A Man of Honor (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Barrett, Linda

  And then he noticed her apron and the delicious aroma in the air. “Sold.”

  “It’s not gourmet,” she said with laughter in her voice, “but you’re basically a meat-and-potato man, and I know you always liked my special meatloaf.”

  Oh, yeah. “And twice baked…?”

  She nodded before he could finish the question. He suddenly wondered if she was setting him up. But for what?

  “Some wine?” she offered, reaching into the fridge.

  “I’ll wait for dinner. So, were you just in the mood to play in the kitchen today?”

  She handed him two large plates with cutlery and nodded toward the patio. “Not especially. I wanted to speak privately with you.”

  He’d known she had to have a reason for a private tête-à-tête, but he was disappointed. When he came back inside, he asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

  “David.”

  Her serious tone scared him. “Is something wrong? I had lunch with him two days ago, and he looked great.”

  “He’s fine, Patrick. Healthy. Really. But…he’s in love.”

  “He’s what?” His voice reflected his shock. How could he have missed that little factor in his son’s life?

  Anne started to giggle. “Oh, I’m so glad I wasn’t the last one to figure it out. In fact, David may be the last to know.”

  His brain hurt. Dave had a girlfriend and didn’t know it? But as he watched Anne’s expressive face light up, he almost forgot he had a son. It was the mother who held him captive.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I know,” he said, startling himself.

  Startling her. She waved the compliment away. “I want to talk about David.”

  He nodded and waited until the food and wine were transferred to the outdoor table. “So, what do you think I know that you don’t?” he asked.

  “Who’s Heather Marshall?”

  “Heather Marshall!” He put his wineglass down with a clunk. “She’s the one? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Patrick stared at her serious face and started to laugh. He laughed so hard, he had to hold his stomach. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he finally gulped. “It can’t be her. She’s the one driving him crazy. The one he’s always looking out for, the one who was almost killed a time or two.”

  Her eyes widened at that. “She’s done all that…and he still remains right there with her…like glue. And you say I’ve got to be kidding? Think!” Her satisfied smile told the story.

  “You mean…?”

  Anne nodded.

  So, in the end, with all his deductive reasoning skills, he was a dumb male creature who knew squat about women.

  “I told David to quit his job.”

  Words eluded him. Fifteen years disappeared. He and Annie were back where they’d left off.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HEATHER WASN’T SURE of the exact number of volunteers to expect on Saturday, but she packed her car with juice, water and boxes of doughnuts in case. A load of gardening tools and gloves filled her trunk. Gene was using their pickup truck to bring two lawn mowers—one new and one from the shelter.

  As she drove to Girlfriends early in the morning, she reviewed all the folks she’d notified. She’d contacted every friend she had in Houston, from Sara Patterson to colleagues at other social service agencies. She’d brought posters to neighborhood churches announcing the need for help every weekend. The board of directors of Welcome Home were also pitching in to spread the word. And then there was Dave McCoy, who’d called her at the shelter the day before to remind her that he’d have a bunch of friends coming. She sighed. Just what she didn’t need. Police officers scaring everyone else away.

  No. Erase that thought. She needed to be fair. Dave’s friends were hard workers; they knew what she was trying to do and they’d been supportive of the project. So, don’t mess up your volunteers, Heather. She’d also asked Mark to research some contractors, and he’d promised to be in touch quickly. Today was the first Saturday of October, and she only had three months to get ready. Her target was New Year’s Day. A new life for the kids.

  “I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything,” she murmured to herself as she pulled up to the building. At seven-thirty, hers was the first car there. She got out and slowly looked around her. It was a quiet residential neighborhood. The homes across the street showed no outward signs of life yet. She checked for the house keys in her pocket, and in ankle-high boots toured the outside of the building. The grass had grown taller since last Sunday. As she stood on the sidewalk surveying the intimidating grounds, Heather realized for the very first time that she’d never owned a home before and hadn’t the slightest idea how to garden.

  She started to chuckle, then laughed out loud. She laughed at herself—at the absurdity of her ignorance. And maybe she laughed because the stress of the past week needed an escape valve. Tears dripped from her eyes and she wiped them with the back of her hands. Jumping into the deep end was so typical of her. Jumping in and believing that somehow the job would get done. “Oh, my, my, my.”

  “You sure got up on the right side of the bed today.” A familiar masculine voice. “What’s got you going so hard that you didn’t even notice my truck?”

  She turned in time to see McCoy’s gorgeous grin. Gorgeous? When had anything about him become gorgeous to her?

  “The bed’s got nothing to do with it,” she replied. “I’m an idiot.”

  “Hey, watch it! You’re talking about my good friend, the intrepid Heather Marshall.”

  Intrepid. Heather shook her head and sighed. “I guess that’s me, all right. More guts than brains sometimes.” She led him to her car and reached for the refreshments. “Have a doughnut.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “No cop jokes, please, and especially not from you.”

  “Huh?” She glanced at him, then at the box of sweets. “For crying out loud, I never thought of that.”

  “In that case…” He reached for one.

  “So,” began Heather conversationally, “is there any chance you know how to use a lawn mower?”

  “A lawn mower? Of course I know how to run a lawn mower. Everyone knows how to run a lawn mower.”

  Not everyone, but she didn’t have to enlighten him. “Well, McCoy. This morning, you’re the go-to guy for lawns.”

  Another car pulled up. Then another. Within ten minutes, Heather had a dozen people around her. Three passed along Sara’s regards. One was from the dealership supplying the new van. And several teenagers showed up from the local churches. Boys and girls. Then two police officers and their spouses—Heather had met them at Yorkie’s house. Everyone was in high spirits, studying the challenge at their feet.

  “We’ve got two mowers, so let’s divide into two teams,” said one man. He had a deep, confident voice. “And the clippings will need to be raked.”

  Heather glanced toward the speaker, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, and dark eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He nodded to her.

  “Ms. Marshall, do we have any rakes?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Right here,” answered Gene at the same time. He started to distribute them.

  “How about electricity?” asked the man. “Any outside sources to plug in the trimmers?”

  “The electricity is on in the house,” said Heather, “but I don’t really know about outside connections. I’m sorry.”

  The man’s smile seemed familiar. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” He whipped out a pair of dark glasses and turned toward the gathering. As though waiting for a signal, two groups of volunteers emerged. Dave and the other man went to opposite sides of the building, each one pushing a mower. A half-dozen people, tools in hand, followed each man.

  Heather looked at Gene. “Maybe they don’t need us.”

  “Are you kidding? Give me the keys. I want to get a look inside one of these units.”

  “Thanks, Gene. I really appreciate the backup
. And your time.”

  The older man actually blushed. “Just trying to keep you out of trouble,” he grumbled.

  “I swear I don’t go looking for it.” She laughed as she handed him the keys. Then she started hauling cleaning items out of her car.

  Just as she slammed her trunk closed, she heard a noise like a gunshot and dropped to the ground. Her heart pounding, she peeked across the street, where a car backfired—again. Heather stood and brushed off her jeans, disgusted with herself.

  KATHY APPEARED an hour later, a tentative smile pasted on her face. Heather braced herself. She wrung out the ammonia-soaked rag she was using to wash windows in one of the apartments and placed it over the pail.

  “What’s up?” she asked, peeling off her rubber gloves.

  Kathy’s smile brightened. “Well, I’ve got good news…and I’ve got bad news.” Her smile faded.

  “Let’s go with the good news first,” Heather said.

  “You got a call from the Ford dealership. The new van is ready to be picked up. And it’s paid for in full.”

  Now that was great news. “In full? Are you sure? I knew we had a big down payment, but…?”

  Kathy nodded vigorously. “I’m absolutely certain. You had another donor. An anonymous donor.” Her cheeks grew pink, and Heather chuckled.

  “Anonymous, my foot. Mark, huh? He really shouldn’t have. He’s done enough for us already.”

  “He says it’s an investment.”

  “In your mental health, I bet.”

  Kathy grinned and nodded. “There’s that, but also an investment in the community. He can’t give time, so he’s giving what he can.”

  “Okay, okay. But I’m glad he’ll at least get a tax deduction from it,” replied Heather.

  Kathy rolled her eyes.

  “Kathy…I’m sorry. It’s just hard for me right now.” Heather started to pace. “I’m having a difficult time separating what people are doing for the new shelter from what people are doing for me, personally. I don’t want to generate gifts for the wrong reasons. Especially from your new family.”

  Kathy paled. “You’re still my family. I’m not leaving you….”

  Heather reached for her hand and squeezed it hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. But maybe you’re losing confidence in me after…everything. Maybe you think I’m the wrong person to head up Girlfriends now. The truth is I’m not even sure.”

  “Come with me into the sunshine for a moment,” said Kathy. They walked to the doorway. “Now stay right here. I’ll be back in half a minute.”

  And she was. With McCoy in tow. And another man. The other team leader.

  “Would you tell Officer McCoy what you just said to me?” asked Kathy.

  But her sister’s words flew over her head. “Holy Toledo. There are two of you?”

  Dave nodded. “This is my dad, Patrick. He knows construction and wants to help.”

  Heather nodded at the older man. “Thanks, but you look like a cop, not a construction worker.”

  “You’ve got a keen eye, Ms. Marshall. I’m retired HPD.”

  She looked from father to son. Dave would still be a handsome man in thirty years.

  “What’s wrong, Heather?” asked Dave. “What’s Kathy talking about?”

  She felt her face get warm. “It’s nothing. Just that…” And then she told them all about the car backfiring, about looking over her shoulder since last Sunday. “And you know how I am about locking the doors now. And how stupid is that since the perps are in jail?”

  The men didn’t laugh. “PTSD,” said Dave’s dad.

  “I think so,” replied Dave. “At least a mild case.”

  He studied her. “Ever hear of post-traumatic stress disorder? It’s what a lot of soldiers have after they’ve been in combat.”

  “Yes. Sure. I’ve got clients with the aftereffects of trauma. They’re easily startled and it takes them a while to…let it go.”

  “Your clients have an advantage,” said Dave. “They’ve got time to regroup, catch their breath. They’re living in a safe house with a ten-foot wall. But you’re back to work without a pause. Pretending everything is just like usual.”

  “But it’s my job,” protested Heather immediately. “It’s what I do. I can’t let the kids down.”

  A quiet moment passed until Patrick broke the stillness. “Son,” he said, “this one’s a keeper.”

  Dave’s face reddened. “Next week you’re staying home.”

  “Oh, no,” replied Patrick. “I’m having too much fun. Besides, this place needs a lot of work. And as for you, Ms. Marshall, you may not live in a safe house, but as long as I’m around, your back is covered.”

  She wanted to believe him. She believed that he meant it. And he seemed like an okay guy. But she’d spent too many years distrusting the uniform. She wouldn’t be awed by him. Or in debt to him. Or trust blindly because he was Dave’s father. Particularly when she was almost certain he was carrying a weapon—just like his son.

  “Thanks for your offer, Mr. McCoy,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But will you answer a question for me?”

  “If I can.”

  “Are you an honorable man?”

  ANNE MCCOY’S TEMPER flared. Did she hear correctly—did that woman just ask her ex-husband if he was honorable? Her lips tightened. What kind of question…who would ask…? Was this the girl David had spoken about nonstop? She hoped not. This girl was rude and obviously had no instincts for people if she could think Patrick was dishonorable.

  She held her anger and stood quietly in the silence that followed the question, watching the four in front of her at the entry to the building. She’d obviously arrived just in time. David and the dark-haired woman finally began to protest in unison. “Heather, how could you? Heather, you can’t ask…” Anne’s suspicions were confirmed. The blonde was the one.

  “How can you ask such a question?” The brunette sounded embarrassed and glanced apologetically at Patrick. Anne wanted to hug her.

  “I’m not taking any chances,” Heather said.

  “Then I would hope,” said Dave in a strained tone, “that you have the judgment to recognize the good in people.” His eyes pierced her.

  Anne cheered silently while she watched Heather tilt her head back to meet her son’s challenge. The girl’s expression softened a bit. Was there an apology being offered?

  “I don’t know him.”

  “But I do.” Anne interrupted loudly enough so that all eyes turned toward her. “Patrick wore a shiny, untarnished badge for thirty years, and I’d trust him with my life—or yours. Honor has never been a problem with the men in my family—either of them.” She walked forward, hand extended. “I’m Anne McCoy. I brought lunch.”

  DAVE’S MOM WAS TALL, slender and had gray eyes that resembled molten steel right now as she shook Heather’s hand with a firm grip.

  “They say timing is everything, Mrs. McCoy.” Heather smiled. “It’s nice to know you aren’t afraid to protect your own. If there were more like you, I’d be out of business, and that would be great…. Thanks for the lunch. A very big thanks. I forgot all about it.”

  “I’m sure you had other details on your mind,” replied Anne.

  Kathy answered. “A million details, but that doesn’t excuse how she attacked Lieutenant McCoy. I’m sorry about that.” She shook Anne’s hand. “I’m Kathy Marshall. Thanks for helping us.”

  Heather watched the instant rapport spring up between the two. She’d screwed up again.

  “I want to talk to you,” Dave said to her, “and we need privacy.”

  Uh-oh. She didn’t like this. They walked a short distance from the others.

  “What the hell were you doing back there?” Dave began. “My dad was offering to look out for you, and you spit in his face.”

  “I didn’t…”

  He glared at her.

  “I didn’t ask for a bodyguard,” she said. “And I don’t want one.”

&
nbsp; “He had the best of intentions, and you insulted him.”

  “Okay, I’ll apologize—”

  “Don’t bother unless you’re sincere. And then,” he said, “you can figure out why you were so damn arrogant in the first place.”

  “I have a problem with cops.”

  “But we get along just fine,” he replied.

  “Since when?”

  At his knowing expression, she felt heat rise to her face. They were becoming friends, and she was scared. Maybe she’d used Patrick to push him away. On and off duty, Dave was complicating her life. But his dad did deserve her apology.

  They returned to the group in time to hear Anne say, “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

  “We?” asked Patrick.

  “And why not?” Anne said. “Why should you and David have all the fun turning this house into a home?”

  And that’s when unexpected tears rolled down Heather’s face. “You understand,” she whispered. “A home. Not an institution.” She quickly wiped her cheeks. She looked at Anne, then Patrick. “Thank you both for that.”

  “No thanks needed,” said Patrick. “Children need a real home.”

  “Well, just look at that,” said Kathy. “Tears. You’ve made quite an impression on my little sister, Mrs. McCoy.”

  “I’ve got something in my eye,” protested Heather. “Come on. Let’s get everyone together for lunch. And then I’ll tell them…no, wait a minute….” Heather looked at Anne. “You said it in just the right way. How about I’ll introduce you, and you give a pep talk to the volunteers. I’m hoping they’ll come back next Saturday.”

  Anne tilted her head. “Are you sure? I don’t know much about it….”

  “You’re the original genuine homemaker,” said Patrick. “You’re perfect.” Admiration laced his tone, his expression. Patrick McCoy was beaming at his ex for anyone to see, as though he were as deeply in love with her as he must have been thirty years ago.

  “I’m not perfect, as you well know,” corrected Anne, her eyes sparkling. “But I can probably rally the troops.”