of us.”
Boy toy? Sam’s smile vanished and he worked to keep his voice pleasant. “Excuse me, ma’am, you have the wrong idea—”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Can you imagine what my grandson’s been subjected to when his mother is obviously a tramp? When the judge hears—”
Sam held up a hand. “Wait just one minute, lady. If you think you can waltz in here—”
Julia’s fingernails dug into his arm. “I don’t need your help. Walk away.”
He glanced down at her and saw embarrassment shimmering along with anger in her expression. And fear. At the mention of the word judge, he’d felt some of the fight go out of her. He wished he hadn’t interrupted, that he’d let her handle her own problems, the way she’d wanted to in the first place. But a part of Sam needed to be the hero just so he could feel something. It was what he was used to, one of the few things he could count on. That part of him couldn’t walk away.
He released Julia and leveled his best law-enforcement stare at the grandmother. As he expected, she shrank back and darted a nervous glance at her companion. “I’m Sam Callahan, Brevia’s police chief.” Hands on hips, he held her gaze. “To be clear, I am no one’s boy toy and would appreciate if you’d conduct yourself in a more civilized manner in my town. We don’t take kindly to strangers spreading malicious rumors about our own. Do I make myself clear?”
Several beats passed before the studious-looking woman cleared her throat. “Mr. Callahan—”
Sam squared his shoulders. “You can call me Chief.”
The attorney swallowed. “Chief Callahan, I’m Lexi Preston. I represent the interests of Charlie Morgan’s father, Jeff Johnson, and grandparents, Dennis and Maria Johnson. My father is the Johnsons’ family attorney and he asked me—”
“Get to the point.”
“Yes, well...” Lexi mumbled as she shuffled papers around the table. “I was simply explaining to Ms. Morgan the facts of her case, or lack thereof, when she became hostile and confrontational. My client is not to blame for this unfortunate disturbance. We have statements from a number of Ms. Morgan’s former acquaintances as to her character, so Dr. Johnson’s assertion, while ill-advised, is not without foundation.”
He heard Julia suck in a breath but kept his attention on the two women. “I don’t care what your so-called statements allege. You’re not going to drag Julia’s name through the mud.”
Preston collected the rest of the papers. “Why is Ms. Morgan’s reputation your business? Is she under investigation by local law enforcement?”
“This can’t get any worse,” Julia whispered so low only he could here. “Go away, Sam. Now.”
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw his father standing a few feet away, watching him intently. Sam was a good cop and he played things by the book, having learned the hard way not to bite off more than he could chew.
But some lessons didn’t stick.
He peeled Julia’s hand from its death grip around his upper arm and laced her fingers with his. “It’s my business, Counselor, because I’m not going to let you or anyone hurt the woman I intend to marry.”
Julia thought things couldn’t get worse.
Until they did.
She glanced around the restaurant, as dumbfounded as the people who stared at her from the surrounding tables. She recognized a lot of them; Carl’s was a popular spot for Brevia locals.
Yanking Sam away from the table a few steps, she smiled up into his face, well aware of their audience. It took all her willpower to resist the urge to slap him silly. “Have you lost your mind?” she said, keeping her voice low.
The corners of his mouth were tight as he returned her smile. “Apparently.”
“Fix this. You have to fix this.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He smoothed a stray hair from her cheek. “Trust me.”
No way. Julia didn’t trust men. She had a long line of heartbreak in her past. Mountains of collateral damage that made her sure she was the only person she could trust to take care of her and Charlie. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
His hand dropped from her face. “I’m going to help you. But you can’t fight me. Not here.”
She glanced over his shoulder at the attorney and Charlie’s grandmother. For a fraction of a second, worry marred Maria Johnson’s perfect features. Julia didn’t understand the break in the ice queen’s armor, but it must have had something to do with Sam.
“Fine.” She reached forward and clasped both of his rock-solid arms, as if she could make him understand the gravity of her situation through a simple squeeze. “You better make it count. Charlie’s future is on the line.”
He searched her gaze for a long moment, then bent onto one knee. He took her fingers in his, tugging softly when she would have pulled away.
“I didn’t mean...”
“Julia Morgan,” he said, and his deep, clear voice rang out in the restaurant. “We’ve kept this quiet—no easy task in Brevia—but it’s long past time to make things official.” He cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his starched uniform shirt. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Julia blinked back sudden tears. A marriage proposal was what she’d wanted, once upon a time. She’d wanted Jeff to see they could build a real life together. Foolishly sure he was the one, she’d been reckless and selfish. Then the universe had blessed her with a beautiful son. She was working day and night to make a good life for Charlie. Now that she wanted to do the right thing, she risked losing him.
Not for the first time, she wondered if he’d be better off with the Johnsons and the privileged life filled with opportunities they could provide.
She squeezed her eyes shut to clear her thoughts. She was Charlie’s mother, no matter what, and wouldn’t ever stop fighting for him.
Sam ran his finger along the inside of her wrist. “Are you going to answer the question? My leg is cramping.”
“Oh, no. Sorry.”
“No?” he asked over the collective gasp.
“I mean yes. Get up, you big oaf.” Heat flooded her face and her stomach churned. What was she doing? She’d learned not to rely on a man for anything and now she was putting her entire future in Sam’s hands. Impulsive as ever, she repeated, “Yes. My answer is yes.”
He stood, rubbing one knee. “Cool it on the name-calling. We’re in love, remember.”
“You betcha, honey-bunny.”
That produced a genuine grin from him, and she was
