Two
Laurel wished she’d been able to come up with a better way to do this. Hard to come up with anything, though, with the tornado of emotions going on in her head. Of course, Jericho now had some emotions, too.
Bad ones, obviously.
Because the look he gave her let Laurel know that he thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. But she didn’t exactly have a lot of options here, and Jericho was still her best bet.
Even if he didn’t believe that right now.
“Marry you?” Jericho repeated.
He was no doubt remembering the bad history between them. And he probably included their last one-nighter in that heap of bad history.
“It’ll take more than a rock to make that happen.” He cursed, dropped it on the table. “What’s going on here?”
Laurel had figured that would be his first response—anger and demands. It was certainly hers when this idea had first come to her. Still, she was hoping the blue rock and the promise that had gone along with it would buy her enough time so she could explain things before Jericho kicked her out.
No such luck.
He turned as if he was about to show her to the door, but then stopped. And studied her with those cop’s eyes. The warm amber-brown color wasn’t so warm right now, but Laurel had firsthand knowledge that they could be.
Every part of Jericho could be warm.
Again, it was firsthand knowledge fed by years of experience of kissing him. Touching him, wanting him. And then having that warmth vanish and cool to iceberg temperatures like those outside right now.
Well, except for that night over two years ago.
Those two years seemed like a lifetime. For her, anyway. Jericho looked the same except for the slightly longer brown hair. In other words, he still looked like the hot cowboy he’d always been. Maybe it was his DNA, those eyes or the fit of his jeans, but when a woman saw Jericho Crockett, she noticed.
Laurel had been no different.
“I need an explanation,” he pressed. “Like right now.”
Where to start?
She doubted Jericho would want her to get into the little details. Not just yet, anyway. Judging from the impatient stare, he was looking for the condensed version of why she’d called in a very old marker that to him was probably worthless.
Laurel picked up the rock, slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans, careful not to touch too much of him.
“I had a baby,” she finally said. “A son named Maddox. And my father is challenging me for custody.”
It crushed her to say that.
Crushed her even more to think that her father might succeed.
The tears came again, and Laurel tried to blink them back. She’d already cried an ocean of tears, and they didn’t help. Now she had to focus on a fix for this. She had to do whatever it took to save her son.
“A baby?” His gaze skimmed over her body. “You don’t look like you’ve had a kid. And the gossips around town sure haven’t gotten hold of that tidbit.”
“I guess being several hundred miles away has kept the gossips from putting their noses in my business.” Added to that, she’d worked very hard to make sure the news stayed within her family and a very small circle of friends.
For all the good that’d done her.
Jericho huffed, and his hands went on his hips. “So, your father’s challenging you for custody, huh? Guess that means you two had some kind of falling-out. Or maybe you finally learned what a sack of dirt he really is.”
“I’ve always known.” She let that hang in the air for a few moments. “But I stayed for my mother’s sake. As sort of a buffer between him and her.”
He studied her. With some obvious skepticism in his gaze. There was a reason for that. Laurel had indeed defended her father over the years. Had believed his lies when he’d told her that his businesses would all be legitimate. Most of his lies, anyway.
And even that little shred of belief had cost her, big-time.
It’d cost Laurel her freedom. Her safety. It’d also cost her Jericho. What she needed to tell him wouldn’t help, either.
“My mother had cancer and passed away,” Laurel said. “She died two weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry. Losing a parent is hard.” The look of sympathy that he gave her was genuine, but it didn’t last. “I’m guessing after her death was when things fell apart with your father?”
“More or less.” Mainly less, but she’d save that for another time. “I don’t think it’ll come as a surprise to you that my father has influence over several judges. Doctors and psychiatrists, too. He’s trying to declare me mentally and morally incompetent to raise my son. There’s no truth to it,” she added, just in case Jericho doubted it.
Which he probably did.
But he also no doubt believed that her father wasn’t competent to raise Maddox, either.
Jericho stayed quiet a moment. “And you think if you’re married, to me, that your father will...what? Step back from this fight he has with you? Herschel’s never backed off from anything, period.”
Her father wouldn’t do that this time, either. Unless he had no choice. She had to make sure he didn’t get that choice.
Because she needed it, Laurel took a moment, too. “If we’re married, I’d sign over custody to you. Immediately. My father might have enough dirt on me to declare me incompetent, but he can’t do the same to you.”
She hoped.
After all, Jericho had been the sheriff of Appaloosa Pass for well over a decade. He was respected by some. Feared by others. It would be next to impossible to fabricate enough to smear his reputation, and Laurel was hoping a corrupt judge would back down from trying to go after Jericho.
“What kind of dirt does Herschel have on you?” he asked. Of course, Jericho wasn’t going to let that slide.
“My father manufactured some of it. Some of it was my own stupidity in handling one of his business accounts.”
And again, that was an explanation best saved for another day. She hadn’t done anything knowingly, but she had known her father. Had known what he was capable of doing. Now that her father knew the whole truth, he would use anything to hurt her where it hurt the most.
By going after Maddox.
Jericho’s stare got worse. So did his profanity. “Surely there’s somebody other than me who can do this for you. Like your ex-fiancé?”
“He can’t help,” she settled for saying. And, in fact, he was a big part of the problem.
“Really?
