No Kind of Hero (Portland Devils Book 2)

by Rosalind James

  It’s OK. I love you.

  So he married her.

  You could say it was a good day. Or you could say that Beth was floating on air. The best part—well, seeing Evan’s face when she’d walked down the aisle to him was the best part, and having him put the ring on her finger and smile at her with nothing held back had been good, too. And then there’d been their first dance, when she’d had to hide her face in his shoulder to keep from crying, and he’d felt that and held her tighter, like he’d never let her go.

  All right, all those had been good. And then, when the champagne had been poured and the toasts and speeches had been made—Dakota’s had been particularly awesome—Dakota said, “Ready, Evan?”

  “You bet,” he said. “The groom’s present to the bride,” he explained to Beth.

  “I got a present,” she said. “I got you and Gracie.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, well, something else. Something to hang in the front window for when you’re mad at me because I won’t talk.”

  Dakota had hurried out of the white marquee, one hand hitching up her dress, and grabbed Blake on her way. They came back a minute later, and Blake was carrying something wrapped in silvery paper. Something flat, and enormous. Blake set it on the head table and said, “You got a little bit of everything with this one. A little bit of Evan, a little bit of Russell, and a whole lot of Dakota. Open it up.”

  Beth knew. She thought she knew. She hoped it was. Dakota had been doing a butterfly-on-flower series in her stained glass that was hanging in a Portland gallery, and in the Wild Horse Resort, too. And it was stunning. But this . . .

  She ripped away the silvery paper, the bow, and it was. Evan picked it up, propped it on the edge of the table, and said, “There you go.”

  Two dragonflies in extreme close-up, Dakota Savage style, a blur of iridescent wings and electric-blue bodies, caught in a mating dance over the water.

  “Dragonflies,” Evan said. “The symbol of the kind of change that comes from looking under the surface.”

  “Dakota,” Beth said. “Evan. Oh, it’s gorgeous. Thank you.”

  “But the question is,” Evan said, “is it going to get me out of trouble?”

  “Oh,” Beth said, “I think it will.”

  Blake’s present was something more practical. A wedding night in the Founder’s Suite of the Resort, before they took off on their weeklong honeymoon to the Oregon Coast. At seven o’clock, Beth tugged Evan behind the marquee, pulled his head down and kissed him until—she hoped—his toes curled, and murmured in his ear, “Have I been good long enough? Do we get to go?” She’d spent the last three nights in the cottage, and she’d missed him.

  He had some smile trying to get out. “Yeah. I mean, this wedding thing’s all right, but there’s just nothing like the thought of doing dirty things to your wife.”

  She laughed, kissed him below his ear, where he liked it, and said, “Hold that thought while I change out of this thing. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hang on.” He tugged her back by the hand as she whirled away. “Are you wearing sexy underwear, by any chance?”

  “Well, yes,” she said, “as a matter of fact, I am.”

  He sighed. “Do you think you could leave that on?”

  “Oh,” she said, “I think I could.”

  Evan drove them away—finally—after much too much more time. They’d kissed Gracie goodbye, had left her in Michelle’s arms, and had climbed into Beth’s lawyer car. He was drawing the line at taking her to the Oregon coast in a painter’s van.

  “Well,” he said, pulling out of the circular driveway and onto the road, leaving the house he’d come here to paint more than ten years ago, “we did it.”

  “We did,” she said. “How about that. I did something else, too. Want to see?”

  “Well, yeah. Sure.” He hoped it had something to do with a spa. Things Beth did at a spa usually had rewards for him. He glanced at her, then looked again, because she was pulling the skirt of her yellow dress right up her thighs. There was white lace on the top of her stockings, and smooth skin above. And no garters.

  Oh, yeah. Those were thigh-highs.

  “Holy sh—” he got out as she kept going. He pulled over fast to the side of the road. “Don’t do that to me. I about put us in the lake.”

  She was smiling, and that dress was coming up some more. She turned away from him, toward the door, and he couldn’t look anywhere else. She pulled that gauzy yellow dress all the way up to her waist, and she wasn’t naked under it this time. It was even better. A white lace thong, the kind you could work around.

  But there was another reason he was staring. Because right there on her hip, where nobody could see it but him—there was the word. Written in pretty blue script, with flourishes.

  Evan.

  She looked back over her shoulder, mischief in her blue eyes, and said, “The bride’s gift to the groom.”

  “Now, baby,” he said. “That’s what I call a wedding present.” He had to put his hand out and trace it, too. If there was anything hotter than putting your hand on your name tattooed on your wife’s gorgeous ass, he couldn’t think what it would be.

  She turned around again and pulled her skirt down, which he had to be a little sad about. “Ten minutes,” he told her. “We’re in that room drinking champagne, and I’m going to be taking a long, slow look at that.”

  Blake had given him the keycards already. So they could skip the check-in and head straight to the penthouse.

  “Is that a promise?” Beth asked. Still sassy, and he loved it.

  “You could call it a vow. A wedding vow. And—oh. By the way.” He was the one turning in his seat now, lifting the edge of his black T-shirt over his left bicep. The one closest to his heart. “Since we’re sharing.”

  For once, she was at a total loss. “Evan.”

  “Yep.” Right across her favorite muscle, in a script absolutely as pretty as the artist had been able to do.

  Beth. The tail of the h curved up and around, and then it took flight. A dragonfly in a sapphire as bright as Beth’s ring. As bright as her eyes. “A dragonfly for knowing what matters,” he told her. “A dragonfly for a new life. A better life.”

  She was laughing some, crying some. “You’re just . . .” she said. “I’m just . . .” She shook her head, wiped her eyes with her fingertips, and said, “Take me to the hotel and start our wedding night. I can’t tell you this. I have to show you.”

  This satisfaction was too deep for smiling. This was the kind that went to the bone. “I can handle that,” he said. And pulled out onto the road again.

  He didn’t even make it all the way to town. He passed Laurel Road on the left, and a rig was flipping on its lights, pulling out of there, and following him.

  All its lights. The red and blue flashing kind.

  He didn’t groan. He didn’t say a thing. He signaled and pulled over.

  “What?” Beth asked.

  “Cop.”

  “Oh, no. Why?”

  “Can’t be anything really wrong.” He watched in the rearview mirror as a man climbed out of the unmarked pickup. No mistaking the uniform, though. Smokey hat and all. Evan sighed, rolled down the window, and kept his hands on the wheel. “I had two glasses of champagne, tops. I’ve been saving up for the hotel.”

  Beth hadn’t had any that he’d seen after that first sip. She’d eaten barely anything, in fact, other than the one bite of wedding cake he’d fed her. She was running on emotion, as usual. Well, he’d have the whole week to help her relax and find her happy place. He was up to the job.

  Once he got this ticket.

  A big hand on the window frame, a pair of broad shoulders in a gray uniform shirt filling the space, and finally, a face under the Smokey hat. Serious as a heart attack. “Evening, folks,” the deputy said. “Can I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please, sir?”

  Evan didn’t say anything. He reached for his wallet in his back pocket—cauti
ously, because cops didn’t always trust big guys with wary eyes—pulled out the license, and handed it over. Beth had already opened the glove compartment, was handing over the other documents.

  The cop scrutinized them, then handed them back. “Thanks. You folks are traveling with an unrestrained child. Are you aware that child seats are required under Idaho law?”

  Evan had a horrible moment and spun to look in the back of the car. No car seat. No Gracie. Of course not. They’d left Gracie in Michelle’s arms. Her car seat was in the back of Michelle’s Lexus. She was safe.

  He wanted to ask the guy what he’d been smoking, but he didn’t. Cops didn’t like him anyway. Right now, the feeling was mutual. “Take another look,” he said. “There’s no child in this car. Our daughter’s with my wife’s mother.” My wife. He hadn’t said it to anyone before. It sounded good. It might have distracted him for a moment. “We just got married,” he added. Forget pride. “I’m not sure what the problem is, but this is our wedding night, so . . .”

  The cop did “inscrutable” as well as Evan. “That so. Congratulations. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to cite you anyway.” He reached for his pocket even as Evan was thinking, Wait, what? And then just Wait.

  “Your badge says Lemhi County,” he said. “You’re out of your jurisdiction. What is this all about?”

  The deputy wasn’t pulling a ticket book out of his pocket. He was pulling out a plastic stick. And he was handing it to Evan. “Come to think of it,” he said, “I guess your child’s restrained pretty well at that.” He stuck out a hand, and Evan shook it without knowing what he was doing. The cop said, “Jim Lawson. Congratulations to both of you.”

  He took off, but Evan wasn’t watching. He was looking at the thing in his hand. A white plastic wand. “Wait,” he said. “What?”

  There was a window in that wand. And it had a plus sign in it.

  When he turned his head to look at Beth, it felt like slow motion. She shrugged helplessly, her eyes bright, and said in that breathless voice that did things to his heart, “It was . . . your mom set it up. The deputy. With your . . . aunt. In Paradise.”

  Evan was looking at the stick again, then at her. “You’re pregnant.”

  She didn’t say anything. She just nodded, a tiny movement, swallowed, and asked, “What do you think? Too . . . too soon?”

  He laughed. He couldn’t feel his feet, or his face. He set the wand carefully down on the console, because he was keeping that, then reached across and took his wife in his arms. “I think,” he told her, his thumb on her cheek, his hand smoothing back that multicolored hair, “that I got luckier than any man deserves. I think I love you.”

  “Do you care?” she asked. “Which it is? A boy or a girl?”

  “I care that it’s a person,” he said. “I care that it’s a baby. I care that it’s ours. And I’m going to take such good care of you.”

  She smiled at him, and there was a world of trust in that smile. A world that was all his. She didn’t have to say anything, but she said it anyway. “I know.”

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  Got a comment or a question? I’d love to hear! You can email me at Rosalind@rosalindjames.com

  The Portland Devils series

  Dakota & Blake’s story: SILVER-TONGUED DEVIL

  Evan & Beth’s story: NO KIND OF HERO

  The Escape to New Zealand series

  Reka & Hemi’s story: JUST FOR YOU

  Hannah & Drew’s story: JUST THIS ONCE

  Kate & Koti’s story: JUST GOOD FRIENDS

  Jenna & Finn’s story: JUST FOR NOW

  Emma & Nic’s story: JUST FOR FUN

  Ally & Nate’s/Kristen & Liam’s stories: JUST MY LUCK

  Josie & Hugh’s story: JUST NOT MINE

  Hannah & Drew’s story again/Reunion: JUST ONCE MORE

  Faith & Will’s story: JUST IN TIME

  Nina & Iain’s story: JUST STOP ME

  Chloe & Kevin's story: JUST SAY YES

  The Not Quite a Billionaire series (Hope & Hemi’s story)

  FIERCE

  FRACTURED

  FOUND

  The Paradise, Idaho series (Montlake Romance)

  Zoe & Cal’s story: CARRY ME HOME

  Kayla & Luke’s story: HOLD ME CLOSE

  Rochelle & Travis’s story: TURN ME LOOSE

  Hallie & Jim’s story: TAKE ME BACK

  The Kincaids series

  Mira and Gabe’s story: WELCOME TO PARADISE

  Desiree and Alec’s story: NOTHING PERSONAL

  Alyssa and Joe’sstory: ASKING FOR TROUBLE

  Thank you to the Hon. Barbara Buchanan for her help with legal issues and behavior during custody battles. Any errors or omissions, as always, are my own.

  Thanks to my alpha read duo, Kathy Harward and Mary Guidry, for their invaluable help as they read along with this book.

  A thank you as always to my wonderful assistant, Mary Guidry.

  Thanks to my husband, Rick Nolting, for supporting me and moving back to Idaho with me, learning to cook, and generally being a voice of sanity during this crazy time. Thank you to my sister, Erika Iiams, for talking over the book and the feelings with me. Thanks to my other sisters and my brother: Kate, Kirsten, and Carl Iiams, and to my nephews and nieces and their wonderful spouses. This book happened in the midst of a rough journey. Lots of family time, lots of family tears, lots of family love. I hope it shows in the story.

  Thank you to my beautiful niece, M’ilee Satter, for providing such a wonderful example of a mother, and to my great-nephew, Ridge Satter, for contributing (extremely manly) inspiration for Gracie, especially his gorgeous smile. Sorry about the pink stroller, Ridge. I was a little distracted.