A Cop's Honor

by EMILIE ROSE

  Brandon returned to the patio. He said a few words to his brother-in-law, who nodded then swept his wife into his arms. Jessamine let out a surprised squeak then fell into step with him. Brandon grabbed his mother, twirled her around a few times then dropped her off beside his father.

  His father hesitated, then laid down his grilling tongs, took his wife into his arms and two-stepped around the patio. His steps were smooth.

  Brandon reached for Hannah’s hand and pulled her out of the chair. Shocked, she resisted, but his grip and strength were unrelenting. She found herself wrapped in his arms. “Work with me or Dad will know something’s up.”

  Hannah endeavored to relax, but the heat of Brandon’s palm seared hers, as did the fingers he’d splayed on the small of her back. She tried to hold herself away from the warmth emanating from him, but it didn’t cool her chaotic response. Breathing became difficult instead of autonomous. She had to concentrate on the mechanics of inhaling and exhaling. He smelled good—not like cologne, but more of a spicy soap.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “Look at him go.”

  She felt the stir low in her belly. Alarmed, she tried to pull away, but Brandon held fast then swung her around so she faced his parents. Their thighs brushed and it was all she could do to keep her feet from tangling with his. She forced herself to focus on the Martins, on the way they shuffled together as if they did this every day.

  “Yes.” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper.

  “I have to admit, when you suggested music I was skeptical, but you’ve proved me wrong.”

  Focus. On work. “If you can get him to play music throughout the day, it might help.”

  “I will.”

  “And get him to change therapists.”

  “Do you have openings?”

  Another frisson of alarm skittered through her. She didn’t want to get tangled up with Brandon’s family. “It’s over an hour ride to my office. I’ll recommend someone closer.”

  “He might be willing to drive that far to see you.”

  Desperate, she scrambled for an out. “Not with harvesting time approaching.”

  “Good point.” And then his eyes shifted beyond her and took on a twinkle that wreaked havoc with her equilibrium. “Belle has an audience.”

  He swung her around again, making her dig her fingertips into his shoulder muscles for balance. Her daughter was teaching ballet moves to the twins. The four-year-olds’ attempts at mimicking were comical. Mason sat nearby, laughing at their antics and petting the dog. It was everything a family outing should be. But this wasn’t her family. It never would be.

  The song ended. She pulled free and backed away. Ignoring Brandon’s questioning expression, she returned to her chair when what she really wanted to do was gather her children and race home. But she would not make a scene. Not this time.

  She was losing control of her life. She’d opened the door a crack and Brandon had forced his way in. Last night was a perfect example. Mason had called him behind her back then Belle had invited him to dinner. Brandon had tinkered with the grill until he got it to light, and he even taught Mason how to cook the hot dogs.

  Mason had been so proud of himself that when he’d brought in their dinner Hannah hadn’t had the heart to protest that Brandon had outstayed his welcome. Then Belle had demanded equal time, begging him to read her a bedtime story, and he’d done just that. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his help, but she had to do what was best for her family and what was best for her. Avoiding him and the unacceptable reaction he caused topped that list.

  Her children liked him. They looked forward to his visits and talked about him when he wasn’t there. If she didn’t find a way to keep some distance between Brandon and her family then Mason and Belle would become even more attached to him and they’d suffer the pain of losing him. Because even if Brandon didn’t get killed like Rick, he was a temporary visitor in their lives. As soon as she figured out why Mason was misbehaving, Brandon would be gone. She couldn’t have it any other way.

  * * *

  THE AFTERNOON HAD been perfect—so perfect it made Hannah uncomfortable. The children would want to attend Martin family gatherings again. But they couldn’t. This wasn’t their family.

  She hated being the bad guy, but it was time for them to go home. While she searched her brain for the words to make their excuses, she scanned the group clustered around the patio tables and found Rebecca Martin’s empathetic gaze on her. For a moment Hannah thought the woman could see inside her head. Then her hostess’s lips curved upward.

  “Who wants homemade ice cream?” Rebecca asked before Hannah could put her plan into action. The children shouted in the affirmative and clamored from the table. The remaining adults even raised their hands. “Hannah?”

  “I’ll have to pass. I didn’t save room. But thank you.”

  Rebecca’s gaze swung to her son. “Brandon?”

  “I’ll pass, too. Could you watch the kids a few minutes, Mom? I want to show Hannah some of the orchard.”

  “Of course. Run along,” Rebecca replied, and Hannah was stuck.

  Alarm raced through her. “I don’t think—”

  “Go, dear. Thomas and I have everything under control. And the orchard is so full of promise at this time of year. It’s the calm before our storm.”

  Hannah reluctantly rose from the patio table. Brandon jerked his head. “This way.”

  She didn’t want to be alone with him. “Brandon—”

  “It’s only a bike ride, Hannah.”

  A bike ride meant yards between them, and being out in the open meant no privacy. But still... “I haven’t ridden in years. I can’t even remember the last time.”

  “Nobody forgets how to ride a bike. It’s a short trip over soft grass. If you fall you won’t get hurt. And it’s a one-speed. No gears. It’s not complicated.”

  Against her better judgment, she followed him to the barn. Inside the shadowy interior he grabbed an old-style blue bicycle propped against a wall, then pointed to a red one. “Climb on and see if you can keep up.”

  He pushed it out of the building then mounted and pedaled off. She did the same, wobbling at first, but slowly regaining balance and confidence. He dropped back beside her and stayed there, checking her progress and leading her between rows of trees with peach-laden branches. He named the varieties and the harvest dates, but she was so busy trying to stay upright on the uneven ground that the facts rolled right over her head.

  It smelled different out here. The peaches didn’t smell sweet like fruit yet. It was more of a leafy scent. And it was quiet. Other than birds and the swish of the grass against their spokes, there was little noise. If she wasn’t with a man who made her jumpy, the setting would be peaceful.

  They came upon an irrigation pond. The dozen or so ducks on the water shattered the quiet. Quacking loudly, the fowl quickly paddled toward them.

  “Do they bite? Or peck or whatever ducks do?”

  “No. They’re moochers looking for food. Dad fed them this morning. If we overfeed them they won’t keep the pond clean.”

  “Ducks clean ponds?”

  “They’re omnivorous. They eat all kinds of amphibians, insects and plants.”

  She filed that tidbit away for the children. It was the kind of nature fact that both kids enjoyed. She looked over her shoulder and couldn’t see the house anymore. “Shouldn’t we turn back?”

  “Not yet. There’s a barn at the end of this field. Rick and I used to hang out there.”

  Rick. He’d ridden this path, possibly even on this old bicycle. A pang of loss slipped through her.

  Brandon cut her a sideways glance. “Race you to the end of the row. I’ll even give you a three-tree head start.”

  She shouldn’t accept his dare, but she needed to get
away from thoughts of her husband. She took off, pedaling as fast as she could. Wind whipped her hair and exertion quickened her breath.

  “I’m gaining on you,” Brandon called out.

  Gritting her teeth, she pedaled harder, faster. Her thighs burned but she kept going. Moments later an old wooden structure, its siding bleached by the sun, came into view. Brandon shot past her and reached it first. He jumped off his bike, laid it down and did a victory dance around it. She couldn’t help laughing at his silly antics. She reached his side, climbed off the bike and tried to catch her breath.

  “You could have been a gentleman and let me win.”

  “No way. You’d tell my sisters and they’d never let me live it down. I have a reputation to uphold.” His endearing boyish smile erased her fatigue.

  “You like my parents, right?”

  “Of course. They’re wonderful. Why?”

  “And Rick? He was a great guy. Straight as an arrow, right?”

  Where was he going with this? “Yes.”

  He crossed to the door and shoved it along the metal track, opening it to expose the building’s dark interior. “C’mon.”

  “You didn’t answer my questions.”

  “I will.”

  She checked out the grass between her bike and the building. It was tall, as if no one had been here recently. “Are there snakes?”

  “If there are they’ll leave before you see them.”

  “That’s not exactly comforting, Brandon.”

  His grin brought back the rubbery feeling in her knees. “I’ve been coming here for decades and I’ve never been bitten.”

  Scanning the ground at her feet, she carefully picked her way to the open door but stopped just shy of entering. Dust motes danced along the sunbeams streaking through a few gaps in the wood. The splotchy light shone on piles and piles of dusty and disintegrating boxes, farm implements and old furniture. “What is all this?”

  “Our neighbor’s long-forgotten storage shed. Come in.”

  “No way. There’s bound to be snakes hiding in there.”

  He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and swept it around the interior of the barn. The visible cobwebs didn’t add to the attraction. “All clear. I need to show you something.”

  “Bugs, snakes and creepy crawlies aren’t my thing.”

  He held out a hand and his gaze locked on hers. “Trust me. The last thing I’d want is for something to happen to you.”

  Her breath hitched at the sentimental statement and the sincerity in his eyes.

  “I’m Mason’s godfather, remember. If you’re out of commission then I become an instant father, and trust me, I’m not qualified for the job.”

  The comment doused her warm fuzzies. But Brandon was better with children than he realized. All four kids back at his parents’ adored him. And he seemed to be perfectly comfortable with them asking endless questions and crawling all over him. The big ketchup smear on his shirt, compliments of one of the twins, testified to that. Brandon hadn’t complained once.

  She put her hand in his and heat flashed up her arm. One step over the door track and she stopped and pulled free. The musty, dusty smell was almost unbearable, but it wasn’t nearly as disturbing as his touch. And suddenly she felt like a teenager who’d slipped off to be with her boyfriend.

  “What’s so special about this barn?” she blurted to derail the thought.

  “Rick and I found the courage to enter it when we were about nine. After that we’d sneak out here whenever we could.”

  “I don’t see the appeal.” She couldn’t imagine wanting to be in this dark, dirty place.

  He swung the beam to the back corner, illuminating two old, aluminum folding chairs. “All kids are curious. That corner’s where he and I learned about girls.”

  “You brought girls here? I’m sure that impressed them.”

  He chuckled at her sarcasm. “Give me a little credit. The box on the floor is full of old girlie magazines. Rick and I practically dog-eared the pages.”

  Stunned, she stared at him. “You’re telling me you and Rick looked at porn? Here? In this barn?”

  “I’m telling you even good kids are naturally curious. Not everyone who looks at porn grows up to be a pervert.”

  He meant Mason. And Rick. And him.

  “And Hannah, not every parent who raises a kid who looks at porn is a bad parent. So even if we discover Mason’s into something he shouldn’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong. You are a great mom. Don’t let the Leiths or anyone else make you doubt that.”

  Emotion welled in her chest, clogging her throat and making her eyes sting. She shouldn’t be so needy for praise, but apparently, she was. “Thank you.”

  He lifted an arm as if to offer comfort then lowered it and shoved his hand into his pocket. “The magazines date back to the fifties, including the first Playboy, featuring Marilyn Monroe.”

  “That must be worth something.”

  “The owner probably doesn’t remember they’re here, and I know he doesn’t need the cash. After he passes away I’ll tell his daughters. He has four. They could probably use the money.”

  “Why not tell them now?”

  “Because I respect the old man’s privacy. Dear ol’ dad was married to their mother when he was looking at naked ladies.”

  “That’s considerate of you.” Brandon was a genuinely nice guy. That explained why Rick had loved him. But it completely contradicted the way he’d let down his best friend. Who was the real Brandon Martin? The thoughtful guy or the get-the-job-done-regardless-of-the-costs cop? She didn’t know anymore.

  Something growled behind Hannah. Startled, she practically jumped into Brandon’s arms. Whatever it was, it was between her and the door.

  “Whoa.” His breath stirred the hair on her forehead, and his arm banded around her.

  “What is it?”

  He swung the flashlight. “Looks like a raccoon sow and three kits.”

  She twisted to see and his biceps abraded her breasts. Desire shot to her core like a bolt of electricity. Her nipples popped to attention. Only then did she register that she’d plastered herself against him from knee to shoulder. But she was too afraid of the angry creature to let him go.

  Ignoring her body’s betrayal, she focused on the collection of glowing yellow eyes peering at them from the rafters near the door. Lots of eyes. Set in black fur. And the mother had teeth. Very sharp teeth.

  “Will they attack?”

  “Not if we leave them alone. Sows can be aggressive when they have young.” His voice had an odd note to it. She studied his face. Tension stamped his features, tightening his mouth and jaw. She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows, but she noted his lowered eyebrows.

  Something hard and hot nudged her hip. It wasn’t the flashlight. The realization of what it was made her gasp. Her mouth dried and her heart raced. Her lungs felt tight, and it wasn’t due to the musty air. She was stuck between an aroused man and a possibly rabid animal. Her brain urged her to go one way, her body another. Being turned on by him was wrong on so many levels.

  She needed space. Acres and acres of space. Keeping a wary eye on the raccoons, she eased away until a few inches separated their torsos. Their legs were tangled. No surprise since she’d practically climbed him. Where he’d pressed against her hip continued to burn.

  “How will we get out? She’s really, really close to the door.” Her breathless voice gave away her involuntary response.

  His jaw shifted. “I’ll scare her out of the way. Then you go.”

  She shook her head. “What if she jumps on me? Or you?”

  He gripped and squeezed her shoulder. She felt every finger and the heat of his palm. “Hannah, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  Trust him? That was the crux of the problem.

  He shifted
, stepping into a shaft of light puncturing through a gap in the wall. The ray illuminated the upper half of his face. Their gazes met. Held. Desire shone in his eyes. Her pulse quickened in response and her blood simmered. Trusting him and wanting him were apparently two different things. “Won’t she just leave?”

  “Not until tonight. Raccoons are nocturnal. And if there are enough mice in here, she may hunt here.”

  She gulped. There was no way she’d be in the barn after sunset. She had to trust him. And that was a tall order.

  But more than anything, she had to avoid dark places with Brandon, because they brought out needs she could not and would not satisfy with him.

  Chapter Six

  HANNAH PUSHED THROUGH the glass door of the physical therapy office just after noon Wednesday. She took a deep breath of hot, humid air, and reached for her sunglasses. It might only be mid-April in South Carolina, but it already felt like August. A dark figure suddenly pushed off the wall in her peripheral vision. Heart leaping, she pivoted toward it.

  Brandon stood only a couple of yards away. He wore an open collar black polo and pressed black tactical pants with his badge clipped to his waistband. His dark hair had been freshly trimmed, and he looked...good. Good and professional, she amended.

  “You scared me half to death.” She was not glad to see him, and she had not missed him. And she most definitely was not concerned about his well-being.

  “If you’d answer my texts I wouldn’t have to surprise you.”

  A guilty flush heated her neck. He’d messaged her twice since Saturday and she hadn’t responded. After her crazy reaction to him in the barn, she’d needed space and that meant not having Brandon be a part of her day. “I’ve been busy.”

  His hazel eyes filled with disbelief. “I’m taking you to lunch.”

  “I can’t. I only have thirty minutes.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you mean, ‘You know?’”

  “Your receptionist told me your morning appointments had run late.”