giggled and ducked her head.
As she smiled, the knot in Judd’s belly shifted slightly. Maybe this detour wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
Within the hour, Judd realized how unimportant haste was in Call City. It would be morning before the mechanic would come get his car. Even if he’d been willing to pay the extra money to have it hauled in tonight, it would solve nothing. The garage wouldn’t be open until 7:00 a.m., so there was no need to hurry just to have it parked.
Resigned to his fate, he’d taken his suitcase out of the Jeep and headed for the room he’d been given. It was small but clean, and the furniture was sturdy. The fact that he’d have to share a bathroom with a baby and two other people seemed a small price to pay for the comfort of a home-cooked meal and a place to wash some clothes.
A short while later, Judd saw a pickup truck coming down the driveway and pulling a trailer. The owner of the runaway bull, he assumed. He watched from the window as Wade met the man in the drive. Again, harsh words were traded, and while he was debating with himself about getting involved before someone threw the first punch, he overheard something that stunned him. The man called Tucker wasn’t only the owner of the bull, he was Rachel Franklin’s grandfather, as well. What made no sense was that he was so belligerent about the fact.
“He’s not a happy man,” Charlie said, pointing toward the man in the truck.
Startled, Judd turned. “Who, Wade?”
“No, Everett Tucker.”
Judd turned away, a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, but he supposed it was the cop in him, always wanting to know the why of everything.
“I didn’t intend to pry,” he said.
Charlie shrugged. “It’s no secret in these parts that Everett doesn’t like us.” Then she turned and looked at Rachel, who was playing on the floor in front of the television. “He especially doesn’t like Rachel.”
“But why?” Judd asked.
“Because she’s all there is left of his only son, Pete, and I guess it hurts him too much to look at her.”
“I’m sorry,” Judd said. “Again, I seem to be stepping on ghosts.”
Charlie glanced at him and managed a smile. “No. All my ghosts are laid, Mr. Hanna. It wasn’t in me to grieve for Pete’s death when he’d already walked out on me for getting pregnant.”
Judd paled. “Look, I know I keep saying this, but I’m sorry. And for what it’s worth, the man must have been a purebred fool.”
Charlie sighed. “Pretty much.”
Uncomfortable with the emotions tumbling around in his head, Judd stared at her for a moment, then strode out the door.
The sun was hanging low in the west before Judd came back in the house. He’d helped Wade mend the fence, but did little more than watch as the livestock were fed. Country life was something foreign to his world.
After washing up, Wade had handed him a bowl of potatoes and a paring knife and then headed for the door with a platter of steaks. Now he stood at the sink peeling potatoes while Wade tended to the meat cooking on the grill outside. Judd watched as Rachel ran from the swing set to her uncle and back again, talking nonstop without care if anyone answered. He paused with a potato in one hand and the paring knife in the other, imagining himself in such a family tableau. Then reality surfaced and he returned to the potatoes, removing the peelings in angry chunks. It was obvious as hell that he couldn’t take care of himself, let alone a wife and kids, so why want something he couldn’t have?
In the midst of his anger, it dawned on him he was no longer alone. He pivoted. Charlotte Franklin was standing in the doorway, using the facing for a crutch. He dropped the knife and potato and bolted toward her, wiping his hands on his jeans as he went.
“You shouldn’t be on that foot. Let me help you to a chair.”
Grateful for his strength, Charlie started to lean on him, when Judd slid an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her off her feet.
“This is getting embarrassing,” she muttered.
Judd grinned, trying to put her at ease. “Now, Charlie, you wouldn’t deny a man such a golden opportunity. It isn’t every day I get the excuse to hold a pretty woman.”
“Not even your wife?”
Judd found himself caught in her gaze. For a long moment, neither moved—neither spoke. Damp tendrils of her freshly washed hair brushed the backs of his hands. Her eyes were wide and questioning, her expression tense, as if she were holding her breath for an answer she didn’t want to hear. Then he shook off the thought. This was crazy. She was a stranger.
“Not married,” he said, and then added, “No significant other, either. Being a cop isn’t conducive to permanent relationships.”
“You can put me down now,” she said.
Judd blinked, a bit startled by the abrupt change in their conversation, and then continued his trek across the floor, gently lowering her into a chair.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. As he started back toward the sink, she spoke.
“Mr. Hanna…”
He sighed, then turned. Obviously she wasn’t going to call him Judd until she was ready.
“Yes?”
“It isn’t the job, it’s the man inside the uniform that controls his own life.”
Reeling from the brutal truth in her words, he was still struggling for an answer when Wade came inside.
“Steaks are done,” he announced, carrying the platter before him as if he were bearing pure gold.
“The potatoes aren’t,” Judd said, and headed for the sink.
Charlie stared at the stiff set to Judd’s shoulders, and ignored her brother’s curious gaze. Obviously, her comments had touched a nerve.
“No matter. These will keep,” Wade said. “I’ve got to fish Rachel out of the sandbox, anyway.” He set the plate down on the table near Charlie’s elbow and headed back out the door.
The evening meal came and went, but long after Judd had gone to bed that night, Charlotte Franklin’s words still rang in his ears. It isn’t the job, it’s the man inside the uniform that controls his own life.
If that was true, then no wonder he thought he was going crazy. That night he dreamed of his partner, Dan Myers—laughing one minute, then the next, drowning in his own blood from the bullet that had exploded inside his chest.
Judd was in the country, so awakening to the crow of a rooster didn’t surprise him. But he wasn’t expecting to feel soft baby breath on the side of his face. One heartbeat he was drifting toward consciousness and the next second he was wide-awake and staring into a pair of round brown eyes. Before he could move, Rachel Franklin stuck her finger up his nose.
“Nose,”
