A Proposal for the Officer
Page 2
“It looks like someone attached a syringe to Dr. Who’s sonic screwdriver.”
A blank look crossed her face. “What’s a sonic screwdriver?”
“Sorry. Geek reference.” An embarrassing flush normally would’ve brought his color back with a vengeance after that less-than-cool admission, but he was woozily watching her put the cap back on her insulin pen and zip it up in its case.
After several uncomfortable moments, the lady next to him broke the silence. “Who’s Angela?”
“One of my assistants.”
“Just one of them?”
He was saved from having to respond to her sarcastic question by the pinging of his phone. Several texts full of copied and pasted information flooded his screen.
“Hold on,” Kaleb said as he read.
However, he was easily distracted by the woman beside him. Now that her color was returning, he could see that there was an edge to her girl-next-door appearance, an attitude that implied she wouldn’t back down from a fight. She opened a bottle of water sitting in her center console and chugged it until the plastic concaved into itself. Then she used the back of her hand to wipe the dampness from her mouth. “Angela certainly is fast.”
He nodded. That was why he paid her the second highest salary in his company. “Okay, so it says here that, depending on the levels, it can take one to several hours to feel better. She’s also suggesting you drink more water and then eat something high in protein and complex carbs once your blood glucose levels return to a normal range.”
“An hour? I can’t very well sit out here in my car until I’m feeling better. Would you mind giving me a ride?”
“To the ER?” He felt his calf muscles clench, making him eager to stand up and run in the opposite direction. God, Kaleb hated hospitals more than he hated needles. Having multiple medical procedures during one’s adolescence tended to do that to a person.
“No. Just to pick up my nephew.”
“Can’t you get someone else to pick him up?”
She looked at him as if he’d just asked her to hack into the CIA’s router network. “His mom, my sister, left town this weekend on something called a ‘babymoon’ and put me in charge. I can’t very well call her and say, ‘Oops, sorry, I forgot to pick up your son because I was in a diabetic crisis.’”
“Actually, that’s exactly what you could do. Maybe he can get a ride home with a friend?”
“Right. And then my sister would find out and wonder why I couldn’t handle it myself.”
Kaleb seriously doubted that this woman slouched on the seat next to him could handle it. His heart constricted and his head was heavy, which was why he had to keep it supported against the door behind him as he balanced beside her, their bodies only a few inches apart. He of all people knew what it was like to not want someone—especially an overly concerned family member—to think he was weak or needed help.
Still. He was shocked when she turned those pretty blue eyes on him and asked, “Can you give me a ride to the baseball field?”
His throat closed in on itself as if it were the plastic water bottle she’d just drained. He coughed to clear it. “But...you don’t know me.”
“Hi, I’m Molly.”
Instinctively, because his mom had drilled good manners into him, he put his hand out and shook hers. “Kaleb.”
“Good. Now we know each other.”
“But you don’t know if I’m a criminal,” he argued.
“I know that you’re the type to rush to aid a stranger, which means you have a hero complex.”
“Ha,” he snorted. His brothers would argue that he was the least heroic of all of them, or at least the most self-absorbed. “Maybe I have a villain complex and you’re too weak to have figured it out yet.”
“I am not weak.” Her piercing look sent a chill down the back of his neck. He’d always associated the name Molly with a lovable cocker spaniel. But right this second, she looked more like a pissed-off Chihuahua. “Besides, a villain would’ve already robbed me or kidnapped me by now. And bad guys don’t have trusty assistants named Angela.”
“So you’re the expert on bad guys?” Why was he arguing with her about this? Just tell her you don’t want to give her a ride. Because he suddenly found himself actually wanting to take her anywhere she needed to go. She looked so delicate and fragile, yet he had a feeling there was a spine of steel under that petite frame. Plus, she was a mystery, a riddle, and he didn’t like leaving things unsolved.
“If you’d met my ex, you’d quickly figure out that I’m definitely not an expert on jerks.” He raised a brow at that little admission and she clamped her eyes shut. “God, forget I said that.”
Too late. Kaleb never forgot anything.
“Sir,” a cashier with salt-and-pepper dreadlocks called as she crossed the parking lot. “You forgot your ice and your limes.”
“Oh, geez, don’t let anyone see me like this.” Molly slouched lower in the seat. Great, now she was a cowering Chihuahua. “They’ll tell my sister.”
Kaleb sighed and stood up. He jogged toward the cashier, trying to meet her halfway.
“Thanks, Donae,” he said, reading the name tag on her apron. His father always said that people gave better service when you used their first name. Kaleb usually avoided the practice because it tended to invite familiarity when he was usually trying to keep the public from recognizing him. But he had a feeling he’d need all the allies he could get if he was going to survive the next ten days in this small town.
Kaleb took the dripping bag from Donae’s hand and set it down on the asphalt. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Listen, my friend isn’t feeling well and she left her shopping cart in aisle eight. Would you mind ringing those things up and throwing in a liter of water and one of the prewrapped turkey sandwiches from the deli section?”
“No problem, Mr. Chatterson,” she replied. Ugh, that was why he didn’t do familiarity. It gave strangers the impression that they knew him, which was fine if they’d limit their long-winded conversations to his work life and not to which model or actress or pop singer he’d recently dated. Fortunately, Donae only gave him a wide smile and took the large bills he passed her. “And just so you know, your sister, Kylie, called the store a couple of minutes ago asking if you’d left yet. I told her you were on your way. You want me to call her back?”
His jaw went stiff and he fought off the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Just like that, one mention of his awaiting family cemented Kaleb’s decision on whether he was going to give cute, determined Molly a ride to get her nephew. “Would you mind telling my sister something came up and I have to help out a friend?”
Okay, so “friend” was a generous description. In fact, Kaleb sincerely doubted his new acquaintance wouldn’t have already blasted out of the parking lot without so much as a wave if he hadn’t pocketed her car keys.
He hefted the ice into the bed of his dad’s lifted, half-ton truck, knowing he’d have to stop somewhere and get another bag before returning to his sister’s. Wiping a wet hand on his pant leg, he walked to Molly’s car to check on her. She was dozing in the passenger seat and he wondered if he should wake her up. No. That was for concussions, not diabetes. At least he thought so. Hell, he was a software developer, not a doctor. And he certainly wasn’t a damn taxi driver.
But a few minutes later, when the cashier pushed out a cart of bagged groceries, he told Donae to keep the change before loading them in the back of Molly’s hatchback.
Kaleb was often reminded of the fact that he was the shortest of all the Chatterson brothers, yet he still had to slide the driver’s seat back to accommodate his six-foot frame. He started the car and the stereo shot to life. If the booming bass of hip-hop wasn’t loud enough to wake Molly up, the vibration of the cheap speakers through the vinyl seats would’ve done the trick.
Chapter Two
“This bread has seeds in it,” Molly said as she examined the turkey sandwich he’d given her. She was already dehydrated and couldn’t afford to use the little saliva she could muster to swallow some tasteless looking cardboard.
“It’s whole grain.” Kaleb spoke slowly, as though he was explaining jet propulsion to a kindergartner. “It’s one of those complex carbs you’re supposed to eat once you drink enough fluid to flush out all the excess sugar from your system.”
Her unsolicited rescuer was sure turning out to be quite the know-it-all.
“I’m well aware of what I’m supposed to be eating and drinking.” As if to prove it, she took another long swig of the water he’d thoughtfully purchased after she’d already downed an entire bottle.
“Forgive me for doubting that when I overheard you asking some clueless teenager at the juice bar if the strawberry-banana smoothie was low in sugar.”
“Well, I will be aware. As soon as I meet with the nutritionist at Shadowview.” Molly actually had several appointments at the nearby military hospital, but she’d been putting them off. She could only handle one tailspin at a time.
“So you are in the military.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Technically, she was. But she didn’t know for how much longer. Ever since the flight surgeon wrote up a medical board determining that her recently diagnosed condition made her ineligible to fly, Molly had refused to think about where her career was headed. So instead, she changed the subject. “You can stop looking at the map on your phone. I know where we’re going.”
“But my GPS is saying it’s quicker to take Snowflake Boulevard to Lake Street.”
“Does your GPS also say that Lake Street is blocked off today because the high school drill team is practicing for next week’s Sun Potato Parade?”
“Hmpf.” His hand reluctantly dropped the fancy high-tech device into the center console, then loosely gripped it, as though he might need to grab it again at any second. “It probably would if there was a Sun Potato Parade app available to download.”
“You can talk to my nephew about inventing one. He lives for dorky tech stuff like that.” Molly saw Kaleb’s hand clench tighter around his phone and she wondered what she could’ve said to annoy him. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she might’ve asked him. She pointed to the next stop sign. “Make a left up here.”
“Speaking of your nephew, won’t he think there’s something wrong if you show up with a stranger?”
“I’ll tell him I had too much to drink.” She felt the deceleration of the car before she realized he’d completely taken his foot off the gas pedal. She let her head roll to the side, which was a mistake since it only afforded her a full view of his handsome—and doubt-filled—face.
“You’d rather people think you were drunk than diabetic?” His incredulous tone hit her in the belly with a force. Or maybe she was still sore from where she’d given herself that shot. “Are you seriously that desperate to keep this from your family?”
“Desperate is a strong word,” she said cautiously. In fact, it sounded a lot like weak. And she was neither. “I’m simply protecting them from worrying about me. And I didn’t mean alcohol. His mom warned him not to have too much soda this weekend because it would give him a bellyache. So I was going to go that route.”
He made a weird mumbling sound as he pulled into the parking lot. All the other kids must’ve already been picked up because poor Hunter was the only boy waiting by the bleachers. She curled her fingers into her palm, unable to release the guilt building inside her. Molly came from a big, busy family with at least one parent usually off on deployment. Getting forgotten at school or left behind at soccer practice was an all too familiar feeling and she hated that her condition was now affecting others.
She leaped out of the passenger door before Kaleb had even put the car in Park. Well, she didn’t leap so much as stumble on shaky legs, feeling as if she’d just stepped onto solid ground after a ten-hour flight in a cramped cockpit.
“Sorry I’m so late, buddy,” she said, wrapping her twelve-year-old nephew into a bear hug, made all the more awkward by the fact that he’d shot up a couple inches taller than her this past winter and was carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a batting helmet in the other. As well as by the fact that she’d just seen him less than two hours ago. “Have you been waiting all by yourself?”
“No problem, Aunt Molly. Practice has only been done a few minutes and Coach Russell is still here chalking the base lines for tomorrow’s game.” Hunter untangled himself from her overzealous greeting and opened the rear door to toss his gear into the back seat. “Hey! You didn’t tell me Kaleb was coming with you!”
“Hunter, my man,” Kaleb said casually as he pivoted in the driver’s seat and did a complicated fist bump with her nephew.
“What?” Molly fumbled with the door handle. “You guys know each other?”
“Pfshhh,” Hunter responded. “Anyone living in the twenty-first century knows Kaleb Chatterson.”
“Oh, hell.” She inspected her grocery store hero through squinted eyes. “You’re a Chatterson?”
“That’s another dollar for my swear jar, Aunt Molly.”
“According to my birth certificate.” Kaleb shrugged, then put the car into gear. “The DNA tests are still in question.”
A throb started in her temples and Molly had to wonder if her visit to Sugar Falls could get any worse. She pulled her wallet out and tossed a ten dollar bill onto Hunter’s lap. “Consider me paid up until Sunday.”
* * *
“But you said you were from Seattle,” Molly accused through gritted teeth as she latched her seat belt.
“I am.” Kaleb was doing her a favor. Why was he the one being put on the defensive? “And would you mind telling me where I’m supposed to take you?”
“I’m staying at my sister’s apartment. But I guess you knew that all along.”
Whoa. This lady was coming at him with guns blazing. If that wasn’t discomforting enough, a twelve-year-old kid had his seat belt stretched to the limits as he practically leaned between their two seats, not wanting to miss a minute of the action. “How in the world would I have known that? I didn’t have a clue who you were until fifteen minutes ago.”
In fact, it wasn’t until Kaleb heard Hunter call her “Aunt Molly” that the puzzle began clicking together. The woman beside him must somehow be related to Maxine, who was best friends with his sister, Kylie. But he was still missing the pieces that explained why she was suddenly so annoyed with him.
“But you know me, right, Kaleb?” Hunter’s voice cracked and it didn’t take a rearview mirror for Kaleb to know the kid’s eager freckled face was only inches behind his own. “Remember when we were at your sister’s wedding last year and you promised me an internship at your company when I turned eighteen?”
Kaleb squeezed his eyes shut briefly. How could he forget? Of course, he would’ve called it a surrender more than a promise since, at the time, Hunter was the only person who’d been able to smuggle in a tablet—despite Kylie’s ban of all electronic devices at the reception—and Kaleb’s Tokyo office was in the middle of negotiations to buy out a company that built virtual-reality headsets.
Yet, before anyone could comment on the circumstances surrounding the supposed internship, the kid’s aunt interrupted. “If you’re from Seattle, then what are you doing in Sugar Falls?”
As he turned onto Snowflake Boulevard, which could’ve just as easily been named Main Street, USA, he took in the grassy park in the center of downtown to assure himself that they were still in a free country. “The same thing you are. Visiting family.”
She mumbled an expletive u
nder her breath and he was pretty sure that, at this rate, Hunter was going to have enough money in his swear jar to get him through the first two years of college.
“Speaking of family.” Kaleb emphasized the last word to remind her that children were present. “Does your sister still live above her shop?”
“Not anymore,” Hunter answered for his aunt, who was silently fuming in the front seat. “We moved out to a bigger house when she and Cooper got married. But Aunt Molly is staying there while she’s in town. She says it’s because she doesn’t want to be in our way, but Mom says it’s because she doesn’t want us knowing her business.”
Molly gasped before turning in her seat to look at her nephew. “Your mom told you that?”
Hunter had his palms up. “Not in a bad way or nothin’... She said all the Markhams are like that.”
“So where are we going?” Kaleb interrupted. If he wanted a front-row seat to watch family members bickering, he’d head back to his sister’s house and watch his own brothers argue over who got to man the backyard grill.
“To the apartment over the bakery.” Molly sighed. Even an outsider like Kaleb knew that when someone said bakery in this town, they actually meant the Sugar Falls Cookie Company. “It shouldn’t be that far of a walk for you to get back to your car at Duncan’s Market.”
Not that far? It was at least a mile through town and both his phone and his watch—he never should’ve synced the two—currently sounded like winning slot machines with unanswered texts from his dad and his sister, probably wanting to know where the heck he was with their ice and limes.
“Why’s your car at Duncan’s?” Hunter asked. So far they’d avoided having to explain why he was driving them home, but if the kid was as observant as Kaleb had been at that age, it didn’t take a computer genius to figure out Molly was hiding something.
“Because your aunt had a—”
“Wait.” Molly pointed a finger his way. “Which Chatterson brother are you?”
“I’m Kaleb,” he said slowly, second-guessing his earlier decision to go along with her pleas to not seek medical assistance.