The Lawman's Runaway Bride
Patricia Johns
Winning the Lawman’s HeartForced to work with the woman who left his brother at the altar five years ago, police chief Chance Morgan must also face his own guilt. Sadie Jenkins’s return to town stirs feelings he thought he’d buried along with his soldier brother, who died overseas. Almost kissing Sadie the night before her wedding was a mistake—one he won’t make again. Planning a remembrance ceremony for the town’s military men is a chance for Sadie to build her event planning business. But working with Chance is bringing up all the emotions she once ran from. Is she ready to finally take that leap into the future…together?Comfort Creek Lawmen: Men in blue with hearts of gold
Winning the Lawman’s Heart
Forced to work with the woman who left his brother at the altar five years ago, police chief Chance Morgan must also face his own guilt. Sadie Jenkins’s return to town stirs feelings he thought he’d buried along with his soldier brother, who died overseas. Almost kissing Sadie the night before her wedding was a mistake—one he won’t make again. For Sadie, planning a remembrance ceremony for the town’s military men will help build her event-planning business. But working with Chance is bringing up all the emotions she once ran from. Is she ready to finally take that leap into the future...with him?
PATRICIA JOHNS writes from Alberta, Canada. She has her Hon. BA in English literature and currently writes for Harlequin’s Love Inspired, Western Romance and Heartwarming lines. You can find her at patriciajohnsromance.com (http://www.patriciajohnsromance.com).
Also By Patricia Johns (#u8c8bfd10-3f11-5b44-b02e-bbd1ac25ae1f)
Comfort Creek Lawmen
Deputy Daddy
The Lawman’s Runaway Bride
His Unexpected Family
The Rancher’s City Girl
A Firefighter’s Promise
The Lawman’s Surprise Family
The Cowboy’s Christmas Bride
The Cowboy’s Valentine Bride
The Triplets’ Cowboy Daddy
Her Cowboy Boss
A Baxter’s Redemption
The Runaway Bride
A Boy’s Christmas Wish
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Lawman’s Runaway Bride
Patricia Johns
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08032-3
THE LAWMAN’S RUNAWAY BRIDE
© 2018 Patty Froese Ntihemuka
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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“It was a crush, I thought—”
“Maybe a bit more than that.” Chance shook his head. “You two fell in love, and I sorted out my feelings privately. That’s how I do things, if you hadn’t noticed.”
And she’d spent years cozying up to her future brother-in-law, never realizing how difficult she was probably making it for him.
They were silent for a few seconds, and Sadie’s heart welled with regret. He met her gaze once more, and she saw a flicker of a smile on his face.
“And now?” she asked hesitantly.
“Sadie, that’s all in the past,” he said. “Just a little nostalgia. It’s under control.” Those blue eyes met hers once more, then he heaved a long sigh. “Trust me on that.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“So back to business.”
She had questions, but she wasn’t even sure what they were right now, or if she should ask them. She sucked in a wavering breath and looked at her notes.
“Yes, back to business.”
Dear Reader (#u8c8bfd10-3f11-5b44-b02e-bbd1ac25ae1f),
I hope you enjoy this story about fresh starts, true love and God’s guidance. If you like my Love Inspired novels, you may also enjoy my previous releases from the Harlequin Western Romance and Harlequin Heartwarming lines. All of my books are sweet romance, which means that it never goes beyond a kiss and the focus is on the emotional experiences of the characters instead of the physical. While the other lines don’t include my faith overtly, they are still written by the same Christian author.
If you’d like to connect with me online, you can find me on Facebook or on my website (http://PatriciaJohnsRomance.com (http://PatriciaJohnsRomance.com)), where you’ll find all my releases listed.
I’d love to hear from you!
Patricia Johns
Every wise woman buildeth her house:
but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.
—Proverbs 14:1
To my husband and our son.
Life is so much sweeter together!
Contents
Cover (#ud38c046b-61da-5b10-b53e-5ecdcdc82af0)
Back Cover Text (#u7e367bd7-e3c2-5023-b2f7-15b4b14e13c8)
About the Author (#u32161eca-9430-5ca8-b9da-83c62db74128)
Booklist (#u26b78a9d-9402-5ca0-b5b1-72bae16e015a)
Title Page (#u27678737-41fd-5763-9a90-6d79c4a9a933)
Copyright (#uc460ff51-bb5a-5f1a-b351-ef51ad325048)
Introduction (#u51faebf4-bfaf-5898-9c1b-165b0b63b7e8)
Dear Reader (#u06e50f2d-c619-5364-8399-c94b5f262781)
Bible Verse (#u06b96e82-0524-5bef-94d6-9cc61088a363)
Dedication (#u9f6f88c2-5766-5c78-9992-ad93871dae37)
Chapter One (#u4b9cb610-b6af-542c-bc0e-dc8b6d44af20)
Chapter Two (#u9da83371-4bb4-58e4-969f-85f6da12be7b)
Chapter Three (#u076ddfd2-9b09-5f1c-8aad-efa157ede20d)
Chapter Four (#ud46c9379-7e6d-5525-841f-bff075042220)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u8c8bfd10-3f11-5b44-b02e-bbd1ac25ae1f)
Chance Morgan tucked his chief-of-police hat under his arm as he jogged up the worn wooden staircase to the second floor of Comfort Creek’s town hall. He rubbed a hand over his short-cropped sandy-blond hair. There were times he thought it was working with the mayor that had caused the premature gray at his temples. He was five minutes early for his meeting with Mayor Scott, and he was dreading it already.
Mayor Eugene Scott was planning a remembrance ceremony for the four men from Comfort Creek, Colorado, killed in the military over the last five years. The mayor’s son was one of them, as was Chance’s fraternal twin brother, and since both Chance and Mayor Scott had someone close to them die overseas, the mayor figured they wanted the same thing.
He was wrong, of course. Chance was a private man, and while he grieved his brother deeply, he didn’t like having to do that in front of the entire town. Regardless, when the mayor summoned, the chief of police showed up—he glanced at his watch—four minutes early.
“Good morning, Chief.” Brenda, the middle-aged secretary, shot him a smile from her desk. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, along with a pen, and she was clicking through something on her computer screen that seemed to be absorbing most of her attention.
“Is he in?” Chance asked.
“Go on through,” Brenda said, turning back to her computer. “He’s waiting for you.”
Chance settled what he hoped was an appropriately professional look on his face, and tapped on the closed office door, then opened it. He could see Mayor Scott behind a mammoth mahogany desk. His bald head had a thin strip of hair swept over the top of it, and his dress shirt was already open at the neck despite the snow on the ground outside.
“Chief Morgan,” the mayor said. “Come on in.”
Chance opened the door the rest of the way, and as he did, it revealed a slim woman sitting in the visitor’s chair. His heart stopped for second, and then did three fast beats to catch up. Sadie Jenkins...
“Hi, Chance.”
She wore a pair of gray dress pants paired with a pink cashmere sweater that brought out the same shade of pink on her cheeks. Did women plan these things? Her knees were pressed together, a pad of paper on her lap. She tried to smile, then gave up. She was the same petite, freckled brunette who had left his brother at the altar five years ago...and Chance wasn’t entirely blameless in that, either. Her hair was longer now—tousled curls that tumbled around her shoulders—and she rose halfway and put out her hand.
“You’re back,” he said woodenly, taking her hand. He’d meant to give her a perfunctory shake, but he didn’t let go in time, and she tugged her fingers free.
“Close the door, would you?” Mayor Scott said, and Chance swung it shut behind him without looking back. It closed louder than necessary, and he shot the mayor an incredulous look. Chance didn’t like surprises—especially the personal kind—and the mayor knew exactly how personal this was. The entire town of Comfort Creek knew—they’d all been at the wedding that didn’t happen.
“Now, I know there’s a bit of history between you,” the mayor went on quickly. “I’m trusting we can get past that. I’ve hired Miss Jenkins to be the events coordinator for the remembrance ceremony.”
Sadie had left town five years ago on the morning she was supposed to marry Chance’s brother, Noah. Chance hadn’t forgiven her for that disappearing act yet.
“Are you serious, sir?”
“She comes highly recommended,” the older man replied. He pulled out a wad of tissues and wiped his nose. “She also has a wealth of experience.”
Chance glanced over at Sadie, eyeing her for a moment. He was angry—that was easier to deal with than the more complex emotions swarming beneath the surface. Because in those five years, she hadn’t contacted him...not that she owed him anything, exactly. He shouldn’t have gone to her house the night before the wedding. He shouldn’t have stood with her on the porch, talking late into the evening. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched that tendril of hair that hung down her neck...
“We’re all professionals here,” the mayor went on, his tone chilling noticeably. “I’m sure we can get a job done. You two will need to work together.”
Mayor Scott was Chance’s boss, and Chance didn’t actually get to quibble over whom the mayor hired for event planning. He knew that, he just couldn’t believe that of all people to choose, the mayor would choose the woman who had broken his brother Noah’s heart—the reason Noah had been so eager to join the army. No one knew the truth, though, that before Sadie took off, Chance had almost kissed her. And he suspected that if it weren’t for that moment of weakness, if he hadn’t confused her, she might have gone through with the wedding and Noah might still be alive. Noah’s death was utterly senseless. He’d left Comfort Creek to go lick his wounds, and while he was stationed overseas, he’d been shot in a routine exercise by friendly fire. Where was the meaning in that?
“Chief?” Both Mayor Scott and Sadie were looking at him now. He’d been silent for a few beats, and he inwardly grimaced.
“Yes, sir, of course,” Chance replied with a nod. “We’re all professionals.”
“Great.” The mayor beamed one of those politically golden smiles of his, and folded his hands in front of him. “Because this remembrance ceremony is important to our entire town. These young men were ours, and we are forever indebted to them for the freedom we enjoy. I want this ceremony to reflect our gratefulness, and our respect. Comfort Creek sent them out with fanfare, and we will never forget—” The older man’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, and blinked back a mist of tears. “I know you feel the same.”
Mayor Scott had three pictures around the office of his son, Ryan, ranging in age from his first day of kindergarten to him as a fully grown man in army dress uniform. Chance had the same kinds of photos around his home: the picture of him and his brother as kids, arms around each other’s shoulders as they squinted into the camera on some family vacation; the snapshot from his graduation from police academy where his brother was giving him a noogie; the picture of Noah in army uniform, duffel bag at his feet. It was hard to encapsulate an entire person in a few pictures, but he’d tried nonetheless. It was as if the pictures helped to hold those memories together, remind the world that this man had mattered.
“I appreciate this opportunity, Mayor Scott,” Sadie said. “We’ll put together a program that honors these men and their families. You’ve lost more than we can comprehend, sir.”
“So has Chance,” the mayor said with a nod. “Ryan and Noah, Terrance and Michael—they all deserve to be remembered.” He glanced at his watch. “I apologize for doing this, but I have a meeting in about ten minutes with the ladies complaining about noisy garbage collection.” He tapped a pen on a pad of paper. “So let’s meet next week and see where we are. I’ve already gone over some of my expectations with Miss Jenkins, and I’m sure she can fill you in, Chance.”
So that’s where things stood—the mayor was now planning this event with Sadie. While he’d never been keen on doing this ceremony, he didn’t like being squeezed out, either.
Chance rose and gave a curt nod. “I’m sure she can.”
He hoped his dry tone wasn’t as obvious to them as it was to himself. Sadie gathered up some papers and tucked them into a leather bag, then rose, too.
“Thank you, sir,” Sadie said with a smile, but it slipped when she saw Chance’s expression. Her hazel gaze met his for a split second, and then she looked away. He could tell that he was making her uncomfortable, but she didn’t deserve all the blame.
“We’ll talk later, sir,” Chance said with a sigh, then pulled open the door and gestured for Sadie to go ahead of him. He wasn’t a complete Neanderthal.
Chance shut the door behind him, and as he passed Brenda’s desk, she mouthed “sorry” at him. She’d known exactly what had been waiting for him in there, and she hadn’t given him any warning. It wasn’t her fault, though. Like Sadie, apparently, her loyalties were with the man who paid her. He gave her a small smile and tapped her desktop lightly with this tips of his fingers in reply as he walked past. It wasn’t full-out forgiveness, just acknowledgment of her tough position.
They paused at the coatrack and took their coats. She had a gray, woolen dress coat that came to her knees, and she pulled a pink scarf from the pocket and wrapped it around her neck twice. All without looking at him. Sadie passed in front of him out of the office and her low-heeled boots echoed against the tile-floored hallway. She didn’t say a word as they made their way back down the wooden staircase side by side.
When they reached the bottom, she turned toward him.
“It’s good to see you, Chance,” she said quietly, but her voice still carried through the empty halls.
“Is it? I got the feeling you didn’t want to see me again.” He couldn’t say that he was glad to see her in the least, because he wasn’t. He was supposed to be getting over her, not stepping back into that mire of emotion. However, the last thing Chance needed was to have everyone in the town hall listen to this conversation. “Let’s go outside to talk,” he said, gesturing toward the main doors. She nodded her agreement, and he opened the door to let her pass in front of him into the cold, winter air.
Sadie was still cute—why did he have to notice that? She came up to just past his shoulder and the scent of her perfume brought back a flood of memories. Sadie’s laugh, Sadie’s jokes, the way Sadie used to tip her head onto Noah’s shoulder, and how Chance’s insides had roiled with jealousy. His twin brother’s fiancée had been out of his league from the start. She was the woman that Chance had measured all others against...except he hadn’t intended to ruin his brother’s happiness, or chase his brother’s bride out of town.
Chance followed her out the door, then stopped on the sidewalk. She turned back, green-flecked eyes meeting his with irritation. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder.
“So you still won’t forgive me?” she asked. “It’s been five years!”
“He died, Sadie.” There was no making this up to Noah. His brother was gone, and they were both to blame for that.
* * *
“Would you have rather I’d married him?” she demanded.
Sadie stepped back as a woman in a puffy green coat passed them and disappeared into town hall. She pasted a smile onto her face, hoping that it covered the rising emotion inside of her. Someone in a pickup truck called, “Morning, Chief!” as the vehicle rumbled past. There was no privacy on the streets of Comfort Creek.
She’d been afraid to come back because she knew that she’d let down the entire Morgan family. When Noah had proposed, he’d had the thrilled support of his brother and parents. She knew some women who married men whose families hadn’t been terribly thrilled about the wedding, but that hadn’t been her experience with the Morgans. They’d welcomed her with open arms. Her rejection of Noah would have felt like a rejection of all of them. But how could she marry Noah when she’d experienced more in one unfortunate moment with his brother than she’d ever felt for Noah?
But she’d come back to Comfort Creek anyway, because while she’d dashed out on her wedding, she didn’t want to be the kind of woman who ran away from conflict. Comfort Creek was her home, too, but standing here on Birch Street with a lump in her throat wasn’t exactly how she’d hoped to do this.
“Let me buy you a coffee at the diner,” Chance said. “It’s cold out here.” He met her gaze, at least. Lucy’s Diner was just down the street by the highway, walking distance from town hall.
“Alright,” she agreed.
Sadie had expected this to be difficult. When her grandmother told her that Mayor Scott needed an events planner, the timing was perfect—for her at least. At that point, she hadn’t realized that the event would be a commemorative ceremony for her ex-fiancé. That was uncomfortable, to say the least. Was she the right person for the job? Would Comfort Creek be angry or supportive? But the mayor assured her that he didn’t see a conflict of interest. He needed a qualified event planner, and he trusted her to have the right “feel” for the town.
When the mayor told her that she’d be working with Chance Morgan, she’d almost refused the job. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but her grandmother since she’d left town, and she’d prayed long and hard about the job offer. But home was calling to her, and she felt as if this was what God wanted her to do. Still, before Comfort Creek could be home in every sense, she had to face the people she’d hurt and make her apologies. She’d have to face Chance, and that knot of emotion he’d caused inside of her... It wouldn’t be easy, but when God pushed her forward into character growth, some pain was to be expected. She’d just hoped that God would have prepared some hearts before she arrived.
As they headed down the street, Sadie evaluated Chance out of the corner of her eye. He was still the same tall guy she remembered, but he looked stronger, somehow. Maybe he’d bulked up a little—could that be it? Or just a few years more life experience. He was police chief now—that was a considerable step up in his career. He’d been up for the position just before the wedding, so this shouldn’t be a surprise. But the years seemed to have aged him. There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his sandy-blond hair was turning silver at the sides. But he was only thirty-eight—six years older than her. Stress, maybe? In every other way, he was the same old Chance—tall, fit, serious. They’d been close back then, but by the look in his eye now, all that was in the past.
“You really think you’re the one to plan a ceremony in Noah’s honor?” Chance asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“No, I think you are,” she countered. “But Mayor Scott says you’ve fought him every step of the way.”
“And that’s my prerogative. You didn’t even show up for the funeral.”
Sadie heard the resentment in his voice.
“I didn’t think it would be right to come to the funeral,” she replied. “After I left the way I did.”
“Maybe you were right.”
“I sent your parents a sympathy card, though.” She’d spent an hour standing in a card shop looking for the right sentiment. She’d been heartbroken, too, when she heard about Noah’s death. She’d loved him—even if marrying him would have been a mistake. The world had been a better place with Noah in it.
“I saw it.”
His tone was still wooden, and irritation simmered inside of her. What had he expected her to do? She wasn’t part of the family. She was probably the least favorite person of the Morgans in general. Showing up at the funeral would have been in bad taste—it would have drawn attention away from Noah and put her into the spotlight. But more than that, was she supposed to stay away indefinitely? Comfort Creek didn’t belong to Chance Morgan; he wasn’t the only one to have grown up here.
“Chance, it’s been five years.” She eyed him cautiously. “I’m sorry about the way I handled things, but marrying Noah wasn’t going to work. I should have figured it out sooner, but I didn’t. I couldn’t marry him.”
“Ending things would have been fine,” he retorted. “But you didn’t face him. You didn’t explain anything. You just walked out. We all showed up at the church, and I stood next to my brother at the front, waiting for you to come down the aisle. It was a full forty-five minutes before your grandmother arrived and told us you weren’t coming. Do you know what that did to him? Do you know what it’s like to get that kind of news in front of a church full of family and friends?”
Sadie felt that old swell of guilt—she’d lived with it every day since she’d run away from her wedding. She’d been dressed in that beaded gown, her veil already affixed to her updo. She’d been putting on her shoes, ready to go to the church when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and it all came crashing in on her. She couldn’t be Mrs. Noah Morgan. She’d thought that what she’d been feeling for her fiancé’s brother was a crush—something that would pass. Then, on that porch the night before, he’d admitted to having felt the same thing for her...
The right thing would have been to go down to the church and explain it in person, but she knew herself—she might have walked down that aisle anyhow, just to keep everyone happy, and she couldn’t risk that. So she’d changed into a pair of jeans, grabbed her suitcase that was already packed for a Caribbean honeymoon, and called a cab. Nana assured her that she’d explain.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said. “But there was no kind or easy way to call off a wedding the morning it was supposed to happen. I made my peace with that a long time ago. At least I didn’t marry him and break his heart after two kids and a mortgage.”
Lucy’s Diner was located at the corner of Birch Street and the highway, an old brick building with a red roof and a large sculpture of a bull that stood between the highway traffic and the parking lot. Lucy’s Diner had been in that exact spot for the last sixty years, when Comfort Creek was nothing more than a gas station, a church and a grain elevator, and as they approached the front door, Sadie heaved a sigh. This was past the point of discomfort, and the last thing she wanted was to sit in a diner and rehash old hurts.
“Do you really want that coffee?” she asked as they stopped in front of the diner. “We could do this another time. No pressure.”
“Of course, there’s pressure,” he retorted. “We have to work together. We have a deadline.”
He was right about that. Chance pulled open the door and stepped back. What was with him and those perfect manners? He’d always been like this—proper, disciplined, always the cop. She sighed and walked into the warmth, then headed toward a booth in the back. He followed, accepting a couple of menus from the waitress on his way past.
Once they were settled with glasses of ice water in front of them and their coats piled beside them, Chance leaned forward in his chair.
“I have to ask this—” Chance swallowed. “Was it because of me? I was out of line that night on the porch. I shouldn’t have confused you like that. I should have—”
“Confused me?” Sadie shook her head. “You make me sound like a half-wit. I wasn’t confused or in a muddle, Chance.”
His face colored, but he’d hit a nerve there. That was a question she’d asked herself a hundred times since. Had she dumped Noah because of Chance? Was that moment of butterflies and tenderness enough to unhinge a five-year relationship with a good man?
“I just...” Her stomach had flipped. Her breath had caught. She’d stared up into Chance’s blue eyes and she’d felt weak in the knees—none of which she’d ever felt for Noah. But there was no way she could confess that to Chance.
“It wasn’t because of you,” she said, and that was the truth. “Noah and I weren’t strong enough together. That’s all.”
She’d wanted what Noah had to offer. He was a carpenter who was doing very well for himself in Comfort Creek. He had a large extended family who were close and supportive. He’d already built their future home on an acreage outside of town. He’d offered her everything she thought she wanted...
The waitress arrived just then, and Chance ordered a coffee and a piece of pie.
“Just coffee for me, thanks,” she said with a tight smile.
The waitress left them in peace once more and Sadie fiddled with the napkin-wrapped cutlery in front of her. She’d been to this diner countless times over the years, but the first visit that she could remember had been with her nana.
At the age of eight, her mother had brought her to Comfort Creek to visit Nana for a few days. That night, Sadie watched from the upstairs window of Nana’s house as her mother loaded a suitcase into the back of her musician boyfriend’s car. She remembered being confused. Why was her mother outside at this time of night? Why was Angelo here? Her mom had looked up, seen Sadie in the window and blown her a kiss. Then she’d hopped into the front seat and the car roared off.
No one blew a kiss and left forever, but that was what Mom had done, and that was how her life with Nana had begun. The next morning, Nana had brought her to the diner for a special breakfast, and she’d laid it out for her. Mom had gone away. Nana would take care of her from now on.
So Comfort Creek was home—the only home she had—and if Chance thought she’d stay away because they had some complicated history, then he had another think coming.
“I thought if I gave Noah some space, he could move on more easily. I owed him that much, at least.”
“He didn’t,” Chance said.
Noah only died a year ago, so he’d had enough time to move on. He would have been one of the most eligible men in Comfort Creek. He would have had his pick of women...especially after what Sadie had done to him.
“There must have been girlfriends...” she said.
“Nope.”
Her heart sank. “I know I hurt him, but—”
“It more than hurt him. It crushed him, Sadie.” Chance’s voice was low. “He wasn’t the same after that.”
And then he’d joined the army. Was Chance blaming her? Noah had mentioned an interest in the army before they got engaged, but she had no interest in being a military wife, and he’d let it drop. She’d assumed that was the end of it.
“I didn’t know he’d do that,” she said, hoping he’d believe her. “I thought I was doing us both a favor. I thought he’d move on with Melissa Franco or Melanie Brooks.” Both women had been halfway in love with Noah, throwing themselves in his path every chance they got.
The waitress arrived with a coffeepot and the slice of pie. She poured them each a steaming cup.
“Anything else I can get for you two?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” Chance’s tone was curt, and the waitress retreated. “So why are you back, then? I thought you’d made your life in Denver.”
Sadie’s gaze wandered toward the window—the familiar stretch of highway, the faded sign out front promising the county’s best burgers next to the black-painted sculpture of the bull with its horns down. A dusting of snow fell from the gray sky.
Sadie dragged her gaze back to Chance and smiled sadly. “I wanted to come home.”
And maybe Comfort Creek wouldn’t be the respite that she’d imagined it would. She’d wanted the comfort of Nana’s advice and home cooking. She’d wanted to come back to the only place that knew her—the good and the bad. She wanted to settle down, not with a man, but on her own terms.
“And you’re starting up a business, I take it,” Chance added.
“Yes,” she said, grabbing a sugar packet and tearing it open. “I am. Mayor Scott is being very supportive. He has friends who need a good event planner, and his daughter Trina’s wedding is coming up. I have a good chance of making a go of this here. In Denver, I was working with a big event planning firm and I got some great experience.”
“And if you do well with this remembrance ceremony, he’ll pass your name around with a glowing recommendation,” Chance concluded.
“Something like that.” That was how businesses got started—word of mouth. This was a priceless opportunity. If she was going to support herself here, she needed the boost. She stirred the sugar into her coffee.
“So basically, you’re back to make some money,” he concluded.
“That isn’t even fair!” Her anger sparked to life. “I need to make a living. What do you expect me to do? I’m good at this, Chance. I’ve got some great experience, and I really think I have a lot to offer Comfort Creek. So yes, I need to make a living, and yes, I want to grow my business and succeed. What’s so wrong with that?”
He heaved a sigh, then shook his head. “Nothing. I hope it works out for you.”
Did he really? She wasn’t so sure. But a single woman didn’t have the option of laying low if she wanted to support herself, so if Chance didn’t like seeing her around town, he’d have to sort out his feelings on his own. She was tired of feeling guilty. She deserved a fresh start as much as anyone.
“Chance, I’m asking you—” She paused, unsure how to say this. “I get that you’re mad at me, and I know that we won’t be friends like we were before...but I’m here. And we have to work together. I just need to know if that’s going to be possible.”
In fact, it would be better if they weren’t friends like before. Those lines had blurred, and there wasn’t an easy way to recover from that. At least not for her.
“Of course,” he said, and for a moment, his gaze softened. “Like the mayor said, we’re all professionals.” He slid the plate of pie toward her, then grabbed his coat from the bench beside him. “It’s on me. I remember you liked pie.” Then he rose to his feet and tossed a bill onto the table. “Come by my office Monday morning—let’s say nine—and we’ll get to work.”
“Alright.” She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be there.”
Chance turned and walked away, leaving Sadie alone at the table with a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie and a cup of untouched coffee. Not exactly the welcome she’d been hoping for, but it was a start.
Chapter Two (#u8c8bfd10-3f11-5b44-b02e-bbd1ac25ae1f)
Sadie was back in town. Chance rolled that fact over in his mind while he drove toward the police station. If it weren’t for the timing of this commemorative ceremony, he might not be so raw about the whole thing, but as it was, all those memories crowded just beneath the surface, and it had only been a year since Noah’s death. He’d been praying for God to help him to heal, but so far, those prayers had gone unanswered.
And he needed healing from more than just his brother’s death; he needed to let go of those feelings for Sadie. He’d thought he had, but when he saw her again today, it came crowding back in—that same unwanted attraction to Sadie and a flood of guilt.
He was the chief of police, and ran a sensitivity training program here in Comfort Creek—he wasn’t supposed to be the one struggling with personal issues. He was supposed to be the guy with the answers. How come every time he prayed for strength, he ended up driven to his knees? If anyone had asked him yesterday if five years had made a difference, he’d have said yes, it had. A lot had changed. But today, looking Sadie in the face, it was as if those years had melted out from under him.
The heat in his cruiser pumped into the car, and he reached over and turned it down. Sadie was back, and by the sounds of it, she wanted to make this permanent. He knew that he’d played a part in her run for Denver, but he’d been willing to talk about it. He could have told her that it was one moment of weakness, and that he could curb his feelings and she’d never be faced with them again. Had she stayed to talk about it. But she hadn’t. She’d run. And now she was back and all was supposed to be forgiven, and he couldn’t do it. The anger was back, and he couldn’t just push it aside.
A fully planned wedding didn’t evaporate, and it had taken weeks to help his brother handle all the details—clean up, return gifts, move her things back out of Noah’s house. The entire time, his brother had been a walking shell of a man. He’d been hollow, wan, brittle. Sadie might have been able to just walk away, but Noah had to stay and deal with the fallout. And all that time, Chance had kept his secret and never told his brother what he’d done. He regretted that now. He’d never imagined that he wouldn’t have a chance to get it off his chest.
Chance remembered the afternoon when Noah had told him his plans to join the army.
You can’t just leave, Chance had protested. You and I were going to buy that boat together, I thought.
They had plans for the future—the Morgan brothers. They were going to buy a boat, then buy a little cottage by a lake and spend every weekend from April through October fishing.
I don’t have anything left here, Noah had replied.
You have your entire life here!
And he had—Noah had run his own successful carpentry business. He had built a beautiful home on an acreage about twenty minutes outside of town, and he had his extended family all right there. This was the life he’d offered to share with Sadie, and there were several other women who’d immediately perked up at the news of the wedding that didn’t happen. Noah didn’t have to leave. What Chance should have said was, “You have me here, Noah.”
Noah had been a wreck, and he’d said that the best way forward was through. Chance would have agreed, except through meant something different to Noah—it led to the army. He’d gone on one deployment, and the night he came back, Chance could see that his brother had changed. Of course, a year in Afghanistan would have an impact, but it was more than the tan and the ropy muscle. It went deeper, to the steely glimmer in his eye. Then he left for another tour, and the distance between the brothers grew more pronounced. And then there was a third tour that Noah never came back from.
Chance pulled into the parking lot next to the Comfort Creek Police Department. It was a squat, brick building on Main Street, right across the street from the bank. A large elm tree grew just beside it, branches blanketed with snow.
This sleepy town was the location of Larimer County’s sensitivity training program. The cops who came here needed soft skills—patience, self-control and character growth. They didn’t come to face off with criminals, they came to do just the opposite, actually, and face their own issues. Comfort Creek had plenty of space and quiet to do just that, and Chance took his training program incredibly seriously. For the most part, these were good cops struggling with problems larger than they were, and Chance could sympathize with that. He knew what it was like to make one wretched mistake and watch his brother disintegrate because of it. A mistake didn’t have to define a man, but all too often it did.
Sadie’s face was still swimming through his mind as he trotted up the front steps to the police department. Her return had shaken him more than he liked to admit. He saw her grandmother, Abigail Jenkins, on a pretty regular basis. He’d have thought Abigail would give him a heads-up, but apparently he was wrong again. The women here seemed to have their own agendas that didn’t include keeping him in the know.
Chance pulled open the front door of the station and was met with the familiar scent of coffee and doughnuts, and the low hum of the officers working at their desks.
“Chief, your newest trainee is waiting.” Cheryl Dunn, the receptionist for the department, handed him a folder. She was about forty, slim, pale and efficient. She had three school-aged kids who called for her on a pretty regular basis, but she got the work done, and that was what mattered to Chance.
Trainees didn’t usually arrive on a Friday, but he could be flexible. Besides, if he got this trainee sorted out before the weekend, it would free up his morning to meet with Sadie.
“Thanks, Cheryl.” He flipped through the pages—signed forms, ID, that sort of thing. He was familiar with his newest trainee already. His name was Toby Gillespie, and he was being given this extra training because he was inflexible and generally intimidating to the public. The other officers nicknamed him Bear.
That had been Noah’s nickname, too... Well, they’d called him Teddy Bear, and it was bestowed upon him by the girls in school for very different reasons—he gave good hugs, and despite his muscular physique, he was gentle with those smaller than him. Noah had been the all-American boy growing up. He was athletic, good-looking and got top grades. He played on the high school football team. He’d been dark haired and swarthy compared to Chance’s sandy-blond hair and blue eyes—as different in appearance as they were in personality. Noah was a tough act to follow for a twin brother who had to study hard for mostly Bs and lacked that easy charismatic charm his brother emanated without even trying. It made for a complex dynamic between them, and if Chance had to be honest, he’d been jealous of Noah. And yet at the same time, he’d also been just as enamored with him as the rest of the town. Noah was like that—when he turned his attention onto a person, they couldn’t help but love him.
Including Sadie...until the end, of course.
A uniformed officer sat in a chair in front of Chance’s office. He wasn’t tall, but his build was stocky, and he was muscular. Toby Gillespie obviously spent a lot of time in the gym, and Chance guessed the guy drank protein shakes for breakfast.
“Toby, I take it?” Chance asked.
Toby rose to his feet and stood at attention. “Good morning, sir.”
“Come on in.” Chance opened his office door and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Toby stepped inside and stood beside the chair rigidly.
“At ease, officer. Have a seat.”
The younger man visibly deflated and sank into the chair. None of his trainees liked being here—he was used to that. This was discipline, after all. Chance shut the door and went around to his own chair and flipped open the folder.
“You started out as military, right?” Chance asked.
“Yes, sir. Four years of army service, three deployments.”
That was pretty close to Noah’s service.
“And you’ve been on the force how long now?”
“Another four years, sir.”
“Do you know why you’re taking sensitivity training?” Chance asked.
“I’m too by-the-book, sir.” Toby shook his head, and a look of disgust shone through that granite expression for a split second. “But the law’s the law.”
According to Officer Gillespie’s commanding officer, Toby was intimidating to the public and no amount of coaching seemed to change that.
“Do you like desk work?” Chance asked.
“No, sir. Hate it.” Toby arched a brow. “And yes, I know that’s where I’m headed.”
Chance had an idea of how to help this young officer, but it meant embracing this remembrance ceremony—something he’d been fighting ever since the mayor brought it up to him several weeks ago. There was no getting around it—Sadie had already been hired, and as police chief, he should have a role in it, too. Being a community leader didn’t mean he always got to do what he wanted, but right now, he could see that this commemorative ceremony might be of use to more than just their own.
“Considering that you’re ex-military, I have something I want you to help us with,” Chance said.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re working on a ceremony for Comfort Creek that is going to commemorate four young men who died in service. I want you to help us with that.”
Toby froze, then shook his head. “Do I have a choice, sir?”
“Absolutely.” Chance smiled amiably. “There is a room full of binders about feelings and appropriate reactions to them in the basement. You have two weeks with us, and I’m sure you could work your way through fifteen or twenty of those binders in that amount of time.”
Toby looked away, his jaw tensing. He was doing the mental math there—how much could he endure, and which avenue did he prefer?
“I don’t like rehashing my military days, sir,” Toby said. “The past is the past. I’m a civilian now.”
Toby was no civilian in his head, or in his demeanor. He was still acting like the soldier.
“Understood.” Chance shrugged. “I’ll get an officer to show you down to the basement, then. You can get started today. I’ve got your first binder waiting on the table there. You can’t miss it. There are some workbooks that go along with it, and we’ll need full written responses that will be sent for psych evaluation—”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help out with your commemorative ceremony, sir,” Toby said quickly. “I just said that I didn’t want to dig into my own military service, if it’s all the same.”
Chance paused, watching conflicting emotions flit across Toby Gillespie’s face. He was a good cop—most of the officers who ended up here were. He was the cop you wanted to cover you going into dangerous territory. He was a veritable tank who just needed to figure out how to disarm himself from time to time.
“I can tell you what it would entail,” Chance said. “I need you to speak with the family members of the fallen men and get some personal information about them—pictures, military ranks and any medals they might have been awarded...that sort of thing. Bring that information back to me, and we’ll talk.”
Toby frowned. “That’s not normally my strength—grieving families and all that.”
No one liked facing grief, especially their own. Chance knew that better than anyone.
“It would be good practice with letting down your guard a little bit,” Chance said. “But I’m not sending you in without some preparation. One of the men who died was my brother. You can practice with me.”
Toby cleared his throat and looked down. “I’m used to interviewing suspects, sir, so talking with them isn’t an issue. It’s just that I don’t tend to...come across right. Normally those kinds of assignments are saved for officers with a softer touch.”
“That’s what we’re working on here,” Chance said frankly. “The softer touch.”
“So, if I did this—”
“No binders.” This was an option he gave nearly all his trainees, and 95% of them chose to avoid the binders. There was something about county-approved sensitivity training that rubbed just about every officer the wrong way.
A smile flickered at the corners of the younger man’s lips. “Fine. I’ll do the interviews with the families. But if they complain about me—”
Chance had hoped that he’d agree, and not only because it would be of service to the community right now. Toby Gillespie was behaving like a military man, and it wasn’t working with the police force. There was a certain amount of discipline and respect for command authority that the two careers had in common, but Officer Gillespie was suffering from something that had happened in the military—at least that was Chance’s best guess—and it was bleeding into his work on the force.
“You’ll start with me, remember? It’ll be fine. In the meantime, you’ll be assigned a cruiser and you can start patrol.”
Chance didn’t want to grieve for his brother with an audience, but sometimes helping a good officer get over his own issues meant a certain amount of vulnerability.
Lord, I hate this, he admitted silently. I asked You to help me heal, and now everything seems to be about Noah all over again.
He didn’t want to face this, but it didn’t look like he’d have a choice. He’d prayed that God would help him to work through his own grief, and sometimes when God answered a prayer, He did it with all the subtlety of a pile of bricks.
* * *
Sadie dropped her bag onto the seat of a kitchen chair and ran a hand through her hair. The meeting with the mayor had been more exhausting than she’d anticipated. There had been a very small and naive part of her that had been hoping that seeing Chance again would spark the old friendship they used to share, before those lines had blurred. Back when their relationship had been simple and sweet, she’d looked forward to seeing him, chatting with him, sharing jokes. Five years ago, Chance had been fun.
Marrying into a family that you honestly liked was a smart move, and that had been part of what had kept her moving toward the wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan were kind and compassionate people—but they also knew how to stay out of a young couple’s relationship. Chance had been a good friend, too, and she had pleasant memories of sitting in his cruiser on a summer day, her bare feet up on the dashboard as she chipped away at that serious shell of his.
Feet down, he’d say.
Make me, Officer. She’d shoot him a teasing smile, and he’d crack a smile at that point—possibly imagining what it would take to get her to do as she was told. Personally, she thought he enjoyed the challenge.
She’d thought that flirting was safe—this was Chance, after all—but maybe she’d been naive about that, too. Because the day before the wedding, Chance had swung by her place to drop off some place cards that Nana needed for the reception. While talking on the porch, everything had changed...melted away into a foggy moment as their eyes met and the world faded away around them. He’d pushed a piece of hair away from her face, and as he did so, his eyes had locked on her lips, and she’d known that he was thinking about kissing her. She was an engaged woman, after all—she knew what that looked like. And he’d confessed his feelings.
I should have asked you out first, because watching you fall in love with my brother has been agony. I’m not saying I’m better for you than he is, I’m just— Never mind.
You what?
If you ever changed your mind about Noah, I’d be the first in line.
Her heart still lurched at the memory. In that moment, an innocent friendship with her future brother-in-law suddenly came into a new light. He obviously felt a whole lot more for her than she’d realized, and that moment had startled her awake in more ways than one. First of all, it made her realize that she’d never felt breathless and off balance with Noah. And second, she’d recognized that the life she’d agreed to wasn’t going to be enough.
Sadie rubbed her hands together. Nana’s house was always a little cold. Old houses were like sieves in the winter, the warm air flowing out as fast as it was pumped in. The house was small and white, with pink shutters that Sadie had painted herself when she was about thirteen. It stood at the end of Sycamore Street, just down from Blessings Bridal Boutique. As a girl, Sadie used to walk past that shop and stare into the windows at elegant bridal gowns. Was that why she’d been so quick to accept Noah’s proposal? But then, what girl didn’t want a wedding? She couldn’t let herself feel guilty about that. She’d been twenty-five when he proposed, not exactly a wisp of a girl, and she did want to settle down. She wanted a family, kids...
“So?” Nana prompted. She stood at the sink rinsing some dishes. Her hair was white and pulled back into a bun, and she wore a pair of pleated jeans and a faded blouse.
“I’ve got the job,” Sadie confirmed.
“That’s my girl.” Nana turned off the water and reached for a dish towel to dry her hands. “When I spoke with Eugene, he was quite excited. Apparently, our chief of police has been digging in his heels somewhat—”
“Chance,” Sadie corrected. “Our chief of police is Chance Morgan.”
Everyone else might be used to calling him chief, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He was Chance—the guy she used to tease and hang out with.
“Yes.” Nana smiled wanly. “And how did that go?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped.” Sadie poured herself a cup of tea from a cozy-covered pot on the counter. “He’s not thrilled to be working with me.”
“He took his brother’s death hard,” Nana said. “We all did, really. Noah was universally loved...” She winced. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
“I know, I know.” Sadie sighed. Her grandmother had been on her side when it came to ditching her own wedding. Nana had seen the writing on the wall, too, apparently.
Nana hung the towel over the oven handle. “Chance wouldn’t speak of you after you left. Not to me, not to anyone.”
“Really?” Sadie frowned. “He was that angry?”
Whatever he’d felt five years ago for her seemed to be safely gone. All she’d seen in his face was resentment—and she probably deserved it.
“Angry, loyal to his brother, maybe even a little betrayed himself.” Nana took another mug from the cupboard and poured it full of tea. “My point is, he’s bound to have a few residual feelings.”
“Residual feelings.” Sadie chuckled and took a sip. Her grandmother had no idea. “I suppose you could call it that. I’m pretty sure he can’t stand me. He wouldn’t even stay to drink his coffee in my presence.”
“He walked out on you?” Nana frowned. If there was one thing her grandmother couldn’t abide, it was rudeness, but Chance didn’t exactly count as rude. He was angry, obviously, and not thrilled to be working with her, but he’d always been so controlled, so proper. He was a cop to the core.
“After he paid for our coffee and bought me a piece of pie,” Sadie admitted with a shake of her head. “Noble to the last. I’m meeting him tomorrow morning at his office so we can sort out a few details for this ceremony.”
“That’s good.” Nana nodded. “You both need this.”
“Do we?” Sadie asked with a wry smile. “I’m not so sure. I wish I could be working with just about anyone else right now.”
“He needs this,” Nana replied. “I think he’s built you up in his head into something more than you are, and facing you again will bring it all back into perspective.”
So she’d been Godzilla in his head, had she? That was rather ironic. Well, maybe it would be good for him to see her as she was—a woman with feelings. He’d been able to see the woman in her before...
“And me?” Sadie asked. “Why do I need this?”
“Because you need to forgive yourself,” her grandmother replied. “At the end, I hope you two can make some peace. Move on. Stumble across each other in the grocery store and not dive for cover.”
Sadie chuckled. Nana had her own way of seeing things, and it was generally right. If Sadie was going to make her life here in Comfort Creek, then she needed to find some common ground with her almost-brother-in-law. Comfort Creek was a small town, and there was no avoiding someone with whom she had some unfortunate history.
“How is your mother?” Nana asked, and tears misted her eyes. When Sadie left town, she’d gone to the city and spent the better part of three years trying to find her mother. She’d worked for the catering firm, but her dedication to finding her mother had been stronger than anything else. She wanted answers—a reason for a mother to simply walk away from her little girl. She’d eventually found her living in a dumpy apartment, and she looked decades older than she really was.
“The last I saw her, she asked for money. And I—” Sadie put down her teacup “—I said no.”
“You had no choice, dear,” Nana said. “She’s an addict. She’ll always ask for money, and when you give it to her, she’ll buy more drugs.”
“She pleaded.” Sadie met her grandmother’s gaze. “She begged for it, Nana. I went back home and cried.”
Nana came around the table and wrapped her strong arms around Sadie, pinning her arms at her sides. These hugs—she’d come home for moments like this, where she wasn’t alone and someone else hurt as badly as she did when it came to her mom. Sadie’s mother had always been flighty. That was Nana’s term for it. She’d bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend, from job to job. When she’d gotten pregnant with Sadie, she wasn’t even sure who the father was—at least that was her claim. It was possible that she didn’t like who the father was... She’d never really put down any roots, and the most security Sadie had ever known was right here in her grandmother’s house. But Sadie was her mother’s daughter, too, and she’d inherited that tendency to bounce from job to job, from goal to goal...
“Sadie.” Nana pulled back and looked her in the face. “There was nothing you could do. If there were, I’d have done it already, I promise you that. Lori might be your mother, but she’s my baby girl.”
Sadie knew that, and she wasn’t a child, either. She understood the way drugs wreaked havoc on a person’s mind and body, but when she thought about all those years of waiting—hoping her mom would drive back into town as quietly as she’d left—it was both heartbreaking and infuriating to realize that her mom had been so close by all that time, and had never checked on her.
“Nana, I missed you.” Sadie meant that with every atom in her being. She’d missed her nana, the stability, the security, the love. For Nana, Sadie had been enough. She just hadn’t been enough for her own mom.
“I’m glad you’re home.” Nana patted her cheek. “Now, let me feed you. What would you like?”
That was always Nana’s solution for every problem—pie, bacon and eggs, perhaps a nice thick sandwich. Nana was a phenomenal cook, and she used food like therapy. Unfortunately, when Sadie was upset about something, her stomach closed down.
“I’m not hungry, Nana,” Sadie said with a small smile.
“Well...” Nana sighed, then shot Sadie a hopeful look. “I’ve made a few additions to the dollhouse...”
Sadie couldn’t help the smile that came to her face. “Are you still working on it?”
“Dearest, I’ve been working on that dollhouse for ages. I wouldn’t just stop. Come on, then. I’ll show you the newest renovations.”
Nana’s dollhouse was located in “the craft room,” which was a room too small for a bed, and since it had a window, it was also not suitable for closet space. Nana had turned this room into her crafting space, and it was therefore where the dollhouse sat on display. This dollhouse had been a formative part of Sadie’s childhood. She’d spent hours just staring into the tiny rooms, soaking in every perfect detail. Nana’s dollhouse was four stories of sky blue, Victorian elegance on the outside, but inside, the rooms were carefully decorated in a 1950s style. The house opened on hinges, so that even more rooms were available once the two back wings had swung out on either side. The center of the house had a staircase that led up to the very top floor—a tiny attic room with a cot and a rickety little dresser.
“What have you changed?” Sadie asked as she followed Nana into the study. It was a few degrees colder in that room, and the window had frost on the inside, too.
“Oh, this and that,” Nana said. “You know how it is. I decided to put real linens on the beds last year. Do you know how difficult it is to make a fitted sheet for a doll bed? I also made some tiny block quilts—all authentic, of course.”
“Of course.” Sadie bent down in front of the display of tiny rooms. She reached out to finger a tiny quilt on the bed in the attic. “Nana, this quilt is lined—” She stared at the minute craftsmanship.
“I told you—authentic.” Nana was pleased that she’d noticed—she could tell.
The funny thing was that seeing this dollhouse again felt like home in a deeper way than anything else in Comfort Creek. She’d spent so many solitary hours staring into these rooms, imagining the family that lived there, their dramas and quarrels, their victories and quiet Sunday evenings spent all together in the tiny sitting room in front of the fireplace...
The mother in this house never left. She doted over her offspring and cooked lavish meals in the kitchen. The father came home every day at the exact same time, and he picked up a tiny newspaper from the sideboard in the hallway. Any mess left about—like the toys on the children’s bedroom floor—was carefully orchestrated to be attractive. This house was perfection, frozen in an imaginary time where nothing could go so wrong that it couldn’t be set right again.
“I added a telephone in the kitchen.” Nana pointed to a pale pink rotary phone on the wall. “I found that one at the bottom of a bin in the craft shop. Liz could see how excited I was, and she charged me double, I’m sure. Oh! And I’ve been working on making sure that every single book in the library is real. I’ve found a tutorial online for making books that open. I tried making them with four or five pages each, but they just fanned open. It was very annoying. So I used thick cardstock on both sides, so that each book opens to the center.” Nana paused. “I was hoping you’d help me choose which books to include in the library. Maybe a few of your favorites, Sadie.”
Sadie rose and shot her grandmother a look of surprise. “Did you say you found a tutorial online?”
When Sadie left, Nana hadn’t exactly been tech savvy. She could email, but she was a strict telephone chatter. There was no video chatting with Nana, and for the most part, she tended to stay pretty old-school.
“It’s how it’s done these days, dear.” But her cheeks pinked in pleasure. “Okay, truth be told, last month, Ginny Carson’s grandson showed me how the tutorials worked. So I’m still new at it.”
“Ah.” Sadie shot her grandmother a smile. “I’m still impressed.”
“Welcome home, dear girl. Now you sit yourself down and get reacquainted with the old place, and I’ll go sort out some supper.”
Sadie was thirty-two, and this old dollhouse still soothed a part of her heart that nothing else could touch. This was the part of her that had softened to Noah—the part of her that longed for a perfect life with a picket fence. Noah had offered a picture-perfect existence here in Comfort Creek—a handsome man to come home to at the same time every day and pick up the paper off a sideboard table...
But it hadn’t been enough, because she didn’t love him enough, and she wasn’t sure that she was the kind of woman who could stay content with so much monotony, anyway. In the real world, with real emotions, real hardships, the life Noah offered wasn’t enough to fill her heart, after all. But he should have been, and if she’d been a little less like her flighty mother, he would have been. That knowledge had been nagging at her for the last five years. No man was perfect, and relationships didn’t stay in the honeymoon phase. Noah, his house, his family, this town—it all should have been enough.
Nothing had ever been enough for Mom. No boyfriend. No job. No town. They’d bounced from place to place, from romance to romance for her mom. And no matter how nice the guy, her mother always found a reason to cut him loose and they’d leave again... No one had been enough to fill that hole in her mother’s heart, and she feared that she might be the same. At least looking back on it all. She had been when it came to jobs around town.
If she could be faced with a sweet guy like Noah and the perfect life and still walk away from it all because she felt a rush of emotion with another man, maybe she deserved a life alone.
God rest Noah’s soul.
Chapter Three (#u8c8bfd10-3f11-5b44-b02e-bbd1ac25ae1f)
The coffee they made at the station was about as thick as boiled tar, but it was also concentrated caffeine, which the officers took strange pride in gulping down. Chance, however, appreciated a fine cup of coffee, and over the years he’d gotten more particular about how he liked it. He brewed his own at home and brought it in a thermos that no one was allowed to touch upon pain of traffic detail. He was sipping his own brew Monday morning as he headed through the bull pen toward his office.
“Chief, could I get a signature?”
Bryce Camden was their newest recruit to the Comfort Creek police force. He was newly married, his wedding ring still shiny, and he fiddled with it when his hands were free.
“How’s Piglet?” Chance asked. Piglet was the nickname Bryce gave his adopted daughter—now eight months old—because of her dedication to finishing a bottle. They were all attached to that baby since she’d been dumped on the station doorstep as a newborn.
“Growing like a weed,” Bryce said with a grin. “She’s trying to say ‘Dada’—I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah?” Chance scanned the forms that Bryce handed him, and he jotted down his initials where required and signed the bottom, then handed them back. “Isn’t it kind of early for that?”
“She’s a genius, what can I say?” Bryce spread his hands and grinned. “I’ve got video proof on my cell phone, if you don’t believe me.”
“Later,” Chance chuckled. “I’ve got a meeting to prepare for.”
“Much later, then,” Bryce said. “I’m just leaving on patrol.”
Bryce had certainly settled into family life, and Chance felt a pang of envy. That was the goal, wasn’t it? Beautiful wife, a couple of kids, a home with a woman’s touch around the place... Somehow he’d managed to avoid the comfortable life all this time, and he was pushing forty. Part of it was that he hadn’t met a woman who intrigued him enough to get married, and living in a town this small, there weren’t a lot of fresh options. The other part of it was guilt. He and his brother hadn’t had a lot in common—except their taste in women. The one woman to make him sit up and take notice had been his own brother’s fiancée. There was a whole lot wrong with that.
Chance headed into his office and paused for a sip of coffee, then slid into his chair and turned on the computer. He had a fair amount of paperwork to get through today, plus there was the meeting with Sadie. He’d asked her to come by early so that he could get it out of the way and stop worrying about it. Sadie might have been the one woman to catch his attention over the years, but she was also at the root of his deepest grief, and his unresolved guilt. If she’d just stayed in the city...
There was a tap on his door.
“Come in.” His tone was gruff, and he looked up as the door eased open to reveal Sadie. He glanced at his watch. Was it nine already? Almost. She was five minutes early.
“Good morning, Chance.”
They weren’t going to be hung up on formalities, apparently. She wore a pair of jeans this time, and a white turtleneck under a puffy red jacket. She had a tablet in one hand, a purse over her shoulder. He nodded her in, and she closed the door behind herself without being asked. She was right, though—the last thing they needed right now was an audience. This was awkward enough, already.
“Have a seat,” Chance said, clicking his emails shut once more. “So how are you?”
“Do you really care?” Her tone was quiet, but her gaze met his in challenge. “I’m not used to being left at a table on my own.”
Ouch. Yeah, he’d regretted that as he’d walked out, and he’d had the weekend to kick himself for it. He’d been frustrated and eager to get some breathing space, but he’d known it was the wrong call.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I thought I’d dealt with Noah’s death, and it’s all coming back on me again. I’m not at my best.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I get it. I’m probably a reminder of the old days.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” She was reminder of a whole lot of frustration that he’d kept hammering down into the pit of his stomach over the years.
“So let’s just get the work part over with—”
“So how much did the mayor tell you about my feelings toward this ceremony?” Chance planted his elbows on his desk.
“He mentioned you weren’t keen on the idea.” She licked her lips. “Personality conflict, maybe?”
“We’ve never really gotten along. We grate on each other.” He sighed. “I’ll level with you—Mayor Scott wants this big personal ceremony, and I don’t. My brother isn’t a bit of sentimental propaganda. And I don’t like private grief being offered up for public consumption.”
“You aren’t the only one who loved Noah,” she countered.
“Including yourself in that?” he asked coolly.
Color rose in her cheeks. “I did love him, Chance. I wasn’t some monster who took advantage of Noah. I loved him.”
If she’d loved Noah like she claimed, she could have been kinder in her rejection of him.
“And you want this ceremony?” he demanded.
“I’m not talking about myself!” she snapped. “I’m talking about his friends, his cousins, his extended family. People in Comfort Creek loved him. You aren’t the only one who lost him, you know.”
“And they got to grieve for him—at his funeral. We’ve done the public display. It’s enough already.”
“What about the other families?”
Chance shook his head. “You see the stories online—some heart-wrenching news spot that features the grieving family left behind from a soldier killed in the war. People love it—they gobble it up. They shed a tear in sympathy, post it on social media, feel like they’ve done the patriotic thing. It’s entertainment.”
“And you’re afraid this ceremony is going to be used the same way.”
“You think it won’t?” he asked. “This isn’t for the community. This is for the mayor. It’s that simple.”
Sadie ran her free hand through her hair, tugging it away from her face. She still had that smattering of freckles over her nose that made her look younger than she really was, and combined with her green-flecked eyes...he pulled his attention away from those details.
“I’ve been hired to put together a commemorative ceremony for the town,” she said slowly. “I report to Mayor Scott—as do you, I believe. This isn’t about what I want, or what you want, this is about my client. I don’t have much choice.”
“Yeah, I got that.” He leaned back in his chair. This had been what Sadie had always been like—strong, focused. “This isn’t personal to you, is it?”
“I can’t give you an answer you’d like,” she retorted. “If I say yes, it is personal, you’ll tell me I have no right to personal feelings after what I did to Noah. If I say no, it’s just business, then I’m the heartless wretch.”
She had a point, and he smiled wryly. He didn’t want to be friends with Sadie again. Friends had to be able to trust each other, and he didn’t trust Sadie as far as he could throw her.
“Yesterday, you said we needed to be able to work together,” she went on. “Do you still believe that?”
“Like I said, we don’t have much choice.”
“I won’t take up more of your time than I have to.” She pulled a business card out of her purse and slid it across his desk. “This is my cell phone number if you need to get in touch later on.”
“Great.” He took her card and tucked it into his front pocket, then passed her one of his own. “That’s my number.”
“Thank you.” She tapped it against the desktop. “Should we get started, then? We’ll need to decide on a musical style, both tasteful and evocative...”
Outside the office door, there was a scramble of feet, some raised voices and a bang as something large hit the floor. Chance jumped up and crossed the office in five quick strides. He hauled open the door and looked out.
Toby had a teenager in cuffs, and when the boy resisted, Toby nearly lifted him off his feet as he propelled him forward. Chance knew the kid—it was Randy Ellison. Chance knew better than to undermine his officers in public, but a quiver of irritation shot through him. Randy was all of sixteen, and he didn’t need to be roughed up by the cops in his town; that wouldn’t resolve a thing for the troubled youth.
“Officer Gillespie,” Chance called. “What seems to be the problem here?”
“Consumption of alcohol under the legal age, public consumption, verbal abuse to an officer of the law, resisting arrest—”
Randy shot a baleful glare over his shoulder. “My brother-in-law’s a cop, you know!”
Randy jerked his arm, and in response Toby simply raised the cuffs a couple of inches, and Randy froze as the pain hit his shoulder. Bryce Camden wasn’t here, however; he was on patrol. Toby didn’t seem fazed by the kid’s attitude, and the only sign he showed of any kind of emotional response was a ripple in the muscle along his jaw.
Before Chance could decide on a course of action, Sadie pushed past him.
“Randy!” she exclaimed, marching across the bull pen. “For crying out loud, let go of him! You’re going to dislocate his shoulder doing that!”
* * *
Sadie knew the Ellison boys from church. She used to help out with Sunday school before she got engaged, and she’d gotten to know Randy Ellison rather well. Back then, he’d been all of eight or nine, but under that rebellious shell there had been a very tender young heart.
The officer holding Randy’s cuffed wrists eyed her with icy distance, and when Randy’s gaze met hers, she saw the recognition.
“Miss Jenkins?” The attitude melted away, and he was just a boy again—albeit a boy who shaved now.
“Officer—” she looked at the name badge on the broad, wall-like chest “—Gillespie.” She raised one brow and crossed her arms. “Let go of him. Now.”
Chance came up behind her and put a solid hand on her shoulder.
“You aren’t a commanding officer, Sadie,” he said, his voice low. “Back down.”
“Then tell him to get his hands off of Randy!” she snapped, turning to face Chance. She knew she was putting him in a difficult position, but she was tired of all this tiptoeing. This wasn’t about her and Chase this time, it was about a kid who was being manhandled by an officer four times his size. It was outright bullying!
The officer lowered Randy’s arms to a more comfortable position. It was something.
“Randy, are you okay?” she asked. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing, miss.” Randy dropped his eyes to the carpet. She could smell the booze on his breath, and his eyes were a little glassy. She knew tipsy when she saw it. “My brother-in-law is a cop here... He’ll help me out.”
His brother-in-law... That’s right, Lily Ellison had gotten married a few months back. Nana had told her about it. Sadie looked over at Chance, and his expression was about as icy as Officer Gillespie’s. He nodded toward the muscular cop.
“Bring him to an interview room.”
“Not a holding cell?” the officer asked.
“You heard me. An interview room. And...” He stepped closer to the man and lowered his voice. “Be a bit nicer, would you?”
Officer Gillespie blinked, then nodded, and nudged Randy toward a hallway.
“And you—” Chance’s voice was tight, aloof.
“What?” she demanded. She regretted the attitude that oozed out of her tone, but she was angry, and it couldn’t be helped.
“You are not a police officer. You have no right to give orders in this station. I’m the boss here, and what I say goes. Don’t you ever try and throw your weight around on my turf again.”
Was he really intimidated by a woman half his size? She shook her head. “He was out of line, Chance!”
“He’s my trainee to deal with,” Chance retorted. “And that’s Chief Morgan, to you.”
The officers in the bull pen stared at them in silence, and she immediately saw her mistake. She’d been angry, and for some reason she was still having trouble seeing Chance as police chief around here. He’d never been boss when she knew him, and it looked like a whole lot more had changed than she’d realized. She swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “It’s just that I know Randy, and I know it’s been a few years, but that boy has a good heart.”
“We all know Randy,” he retorted.
“That officer was about to break his arm!”
“Do you really think I’d let a teenager get roughed up on my watch?”
Perhaps not, but he wasn’t listening to what she was saying anyway. She knew this boy—or she had known him—but that didn’t matter right now, at least not to Chance. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, and it hadn’t been her stand to take. Except Chance had been taking his sweet time in intervening—
“Now, if you don’t mind, I have a kid to talk with in the interview room.” Chance turned to the receptionist. “Call his mother at the grocery store. Tell her to come down to the station at her earliest convenience.”
The receptionist nodded and immediately picked up the phone, but not before casting Sadie a sidelong look. She hadn’t made any friends here today, it seemed.
“Chance, I’m—” She swallowed the words and started again. “Chief Morgan...” It wasn’t easy to use his official title. It changed things between them—broadened the gap even more than it already was.
“Yes?” His tone softened.
“I’m sorry for stepping on toes. It won’t happen again.”
Chance gave her a nod. “I appreciate that. Now, I’ve got to deal with this, so we’ll have to reschedule our meeting. I’ll call you.”
He walked off briskly in the direction that Officer Gillespie had taken Randy, and Sadie turned back toward his office to collect her coat and bag. Chance was now police chief, and that changed more than she’d realized. They weren’t equals, and while she used to be able to cajole Chance into good humor or make demands where she saw fit, that wasn’t going to work anymore. There would be no more toes up on the dashboard of his cruiser, no more inside jokes between them. He was no longer her fiancé’s twin brother, and he most certainly wasn’t family. Chance was the commander of the entire force here in Comfort Creek, and he called the shots.
Working with Chance was going to be harder than she’d anticipated, because more than having to apologize for her actions five years ago, she’d also have to swallow her pride. Saying she was sorry was hard enough, but calling her old buddy “sir” would be a whole lot harder. And it looked like Chance wasn’t going to make that any easier for her, either.
She buttoned her coat as she headed out the front doors of the station and didn’t look back. She’d wanted a place to belong in Comfort Creek. She just hadn’t counted on that position being lower than Chance Morgan’s.
Chapter Four (#u8c8bfd10-3f11-5b44-b02e-bbd1ac25ae1f)
Chance headed down the hallway toward interview room B. There were only two interview rooms, and room A was filled with file boxes. Chance paused at the door, looking into the sparse room at the young man sitting behind a bare table. His brown hair was shaggy, hanging down over his eyes in the style the teenagers seemed to like these days. He wore a baggy winter jacket that was unzipped to reveal a shirt with a band’s logo on the front of it. He was slumped down in the chair, the cuffs off now that he was detained, and he rubbed idly at his wrists. Those cuffs had been tight.
Chance opened the door and stepped inside.
“Good morning,” Chance said.
Randy was silent.
“A little early to be drinking, isn’t it?” Chance asked.
“You mean my age, or before noon?” Randy quipped.
Chance wasn’t amused. Killing off brain cells at his young age was nothing to laugh at. He pulled out the chair opposite Randy and sat down.
“Both, actually,” Chance replied.
Randy looked away again. Chance knew Randy Ellison’s family well. His older sister, Lily, had served as temporary foster care provider for the town for a few years, and she’d also married a cop from the sensitivity training program. Randy’s mother was assistant manager at the local grocery store who worked long hours to provide for her kids. The Ellison boys had been getting more and more out of control as the years went by, and not because the town didn’t care, either.
“You’ve got little brothers looking up to you,” Chance said.
“So?”
“They do what you do,” Chance replied. “You know that. Do you want them making your mistakes?”
Silence again. Chance could tell that he wasn’t going to get anywhere this way. Randy was angry—very deeply angry—and appealing to the boy’s honor wasn’t going to suddenly fix that. Chance looked at his watch. It had been about fifteen minutes so far, and the grocery store wasn’t far from the station.
“We’re calling your mom. She’ll be here anytime now, I’m sure.”
Randy winced at that one, and Chance couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corners of his lips. Iris Ellison might have her hands full with these boys, but she hadn’t given up on them yet.
“So what do we tell her?” Chance asked.
“What do you mean?” Randy frowned.
“I mean, according to Officer Gillespie, you were drinking alcohol and got mouthy. You’re underage, you resisted arrest...” Chance crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Now, we can either tell her that you’ll be facing charges in the youth courts, or we can tell her that we’ve come to another arrangement.”
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