by Freya Barker
Copyright © 2015 Margreet Asselbergs as Freya Barker
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or by other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in used critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses as permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, mentioning in the subject line:
"Reproduction Request” at the address below:
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, any event, occurrence, or incident is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created and thought up from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN: 978-0-9938883-5-9
Cover Design:
RE&D - Margreet Asselbergs
Editing:
RE&D - Vanessa Leret Bridges - PREMA
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Clean Lines (A Cedar Tree Novel, #4)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CEDAR TREE SERIES
COMING SOON
DEDICATION
To Mariette, who for many years has given tirelessly of herself in her care for my parents. Because she was there, looking after their every day needs, I was able to move to a different continent and build a new life, within the comfort of knowing Papa and Mama were always looked after.
The women in my books are all strong, capable women, but none of them hold a candle to your abilities, you strength and your compassion.
You will always be my sister and I love you.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank a group of women, brought together by a love of reading—of books, a lot of whom I have not a chance to meet face to face yet. These women whole-heartedly support everything I do. I only have to ask, and sometimes that isn’t even necessary. My girls from Freya’s Barks&Bites—you know who you are—I love you buckets!
Thank you also to my beta-readers. I ask you to be brutally honest with me and without exception you do more than I expect from you. Time after time after time. The quality of my books is in large part due to your relentless eye for detail, and I can’t thank you enough! Love each and every one of you!
A big hug and thank you to my partner in crime at Rebel Edit&Design, Dana Hook, who is my go-to-person in the industry and who knows how to keep me grounded, motivated and ‘real’. There are no words to express what you mean to me.
Thank you to Vanessa Leret, who came on board as an independent editor for RE&D and who took on the task of editing Clean Lines and has exceeded expectations by miles! A wonderful, warm, intelligent and very, very welcome addition to my team. Already I adore you, Vanessa!
Thank you to Pam Buchanan, who provided the best assistance a girl could want at the Detroit Mashup Author Signing. I had a fantastic time with you Pam, and am down for a repeat or two!
Pam, you’ve become a trusted friend who is not afraid to speak her mind and give it to me straight between the eyes. There is a special place in my heart for you!
Thank you also to DM Earl, who was my table partner at the first ever signing for both of us, and she made it an experience never to forget. Love you girl, and make sure you hang on that ‘DUKE’ of yours, he’s priceless!
To Ava Manello, who together with Colette Goodchild managed to pull of the event to end all events! Tattooed Bad Boys in York, United Kingdom was an experience I can’t wait to repeat. Ava, I adore you and can’t wait for you to visit me in Canada, if only so I can stand by the gate with a welcome sign in my hands and grin on my face.
The amazing British fans who welcomed me (some with tears—xox Vickie) and even brought me food, gifts and left wonderful notes in my book. I could feel your love and appreciation in my soul!
My PA, Leanne Hawkes, who despite impressive work obligations and persistent sickness, managed to keep up her tireless attempts to bring my books to a bigger audience. Love your face!
And finally all you amazing readers – the ones who have been there from the very first book, to the newly introduced; you make writing so meaningful. Whether I read your words of appreciation or have a chance to meet you in person, you always manage to motivate me to do more—do better. And I thank you from the bottom of my humble heart.
PROLOGUE
"Is that gonna hurt?"
"Remember those pokes I had to give you a few minutes ago?"
The poor little guy nods his head furiously, tear tracks still staining his cheeks from his earlier encounter with my needle.
"Well, those pokes were to make your skin go to sleep. Wanna see?" I watch him look at me from under his thick lashes as he nods again, this time with a little less enthusiasm as I pick up a spare needle. "I'll do it softly first, and then a little harder and I promise I'll stop if it hurts, okay?"
"Okay," comes his timid little voice.
Five-year-old Matthew came into the emergency room with his mom after a spill off the swings, right into a broken beer bottle some idiots had discarded in the park's playground. Two good-sized lacerations; one below the other on his lower leg, with the bottom one deep enough to expose the bone. It was going to need a good cleaning and a fair number of stitches to close, but first I needed to freeze the area and that was not fun for the little squirt, who had already screamed bloody murder. I'm not about to traumatize him even further and am trying for his cooperation, which will be the faster way to go, if I can get it.
A few gentle pricks with the needle bring out a big smile on Matthew's face, and when I poke a little harder he even giggles.
"You are one tough little super kid, aren't you?" I smile at him.
"I didn't feel it!"
"Told ya. Now I have to squirt into the cut with that bottle to clean it up really well before I put some stitches in, but you know you can't feel anything, right? Are you gonna be able to help me out?"
I hand him a stack of dressings., "Here, hold on to these, and every now and then can you wipe my forehead? This is hard work, you know." A quick reassuring wink at his mom, who is observing from the side of the bed, and I snap on a clean pair of gloves. "Ready, Matthew?"
"Ready," he says proudly sticking out the dressings.
It takes me only twenty minutes or so to clean out and neatly stitch both lacerations and the only time the little guy complains is when I put a loose dressing over the stitches to protect them, because he can't show them off to his friends.
I have a smile on my face listening to his little boy chatter as he walks out the room with his mother, while I make quick work of cleanin
g up the discarded needles and gauze.
"You were really good with him."
The familiar deep raspy voice coming from the doorway startles me and I turn around to face its owner. Chief Deputy Sheriff Joe Morris is leaning his impressive frame against the doorpost, a small smile playing on his lips. Damn. That man does interesting things to my insides every time he focuses those baby blues on me. Tall, at least a good foot taller than I am, dirty blond hair sprinkled with the odd hint of grey and always a tad on the long side, making it curl at the ends; perpetual scruff on his chin and those long limbs he manages to move gracefully. He is a sight for sore eyes. He is also a persistent flirt.
"What are you doing here?"
"Some numb nuts thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel after pouring a bottle of Wild Turkey down his gullet. He ended up in the ditch with a cut on his head when I tried pulling him over. He's next door getting a few stitches and I decided to look for you."
His smile widens. "And here you are, working your charms on the little guy."
I choose to ignore the fact that he came looking for me. Don't think he needs any encouragement.
"Thanks. I like little kids. They're so direct and straightforward. Don't give or take any bullshit. It's refreshing."
One eyebrow shoots up and his demeanor changes as he regards me with intense eyes. "Huh. Straightforward you say?" He pushes his body off the doorframe and slowly stalks in my direction, freezing me like a deer caught in headlights. "I think I remember how to do straightforward, if that's how you prefer it."
Busted.
Walking right up to me I can almost feel the body heat radiating off him and I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
"Have dinner with me tonight." He holds up his hand to stop me when I open my mouth to turn him down, again. "Don't. Hear me out. We've done this dance for weeks now; the flirting, the playful banter. Me trying to get you to agree to a date and you turning me down. It's been a fun game but I'm serious now. Have dinner with me tonight. I'm interested in you and unless I'm way off base, I think you might be interested too."
I'm struck dumb. Literally. Normally quick with the comebacks, he has taken all the wind out of my sails with this display of honesty. He's right. For weeks he has been coming in on occasion on official business, or I've bumped into him in town and we've flirted innocently. Or so I thought. I have turned down every semi-serious invitation he has issued, thinking I either wasn't ready to get on that ride again or that he wasn't serious. Maybe a combination of both. But this sounds genuine and truth be told, I am tempted. Do I dare? The man is one walking temptation and the simple fact he is asking plain little ole me should make me giddy, but instead it makes me apprehensive.
"Thinking hard there, sunshine," he says, lifting a wayward curl away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. Oh geesh...
"Okay then," I croak out, a big frog having taken residence in my esophagus. Clearing my throat I try again, "I'll go to dinner with you."
The full force of his white smile hits me in the gut and I suck in a quick breath at the impact. Handing over his phone, he tells me to enter my number and address. I only have a second's hesitation, figuring that being who he is, he could probably look me up if he put his mind to it, so I throw caution to the wind and do as instructed.
"I'll send you a text so you'll have mine," he says. "Pick you up at seven tonight?"
The few functioning brain cells I have jump into action, causing me to nix that plan. "Actually, why don't you tell me where I can meet you at seven?"
Joe tilts his head and regards me through his thick eyelashes.
"Okay, I'll give you that play this first time, Naomi, even if it is against everything I've ever been taught."
I attempt to hide my smile at his implication there will be more dates. We’ll see. At least I'll be able to control when I leave if things don't go well.
When I drive up to Tequila's at a little before seven that night, I can't see Naomi's car anywhere yet. I have the choice to either go in and claim the table I reserved earlier, or wait out here and escort her in. Thinking it might be a nicer touch, I opt for the latter and pull my truck into a spot where I have a good view of the parking lot so I can spot her pulling in off Main Street right away. I spotted her last week getting into a brand new midnight blue Denali at Safeway, so I know what I'm looking for. Although the little brunette has somehow never had a problem grabbing my attention, from the first time I saw the back of her at the nurse's station at the hospital; her hair up in a ponytail, wearing generic scrubs that had me mistake her for a nurse instead of recognizing her as the new doc on the block. I snicker at the memory, because the little firecracker didn't take any time setting me straight. Dark brown eyes bright with irritation flashed as she took one gander up and down my body to finally settle on my face, a slight smirk on her face before she cut me down to size. Yes, a big challenge in a little package.
Ever since, we have built up a good rapport, with easy teasing banter and heaps of sexual tension, at least from my end. Yet she has consistently persisted in dodging my invitations. Saying yes this afternoon all of a sudden was a great surprise. I have a feeling it wasn't an easy decision for her to make. There seems to be quite a bit going on in that pretty little head of hers that I'm eager to discover, but I have to admit, she is the first one to have me interested in going on a date in many, many years.
I like to fuck as much as the next guy, but have managed to do so without any entanglements, and keeping them as far away from my home turf as possible. My life is complicated enough and it never seemed worth it to add to it, but for some reason Naomi makes me want to go there.
My phone rings just as I see Naomi pull into the parking lot. I quickly answer with a short, "I can't talk right now. I'm having dinner. Call you later." I put the phone back in my pocket and walk over to Naomi's ride.
"Gosh, you startled me," she grabs at her chest when she whips around, hearing my approach behind her. It's the first time I’ve seen her out of the drab hospital scrubs and the little black curve-hugging number she is wearing now, is doing amazing things to my libido. Who knew so many lovely curves were hidden under that shapeless green uniform? Her usually tied-back hair is flowing in loose shiny coffee-black waves just over her shoulders, and the hint of lip-gloss is the only make-up I can detect on her fresh beautiful face. At the risk of overstepping my boundaries, I lean in for a soft kiss on her lusciously shiny lips. The sharp intake of breath, followed by a slight sigh when I pull my mouth away tells me enough.
"You ready to go in?" I try to play it off as casually as I can, pushing down the urge to slide my mouth over hers and taste her properly. That little appetizer certainly had my entire body at attention. Hers too.
"What was that?" she blurts out, a blush on her cheeks.
"You look beautiful. I'm happy you agreed to come on a date with me, and I got rid of the awkward anticipation of how your lips would feel against mine. Now I know... that I will want to have another taste later."
Her blush only deepens and while she still seems a little dumbfounded by my straightforward response, I quickly grab her hand and pull her with me to the entrance of the restaurant.
No sooner had the waitress seated us at our table and taken our drink orders, my phone starts ringing again. One quick look at the screen tells me to ignore the caller.
"Do you have to take that? Are you 'on call' or whatever they call it?" Naomi asks.
"No, nothing like that. Just something I can deal with later. I'll turn off the sound. Don't want any more interruptions," I tell her, grabbing her hand over the table. I can see it makes her a little uncomfortable, but I'm not going to beat around the bush; I’m not afraid to have her know I’m interested. "So, tell me about yourself. How did you end up in Cortez of all places?"
"Oh my, now there's a question that has a potential heavy load. Let's just say we needed a change of scenery and a fresh start. Cortez seemed like the right place and I've alwa
ys loved visiting Mesa Verde. Started with my parents when I was young."
I have to admit, I don't really register much after she says 'we needed.' It implies another person in her life and I can't help but scrutinize the fingers of the hand I'm holding in mine. No rings, but a slight indentation that might be the remainder of one. When she pulls her hand forcefully from mine, I raise my eyes and meet her fiery ones.
"Sorry," I admit, "When you said we, I..."
She stands up out of her seat and doesn't give me a chance to finish before giving it to me with both barrels. "You thought I would flirt with you if I had someone waiting at home? You think I would say yes to an invitation to dinner if I had a commitment to someone else? What kind of person do you take me for? I have a son at home, for your information, not that I think it's any of your business at this point." Grabbing at her purse she is almost out of her seat before I can stop her.
"Woah. Wait. Stop. Don't run out of here angry.”
She holds up and looks at me with hurt evident in her eyes. I’m pretty sure someone did a fine number on her and I inadvertently pushed a hot button. Not ready to have this date end so soon, I grab her hand and gently coax her back to her seat. I still want to learn more about this intriguing little package of a woman.
“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I wasn't really thinking, just reacting. Sit, and tell me about your son."
With her wistful eyes looking at me from under her lashes, it’s clear she hasn’t quite made up her mind on whether finally going out with me was a mistake or not. I squeeze her hand to encourage her and with a deep breath and a small—albeit hesitant—smile, she starts telling me about her kid.
"Well, he's thirteen and he’s two hand fulls. The move here from Phoenix was as much for his benefit as mine, 'cause I'm afraid the bigger city was going to swallow him up. Here he has more of a chance to be a kid." She shakes her head and laughs a little at herself. "He just doesn't see it that way. Yet."
Wow. A kid. I'm surprised to find it doesn't send me running the way I would’ve imagined.