A flicker of sympathy flashed through the sheriff’s bright blue-green eyes, but her voice was very firm when she replied, “I have to, Taylor. You know the drill.”
Taylor winced. She did know the drill, but after the last time, she’d promised her father he’d never have to come down here to pick her up, ever again. She’d meant it with every inch of herself at the time, and she’d do just about anything to keep that promise now.
“No, I know,” she improvised. “But he’s out of town, too. Business trip.”
Sheriff Shepard narrowed her eyes. “Then who should I call?”
Inspiration struck. “My sister,” Taylor said, twining her fingers together to hide the fact that they were trembling a little. “Merry Preston. I have her cell number in my phone. Please?”
Studying her for a long moment with those uncannily ocean-colored eyes, Sheriff Shepard seemed to pierce straight through Taylor’s mask of bravado to see the scared kid underneath. Taylor did her best to sit up tall in the chair and meet the sheriff’s gaze head-on, but it wasn’t easy.
When the woman nodded decisively and held out her hand for the cell phone, Taylor let out a silent breath of relief. Glancing over at Matt, she felt a pang at the obvious misery on his face.
Taking advantage of the sheriff’s back being turned to make her calls, Taylor nudged her chair closer to Matt’s. When he looked up, she tried out a smile.
He didn’t smile back. “My mom is going to kill me,” he muttered. “No, worse than that. She’s going to be disappointed in me.”
Gut wrenching with guilt, Taylor clutched at the plastic arms of the chair to keep from reaching out to him. “I’m sorry. The whole thing was my fault, it was all my idea. I’ll take the blame.”
For the first time since the sheriff showed up, a spark flared to life in Matt’s worried hazel eyes. “Don’t you dare. We’re in this together.”
“Together,” Taylor echoed, giddy happiness unspooling inside her like a perfect line of computer code.
Maybe tonight wasn’t a total disaster, she told herself with an unfamiliar burst of optimism. All she’d wanted was a chance to be close to Matt Little—and here they were, side by side. And if Merry extended her display of coolness about sneaking out to keeping this little incident from Taylor’s dad, then she was golden.
But when the front door of the sheriff’s office crashed open fifteen minutes later, it wasn’t Merry’s petite, slim form walking in beside a thunderously scowling Sam Brennan.
It was her father.
Taylor barely registered the fact that Jo Ellen Hollister was with him. For the space of a heartbeat, all she could see was the weary resignation in her father’s eyes, the stern set of his mouth behind his salt-and-pepper beard.
“Mr. McNamara.” Sheriff Shepard stood up, casting Taylor a look. “Home early from your business trip, I see.”
“What business trip?” Dad stopped short, just inside the doorway, his stare locked on Taylor in a way that made her want to slide off the chair and down through the cracked linoleum floor.
Shaking her head, the sheriff crossed her arms over her chest. “Not important. It’s good that you’re here. Thanks for coming. You, too, Jo Ellen. And Mr.… Brennan, was it?”
“Sam Brennan. Matt, get your stuff. We’re going home,” Sam growled, drawing Taylor’s attention. She stared at the way he was scowling at the sheriff, face hard as granite. He was almost unrecognizable as the big, gentle-eyed man who’d brought Java to Windy Corner Stables that afternoon.
If she met Sam Brennan in a dark alley in this kind of mood, Taylor realized with a half-pleasurable thrill, she’d run the other way.
Sheriff Shepard didn’t appear to be intimidated, although her focus had narrowed to Sam’s livid face. “I’m afraid Matt isn’t going anywhere yet. Not until we have a little chat.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Sam planted his feet, solid as an oak tree. “Matt is a good kid. Never been in trouble a day in his life. This is obviously some kind of mistake. Or a case of overzealous police work. Slow night for crime in Mayberry, Officer? Bored of giving tickets to wild horses for running too fast?”
The fascination of this exchange was almost enough to distract Taylor from her own situation. Sam Brennan had balls of solid brass, going after Sheriff Shepard that way. Taylor was seriously impressed.
Sheriff Shepard wasn’t. In spite of the fact that she didn’t move or flush or clench her hands into fists, Taylor was willing to bet the sheriff’s fingers were itching to go for her gun. She kept it all locked down, though, her voice as cool and unruffled as the surface of Lantern Lake at dawn.
“As duly elected sheriff of Sanctuary Island,” she stressed slightly, “I’m aware of Matt’s record. Or lack thereof. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was caught trespassing on the wild horse preserve property at Heartbreak Cove. With a bottle of rum.”
Sam stiffened, so clearly angry that his brown hair almost seemed to stand on end. “He wasn’t alone, was he?”
“Wait just a minute,” Jo broke in, hands on her hips. “What are you implying, Sam?”
For an instant, Sam looked tempted to back down, but then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jo. But you’ve mentioned your girl’s issues in the past—the trouble she’s been in. You know the rum was probably hers. Matt doesn’t deserve to get dragged into that.”
“Sam, don’t.” Matt spoke up, sending another thrill through Taylor, but the thrill was dampened by the knowledge that Sam was actually right. She’d messed up, big-time.
As if they hadn’t even heard Matt, the four adults kept arguing. Taylor’s dad jumped in with, “You weren’t there. For all we know, that boy is the one who talked my daughter into this escapade. It’s been a long time since Taylor was in any trouble, she’s matured a lot in the last year.” He paused, scrubbing a defeated hand over his mouth. “At least, I thought she had.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.” Taylor sank down in her chair, feeling lower than the gritty sand on the bottom of her shoes.
But she should’ve kept her mouth shut, because now Dad was looking at her. Facing the full force of his disappointment was enough to make Taylor feel lower than dirt.
“What happened, Tay?” Jo asked softly. “I thought things were going so well.”
Anger burned through her, cleansing as fire, and a lot easier to handle than guilt and regret. “Of course you think everything’s going great now. You have your real daughters back.”
“Oh, honey.”
Taylor got a sick kind of satisfaction out of the hurt, horrified look on Jo’s face.
“Your real daughters, by the way, totally suck,” Taylor told her. The betrayal actually stung. Taylor latched on to it, glad for the chance to be the injured party. “I thought Merry was marginally cool, but no—she ratted me out the first chance she got.”
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jo who defended Merry, but Dad. “She did exactly the right thing by calling me. I would’ve hoped you’d have the guts to face the music for this stupid stunt instead of imposing on a woman who’s got her hands full with a concussed fiancé and a newborn.”
Taylor sucked in a breath. She’d completely forgotten about Doc Fairfax’s injury. She was officially the worst.
“And the worst of it is that you broke your word to me,” Dad said, relentless. “After what happened with the Rigby boy, you promised me you’d abide by my rules about dating. You looked me in the eye and promised me.”
Eyes burning and throat closing around a knot of desperate shame, Taylor cried, “It wasn’t a date! We’re just friends.”
Which was true, even if she’d hoped for more, but she couldn’t bear the weight of yet another broken promise. Refusing to even glance in Matt’s direction, Taylor kept all her attention on her father’s face and the slight softening she saw there.
But every cell in her body was aware of Matt going tense and still beside her.
Sheriff Shepard spoke into the
highly charged silence that followed. “Let’s all take a breath, here. Taylor and Matt are both in trouble. I have to charge them both with trespassing and underage drinking.”
Chaos erupted as Dad and Sam Brennan tried to outshout each other and Jo did her best to play referee, but Sheriff Shepard shut them all up by raising one hand and clearing her throat.
“The law is clear,” she repeated, inflexible as steel. Her blue-green gaze darted to Sam Brennan for an instant as she said, “Taylor and Matt might be good kids, but they broke the law. And while some of you may feel that the rules shouldn’t apply to you or your family, I’m afraid I can’t agree.”
Another uproar. Beside her, Matt groaned and slumped over his knees. Guilt ripped at Taylor’s heart.
But just as she opened her mouth, prepared to enrage her father by at least taking the blame for the bottle of rum, the sheriff pinned her with a look. She shook her head slightly, and Taylor’s mouth snapped closed.
“They’ll both be charged,” Sheriff Shepard said, “but since they’re both minors, there’s every likelihood of Judge Barrow opting for rehabilitation over a harsher sentence.”
“I bet you hate that,” Sam Brennan snarled through clenched teeth. “Just think, if you’d only waited a few years to throw the book at these kids, they could be tried as adults.”
Finally, a snap of temper flashed in the sheriff’s eyes. “Mr. Brennan. I’m sure it’s more comfortable for you to blame me than it is to take any responsibility for the fact that you were supposed to be looking after your young relative in the absence of his mother, but I don’t appreciate your tone.”
A muscle ticked under the close-cropped beard scruffing along Sam’s jaw. “I don’t give a damn what you appreciate. Do what you have to do, fine us or whatever, but I’m taking Matt home now.”
Sheriff Shepard reached across her desk to grab a stack of paperwork. “Fill this out. I’ll be in touch. Or someone from the courthouse will.”
Sam and Taylor’s dad both took the papers. Dad, an old hand at this, signed his name and handed the paper back, but Sam sat down to read carefully through every line of the document releasing Matt into his custody.
“Thanks.” The sheriff nodded at Jo and Dad, then cocked an eyebrow at Taylor. “You can go. And I hope this is the last time we see each other like this.”
Taylor locked eyes with the sheriff and straightened her shoulders. She’d hated the previous sheriff, a fat, old guy who’d pursed his mouth disapprovingly whenever he saw Taylor around town. But she liked Andie Shepard. Taylor liked that the new sheriff talked to her like she was a grown-up, not a dumb kid who couldn’t understand what she’d done or what the consequences might be. It made Taylor want to act like it.
“I swear, I’ve learned my lesson,” Taylor vowed, meaning it with all her heart. “No more breaking the law.”
Something like amusement flickered in Sheriff Shepard’s gaze as she accepted the signed papers from Sam Brennan. “Good. How about you, Matt?”
“This has been a big, stupid mistake.” Matt kept his face turned away, his profile as hard as stone. “A mistake I’ll never make again. I’m done with all of it.”
A chill roughened the skin of Taylor’s arms as Matt turned and followed his cousin out of the sheriff’s office without a backward look. She knew what Matt meant.
She was the mistake. And he was done with her.
Chapter Thirteen
Despite what Ben had told Merry about his reasons for entering into this marriage and adoption scenario, he wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to tell his parents about it.
They should be thrilled. After what happened with Ashley, his parents ought to bow down and kiss the ground at the prospect of a new daughter-in-law, complete with son and heir. He’d told them after the divorce that it would never happen—so this ought to be a dream come true for them.
The problem was, Ben had gotten divorced, quit his surgical residency, finished vet school, and moved to Sanctuary Island all to break away from his lifelong pattern of living his life to please his parents and make their dreams come true.
It was possible that an immature, resentful part of Ben didn’t actually want to make his parents happy. He knew that wasn’t likely to win him a nomination for Son of the Year, or even a nod at the Basically a Good Person Awards, but he hadn’t talked to his parents except for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and their anniversary in years. And that had seemed to suit all of them perfectly well.
So he’d dragged his heels until a week before the wedding to tell them about it. Not that there’d been a lot of time for heart-to-heart phone calls since the engagement. Even with Ella and Grady back on the island and fully committed to helping them get this marriage off the ground in as little time as possible, it had still been a hectic whirl of days filled with wedding arrangements, meetings with lawyers, babyproofing his house, drama with Merry’s sort-of sister, Taylor, and oh right, his veterinary practice.
Just because Ben’s previously empty life was suddenly bursting at the seams didn’t mean he could abandon his practice. As the only vet on Sanctuary Island, Ben had a responsibility not only to his paying customers, but to his four-, or in some cases three-legged friends as well.
And not only that, but he had a brand-new assistant to train. Or maybe it was the other way around, because most of Ben’s workday was spent avoiding the office and the wild look in Merry’s eyes as she tried to make heads or tails of his “filing system.” Dramatic air quotes supplied by Merry.
So if Ben skipped out on things like setting a menu for the big picnic Jo Ellen was insisting on throwing in lieu of a reception, who could blame him?
Jo had decided to make the party open to the entire town and have it in the square at the center of downtown, which Ben balked at until Merry gave him a searching, serious look and said, “Actually, it was my idea—I thought it would be good for business, and make things easier for you if the whole town gets the chance to congratulate you all at once, in a giant lump. Was I wrong?”
And of course, she wasn’t. As happy as Ben was about this marriage—and despite the myriad ways it could all turn into a pile of cow plop in the blink of an eye, he was happier than he’d been in years—he didn’t particularly care for the idea of being on display.
That’s what it felt like to be congratulated. He dreaded the knowing looks and smirking smiles. He hated the idea of people he barely recognized except as “Cat owner, semi-interesting case of feline immunodeficiency virus” or “Five head of sheep, yearly vaccinations” knowing anything real about him.
But getting married on Sanctuary Island, it turned out, was one of those life events that turned a private man into public property.
Merry was right. It was better to get it over with all at once instead of dragging the congratulations and smiles and backslapping out over the entire next year. Besides, Sanctuary Island loved a town festival, and chances were good that he’d be able to fade into the background after the party got going, and no one would notice.
Except, quite possibly, Merry.
In the wake of her first night in his home and the misunderstanding he’d deliberately let stand, Merry had been … polite. Friendly, even, but she’d preserved a careful distance that perversely gave Ben hope. That kiss had changed things, had forced them both to acknowledge the explosive chemistry between them. If Merry wasn’t ready for the next step, that was okay. Ben could be patient.
After that first night, she’d never really gone back to her mother’s house. Instead, all her belongings and Alex’s began a slow migration over to Isleaway Farm—a suitcase full of clothes here, a high chair there. Ben didn’t say anything about it, he merely stood back and let it happen, counting every new toy, discarded shoe, and stack of baby bottles cluttering up his pristine home like a miser hoarding gold.
And every now and then, he caught Merry studying him a lot more intently than her casual friendliness seemed to warrant. Each time her gaze slid away from his, her long lash
es lowering to fan out over her pinkening cheeks, that hope surged in Ben’s chest.
This relationship was so new, so fragile, Ben was determined to protect it. In this case, that meant avoiding a certain familial phone call until Merry marched up to him after dinner and shoved his cell phone into his hand.
“Why haven’t you called your parents yet?” she demanded.
“I’ve been busy,” Ben protested, fighting back a wince at how lame that sounded.
Merry thought it was pretty lame, too, if her narrowed gaze was anything to go by. “The whole reason you proposed was to get them off your back by getting hitched. Surely telling them about the marriage is part of the plan. Why are you dragging your heels about this? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Ben licked his lips, aware that his mouth had gone dry as the sand at low tide. He couldn’t have Merry getting suspicious now, just when everything was coming together. “Give me the phone, I’ll call them right now.”
But Merry stepped back, holding the phone up out of his reach. “Ben. What’s going on here?”
“Nothing, it’s just I know they won’t be able to make the wedding anyway. Not with their schedules. So what’s the rush?”
“The rush is that they’re your parents! You said us getting married and you adopting Alex would make them happy.” Doubt darkened Merry’s pretty face like someone had hit the dimmer switch on her inner glow, and Ben panicked.
“It will,” he insisted. Not necessarily a lie—his parents might be happy for him, simply because Ben was happy. There was a first time for everything. “I’ve been putting off calling them because we’re just … not close. Anymore. It’s been hard.”
He tried not to hate himself for using that excuse, even when Merry’s face softened exactly the way he’d predicted it would. “I get that. It’s tricky figuring out how to relate to our families as adults, isn’t it?”
Ben knew he could leave it at that, and Merry would smile and stop pushing, and everything would be okay. But somehow, he found himself saying more.
Shoreline Drive (Sanctuary Island) Page 13