“You’ve always wanted the chance to parade my bare ass around, haven’t you, Jenkins?” Rogan shouted.
“Hush, you’ll get us in more trouble,” Reed laughed, pressing her palm to his mouth.
His blood raced with wanting. He didn’t give a shit that Jenkins was there—he still remembered the officer as a scraggly-assed, scrawny little freshman in high school.
“Three seconds.” Officer Jenkins called out, ignoring Rogan’s taunt.
Rogan thrust his damp legs into his pajama bottoms. He knew he’d regret his impulsivity in the morning, but at the moment the only thing he regretted was not being able to finish what Reed had started.
Jenkins blasted the siren as a final warning.
Reed grabbed his hand and her shoes and started running up the small hill to the police car. Jenkins had opened the gate for them to pass through, so his leg was spared the effort of hopping the fence again.
The throbbing pain was worth the smile and the look of admiration on Reed’s face.
“Quit your goofy grinning, Rogan. This is a serious matter. I’m taking you into the station.”
“And here I thought you were taking me to the prom.”
Jenkins pushed Rogan’s head into the car.
“Don’t antagonize the officer, Rogan.” Reed warned.
“Listen to your lady. Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”
“Why yes, I do believe it is, Detective. Oh wait, you’re not a detective.”
“Shame, shame. Once an upstanding citizen, now about to be booked for public intoxication and trespassing, not to mention meddling with a public water supply.”
Reed shimmied closer to Rogan as Jenkins drove down the dirt road.
“Drop Ms. Peterson off up at the cottages, will ya?”
“I don’t think so!” Reed glared at Rogan, then pinched his arm.
“I’ll do no such thing, Rogan. You’re both coming with me.”
“It wasn’t her idea. She’s new to town—she doesn’t know the rules.”
“Nonsense,” Reed interjected.
Rogan squeezed her hand and gave her the look he gave his kids when he expected quiet and compliance.
“I’m not a child, Rogan. I assumed that since we were hopping over a fence, we weren’t supposed to be there.”
Jenkins raised an eyebrow as he glanced at them through the rearview mirror.
“I fully accept any punishment necessary. Please ignore anything Rogan says from here on out.”
“My pleasure,” Jenkins said, smiling.
“Reed…”
This time she was the one to deliver the “hush up” look.
He sat back in his seat, irritated beyond belief.
Jenkins led them into the small room behind the dispatcher, gesturing for them to sit around a table while he retrieved paperwork from a desk. When he returned to the table, he flipped a chair around and straddled it. He tossed his police hat onto the table, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Name, date of birth, address.”
“Who do you want first?” Rogan asked.
Jenkins gave him the evil eye.
“Don’t really matter to me. I think I’ll be able to sort out whose name goes with whose voice.”
“I’ll go first,” Reed piped up, sounding entirely too cheerful for the situation.
“Ladies first, by all means.” Jenkins said, scribbling on a notebook pad in an effort to get his pen working.
Reed gave her information, but clearly decided to make this into even more of a joke.
“Repeat your name, please. Slowly,” Jenkins ordered.
“Freedom Starshine Peterson. Would you like me to spell it?”
Jenkins nodded. Rogan glared, hoping she’d look over at him. She didn’t. Instead, she spelled out this phony name, which would only make Jenkins look like more of a fool than usual. He’d be pissed, and there would be no hope of getting off easy.
“Freedom, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” She sat up straighter.
Rogan shifted his weight to accommodate the tightness in his groin. Something about her regality turned him right the hell on.
“Reed, don’t mess with him. He may not be NYPD, but he does yield some power.”
She turned her eyes—her golden cat eyes—toward him. He felt instantly chastised.
“I wouldn’t mess with a man who dedicates his life to public safety. My name is Freedom.”
She turned back to Jenkins, who sat up a little straighter himself.
“My friend here is confused because I go by ‘Reed.’”
She paused, picking something off her tight, black, sexy-as-hell, thigh-enhancing pants.
“The Freedom part makes sense to me in some strange, patriotic way. But Starshine? You’ll have to explain that one to me.” Jenkins leaned forward in anticipation.
“My mother was a hippie.”
Jenkins chuckled, shaking his head and tossing his pen to the table.
“Do you have siblings? Are they named Liberty and Honor?” He laughed at his own joke.
Rogan suddenly wanted to punch him.
“Sisters. Simplicity, Paisley, and Harmony. But I recently discovered a wonderful author named Liberty. I didn’t make the connection to my own name until now.”
She smiled, lighting up the room and helping Rogan relax his fists. He noticed the faintest blush in her cheeks. She must have been having the same memories as him.
“I think Freedom is a nice name, ‘specially for up here in the Live Free or Die state.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
“Hey, you bought the old cottage motel property up on the hill, right?”
“I did.”
He smiled, then picked the discarded pen up and started flicking it back and forth between his fingers.
“I hear the town wants you out.”
Reed sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Is that right?”
“That’s the word around town.” Jenkins leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Not my place to say anything, of course, but I think you deserve the opportunity to rehab that old pile of junk.”
Reed nodded. Rogan again wanted to punch the ass.
“I appreciate that.”
“No offense. I’m sure you’ll get it up to snuff in no time. In spite of having this old fool helping you out.” Jenkins looked back and forth between Rogan and Reed. “If you want the name of some good contractors, ones that won’t have you breaking the law, I can help you out.”
Rogan’s fists tightened again, and he had to talk himself down from assaulting a police officer. Even a little shit like Jenkins.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Reed joked.
She’d better have been joking, anyway.
If that bastard winked at Reed one more time…
“Officer, I do want to apologize for my error in judgment. Rogan was being a gentleman, obliging my wishes.”
“Didn’t look like he was being very gentlemanly,” Jenkins interrupted.
“Hey, now!” Rogan roared, starting to get up.
Reed placed her hand on his arm, deflating his rage.
“I assure you, it was all consensual. I’m the one who showed up at his house. I’m the one who asked for alcohol. And again, I do apologize. If you knew my sisters, you’d understand. They showed up here. Uninvited. Full of advice. And they are staying.”
Jenkins groaned in apparent sympathy.
“Well, two of them showed up. Anyway, I am sorry, and I swear that I’m normally extremely law abiding. I donate to that police charity every year. I even participated in my neighborhood crime watch back in the city.”
“You can imagine, then, how the citizens of Healing Springs feel about their protected treasure being violated.”
“I do understand. Now, anyway. My head has cleared. I promise I will swear off rum for the rest of my life.”
“Wouldn’t want you to go that far,” Jenkins laughed.
“Oh, did I mention that I organized a fundraising ball every year for wives of fallen officers? That was when I was CEO.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I already planned to let you off easy before you started kissing ass.”
“That wasn’t my intention, I just wanted you to know how much I value your contribution to society.”
“Give me a break.” Rogan groaned, rolling his eyes in the exact same way his ten-year-old son would have.
“I’m telling the truth.” Reed held her hand up as if swearing the truth before a jury. “I wouldn’t lie to an officer of the law.”
Jenkins stood and laughed.
“Get out of here, you two. I have work to do.” Jenkins led the pair to the door. “But mark my words—if I catch you trespassing again, I’ll make an example of you. And if you breathe one word of this, your heads are mine. Can’t have people thinking criminal behavior is allowed.”
“Ooh, shaking.” Rogan mumbled.
Reed rewarded him with a sharp slap on the head.
“Thank you so much, Officer.”
“You want a ride up the hill?” Jenkins offered.
Rogan noticed the offer wasn’t extended to him…
“That’s okay, but thank you so much. I think I’ll walk off this buzz before I have to deal with the sisters who are hogging my bed.”
Jenkins raised his eyebrows, and Rogan could read his lascivious thoughts as if they were in blazing neon.
“Mind out of the gutter, Jenkins.”
Jenkins rested his hand on his gun. Rogan took that as his cue to leave.
The warmth of Reed’s lower back burned his palm and send fresh waves of need through his body.
Rogan didn’t live too far from town, but he wondered if Reed would be up for a tryst in the bushes before they continued.
“I suppose I have to face the reality of my dysfunctional family now.”
He pulled her out from under the streetlight, pressing her lightly to a tree.
“You don’t have to face any reality right now if you don’t want to.” He kissed her neck, breathing in her sweet scent.
He could feel her hesitation like a bucket of ice over his head. He was pushing. He was an ass.
He pulled away, groaning when she sighed at the loss of contact. He offered her his arm, which she grabbed onto, smiling.
“Always the gentleman, aren’t you?”
Not always.
But he didn’t answer.
He couldn’t. He had two heads, and only one of them was thinking right now.
Long before they reached his street, she had given up trying to talk to him.
By the time they reached his house, she went straight to his car. He didn’t bother to invite her in like he wanted to.
He pulled into her driveway, cursing himself for not making more of an effort to have a conversation.
Women liked to talk. They liked men who talked. That’s what he had heard, anyway.
This woman knew more about him than any other living soul. He had bared his deepest, darkest, most painful secrets to her. But he couldn’t talk about… what the hell was he supposed to talk about, anyway?
“So what’s your favorite color, Freedom Peterson?”
She must have been startled by his voice, because she practically hit her head on the window as she whipped around.
“My favorite color?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged.
Really, Rogan? Her favorite color? Smooth.
She leaned in for a kiss, and he happily obliged. This was the type of conversation he preferred.
“It’s purple. What about yours?”
“Gold. Like your eyes.”
She smiled and looked down. “You’re crazy.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Rogan…”
“Freedom.”
“No one calls me that.”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful name. It suits you.”
She snuggled into his side. He stroked her arm and rested his chin on her head, rising and falling with every breath she took.
“I’ve been Reed since high school. Couldn’t stand to be associated with that crazy hippie family.” She laughed, but it sounded forced. Pained.
“We all try to separate from our families when we’re young.” He kissed her head, taking a moment to inhale the scent of her hair.
“Yeah, but I can’t ever forget the look on my mom’s face when I screamed at her, telling her not to call me that stupid name ever again. I’m surprised she didn’t die from the pain then.”
“Parents are made of steel, Reed. Kids say mean things to their parents. Dylan loves to tell me he hates me, especially when he’s refusing to do his homework.”
“This was different.” Reed drew swirls on the back of his hand. “She came to the city, met me at my office building. It was right before I made CEO. I had just turned thirty, and had been working my ass off to be considered for the promotion. The last thing I needed was my hippie-dippy mother coming to my building with flower crowns to share and her long skirts blowing around. I was on my way out to a power lunch with some associates—it was humiliating.”
She took a deep breath and nestled closer.
“She kept yelling to me from across the crowded lobby. ‘Freedom!’ ‘Freedom!’ People looked at her like she was a crazy homeless person or something. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge or welcome her, so I pretended I didn’t see her. I kept walking while some of my associates directed security to get her out of the lobby. They laughed at her mismatched clothes. I stayed quiet.”
Rogan squeezed her shoulder. He didn’t know what to say.
“She probably didn’t know you saw her.”
“Oh, she knew. She wrote me a very sad letter about it, apologizing for making me so ashamed of her.”
“Then she understood,” Rogan assured her.
“Yes, but I was the one who should have been apologizing. My mother gave me and my sisters everything. How could I have turned away from her? She had spent what little money she had to come see her daughter in the big city, and I didn’t even have the courtesy to welcome her into my life.”
Tears soaked Rogan’s shoulder. A knot clogged his throat.
“She died before I could apologize. She had been coming to tell me she was terminally ill, and to celebrate our lives before she died. Her one last wish was to have all of her daughters with her once again, and I didn’t know that until it was too late. That’s why my sister Harmony won’t speak to any of us. One of the reasons, anyway. We were all too busy or too out of it to pay any attention.”
He stayed silent. She was pouring her heart out to him, unloading her pain. Nothing he said would fix the situation, so the best thing he could offer was his shoulder and his ear.
If he had a toolbox for fixing emotional damages, he’d whip it out and get to work.
She sniffled. He reached down to the compartment on the door and grabbed a napkin. He shook out any dirt that might be hiding in the creases, then handed it to her.
“Thanks.”
She wiped her tears as she pulled away to blow her nose.
“I’m really sorry. Talk about a date killer.”
“You didn’t kill anything.” Rogan reached his hand out, resting it on her thigh. “It’s good to talk about this shit. I’m here for you anytime.”
She burst out laughing.
She was even beautiful when she was red and blotchy from crying. He was in deep trouble.
“I mean it. I don’t have the right words to say back, but I’m a great listener.”
“Who listens to you, Rogan? Do you have someone you talk to? You know, about your shit?” She smiled.
“Why do you think I have so many dogs? The kids never listen and the dogs always do. Better yet, they don’t go yapping my business to anyone, either.”
“Good point. Maybe I need a dog.”
“I don’t think you’d be too into picking up their crap.”
“Another good point.”
“So I’ll be your dog—for listening, I mean. I’m potty trained.”
What the hell kind of idiot was he?
Jesus.
“Well on that note, I think I’m going to go battle for a place to sleep. The porch is looking pretty inviting right about now.”
“Come back with me. I’ll set up one of the kids’ rooms for you.”
“Thanks, Rogan. Really. You’ve been amazing. But I have to face my problems sooner or later.”
“Call me if you need me.”
“I will,” she said, opening the car door.
“Wait.” Rogan whipped his door open and ran around to her side, pulling the door open the rest of the way. “That’s my job. Oh, and tomorrow is the Fourth. You can’t miss the town extravaganza. I’ll pick you up.”
“I don’t know if I can take the time off. The town is breathing down my neck. I’m lucky they even gave me that little extension. I’m sure they won’t do it again.”
“We’ll get it done. But you’ll need a break.”
“We’ll see.”
“There’s no ‘we’ll see’ about it. I’ll be here bright and early—maybe my power tools will drive your sisters away.”
“You can take the holiday off, Rogan.”
“No-can-do.”
“I insist. I don’t know if my budget can support double time and a half.”
“That would be an issue if this were a simple business deal. But now this is more than that.”
“It is?”
She looked up at him, all innocent and vulnerable looking. He wanted to kiss the insecurity from her eyes.
“Hell yeah. I’m expected to bust my ass on the holidays for my girl, right?”
“Your girl?”
She sounded like she was trying to be the strong woman that she always was, but her body was singing a different tune as it leaned into him, practically begging him for confirmation.
“What would you call this?” Rogan asked, pulling her waist to his and lowering his face to tease her lips.
“I wouldn’t call it anything.” Her voice squeaked a little.
“No?” He barely grazed her lips, pulling away when she tried to kiss back. His mouth paved a trail across her cheek, nibbling and sucking on her earlobe. “What is this we’re doing?”
“Kissing.”
“Beyond that. This is the start of a relationship, Freedom Peterson. Nothing you say right now will change that.”
A Heart to Call Home Page 12