by Sosie Frost
One who never realized how much I’d loved him until it was too late.
I still couldn’t even see his face, and it didn’t matter anymore. I saw mine. And it was just as shameful now as it had been then. Worse. At least I only had heartache in the past.
I had a baby. And she didn’t pop into existence from a flower in a garden under a rainbow.
Had I screwed around with an engaged man?
A married man?
I regretted shaving my legs for Shepard’s surprise. Sure, I wore a pair of cute capris leggings, but I felt like I knew myself. At least…enough of myself to base an accurate opinion of me. I would be the type of flirt to shave my legs—and other places that only my baby’s father should have seen.
Which sucked because finally, three months after giving birth, I felt sexy again. Thanks in part to Shepard’s attention. The wrong kind of attention.
But I was sleeping more. Eating well. We had a routine.
And that helped me to remember more and more.
And, of course, the biggest discovery of my past?
I was Evie Doe—Queen of the Home Wreckers. All I needed was a crown, complimentary harlot-spank red lipstick, and a metal detector to search for wedding rings on the fingers of unsuspecting men. The stilettos were a work in progress, but I that wouldn’t stop me. Once the legs went up, and the thigh-highs down, the action didn’t take much skill.
Or maybe it did.
And that was why I fell in love with a to-be-married man.
I didn’t know what happened after the memory. Maybe we stayed together. Maybe we kept it a secret. But at some point, I had wanted to have a baby. And that broke my heart. Clue was too innocent to be used to lure a man away from his wife. Her little smile could melt a heart, but even she couldn’t break a vow.
Could she?
Shepard glanced at me as he turned off the highway. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t make me get the polygraph.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you promise to be good, I’ll stop and frisk you.”
“Oh, now you’re asking for trouble.”
“Come on, Evie.” Shepard’s voice mellowed. “Tell me. You know you can trust me.”
Sure, I could. But did I trust myself?
Absolutely not.
How could I possibly reveal a secret affair with an engaged man to someone as honorable and infuriatingly chivalrous as Shepard? Cupid’s arrow already dug into me in all the wrong places. Annoying. Less like a gift of love and more like a splinter of insecurity and complications.
If that bastard cherub wanted to be helpful, he’d drop the roses and harps and start slinging arrows at Clue’s father.
Wherever the hell he was.
“Do you remember what you said at the doctor’s office?” Shepard asked. “About not wanting to forget Clue?”
“Yeah. That I do remember.” I rubbed my face. “Don’t read WebMD on two hours of sleep. You research one blood-born pathogen, you read ‘em all.”
Shepard turned off the road and led us across a gravel driveway. The sign read Montgomery Park, and he pointed to a pretty little picnic area, secluded and sunny.
“I propose a new strategy.” He parked the car and hopped out with a grin. “You can’t just hope to remember your past. It’s time for you to start making memories.”
He popped the trunk as I pulled Clue from the car seat. The goober of a smile melted my heart, and she babbled over the fist stuffed in her mouth. Shepard offered a trade—the baby for a neatly wrapped present, stylish in fancy paper with a big bow. We swapped, and Clue gave him the same goofy grin as he cuddled her in his arms.
I cracked open the white box. Shepard had packed quite the surprise. I pulled out the teeny-tiny yellow dress and pressed it against my body. “It might be a little small.”
He winked. “Good thing it’s for Clue.”
“I never knew you were an infant fashionista.”
“Wait till you see the shoes I bought her.”
“She’s a regular Cinderella.”
The dress was super cute, it wouldn’t last. The frills, lace, and bows served as a perfect target for messes, and Clue had dynamite aim.
However, she did look adorable—a frilly little princess complete with lacey socks and perfect fairy tale slippers.
“Now that we’ve turned my child into the Princess of Wales.” I ruffled through the chiffon and silk until I grabbed the kid. “You can be on diaper duty.”
“This shouldn’t take long.”
He waved to a black woman setting up her camera equipment and white screen in the most picturesque area of the park. She tucked her red-streaked hair into a ponytail and unloaded a basket filled with blankets, toys, and flowers.
Shepard’s voice rumbled through me, a silken wave of heat and compassion that only made me regret every wicked desire that had flickered in my mind.
“Clue doesn’t have any baby pictures yet,” he said.
“You hired a photographer?”
He took the diaper bag from me and led us through the park. “Every mother deserves a couple professional pictures of her baby. I should have done this when she was smaller, but I think she’s cute enough for a photo-op now.” He tugged a yellow headband from his pocket, pinned with a bright daisy on top. “I want you to have something you can never forget.”
Oh, he didn’t have to worry about a damn thing.
I wasn’t going to forget a moment of this kindness.
Ever.
I didn’t deserve this. I was Slutty McHomewrecker—a woman who probably broke up a relationship so I could steal a man from his fiancée.
At least Clue looked cute as a button in her princess dress.
And I was lucky no one had pinned a scarlet A to my chest yet.
The photographer, a beautiful woman with a flirty smile and streaks of red in her hair, was excited to meet us. “Hey there, Evie! It’s so good to see you up and about.”
“Yeah.” I agreed. “Look at me go?”
She winked. “Sorry. You must not remember me.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
“I’m Elle…Reed. I’m the team photographer for the Ironfield Rivets. My husband, Lachlan—”
And now I felt like an idiot. “Oh my God. It’s his charity.”
“That’s right!” Elle snapped a picture before either of us were ready. Clue’s blink went asymmetrical, and I shook away visions of speeding ice cream trucks. “Officer Novak here—”
“Shepard.” He interrupted with a wink.
“Well, he thought it’d be a good idea to get some pictures done, and since we were all involved with the charity, I was more than happy to help. Especially for such a sweet little girl!”
Clue certainly was dazzling—but we were t-minus fifteen minutes until her 3PM diaper change, and it was never a pretty sight.
“Okay. I’ve got linebackers waiting for headshots back at the field.” Elle smoothed a blanket in a basket and helped to rest Clue on the bundle. “Wow. She is an angel. I have my own little guy at home—takes after his father. Hyper as can be. Not nearly as mild-mannered as your bundle of patience here.” She spoke quicker than the camera flash. And her husband was the hyper one? “Let’s see how many pictures we can take before you get bored, baby girl.”
The basket, the dress, and the belly full of milk was a good combo. Clue nearly fell asleep while Elle set the scene. A summer basket. A couple teddy bears. Little wreath of flowers.
And Shepard, watching with a perfect smile, knowing he’d given me the perfect present and found the perfect way to make me melt.
Most heroes flew, cape fluttering in the breeze. This one stayed near my side, denim jeans snug around a sexy ass. While other heroes rescued the girl and were gone, Shepard refused to leave me. He offered kindness and compassion, a sweet tease that fluttered my heart.
This didn’t make sense.
He was too good. Too p
erfect. It didn’t feel real. No man was this much of a gentleman, hero, and friend.
Every man had a flaw.
And it was time I found Shepard’s, even if it was something little—like voluntarily listening to Nickelback or adding sugar to spaghetti sauce.
I studied him—the hard line of his jaw, the playful brightness in his blue eyes, the lean muscles stretching his shirt. I couldn’t see a flaw, but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist.
That didn’t mean he was without his own terrible secrets.
Maybe he busted people for speeding when they traveled one mile an hour over the speed limit.
Or maybe he’d become involved in some sort of corruption scandal—stealing from the police department’s candy box to buy Clue’s fancy dress.
Maybe Detective Shepard Novak was a twisted, shady cop who stole change from the cupholders of impounded cars on the police lot.
The fiend.
But the fiend was as handsome, kind, and amazing as always.
Especially compared to me.
“I hate to wake her up…” Elle twisted a finger through her hair, tugging on one of the red curls. “But I bet you’ll really want a picture with her smiling. Feeling lucky?”
“We can try…” I knelt beside the basket with a soft voice. “Sometimes we get a smile…sometimes we call an Exorcist. It’s like playing Russian Roulette with a rattle that can turn into a nuke.”
But we were lucky. Clue woke and gave me a furrowed little brow of warning confusion. Fortunately, Shepard made a silly voice, and she grinned. A quick rub of her nose-turned-tickle-button, and I dove away from the blanket in time for Elle to get a couple shots of a genuinely amused baby.
“These are going to be great.” She snapped half a dozen in quick succession. “She’s such a cutie.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Not a bad souvenir to take home from the hospital.”
Elle agreed. “Better than swiping a box of latex gloves.”
I nudged Shepard. “See? She gets me.”
But Shepard wasn’t listening.
His eyes trained on a crowd, yelling and rushing onto a street near the duck pond.
“Shit.” He took off running towards the group. “They’re shouting for the police. Stay here.”
“Uh-oh.” Elle took the opportunity to snap an action shot of Shepard sprinting across the park to assist the growing herd of people. “He is dedicated, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea.”
“One more picture…” Elle took a quick photo and squealed in delight. “Got her yawning. Too cute!”
I lifted Clue out of the basket, amazed that the dress was still in one stickyless piece. No spit up. No blown-out diapers.
“It’s almost like you’re civilized now.” I tickled her. “I can dress you up and take you out.”
And the little rumble in her belly tooted out. Fantastic.
“There’s the kiddo I know and love.” I turned to Elle. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”
Elle wasn’t listening. She held her camera tight and gestured for me to follow. “Let’s check this out. There might be some good shots over there.”
She didn’t wait, jogging across the park to reach the crowds circled around Shepard.
Yeah, taking a baby into a potential crime scene. That’d win me mother-of-the-year.
At least Clue was happy for the walk. Together, we’d climb any mountain and cross any police tape. We were Gassy McPampers and Mistress von Slutty Wutty, best friends forever.
I joined the crowd circling the road. A frazzled old man attempted to direct traffic as two men clustered over an opened sewer grate. Everyone buzzed with concern, doing their best to placate a rather distressed, very impatient momma duck with pieces of stale bread.
Shepard’s shout echoed, muffled and hidden. I stood on my tip-toes, peeking over the crowd.
“I got some! Help me up!”
The men dropped to the ground, reaching into the storm sewer. With a grunt, Shepard popped out.
Holding two ducklings.
“Oh my God.” Elle snapped a dozen photos. “He’s amazing. Where did you find him, Evie?”
Not a day went by that I didn’t ask myself if my uterus wasn’t a Pandora’s Box that delivered both Clue and Shepard into my life.
“He…found me.”
“Keep him, honey.”
Shepard handed off the ducklings while an elderly woman shoo’ed them closer to the chattering momma duck. Once they were safe, he ducked again into the storm sewer, fetching more of the helpless little ducklings from their tiny prison.
“Do you still love her?”
It was a question that pained me to ask. It hurt more to hear his answer.
“It’s not about love. I made a promise.”
“What about her promise to you?” My words hollowed. “She’s not faithful. She’s not kind. She’s ruining your life.”
“The wedding is in two months.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I nodded, brushing away tears. “What does love matter when you have a banquet hall deposit on the line?”
“You know I can’t leave her.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
He swore. “Why don’t you? Just say it. Tell me you want me. Just ask me. Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“That you love me.”
“Will it change anything?”
He didn’t answer. Neither did I.
Great.
Could my past possibly get any worse? Here Shepard was out saving a family of ducklings, and at some point in my very recent history, I had attempted to steal a man two months before his wedding.
This couldn’t be. No way was I that horrible of a person.
And Shepard couldn’t possibly be that good, no matter how many ducks he stuffed in his pocket.
Right?
The crowd cheered as the last duckling waddled free, racing to his momma who promptly shook her tail feathers with indignity and continued towards the pond.
“Oh, he is yummy.” Elle winked at me. “You keep hold of that one.”
“He’s definitely tough to get rid of,” I said.
Too tough. Too perfect.
I needed something that would shatter this illusion. Something that would save me from this unrelenting crush and spare me the misery and heartbreak of the truth.
Any fault would do.
Like…a dastardly plan to toss the ducklings into the sewer ahead of time, just so he could look like the hero when I happened across the scene.
Maybe that was it! Shepard was a ducking fraud.
He helped the men replace the grate and wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. The crowd clapped, but the kids eventually raced to the playgrounds. The moms waited around a little longer, nibbling on their sunglasses with flirty smirks.
He didn’t even look at them. He approached me with a warning.
“Don’t get too close,” he said. “I’m a mess.”
One of the playground moms gave a throaty growl. “That wouldn’t stop me.”
She was absolutely right. I needed something worse than dirt, grime, and stray leaves to change my opinion of Shepard.
“Do you recycle?” I asked.
Shepard shrugged. “Yeah…I try—”
I huffed. “Have you ever stolen someone’s lunch from the office fridge? Blamed someone else?”
“No…but I’m usually on a strict diet—”
“I bet you don’t return library books.”
“I always—”
I interrupted him. “You probably wear ugly sweaters at Christmas, un-ironically.”
He gave an awkward shrug. “I didn’t think my taste was that bad…”
“I know! You pour Skittles and M&Ms into the same bowl.”
“What sort of monster does that?”
I sighed. It was no use. Shepard Novak had no flaws.
But I had them all. Hopefully, Clue wouldn’t inherit them.
“Evie�
��” Shepard laughed. “Is something bothering you—?”
A woman’s scream tore through the park.
“Help!” An elderly woman pointed across the path, away from the ducklings. “He stole my purse!”
Shepard’s curse bit under his breath.
And then he was gone.
Racing across the park.
Being a hero. Again.
The crowd gasped as he leapt over a park bench and sprinted after the thief, arms pumping and feet striking the pavement as if he’d launch at any moment, rip through his shirt, and transform right into the ducky pond’s very own Superman.
The thief didn’t stand a chance.
The teenage boy panicked and tripped over a sprinkler system. He landed face first into a freshly mulched rose garden. Unfortunately, his sneaker had jammed into the sprinkler. A geyser of water spurted from the ground. The kid tangled in the mud.
Shepard landed on him.
Poised. In command.
The water dripped over his body, rippling with adrenaline and tensed with bulging muscle. His wet shirt clung to his back, his arms, his chest. Every heaving breath stuck the material closer to his perfect form. The water dripped from his hair, and he ran a hand through the length to smooth it back. His eyes narrowed over the punk, and he held him tight, waiting for one of the applauding people to call the police.
Fortunately, the cruiser was already nearby, responding first to the duckling incident. Two officers hopped from the car and greeted their detective. They hauled the teenager out of the mud and wished Shepard a good day off, if there was such a thing for him.
The crowds parted as he strode toward me—dripping wet with clothing clinging to his unbelievable body. His blue eyes narrowed over me and the baby, and he cast a hand over the trimmed length of his beard, wiping away mud and sweat.
What the hell was I supposed to say?
There were no more words for this fairytale. In fact, this was the point of the story where the narrative faded to black so the handsome knight could bang the everloving shit out of the princess on top of the slain dragon.
But I wasn’t any blushing damsel.
Hell, I was two-seductions from a Game of Thrones villain, spreading my legs to capture all of Westeros in my trap.
“All in a day’s work, Detective?” I asked.
He got cocky with me. “It pays the bills.”