by Brenda Novak
“What is it?” He knew she’d just spoken to the policeman who’d arrested Sebastian and Eddie. She’d also notified the detective who’d been working Charlie’s case.
“Sebastian and his brother are going to jail for a long time. They’ve got a whole list of offenses—assault with a deadly weapon, battery, breaking and entering, possession. I can’t even remember them all. But I think they had disturbing the peace in there, too.”
Rod let his head fall back. The surfeit of adrenaline had drained him. “A long time. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
She nodded to the doctor, who had his prescription pad out. “Is he going to be okay, Doc?”
“He’s going to be fine.”
“Good,” she said and rubbed her hands on a shaky exhalation.
“Is that it?” Rod prompted. “Is that all the police had to say?”
She came to his bedside and took his hand. “Not quite. They have the gun. They can’t confirm it’s the weapon that killed Charlie. That’ll require a ballistics test. But I’m hopeful—and so are they. It’s the right caliber, so...there’s that.”
He caught the scent of her perfume as she leaned over to peck his lips. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt any worse,” she said.
“We have a lot to be grateful for.” He took her hand. “You must be relieved to know that Cassia will be safe when she comes home.”
“Absolutely.” She smoothed his hair off his forehead. “And it’s all because of you.”
She’d come to the Bay Area first, before he’d decided to join her at the motel. He didn’t feel he should get all the credit, but the doctor spoke before he could respond. “That’s it, Mr. Amos. You’re all set.” He handed Rod the prescription he’d been writing. “This is for an antibiotic. Take the whole bottle, as directed. Who knows what kind of germs were on that blade.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
“You bet. You can get your things and go.” The doctor gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze before heading out.
Rod was so exhausted, he’d fallen asleep at various points during his treatment. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to walk out under his own power, especially since he was high on painkiller. India had to help him put on his shirt, and she let him lean on her as he got up.
“Is there any chance you know how to make meat loaf?” he asked as they walked out.
She gave him a funny look. “Meat loaf?”
The nurse said goodbye to them and they waved before stepping into the bright afternoon sunshine. “Or chicken-fried steak?”
“You want me to make you a meal? Today?”
“Not today. I’m just wondering if you can cook.”
She held him tighter when he stumbled. “Is that a prerequisite to being with you?”
He winked. “Let’s say it’d be a nice bonus.”
“You liked my cookies.”
“You got anything else to show me?”
“Fortunately, I do—since that sounds important to you.”
He associated homemaking skills with a different part of his life, back when he’d had his mother. He missed her, missed the type of home they’d had and the care they’d received, but he’d missed that for a long time.
India directed him to the passenger side of his truck. “I’m sure I can manage dinner here and there. You’ve earned a few home-cooked meals.” She shot him a wry glance. “But just so you know, ironing is out of the question.”
He grinned at her. “I’ll do the ironing.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“You got me. I probably won’t be doing any ironing,” he said with a laugh.
She waited for him to climb in, then closed the door and circled around to the driver’s side. Before she could put on her seat belt and start the engine, however, Dylan called.
“What room are you in?” he asked as soon as Rod answered.
“What room?”
“At the hospital.”
“I was just released.”
“So we came for nothing?”
“You’re here?”
“Of course. We dropped everything as soon as it came on the news.”
Rod twisted around to see if he could catch a glimpse of Dylan’s Jeep, but the parking lot was too big. “Who’s we?”
“Me, Cheyenne, Aaron and Presley. Grady and Mack are in Grady’s SUV. We got a sitter for the kids because we didn’t know how long we’d be gone.”
“No Dad or Anya?”
“We conveniently forgot to tell them you’d been hurt. Are you okay?”
He lifted his shirt to take a look at the bandage covering his stitches. “Yeah. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix. But since you’re here, can someone follow us to Whiskey Creek in India’s car? I’m too drugged up to drive.”
“We can drive both vehicles, if you need us to. Let the two of you relax.”
Rod nudged the woman who’d come into his life so unexpectedly. “Would you rather have someone else take the wheel?”
“No. I’m happy like this,” she replied, and he understood that she was content to be alone with him for a while, to process what they’d been through and reassure herself that it was really over. She wasn’t ready to put on a social face for people she’d barely met.
“She’s got it,” he told Dylan. “Just hold on so we can give you her keys.”
After they handed off the keys to her Prius, and his family had left, Rod reached over to caress India’s cheek. “Let’s head home, huh?”
30
The next few days felt like a dream. Rod stayed at India’s house, because they had more privacy there, and she kept busy creating pottery while he was at work. In the afternoons, she’d scour various cookbooks and prepare the best home-cooked meal she could—something she enjoyed because he acted as if cooking was the kindest thing anyone could ever do for him. He always attacked her food with gusto, then sat back with satisfaction. Having him come home to eat the meals she cooked soon became one of her favorite parts of the day.
But evenings were also nice. After dinner they’d walk along the riverbank, visit his brothers or go to town for dessert.
Rod was wrong when he wondered if she needed a more sophisticated or better-educated man in order to be happy. And if she’d ever wondered about that herself, the happiness she felt with him proved otherwise. He made her feel whole, complete, despite all the damage of the past, and it had nothing to do with his profession or whether he had a degree. She was proud of him for being who he was, proud to be with him.
He hadn’t told her that he loved her. He never mentioned how he felt, but he treated her as if she was important, and she was fine with letting the relationship develop from there. She wasn’t in any hurry to receive a commitment. She wasn’t in any hurry to give one, either. She loved him, but their relationship was so new. He hadn’t even met Cassia yet. Although she was impatient for that to happen, she was also a little uneasy. She wasn’t looking forward to the moment her in-laws would arrive, partly because she’d had to tell them about Rod. All the major news networks had shown a video clip of him escorting her out of the motel with his arm around her, protecting her from the cameras and gawkers. The confidence and authority with which he’d shepherded her through the gathering crowd, and the eagerness with which she’d climbed into the ambulance that bore him off to the hospital, would’ve given her away—even if the various news anchors hadn’t reported that the widow of Dr. Charlie Sommers and her boyfriend, Rod Amos from Whiskey Creek, were attacked while sleeping in a motel room by the same man who’d killed her husband.
That Sebastian was back in jail, awaiting trial, and the police had the gun he’d probably used to kill Charlie made the Sommerses happy, on the one hand. But India knew they were disappointed in her on the other.
So much for that little heart-to-heart with Claudia in the kitchen... Now that conversation only made India look manipulative and insincere. The fact that she was already with another man at that point and hadn’t bothered to mention it made her seem deceitful.
Suddenly, India realized that she’d been pressing the pedal of her pottery wheel farther than she should have. Jerking herself out of her thoughts, she looked down to find that her current project was off center as a result.
“Darn it!” Disgusted by her lack of focus, she scrapped the project, turned off her wheel and got up to wash her hands. She couldn’t concentrate right now. She was happy as long as she wasn’t thinking about her in-laws. But she’d have to deal with them soon, and until she did, she knew she’d have that dark cloud hanging over her.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her baggy cutoffs, which were about the most comfortable thing she had for working, especially when it was so warm outside.
After drying her hands, she pulled out her cell to see Rod’s picture on her screen. Knowing it was him chased some of her concerns back into the shadows, where they’d resided since that night in the motel.
“Hi, Rod.”
“Hey, gorgeous. What’re you doing?”
She frowned at the lump of clay that was supposed to be a teapot. “Not much. You?”
“I’m off for lunch. Want to grab a bite?”
“Sure. Are you coming here?”
“I thought we could meet in town.”
He didn’t like her to see him in his work clothes. She got the impression he wasn’t comfortable making it so obvious that he was “just” a blue-collar guy. He even showered at his place before coming over every night. So she was encouraged that he’d offered, felt maybe he was starting to trust her feelings for him.
“Where?” she asked.
“Just Like Mom’s? They serve great apple pie.”
“Okay. Let me change, and I’ll be right over.”
He was waiting for her when she arrived. He had paint flecks in his hair and was wearing a pair of faded jeans, a white T-shirt and his work boots, which also had paint specs and spatters. He certainly wasn’t dressed up, but he was always easy to look at. She waved as she approached him at the entrance to the restaurant.
“What?” he asked, his eyebrows coming together when he saw the expression on her face.
“You look...tempting.”
He glanced down at himself. “I haven’t even cleaned up.”
“When you’re that handsome, it doesn’t matter.”
With a laugh and a shake of his head, he kissed her. Then he hooked his arm playfully around her neck and guided her into the restaurant, where they were seated.
The place was busy, but then it usually was.
“You always check in once or twice during the day, but this is the first time we’ve had lunch,” she said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your daytime company, sir?”
He leaned forward. “I have something to tell you.”
She laced her fingers in her lap. “I hope it’s something good.”
“It is.” He waited until the waitress had delivered their water and menus. Then he said, “Liam’s dropping the charges.”
“Really? Why?”
“I guess he didn’t want to deal with the countersuit. He realized he could lose a lot more money that way.”
She reached over to squeeze his hand. “That’s wonderful, Rod! I’m so happy for you.”
He picked up his water glass and tilted it toward her as if in a toast. “It’s been quite an adventure since you came to town.”
“I had nothing to do with that fight.”
The waitress stopped at their table again, and India chose a Cobb salad, while Rod ordered a pastrami sandwich.
“Cassia comes home tomorrow,” he said. “You excited?”
“Of course,” she replied, but he must’ve been able to tell that not everything was as positive as she made it sound.
He grimaced. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”
“I need to put some distance between me and the past. Need a chance to get my feet under me again, especially where Charlie’s parents are concerned. But I’m afraid they’ll keep pushing, keep asking for her to come and stay. They’re so involved in her life—overly involved. It’s almost as if they’re trying to replace Charlie with his daughter, and I don’t have any idea how far they might push it.”
“They know you’re a loving mother.”
“They think they can love her better.”
“Still, they can’t accuse you of mistreatment or neglect. They don’t have a case, even if they’re certain they can do a better job. You call to check on Cassia just about every day.”
That was true, but a lot of those calls were due to him. He was the one who encouraged her to brave the negative energy that blew through the phone like a gale-force wind. Since they still put her off more often than they let her talk to Cassia, she would’ve preferred to wait out the remainder of the month. Once Cassia was home, she could try to put everything behind her—not only the loss of her husband, but the loss of her husband’s family, too, since they were now excluding her. As it was, India felt sick after every call. She’d sit there and stare at her phone long after Claudia had disconnected. But then Rod would pull her into his arms and kiss the top of her head. He wouldn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. He knew that what they were doing hurt, and he hated being the reason. He just couldn’t do anything to fix it.
“I’ll be glad when she’s back, and they’re gone,” she said.
“I hope they’ll leave it at that.”
“Me, too. I could go weeks without talking to them.”
She happened to catch sight of Theresa, who was sitting across the restaurant with a small group of friends, gazing at Rod with such longing it almost broke India’s heart.
“Don’t look now, but Theresa’s here,” she murmured. “She’s got her eye on you, and she seems quite tormented.”
Rod scratched his neck. “Maybe I’ll go visit her tonight. It’s time to return her basket—and break the news.”
“What news?” India asked, feigning innocence.
He narrowed his eyes. “You need me to lay it out?”
“That’d be nice. I took off my wedding ring for you. I haven’t worn it since the motel. But you haven’t said anything.”
“I’ve been making love to you every night—and waking up with you every morning.”
She gave him an arch look. “None of that explains how you plan to handle other women.”
“I’m not handling them at all,” he said wryly. “I’m not available.”
She grinned at him. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He helped himself to a big bite of her salad. “I’m glad. Because you’re off the market, too.”
* * *
They were watching the news that night when a story about three brothers living in an orphanage made Rod get up and turn off the TV. He couldn’t see the images they were showing, couldn’t hear about the children who needed a home. He was already struggling to keep his mind off Van and his situation.
The boy reminded him too much of himself. Rod had been so hurt and lost after his mother killed herself and then when his father went to prison. Fortunately, for him, he’d had a big brother to fill the gap, and Dylan had done a remarkable job, considering that he’d been only eighteen at the time. But even with Dylan, those years hadn’t been easy. And Van had no Dylan. Van had no one except his drug-addicted aunt, who didn’t seem to care much about him.
“You tired?” India hid a yawn. They’d spent the evening snuggled up on the couch, watching a movie before the news had come on.
“Yeah. I guess those long nights last week are catching up with me.”
She peered at him a little more closely. “Is that all?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been quiet tonight. Have you heard from Natasha? Are you worried about her, since you didn’t get to see her off?”
“No, I’m not worried. I’ve talked to her here and there, and we’ve texted a few times. She arrived safely and is settling in.” In his last conversation with his stepsister, she’d been happier than he’d expected. But she was already planning a trip home for Thanksgiving. And, of course, all she could talk about was Mack.
Rod was more concerned with how Mack was tolerating her absence. The past few days he’d barely spoken at work. It was almost as if he was grieving.
“She’s a tough girl.”
“Yeah.” He ambled over to the table that held photographs of Cassia—from birth to her current age.
“Are you nervous about meeting my daughter tomorrow?” India asked.
“Not really.” He was more worried about how the Sommerses might react to meeting him and whether they’d threaten India with a custody suit. He knew Cassia meant everything to India. Could his relationship with India withstand the pressure the Sommerses might put on it?
He and India did great together when they were in their own little world. He’d never enjoyed anyone more. But that could all change when she had to be a mother again and put her daughter first.
“I’ve never brought this up, but I should probably ask,” she said.
The somber note in her voice made him turn.
“Does it bother you that I have a child, Rod? And that she came from someone else?”
“Bother me?” he echoed. “God, no—on both counts.”
She frowned. “Then what’s going on with you tonight? Stop making me guess. The way you suddenly jumped up to turn off that TV as if you couldn’t sit still another moment... I can tell something’s wrong.”