tumbling around the little girl’s face. In his line of work, he’d seen plenty of people in shock, and he wanted to get her inside before she started coming undone.
“Ma’am, if you’ll allow me, I’ll help get you inside, and then I’ll be needing to use your phone to call for a tow.”
Then, what the man had sacrificed to save them hit Charlie. She glanced up, and for the first time, she really looked at him. His eyes were blue—so blue they were almost transparent. His features were even, his jaw strong. There was just a hint of a crook to his nose, an indication of it once having been broken, and there was a small jagged scar on the right side of his jaw. And he was big, so very big. His shoulders spanned almost half the width of the seat. She remembered the feel of his hands closing around her waist and pulling her up to safety, and she shuddered.
“Please, call me Charlie.”
He smiled. “I knew a Charlie once, but he wasn’t as pretty as you.”
It was just the sort of silly remark Charlie needed to gather herself together. “It’s short for Charlotte…Charlotte Franklin.”
Judd extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ‘short for Charlotte.’ My name is Judd Hanna.”
Charlie hesitated, but only briefly. His grasp was firm but gentle, and again, the ordinary gesture took another bite out of her unsettled nerves. She sighed, then pointed to the hood of his car and the smoke spewing out from beneath the hood.
“Mr. Hanna, I’m so sorry about what happened to your car.”
“Judd, please,” he said, and then looked at Rachel. “As for the damage, it was worth it. Now, let’s see about getting you two inside.”
He took Rachel out of Charlie’s arms and then carried her to the porch.
“Wait right here, honey. We’ve got to help Mommy, okay?”
“Help Mommy,” Rachel echoed, and then sat down on the steps, the wilting flowers still clutched in her hand.
Charlie scooted across the seat and then out from under the steering wheel, but when she tried to stand, her ankle gave way. Before she could argue, Judd picked her up and started up the steps. A little nervous that a total stranger had taken charge of her life, she began to fidget.
“Mr. Hanna, I—”
“Judd.”
She sighed. “Judd, this is embarrassing.”
He paused. “Lady, allow me the honor of helping one of the bravest people I ever saw.”
She flushed. “I don’t know what you—”
His voice grew quiet, and the look in his eyes hushed her words.
“You would have both died. You know that, don’t you?”
She glanced down at her daughter, who was pulling the petals from a flower, and her expression crumpled.
“Life wouldn’t have been worth living without her.”
Breath caught in the back of Judd’s throat. Logically, he accepted the fact that there were people who would willingly die for another, but Charlotte Franklin’s willingness to put herself in harm’s way for her child was the first example of that selfless dedication he’d ever seen. He supposed that his mother might once have loved him like that, but he didn’t remember it. He glanced back at Rachel, who was still sitting on the steps.
“Yeah. I can only imagine,” he said softly. Then he raised his voice a notch. “Come on, little girl, it’s time to go inside.”
To Charlie’s surprise, Rachel minded the stranger and followed them in. As soon as Judd put her down, Rachel crawled up in Charlie’s lap and laid her head on her mother’s breast.
“Is she okay?” Judd asked.
Charlie nodded. “Just a little confused, I think. She’ll be all right.” Then she pointed toward the phone. “There’s a phone book in the drawer underneath.”
Judd shook his head. “You come first. If you don’t mind me prowling a bit, I want to put some ice on your ankle.”
“The kitchen is that way,” Charlie said. “There are some plastic bags in the drawer beside the sink and there’s an ice maker in the top of the fridge.”
Judd headed for the kitchen, returning shortly with a bag full of ice wrapped in a towel. Charlie winced when he laid it on her ankle.
“Sorry,” Judd said. “Does your husband work nearby?”
The tone of Charlie’s voice never wavered. “I don’t have a husband.”
Judd glanced at Rachel, then at Charlie, then fussed with the bag of ice just for something to do.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. It’s just that you can’t be here by yourself. Is there anyone I can call for you?”
Charlie sighed. The man was getting the wrong impression, and while it really didn’t matter what he thought, she felt obligated to explain.
“I am not a widow. To the contrary, I have never been married. And yes, there is someone—my brother, Wade. If you don’t mind handing me the phone, I’ll give him a call.”
Judd turned, then stopped and stared. “There’s a police car coming down your driveway.”
A wave of emotion suddenly washed over Charlie. Wade was hardly ever home on time. Thank God this was one of those rare days. To her surprise, she felt tears threatening again.
She took a deep breath, trying to still the tremble in her voice. “That would be Wade. He’s the police chief in Call City.”
Judd stiffened, then made himself relax, accepting the irony of the situation. He’d driven halfway across the country to get away from law enforcement, and the first time he lingered long enough to exchange names, they were tied to the same damned branch of government.
A few moments later, the officer who’d been driving the car came through the door, his eyes wide with concern. Judd braced himself for the confrontation.
Wade had been looking forward to an easy evening until he’d seen the destruction to the pasture fence. His mood had taken a quick swing downward and was far from level when he came through the door. Seeing Charlie’s tears and the stranger standing next to her, his hand automatically slid to the butt of his gun.
“Charlie…honey…what the hell happened?”
“It’s okay,” Charlie said, and then started to cry in earnest.
Judd sighed. She’d been bordering on hysteria ever since he’d pulled her out of the dirt. It was inevitable that she would finally break down. What surprised him was the urge he had to comfort her.
Wade moved toward Charlie, but his attention was completely focused on the man standing next to her.
“Easy, buddy,” Judd said, “I’m
