This Hero for Hire

by Cynthia Thomason

  Boone coughed into his hand, and she shot him a warning look.

  “Me, either,” Lila said. “I can’t keep a houseplant alive. All I know about growing things is how the finished product looks in the supermarket.”

  “That’s all most people know,” Susannah said.

  “So I guess you’ll be at the governor’s campaign office most of your time, right?”

  “There or at my office at home,” Susannah said. “If you ever have occasion to hang out with me, I’m sure it will be one of those two places.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ve got to go.” Lila stared up at Boone. “You take care of our boy here. We miss him down at the station.”

  “I’m sorry to keep him away from you,” Susannah said.

  “Can’t be helped. Your daddy runs the state.” She play-punched Boone’s shoulder. “Behave yourself, cowboy. And don’t worry about the rest of us on the job. James is working out really well.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t. After a brief goodbye to Susannah, Lila walked quickly back to her truck.

  When her taillights had disappeared down the drive, Susannah stood quietly, her boot tapping softly in the dirt. After a moment, she sighed and said, “Hmm...”

  “What does that mean?”

  She smiled at him. “That’s about the worst case of a hard crush I’ve ever seen,” she said. “That girl is crazy about you.”

  Boone cleared his throat. “She’s young, confused. That’s all it is.”

  “I don’t know. Is the feeling mutual?”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “Doesn’t that question cross our boundaries of a professional relationship?”

  “I suppose it does. And we wouldn’t want to do that.”

  A hot flush crept into his face. Not much.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FOR THE NEXT two weeks Boone and Susannah conducted themselves as if they hadn’t “almost kissed” in the field. They maintained the lines of their professional relationship and avoided physical contact. Boone fixed his own meals and Susannah provided popcorn on the nights they watched movies they’d agreed upon without much argument. Living at the mansion had become familiar, pleasant and, for Boone, unbearably tense.

  As the hours stretched by with nothing more serious occurring at the house than a raccoon raiding the garbage can, Boone had to accept that the one brief but unforgettable moment at the farm would not be repeated. He could initiate something, he supposed, but if he’d read Susannah wrong and she wanted no part of him—beyond his land, of course—that would be a stupid mistake and make things even more stressful as they continued to share a house. And so he grew restless. He missed his job, the people he helped, the minor crimes he investigated.

  True, Mount Union wasn’t a hotbed of illegal activity, but his days were usually busy and filled with what he’d been trained for, which didn’t include watching over a farming girl—one who has more education in her résumé than a rocket scientist, he kept reminding himself. Nor did it include chauffeuring her to his grandfather’s farm to participate in a scheme he’d promised to keep secret from her father.

  Boone assuaged his conscience on that point by telling himself that Rhodes hadn’t asked him to report on Susannah’s daily activities. In fact, the governor had left with the distinct impression that he didn’t want to know.

  As the relationship settled into a daily routine, minus the almost kiss, Boone felt more and more like a nursemaid, no longer his own man. But he couldn’t complain. Susannah hadn’t tested his patience as he’d thought she might, and for that he was thankful. She’d pretty much accepted that where she went, Boone was bound to go. And despite being Tramp to Susannah’s Lady, there were definite advantages to being the man who was closest to the governor’s daughter. He saw her all the time, and he could sometimes allow his imagination to run wild.

  On Wednesday, near the end of a beautiful September, Boone dropped Susannah at the Main Street location of the governor’s campaign headquarters. This had become their schedule. Finish chores at the farm and then head into town, where Boone would either stick around the governor’s office or leave Susannah with volunteers he personally knew. On this day, six volunteers were working in the office, so he left Susannah with them while he headed over to his apartment to check on things there.

  The parking lot of Union Square, as the small complex of four buildings was aptly named, was nearly empty—not unusual for midday. People living in these apartments were working-class folks and a few seniors, who ran errands while the sun was up.

  He was surprised to see one of Mount Union’s six police cruisers in his rearview mirror. His first thought was that he was glad he’d stopped by. If a fellow officer needed help with a situation at Union Square, Boone was happy, no, anxious, to provide it. A taste of real police work was just what he needed right now.

  Boone pulled in front of his apartment unit and parked. The cruiser stopped perpendicular to him, blocking him from backing out. Strange. Plenty of guest spots were available.

  Strange until he saw Menendez get out of the car. She was alone. No Halloran in the passenger seat.

  Boone waited by his truck until Lila approached. “What’s going on, Menendez?” he said. “You’re not supposed to be out without your partner.”

  “James is booking a DUI, and I was bored. So I thought I’d do a little patrolling. Then I saw you turn onto your street.”

  “No mystery there,” he said. “I often pull onto my street.”

  She frowned. “I know that, but I thought maybe there was trouble here.”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then why are you out without your shadow? Did you need some contact with us common folks, or is the mansion not suiting you these days?”

  He took a deep breath to steady a spark of irritation that ignited inside him. “I don’t have a problem with the mansion,” he answered. “But if you want to know, I came over to get my mail, water my one stupid plant and throw out the carton of now spoiled milk from the refrigerator.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, since it’s nothing too important, can we talk a few minutes?”

  He didn’t feel like talking. He felt like familiarizing himself with his old tension-free life, his things, the struggling plant someone had sent him when his grandfather died. But this was Menendez, who, besides being persistent and a sometimes pain in the neck, had a crush on him. So...sure. “You want to come up?”

  She followed him up one flight of stairs to Unit C. He’d never had her over to his place. In fact, very few women had been to his apartment. The ones who had, he’d believed had the potential to be pretty special. But reality had always interfered.

  “Do you want something to drink?” he asked when she followed him through the door. “I don’t know what I have, so it’ll be potluck.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” She stood in the middle of the living room and surveyed his belongings. Her gaze lingered on the photos of his two nieces displayed on his bookcase. He had lots of pictures of his brother’s kids and especially liked the ones of Anne and Ellen with their Uncle Boone. Maybe Menendez would find the pictures strange in a guy’s apartment, but he didn’t have any children of his own, not yet.

  She seemed interested in his trophies from four football seasons at Mount Union High School and his art posters of movies and TV shows he’d liked through the years. Scarface, for instance. The Sopranos. The Lion King for his nieces. And one movie that got him every time he watched it, The Descendants. After his breakup with the woman he thought would be the forever love of his life, Boone watched that movie for the first time and decided there were worse outcomes than the struggle to heal the broken heart of a rejected lover. Dealing with kids adjusting to divorce was one of them.

  He popped the top on a can of soda and brought it to Lila.

  “T
hanks.” She took a swig. “I like your place. It’s a lot bigger than mine. What do you have, two bedrooms?”

  “Yeah. When my nieces are in town, they stay with me at least one night. I have a room fixed up for them.”

  She nodded toward the bookcase, where the bottom shelf was stacked with kids’ board games. “I figured. Plus I’ve seen you with kids. You’ll be a great dad when the time comes.”

  If it ever does. There were several reasons Boone could be jealous of his brother, and sometimes, like when he thought about marriage and kids, the unhealthy emotion crept up on him and made him resent Jared’s successes. Mostly, though, he worked extra hard not to be envious by telling himself that his life was pretty darn good, too. He didn’t have to answer to anyone. He could make his own decisions without wondering how they would affect anyone else.

  And deep down, Boone didn’t want Jared’s life, at least not the way he lived it now—in the city fighting traffic and impatient people all day long. But Boone dreamed about the advantages of having a supportive wife and two wonderful kids. Not counting the city life, Boone hoped to add to his own life in the ways Jared had.

  He removed the TV remote and an assortment of outdoor magazines from his sofa and motioned for Lila to sit. He took a chair. “So what’s going on, Menendez? What do you want to talk about?”

  “I miss going on patrol with you,” she stated bluntly.

  Boone immediately started wondering how he was going to handle another personal conversation with Lila.

  “What about James?” he said. “How’s he working out?”

  “Great. James is a good cop. And he’s easy to get along with.” She gave him a sideways glance. “He’s more pleasant than you, actually.”

  Boone chuckled. “That’s saying a lot. I’m usually the cruiser clown.”

  Lila rolled the soda can in her hands. “I suppose there’s something I should tell you.”

  His gaze darted from the can to her suddenly serious eyes. “Okay.”

  “James asked me out on a date. He isn’t the type to take no for an answer, so he’s asked a couple of times.”

  Boone released the breath he’d been holding. No one was sick. No one had died. In fact, this could be interpreted as good news.

  “I told him I was involved with someone,” she added.

  “Why’d you tell him that? Unless you’ve finally given one of your many admirers a break.”

  “No, nothing like that. I just don’t know if I should accept James’s offer.”

  “Well, I think it’s terrific.” Boone couldn’t ignore the hurt look that crossed Lila’s face. “No, I mean it, Menendez. If you’re concerned about dating within the department, don’t be. James will be going back to Libertyville as soon as my assignment is done, so you won’t be seeing each other professionally. Until then, just keep it on the QT.”

  “You mean you don’t care if I go out with him?”

  Boone shuddered at Lila’s plaintive tone. He knew the answer she wanted to hear, but he couldn’t give it to her. “I’d care about anyone you dated,” he said. “We’re friends, you and me. But from what I can see, James is a stand-up guy. Look, Menendez, every single guy within ten miles of this town has tried to date you. And James seems to top ninety percent of them. I’m certainly not qualified to offer dating advice, but if you like him, I’d say go for it.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Then maybe I will. But it might interest you to know, Boone Braddock, that there is a man in this town I’ve wanted to date for almost two years. Unfortunately, he’s too thickheaded to even notice me.”

  Oh, here it comes. He rubbed his nape and sat forward in the chair. “I’m not thickheaded, Menendez. I know...”

  “You think it’s you?”

  “Yes, I think it’s me.”

  “Well then, why haven’t you said anything or done anything? Why do I always have to be the one to try and set something up? Why...”

  He reached across the space and settled his hand on her knee. “Lila, you know why. You’re one of my best friends. And as a partner, I couldn’t ask for anyone better. But I just don’t feel—”

  She stood. “Don’t say it. This is humiliating enough as it is.”

  “Menendez, I don’t feel what a guy is supposed to feel to enter into a romantic kind of relationship.” Why did he suddenly think of a pert blonde with freckles?

  “You may believe I don’t know you, Boone, but I do. I know you inside and out.”

  “I’m sure you know me about as well as anyone does.”

  “I know you want to be married, to have a family and children. I know you’d probably move into your grandfather’s old house and get a dog and keep the farm going.” She pointed at her own chest. “I would be content with all that. I would give that to you.” Her voice caught. “But you’d rather throw away what I’m offering and stay miserable and unfulfilled.”

  “I’m not giving up on those things,” he said, tamping a rising anger. He didn’t appreciate her insinuating that she was his only chance. “And I’m not miserable. When, and if, love strikes for me, I’ll know it.”

  “Yeah, so for now you’re hoping the princess will fall for you, right? I saw you two the other day...”

  She’d seen the near kiss. And because she was right about knowing him well, she’d probably sensed the tension when they’d talked that day. “My relationship with Susannah Rhodes is off limits in this conversation.”

  “Fine! Then I’ll go out with James. He’s handsome...”

  “I guess I’d agree with that.”

  “And he has impeccable manners.”

  “Good for him. It’s nice to have a door-opening kind of guy around once in a while.”

  “And he appreciates me.”

  “I’m sure he does, Menendez. And why shouldn’t he? You are a fine person.”

  “All right, then. You can sit in this apartment or that fine mansion however long you want to and wait for someone else to bring his children for you to play with. I’m not wasting any more time on you!”

  She started for the door. He took a step toward her and stopped. “Come on, Menendez, don’t be...”

  She whirled on him. “Stop calling me by my last name! I’m Lila Consuelo! It’s a family name. A beautiful, feminine, lyrical name. And from now on, use it!”

  She slammed the door behind her.

  * * *

  LILA’S HANDS WERE shaking so badly, she could hardly get her key in the ignition. Tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat. “How could you demean yourself like that?” she asked her blurry reflection in the cruiser’s rearview mirror.

  Boone Braddock was a lost cause. That’s all he’d been for two long years, and she had to stop pining for him like some simpering little girl who’d lost her dolly. He wasn’t worth her effort. She was a trained law enforcement officer and should never let one man’s opinion make her cry.

  She’d go out with James and look forward to it. Now, there was a gentleman who could appreciate all she had to offer. And she could learn to like him. Maybe even love him.

  Pulling into the station parking lot, Lila considered whether she was just fooling herself. Was she doomed forever to love the wrong man? She wiped a stray drop of moisture from under her eyes. No. She had to get over Boone. She had to try. She’d find James and tell him she wanted to go out on a real date and hope he hadn’t changed his mind.

  She went into the station and headed directly for the ladies’ bathroom so she could freshen up before joining James out on the road. The first thing she noticed about the bathroom was the sweet floral scent. And next she saw a single red rose taped across the center of the old twelve-by-fourteen-inch mirror above the washstand. Underneath it was a simple note. “L.M. Couldn’t resist this flower when I saw it. Hope it makes you smile into th
is mirror. J.”

  And it did. And she was smiling when she went into the squad room and thanked him.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S THE MATTER with you?” Susannah stared at Boone’s rigid profile. Since he’d picked her up at the campaign office fifteen minutes ago, he’d hardly said two words, and those two she couldn’t understand.

  His lips didn’t seem to move when he mumbled, “Nothing.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  Well, that was a lie. Susannah knew when someone was bummed out, and Boone certainly was. She didn’t think it was anything she had done. At least not overtly. Last night she’d coerced him into sitting with her while she watched Notting Hill for the third time, but tonight she’d promised to watch his choice, an action flick. And she was cooking—pasta and marinara sauce, and she’d bought some sausage that he could pan fry if he wanted to feed his red blood cells. They were learning the art of give-and-take, and she believed it was working...as professionals in a contrived situation, who had almost kissed. Oddly, she was also beginning to enjoy nearly everything about this relationship.

  Watching for a change in his expression, she said, “Doesn’t look like nothing. If you’re worried that I’m not doing what I should be for my father’s campaign, don’t be. Everything’s going fine.”

  Her cell phone rang, preventing her from probing more deeply. She checked the caller ID. “It’s my mother. I have to take this.”

  He flashed her an incredulous look, as if to say, “Duh, why wouldn’t you? It’s not like we’re talking here.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Miranda Rhodes was an energetic, enthusiastic, creative woman who treated each day as a gift from whatever goddess she was tuned into at the time. At least she had since she’d divorced Albee and taken flight into her own world. Susannah never understood what had drawn her parents together in the first place. While Miranda discussed details of the artist’s showing she was sponsoring at her California gallery, Susannah listened attentively.

  “Sounds like it will be a fabulous night,” Susannah said when she could fit in a word.