by Lacey Baker
“That was great!” she exclaimed, her eyes alight with a life he hadn’t noticed in her before.
“You like to ride, huh?” he asked, kicking the stand down and stepping off the bike himself. “I would have never figured you for a biker babe.”
At that she laughed. “Biker babe. I kind of like the sound to that.”
“Well, anytime you want a ride all you have to do is say the word,” he told her seriously. He had a flash of Drew and him riding down the open highway on his bike, the wind at their ears, no traffic in sight, and their entire future ahead of them.
“You’re not what I expected either,” she said, coming to touch a hand to his cheek.
“Then maybe we should release all expectations and see where we go from there.”
It was the most honest suggestion he’d ever made to a woman. But Parker figured if there was one woman who should know the real him, shouldn’t it be the mother of his child?
“Maybe,” she said quietly, dropping her hand from his face.
Then she yawned, lowering her head and lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she tried to hide it from him.
“Tired?” he asked anyway.
She nodded and looked at him once more, a small smile creeping across her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. More and more I’m ready for bed by eight and dead to the world by nine thirty.”
“Your body’s going through a lot of changes, preparing to carry the baby for the months ahead. It’s normal that you’re fatigued in these early months,” he told her.
“Wow.” Drew laughed. “You sound like a textbook.”
“What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” he told her just a little shyly. “I saw it on your nightstand last night, or rather earlier this morning when I couldn’t sleep.”
“You couldn’t sleep? Why?” she asked, then shook her head. “I mean, why didn’t you wake me? We could have watched another movie.”
Or made love again.
The words hung between them like a noisy chime. They both heard it, both knew that’s precisely what would have happened had he awakened her, and both didn’t want to accept what that revelation really meant.
“One film dated before 1960 is my quota for one night,” he said lightly. “Come on, let’s get you inside so you can get some rest.”
Once at the door, Drew pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked it. She stepped up onto the step that would take her inside and turned back to look at him.
“Thanks for the ride home and for telling me that Sexy Susan was the name of your bike.”
“Thanks for joining me for the ride and for not kicking my ass before I had a chance to explain that Sexy Susan was the name of my bike.”
They both laughed at that.
“Good night, Parker,” she said finally when Parker thought the silence between them was going to drive him nuts.
“Good night, Drew. Sleep tight.”
She smiled then. “You too.”
When the door clicked shut and she was out of his sight, Parker stood on the steps, his palms to the door, and lowered his head. She was the mother of his child, and he wanted her. He wanted all of her regardless of what she’d been programmed to think about him. And he was going to prove that his reputation had died the day he’d left Sweetland.
Chapter 12
Rufus was in Parker’s room when he returned to the B&B. He’d been keeping close tabs on his dog since last night’s runaway incident. For whatever reason, the dog wanted out of the B&B. Parker couldn’t figure it out, since Rufus was perfectly content running around the backyard with his mother and siblings all day long. He took his meals, had gone for a swim earlier in the morning with Parker after his morning run, all as he normally had. Yet Parker had been nervous about leaving him in the pen with the others today. So he’d brought him to his room and let him have free rein there.
Looking around now, he figured that might not have been such a great idea. Labs were generally very sociable and playful pets. They needed lots of love and attention, and for the months he’d been here, Parker had been able to give Rufus that. He remembered the day the will had been read and they’d all found out that each would inherit a puppy—Michelle had been the unlucky one to inherit Cleo, the mother, and the pup Lily. Savannah, Parker, and Quinn had been the most averse to keeping their dogs. Gramma had left a clause in the will stating that if they found the puppies a loving and caring home, they could get rid of them, but no one had resorted to that method yet. Parker hadn’t even considered it. Sure, he lived in the city and worked long and unpredictable hours, but something about receiving the dog and part ownership of the B&B had just seemed right to him.
Now, standing with hands on his hips, looking around the main sitting room of the space he occupied in the B&B, he was having second thoughts.
On the table where he kept his laptop and the mail that was being forwarded from the city, the cup he’d been drinking out of before he’d left earlier today had been knocked over. There had been water left over in that glass, and Parker cursed, heading in that direction first. He picked up the laptop, turning it over to survey the damage. Luckily, the pile of mail had absorbed most of the water so there wasn’t any damage to the laptop. But books that were stacked on one of the end tables had been knocked down, and all the magazines that had been on the lower level of the coffee table now littered the floor. One side of the curtain at the window was lopsided, frayed at the edge.
“I punish you for running away and you trash my room. Not a good decision, Rufus,” he said to the dog, who had already taken his leave, heading into the bedroom without so much as a backward glance. “And I know you hear me in there!” Parker roared as he went around the room picking things up.
He fell to his knees, frowning only slightly with the pinch of bending his bad knee and plopping it down on a hard surface. Now and forevermore his knee would be held in place by pins, a fact that had been a little hard for him to swallow immediately after the accident, but one that he’d been slowly getting used to.
Parker found the remote control and yelled Rufus’s name. He found a rawhide bone chewed almost to bits and figured at least the dog had made use of it before losing his interest. Then he pulled from beneath the chair a long envelope with his name printed on the front: DETECTIVE PARKER R. CANTRELL.
Parker sat on the couch, trying to remember if he’d seen this envelope in the room before this moment. The fact that he was almost positive he hadn’t had him lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. That was Parker’s tic, a quick tingle running down the base of his neck that meant something was out of whack.
Without another thought, he opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. There were pictures, lots of them, some falling to the floor as he reached forward to drop the rest on the table. He leafed through them, his gut clenching at the sight of him and Savannah arm in arm as they’d walked down the steps of the front porch the morning of Gramma’s funeral. There were more from inside the church of Michelle and Raine, Preston and Quinn. Candid shots of each of the puppies and Ms. Cleo, one of Mr. Sylvester sitting on that bench he loved in the backyard.
Parker picked up the ones from the floor and cursed, low and fluent. There was a picture of him riding down the highway, one of his bike swerving off the road, and another one of him slamming into the tree that busted his knee open. That one Parker crumpled. He closed his eyes and tried counting down from one hundred to calm the rage boiling steadily inside him. Around ninety-five he gave up and stood, walking with quick strides to his laptop. With quick pecks of the keys, he began the booting process and pulled his cell from his side pocket.
“It’s Cantrell. I need you here. Now.” That was all he said, all he’d had to say.
* * *
She wasn’t being silly. It was a natural request, and if he didn’t want to go, well, then that would be fine, too. She wasn’t going to force him, she’d already sworn she’d never force him to do anything he didn’t want to w
here this baby was concerned.
The fact that it had been over a week—almost two, to be exact—since Parker had kissed her good night on her doorstep made this task a little harder. Still, Drew stepped up onto the front porch and was about to open the screened door when a voice stopped her.
“You walk over here?” Mr. Sylvester asked from his chair, which had been pushed toward the corner so that he was angled to see more of the street.
“Oh,” Drew said, startled because she hadn’t realized he was there. “Hi, Mr. Sylvester. Yes, I walked.” She neglected to tell him that the reason she’d walked was that she was in such a hurry to get away from her mother, she’d left the flower shop through the front door and didn’t want to go back inside to go out back to where her car was parked. Lorrayna was watching the shop for the afternoon since Drew had an appointment. Her mother was in one of her moods, so Drew didn’t think the flower shop would do much business while she was gone. Lorrayna in a mood was more than enough to scare anyone off, but Drew had no choice; she’d had to ask her to fill in for her. She really needed to think about hiring an assistant, especially as she went further into her pregnancy and would need to take time off for the delivery. But right at this moment, Mr. Sylvester was demanding her attention.
“Should you be doing all that walking in your condition?” he asked when she made another attempt to go inside.
For a minute Drew was about to ask him what condition. To her knowledge, her pregnancy wasn’t public knowledge. But the Cantrells knew, and that was most likely why Mr. Sylvester knew. He was like a part of their family.
“Exercise is actually good for my condition,” she replied. “And the walk’s not that far.”
“It’s hot out here today,” he continued, his thin lips turning down into a frown. “Too hot for you to be waltzing around in the blazing sunlight. I’ll bet you’re thirsty.”
He’d grasped the sides of the chair and was struggling to stand. Drew went to him and grabbed hold of his arm, only to have him pull away.
“I don’t need the help. You do. Anybody crazy enough to walk around in this heat needs a lot of help. Come on in here, let me get you something to drink.”
Drew could have argued that the walk hadn’t affected her. Well, not any more than every other activity she undertook lately. For all that her first trimester had passed with average to sometimes severe morning sickness, her second trimester plagued her with unimaginable fatigue that she was trying desperately to cope with.
Mr. Sylvester, on the other hand, looked a little peaked himself. His brow was sweaty, but that could have been from sitting out here on the porch in ninety-plus temperatures. He managed to get up from the chair and stood still a few seconds before taking another step. He looked shaky, but she wasn’t going to attempt to help him walk again for fear he’d snap at her once more. She did, however, stick close to him as they walked into the house together and straight back to the kitchen.
On the way, Drew waved to Natalie, the front desk clerk, who was taking a sip of one of her favored energy drinks. Natalie was probably in her late thirties and used to teach at the elementary school in Easton, but she’d retired early because of a stress-related illness. Uncle Walt had given her the rundown one night when Natalie had come into The Crab Pot with her ex-husband, Bob. They’d ended up arguing, Bob had stormed out, and Natalie had sat at the table crying. Uncle Walt said her sanity had been fragile ever since the breakdown that ended her career and her marriage simultaneously. Drew was happy to see her smile, even though word around town now was that she was addicted to those energy drinks and worked part-time at the B&B so she’d have money to order them in bulk online.
Shaking her head as they entered the kitchen, Drew reprimanded herself for rehashing the town gossip, even if it was just to herself. She knew how hurtful lies and assumptions could be, not only to a person’s reputation, but also to the victim’s well-being.
“Why don’t I fix you something to drink, Mr. Sylvester,” she said, moving quickly to the refrigerator and praying he wouldn’t argue.
He paused by one of the chairs at the Formica-topped table and vintage chairs that Michelle kept in honor of her grandmother.
“Well, since you’re already over there,” he mumbled.
Drew heard the chair slide across the floor and assumed he’d taken a seat. She opened the door to one of the Sub-Zero refrigerators—Michelle used one to house most of the supplies for the restaurant and inn and a second one to keep stuff for the family. As Drew had been spending time with Heaven in the last few months, she’d been privy to this information and knew just where the family refrigerator was and that it was okay for her to get herself and Mr. Sylvester something to drink from there.
She was sitting at the table with him, watching as he drank his lemonade slowly, when Michelle came in.
“New guest checking in,” she was saying as she entered. “He’ll be in the Sunshine Room. Doesn’t know how long he’s going to stay.”
Michelle was speaking to Raine, who came in right behind her, a notepad and pen in hand, jotting down things as Michelle spoke.
“Oh, hey, Drew. Mr. Sylvester,” Michelle said, pausing momentarily.
“He’s a Major League Baseball player,” Michelle continued. “Wanted me to know that right away since I didn’t act like I recognized him, I guess.”
“I know who he is,” Raine said, lifting her head from writing for a moment. “How are you feeling today, Drew?”
Drew smiled at the sisters as they worked together, looking more like partners every day. Heaven had told Drew how the siblings were just getting to know one another all over again after everyone had been away. The ownership of the B&B and those puppies had formed yet another bond between them that some were still struggling with.
“I’m feeling good,” she replied, only partially lying. “You two look busy. Anything I can help with?” She made the offer because she sensed that sitting with Mr. Sylvester would lead to a conversation she didn’t want to have—one where he would give her advice she’d have to pretend to be interested in taking.
“New guest came in this morning,” Michelle said, pulling boxes out of the B&B refrigerator. “He’s got more luggage than Savannah, and you know how Savannah travels.”
Raine laughed.
“Should have seen when that girl arrived,” Mr. Sylvester chimed in. “The driver was so out of breath by the time he finished bringing in all her bags, I tipped him myself.” The older man chuckled.
Drew smiled, loving the homely feel of sitting in this kitchen with them.
“I don’t think we’ll need help with him per se,” Michelle said in response to Drew’s question. “But if you’re available to help serve tonight, Hoover and his booster club are having their annual meeting here. They’re taking all of the deck and some of the yard space to set up their casino games.”
“Wow, casino night at The Silver Spoon,” Drew remarked. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” Then she remembered her sole reason for coming to The Silver Spoon in the first place—to see if Parker was available this afternoon. “I have a doctor’s appointment in about twenty minutes, then I’ll come back here.”
“What does a man have to do to get some lunch around here?”
The question came from the newest person to enter the kitchen. He was tall, with a slim but muscular build, eyes the color of the sea, golden-blond hair slicked back with precision, a strong jaw, and a deadly smile.
“Jared?” Drew whispered.
* * *
“Hold on a minute,” Jared called after her.
Drew didn’t listen. She was back at the front desk when he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Let go of me!” she yelled, attempting to pull her arm from his grasp.
“Not until you at least talk to me. Damn, it’s been years and you’re still running away from me,” he told her.
“That’s because I don’t have anything to say to you! I didn’t then and I don’t now
.” She yanked at her arm again, but he had a tight grip.
She remembered that about him and felt a wave of dizziness. Her knees buckled and she would have gone down but for two things: 1) Jared was holding her firmly, so if anything she might have just dangled there if she passed out; and 2) Parker appeared.
“I believe the lady asked you nicely to let her go,” Parker said, coming up behind Drew. He’d slipped one arm around her waist, effectively keeping her from crumpling to the floor.
His other arm had extended, his hand wrapping around Jared’s wrist.
“I’m not going to be as nice when I tell you to get your goddamned hands off of her,” he continued in a lethal tone she’d never heard him use before.
“We were talking,” Jared replied, looking at Parker as if he were a fly on the wall.
Drew figured Jared probably shouldn’t have done that. In the next instant she was pushed aside, her arm wrenched from Jared’s grasp. Parker’s right arm moved quickly, his fist connecting with Jared’s jaw with a sickening crack. Natalie screamed as Jared fell back against the highboy table that held one of Drew’s arrangements and brochures about the inn. Raine, Michelle, and Mr. Sylvester had come into the front desk area by that time, and Raine was moving to Drew’s side.
Michelle rushed to Parker, grabbing him and pushing him back when Parker looked as if he’d swing on Jared again.
“You bastard!” Jared roared when he’d managed to stand upright again, one hand gripping his jaw, the other pointing at Natalie. “Call the cops—I want this idiot in jail!”
When Natalie had finally clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, she looked from Parker to Jared and back to Parker again in question.
“Now!” Jared roared.