William explained, looking solely at Gary, “because I was afraid you’d turn me down. I drove three hours to get here.”
As if cued, Goober gave a little bark and gazed adoringly up at Leann.
Gary rarely did anything rash. Being rash could put his team in danger, civilian lives in danger, but he wasn’t in Afghanistan or Syria now.
“What’s one more?” he said, reaching for the leash and bending down to pat Goober. “Come on over to the table—” Gary looked at the bag the man carried “—and let’s see what all you’ve brought with you.”
“Gary,” Aunt Bianca began. “I—”
“I promise I’ll make this good,” Gary said.
Benedict, clearly knowing when strategy was needed, jumped in with, “I’ve got her toys and favorite blanket in the car and enough food for a month.”
Gary led the way to the table. Behind him, Aunt Bianca coughed. She didn’t have a cold.
Without looking, Gary knew Officer Bailey was smiling. Still, he looked, and sure enough he’d managed to win her approval. Usually, his uniform or wit did the trick. This time, he’d needed Goober’s help.
No, more likely, Gary needed other types of help because he’d just taken on a dog he knew nothing about, from a person he knew nothing about, and all because he was trying to impress a woman he knew nothing about and who lived in a town Gary didn’t intend to make home.
He made the mistake of looking at her. She looked back and he was lost.
Man, she had beautiful eyes.
The cop, not Goober.
It’d be Gary’s luck, Goober probably obeyed commands issued in Chinese.
LEANN LEFT BIANCA’S Bed-and-Breakfast trying to wrap her mind around this newcomer. Gary Guzman was all hard edges and mystery. But, buried under all that baggage, he had heart. Otherwise, he’d not have taken Goober, or Wilma, for that matter.
She quickly filled out an incident report and then radioed the station to see what was up. It was the only thing she could think of to take her mind off the dark-haired, dark-eyed soldier who’d wandered into her town.
“Nothing’s happening,” said Lucas Stillwater. On the Sarasota Falls police roster, he had seniority. He’d been an officer for more than twenty years. He’d started talking retirement three years ago, had started the paperwork even, but then didn’t file. A month ago, the paperwork resurfaced, was updated and now waited in Lucas’s outbox: not turned in. Lucas was having a hard time retiring.
When he did, though, Leann was going to be a squeaky wheel. She’d done her time and was ready for a promotion.
Leann started her patrol vehicle and headed down the familiar road, driving by the town’s busiest convenience store, where she once prevented a robbery, then on past the high school, where the coach was always leaving lights on, either the stadium’s or his vehicle’s, and then she started thinking about lunch.
Oscar drove by in his cruiser, giving a honk and waving. She waved back. Why couldn’t he have been hired after Lucas retired?
She loved her job. Loved that as Sarasota Fall’s first and only female officer she had obligations that she met and that she made Sarasota Falls a better place, a safer place. Something changed inside her when she dressed for work. It was like she shed all her insecurities and became someone strong, someone to be respected.
Not because of who her parents were but because of who she was.
She needed that promotion, deserved it, so she could stand on her own two feet. Not that she didn’t appreciate her ex-husband’s parents, who provided free child care and unconditional love for her kids. Leann was the force that kept them from spoiling her boys the way they had their own son. Sometimes she succeeded.
She’d always be grateful for the school clothes they purchased, the sport fees they paid and the holiday meals. She just didn’t have the money—even with her job and with child support.
Ryan Bailey was an absentee father because of his military duties, but in his place were his very attentive parents.
They were a huge help. Although, the reality was that they were getting older and she had to think of the future. The extra income from the promotion would be enough to make a difference financially and help offset the cost of child care, if it came to that.
Until then she’d have to make do on her own.
Meanwhile, there was something—or rather someone—in her way. Gary Guzman, dog lover extraordinaire, had a brother named Oscar, who didn’t have her insecurities and who had a resume that made her work experience look like she was a trainee.
Goober. What a name for a dog?
Darn, here she was contemplating her promotion and thoughts of Gary Guzman interfered. Good thing he was aimless. Not a chance she’d ever be interested in him. She had a mortgage and two sons. She didn’t trust men as a rule, thanks to her own father and her ex-husband. She saw nothing to trust in Gary. And she was annoyed that he dared invade her thoughts—again. She stopped a driver and gave him a citation for having expired tags. Then, she wrote another quick incident report, circled Main Street once and headed for the Station Diner. She’d grab a bowl of soup and cup of coffee before continuing on. Who knows how many more expired tags she’d be battling today.
She pushed the door open and walked into the familiar diner. She’d started coming here in junior high with her best friend, Patsy, and Patsy’s family. Her parents wouldn’t deign to frequent a “dive” like this. Leann loved the place. If one of her children spilled a glass of water, a waitress handed over a towel and no white linens were ruined. Here, a person could joke with the folks at the next table because the tables were so close. The laughter was muted at the places her parents liked, and children were seen but not heard.
She shrugged out of her jacket, aware of the Glock 17 tucked in its holster, and looked down the aisle toward her favorite booth in the back.
William Benedict nodded at her and went back to his pancakes. If she’d just turned Peaches over to new owners, she’d be drowning her sorrows with chocolate. She supposed pancakes could do the trick, and Benedict did look a bit distressed.
“Coffee,” she called to Joe as he peeked his head around the door frame. He responded with, “You know where it is.”
She helped herself and headed for her favorite booth and the man who occupied it. “Mind if I join you?”
“Go ahead,” Benedict answered.
She settled in, added two packets of sugar to her coffee and studied the soldier across from her. He wasn’t lean like Gary. Benedict was more the compact but stocky type. He’d be fast and furious, she figured. Not like Gary, who’d be fast and fluid. Benedict had a regulation buzz cut and she wondered if Gary’s hair had stood up that straight. Now it was short, but not military short.
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the image of Gary. She wanted
