it might only be to load her onto the trailer, but that was enough. At least he could live out the rest of his life in peace knowing that they’d shared this one special time.

  He pressed the keyless remote, happily sighing upon hearing her sweet chirp.

  Easing his hand along the pale yellow finish, he curved his fingers under the door handle and eased it up, releasing the rich scents of full leather upholstery and spanking new carpet.

  The dash was a little dusty, but he’d take care of that. After all, it was the least he could do. Now that Cassandra had those other babies to deal with, she undoubtedly wouldn’t be able to spend near enough quality time with this baby, but until turning her back over to her rightful owner, Jimmy’d see to it that she received proper care.

  Settling onto the buttery-smooth leather seat, curling his fingers round the wheel, touching his feet to the pedals, Jimmy closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

  The girl actually had him trembling, but that was okay.

  She was hot.

  A little excitement was to be expected on such a momentous occasion.