by Debbie Mason
Jill lowered her foot from the wall and straightened. Turning her cell phone to the forty-something woman, she swiped the screen. “If you look close enough, you’ll see the timestamp on the photo. You arrived fifteen minutes ago.”
The physiotherapist’s cheery smile fell from her face to be replaced with an outraged gasp. “Are you checking up on me?”
Sawyer crossed his arms and let Jill have at it. He always enjoyed watching her go into cop mode.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that? Because I’ve got a problem with you ripping people off.”
“I am not. I—”
“Your agreement with Sawyer states that you’ll provide forty-five minutes of physiotherapy to Bill. You provided fifteen. At your last three visits. In my eyes, that constitutes fraud.”
“I don’t have to listen to this. You have no right to accuse—”
Jill raised her eyebrows and lifted her T-shirt to reveal her badge hooked onto her belt loop.
Now that…was hot. And for a man who’d been effectively returned to friendship status, not something he needed to see.
The woman sent Sawyer a panicked look. “He won’t let me work with him. He refuses to cooperate. What am I supposed—”
“Inform Sawyer.”
“I am!”
Jill rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you handle this,” she said and walked past the woman and into Bill’s room.
Five minutes later, after agreeing to give the woman a second chance, Sawyer walked into the room to find his Hot Cop handling Bill. “I don’t care. If you want to get out of here, you have to do your exercises.”
“Yeah, yeah, turn my TV back on.”
“Not until you squeeze the ball five more times.” She tossed a yellow tennis ball at Bill. He caught it in his good hand…and drilled it back at Jill, who caught it easily. She smirked. “Good try.”
“You’re a pain in my butt. Now go catch some criminals and leave Sawyer and me alone. We have business to discuss.”
“A pain in the butt who’s trying to help you out, old man. Show some respect,” Sawyer said as he moved toward the chair by the bed. He pulled the strap of his messenger bag over his head. The cans and bottles inside clanged as he placed it on the table.
Jill looked from the bag to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve smuggled in beer. He’s not allowed to drink.”
This time it was Bill’s turn to smirk. “That was last week. This week he’s brought me some samples of Gold Rush.”
Sawyer thought of Jill’s reaction to the sports drink and said, “You can’t have any.” He didn’t think he could deal with it after the brief flash of her badge and flat, tanned stomach. She’d obviously spent some time in the sun over the past few weeks.
She made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed, ignoring Bill’s watch my feet and Sawyer’s raised eyebrow. “What? I’m the one who gave you the idea so I should get to see, too.”
She had him there. No sense arguing with her anyway. She was stubborn. “All right, but the labels aren’t quite where I want them yet,” he said as he removed the three cans and three bottles from the bag, lining them in a row on the table.
Both Jill and Bill pointed at the bottle at the end and said, at almost the same time, “That one.”
He wasn’t really surprised. It was his favorite, too. Jill leaned over to pick the bottle up and examine the label. “Have you thought about asking Grace to help you with this? She’s artistic and has a great eye for design.”
“I hadn’t, but I will now. Appreciate the suggestion.” He smiled.
She returned it with a “You’re welcome.”
Bill dragged his paralyzed arm over his chest, then folded the other one across it. “So what’s her share?”
Sawyer had been looking for a way to take care of Bill financially without wounding his pride. He’d come up with the idea of giving him a share in Gold Rush. Telling Bill that he’d been instrumental in coming up with the idea. It wasn’t true. But Jill had been. “We haven’t talked about that yet.”
She frowned. “A share in what?”
He needed to change the subject before Bill started putting it together. He twisted off the caps, handing one to Bill, the other to Jill. Her frown deepened. “You said I couldn’t have one.”
“Changed my mind. Thought we’d drink a toast to Gold Rush’s success,” he said, twisting the cap off the third. They clinked bottles. His eyes followed Jill’s to her mouth as he prepared for her reaction.
She took a long swallow, then said, “Oh my God, this is soo good. I’m getting all hot and tingly.” She glanced at him. He touched his mouth, checking for drool. She grinned. “It’s good, but it’s not that good. If you haven’t guessed by now, Ty was egging me on that night at the bar.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed. You’re a good actress.”
“She’s not that good. She doesn’t sound anything like that Meg Ryan gal,” Bill said with a challenge in his eyes.
Never one to refuse a challenge, Jill took another long swallow then gave it all that she had. The performance that followed was even hotter than the one at the bar. Only he wasn’t thinking of that night; he was thinking of the one he’d spent in her bed. He reached over and took the bottle from her. “Show’s over, Meg. You have people to serve and protect. Off you go now.”
Bill chuckled into his bottle.
“Why? I thought we were going to talk—”
Okay, something was not right. It was a small town, and they’d seen each other around over the last few weeks. Jill hadn’t been cool with him or tried to avoid him, but he also didn’t get the impression she’d wanted to stay too long in his company. Until now.
“Who or what are you avoiding?”
Bill laughed and pointed his bottle at her. “Nell roped you into helping with her life book thing, didn’t she?”
“Careful or I’ll volunteer you for next Thursday.” She angled her head as though thinking it over. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll talk to your physiotherapist about it. She can make up for all the time she’s lost.”
“And to think I used to think you were a sweet kid. You’re an evil woman, Jillian Flaherty.”
“You sweet talker, you.” She put down her bottle, then lifted it back up. “Have you looked into bottling companies yet?”
“A couple. Why?”
“Do you remember when that brewery tried to make a go of it about eight years ago?”
“Can’t say that I do.” He’d still been playing with the Flurries at the time and living in Denver.
“You might be evil but you’ve got brains, I’ll give you that. Jill’s right. You should talk to Calder Dane. Wouldn’t be surprised if the brewery left their equipment in his warehouse when they folded.”
He hadn’t thought about cutting out the middle man, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “Great. I’ll give him a call.”
“And Jill, you wanna get out of Nell’s life story thingy, just ask her about her and Calder. I’m sure you’ll get a free pass once you do.”
“If I do, so do you. Thanks.” She put the bottle back on the table, running her fingernail under the label before looking at him. “Jack mentioned that it looks like the NHL is going to endorse Gold Rush. It’s going to be big, Sawyer. I can feel it.” She gave him an almost-shy smile. “I’m… We’re proud of you.” She hesitated for a second, then placed a hand on his chest and reached up to kiss his cheek. “You deserve all the success that comes your way.”
He wrapped his arms around her and hung on a little too long. “Thanks.”
And that’s when Sawyer realized he and Jill weren’t on the same page at all. He wanted her as much as or maybe more than he did that night six weeks ago.
* * *
You idiot. Jill berated herself as she headed for the bank of elevators. For more than a month she’d kept her distance, and then she had to go and throw herself in his arms. Yeah, like she needed a reminder of what it felt like to be held by Sawyer Anderson. She dre
amed of him every night. Of that night. Okay, so she’d dreamed about him before. But it wasn’t the same now that they’d made love. If the men she’d dated before couldn’t measure up to him, the ones who followed didn’t stand a chance. She might as well save herself the frustration and stop dating.
Or maybe she should apply for a transfer. Because no way would Sawyer take a vow of celibacy. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered their panted conversation of that night, the night to end all nights. He may have been going through a dry spell, but she had no doubt it wouldn’t last for long. And when it ended, which she supposed it kind of had with her, which made it worse, she’d have to stand on the sidelines and watch as he dated one voluptuous blonde after another. Not that that was anything new; she’d been doing it for years. But it was different now.
She had a flashback to the day she and little Jack walked in on him and Brandi and shuddered. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t initiated the kiss. She believed him when he told her he hadn’t. Still, it was tough to see him in another woman’s arms.
As the elevator dinged and the door slid open, Jill stepped inside knowing she had to come up with a strategy to move on from Sawyer. It would be too difficult to relocate and leave her brother and his family, especially with a new nephew or niece on the way. Throwing herself into her job had worked in the past. No reason it shouldn’t work again. Maybe she’d get a second job in security. Since she’d decided not to run for sheriff, she’d need the extra cash for her dream-house fund. And, dammit, that was one dream she wasn’t giving up on.
She felt a little better as she stepped off the elevator. Until she remembered where she was supposed to be. She’d thought she would have caught the person responsible for the thefts and bruising by now, and that Nell and her posse would have moved on to bigger and better things. She hadn’t, and neither had they.
But as the thefts and bruising continued Sandy had become as concerned as Jill. She’d allowed Jill complete access to the employees and their files, and Gage had agreed to Jill working a few days a week at Mountainview. Yesterday she’d ruled out the staff’s involvement. If her suspicions were right, her thief was one of the residents. Several of whom were currently waving her into the craft room.
Nell looked up when Jill pulled out a chair at a table littered with sparkles, stickers, and some other crafty crap. “Where the Sam Hill have you been?”
She opened her mouth to say with Sawyer and Bill, but didn’t want to put the matchmaking glint back in Nell’s eyes. “I stopped by to check on Grace. Morning sickness, you know.”
Nell’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the afternoon.”
Jill didn’t have to think up a comeback as the older women at her table let loose with hair-raising stories about the horrors of their own pregnancies. Jill cringed at Mrs. Sharp’s detailed description of giving birth at home…by herself. All Jill could think was thank God there were no pregnant women around. If she hadn’t already decided not to have babies the day little Jack went missing, that story would have done it for her.
Nell, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation about as much as Jill, clapped her hands. “Okay, time to get down to business. We have the room for only two more hours. Get your memory keepers out.”
“Jill doesn’t have one,” Mrs. Lynn informed Nell.
Before Nell could offer her one, Jill said, “I’m here to help you guys, not do one of my own.”
“Oh no, dear, we’re going to share them once we’re done, and we want to see yours, too.”
“I’ve got an extra one,” Nell said and walked over to the table, plunking a book in front of Jill. The thing had to have at least fifty pages in it. What was she supposed to fill it with? “You’ll have to bring pictures with you next time.” Nell grinned. “I probably have some of Sawyer.”
Every white head at every table looked her way. Jill bowed her head, then lifted her eyes to Nell. “So what’s this I hear about you and Calder Dane? You’ve been holding out on us, Nell.”
It was the first time Jill had ever seen the older woman at a loss for words.
“Oh, they were quite the item back in the day,” Mrs. Sharp said. “A regular Romeo and Juliet, only they didn’t kill themselves. The Danes and McBrides have been in a feud since their great-granddaddies founded Christmas.” The older woman looked up at Nell, whose face now matched her red hair. “I always thought you’d get back together when his wife died. She was such a lovely woman. What was her name again?”
“Meredith,” Mrs. Lynn said. “I taught her in grade school. Sweet little thing. Not as smart as Nell, mind you.” She twisted to look at Nell. “I never had a student as bright as you, dear. I was so proud when you became an electrical engineer. Bragged about you to everyone I knew. That girl’s going places, I’d say.”
“I suppose that was a problem for you and Calder. Men of that generation were intimidated by an ambitious woman. Is that why you broke up, Nell?” Mrs. Sharp asked.
“No,” Nell said gruffly and pulled her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “Jill, you’ll have to take over the class. Fred’s back is out and he needs me to drive him to the doctor.”
“But I…” Jill trailed off as Nell rushed from the room. Well that’s not how it was supposed to go. She never should have mentioned Calder. Not only because she was now stuck running the show, but it was obvious Nell was upset.
A few hours later Jill sat with Grace on the porch swing discussing the day’s events. Well, the events that didn’t involve Sawyer. “Did you know about Nell and Calder?” Jill asked.
“I’d heard rumors that they’d dated, but nothing specific. We should call Madison and let her know Nell was upset.” Grace got up from the swing, causing it to rock. Jill put a hand on her stomach when it rolled with the motion.
Grace frowned. “Are you still feeling nauseous?”
“I don’t have the flu if that’s what you’re worried about. More like motion sickness. Maybe I’ve got an inner ear thing.” She shrugged. “Or it’s because I’m so tired. I’ve been putting in a lot of overtime again.”
Grace lowered herself carefully onto the swing. “How tired?”
“Tired tired, but that’s not unusual when you work as much as I do. Wait a minute, is there some weird bug going around that I don’t know about?”
Before she answered, Grace leaned forward and looked in the living room window, then whispered, “Is there any chance you’re pregnant?”
Jill laughed. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”
“I don’t know, probably because half the women we know are.” Grace smiled and patted her hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that you haven’t been your energetic self and you’ve seemed kind of off.”
“Just work.” It wasn’t like she could tell Grace that she and Sawyer had…Oh, crap. No, no way. She was on the Pill. But sometimes she forgot to take one and doubled up. She had to get home and count them. “Umm, speaking of work, I should probably get home and get some sleep.” She pushed off the swing.
“It’s only six o’clock, and Jack’s barbecuing his famous chicken for…” Grace took one look at her and said, “There is a chance, isn’t there?”
“I didn’t think so until you mentioned it,” Jill grumbled.
“I knew it! I knew something happened between you and Sawyer.”
“Oh my God, would you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood will hear you.”
“Sorry, you’re right. The last thing we need is for Jack…” She got up from the swing and took Jill by the hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To get a pregnancy test.” She glanced through the window again. “In the next county.”
An hour later Jill tossed the used pregnancy test in the wastebasket beside the toilet. “Give me another one.”
“That was the last one.”
“So we’ll get more.”
“Sweetie,” Grace said, peeking her head around the bathroom
door, “one positive test might be false, two, maybe, but not three.”
Chapter Eighteen
Up until his best friend stormed into the bar, Sawyer had been having a good day. He caught a glimpse of Jack’s face through the mirrored glass and turned, frowning when Jack shoved the stool back viciously from the bar and took a seat.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Sawyer asked. It had been a long time since he’d caught a glimpse of the renowned Flaherty temper, but it was obvious that it was in full force now.
Jack put his elbows on the bar, scrubbed his hands over his face, and looked at Sawyer through his splayed fingers. “Some asshole got my baby sister pregnant,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, then cursed and raked his hand through his hair. “I need a drink. Give me a shot of tequila.”
Sawyer felt like he’d taken a puck to the head and grabbed the black leather bumper on the bar. Jill? Jill was pregnant?
Jack looked at him, nodding. “I know just how you feel, buddy. You and I looking out for her all these years and some no-good bastard knocks her up.”
Sawyer didn’t know how to break it to his best friend that there was a possibility he was the no-good bastard. He grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila, forgoing the lime and salt. This was not a social drink. Quite possibly, it was Sawyer’s last. “So…how, ah, when…” Jesus, it felt like he had a mouthful of marbles. His hand shook, splashing tequila over the edge of the shot glass.
Jack lifted his eyes from the overflowing shot glasses. “Ah, I think we both know how…” He trailed off with a groan. “Thanks a lot for putting that visual in my head. I do not want to think of Jill…” He tossed back the tequila.
Oh, yeah, he knew all right. And like Jack, he felt like groaning, too, only for an entirely different reason. Then he reminded himself Jill was on the Pill. “How far, ah, along is she?” he asked, his tongue not working any better than it had moments ago. He tossed back the shot in hopes it would help.