Single Dad Sheriff (Harlequin American Romance) Page 5

  “I’ll buy that one, then,” Tommy said, shoving his hand in his pocket for the roll of bills and the bunch of coins he’d taken from his broken piggy bank.

  “But it’ll be way too big for you, for at least a few more years,” the sheriff said as he tugged off the glove.

  “It’s not for me,” Tommy explained. “It’s for my dad.”

  “Your dad?” His mom’s voice went all squeaky like Christopher’s did.

  “Yeah, the sheriff promised to find him,” Tommy reminded them both. “When my dad comes here to see me, I wanna have a glove for him, so we can play catch like Christopher and his dad do.”

  The sheriff sighed. “Tommy…”

  His mom held up a hand as if to stop the man from saying anything else. “I’ve got this.” She crouched down so that her face was level with Tommy’s. “The sheriff is not going to find your dad.”

  “I knew it.” Tommy’s voice cracked and it was hard to swallow. “I knew you told him not to.”

  “I shouldn’t have offered,” the sheriff said. “I should have talked to your mom before I made that promise.”

  His mom glanced up at the sheriff with a brief smile. “It’s a promise he can’t keep, honey. But you don’t need a dad. You and I have been doing great these last eight years—just the two of us.” She straightened up and reached for the gloves on the sporting goods table. “I can get one of these. I can play catch with you.”

  “No,” Tommy snapped. “I don’t wanna play catch with a girl.”

  “I can play catch with you,” the sheriff offered. His mom glanced at him again but with a frown instead of a smile this time. “I’ll buy this glove for myself.” Still holding it, he ran his fingers over the leather. “I’ve gotten rusty. I could use the practice.”

  Sure, it would be fun to play catch with the sheriff. Kids might think Tommy was cool if he hung out with the ex-Marine. But still, the guy wasn’t his dad no matter how Tommy might wish he was.

  Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back. He didn’t want to look like a baby in front of the sheriff. “You’re not gonna find my dad?”

  The man glanced at his mom then back at him and shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “But you promised!”

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Sheriff Drayton said.

  Tommy’s lip quivered, and he fought to steady it. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “No,” his mom agreed with the sheriff. “He shouldn’t have done that. He doesn’t understand the situation.”

  “You could fix that,” the sheriff murmured.

  She glared at the man again and crouched down to Tommy’s level. “When you’re older, I’ll explain everything to you,” she promised, her voice soft like when she was trying to calm him down after he got hurt or had a bad nightmare. “Right now we should go home. We can play catch.”

  “I don’t wanna play with you,” he said again. And not just because she was a girl.

  “Tommy,” the sheriff began, his hand settling on his shoulder.

  But Tommy jerked away. “I don’t want to play with you, either. You’re a liar!”

  “Tommy!” his mother said with a sharp gasp. “You apologize to the sheriff right now for your rudeness.”

  He shook his head. “You’re both liars.” And he ran for the door.

  “I’ll get him,” he heard the sheriff offer.

  But his mom must have refused because she was the one who caught him outside. He’d only made it a little ways down the block. Since it was just the two of them, he gave in to his tears, letting them run down his face as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “I love you, Tommy,” she said.

  He loved his mom, too. But he wanted it to be more than just the two of them. He wanted it to be like it had been for those few minutes in the store with the sheriff. He wanted a family.

  Chapter Five

  “Should I tell him the truth?” Jessie asked, able to speak freely since her son wasn’t home.

  “Who? Chance Drayton or Tommy?” her cousin Belinda asked. The slim blonde kicked off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her on the flower-patterned couch across from Jessie. Only a couple years older than her, Belinda had become more sister than cousin when Jessie had moved in with Belinda’s mom, Jessie’s aunt, a little over eight years ago.

  Jessie knelt on the floor beside the mission-style coffee table, which was littered with the cardboard cartons from their take-out dinner. “Tommy, of course,” she said. “I don’t care what Chance Drayton thinks.”

  “You don’t?” Belinda arched a brow, then took a sip from her wineglass.

  Jessie shook her head and reached for her own glass of dry white wine. “No.”

  “He’s one good-looking man,” her cousin said with a wistful sigh.

  Jessie couldn’t argue that—no woman could miss his deep blue eyes and chiseled features. Not to mention his hard-muscled body. That brief glimpse of his naked chest, lightly dusted with dark hair, was forever burned in her mind.

  Belinda laughed. “You’ve noticed.”

  “I’d have to be dead not to,” she remarked with a disgusted snort at her own weakness. When he’d leaned toward her that day in his car, she’d been tempted to close the distance between them. To kiss him. But after that promise he’d made to Tommy, she should want to kill him instead.

  “I know you’re not dead, but you’ve been living like a nun since you moved to Forest Glen,” her cousin teased.

  “I’ve been a little busy raising my son,” she reminded Belinda. When Tommy had come into the world, after twenty-seven hours of excruciating labor pain, Jessie had promised herself and him that he would always come first with her. She hadn’t broken that promise. Or had she? Was not telling him about his dad putting her needs—and her fears—before his?

  “You don’t have to go it alone, you know.”

  “So you think I should tell Tommy about his father?” Jessie asked, steering the conversation back to where she’d started it. “Do you think I should tell Tommy’s father about him?”

  With a heavy sigh, Belinda flopped back on the couch. “I’m not the one you should be asking.”

  “I want to know what you think.”

  “You already know what I think, but you pay about as much attention to me as my kids do.” Belinda shook her finger at Jessie as if she were chastising one of her children; she had twin seven-year-old girls and a boy just a year younger. She claimed all those grandkids had inspired her mother to move to Florida. But it was love, in the form of the man she’d reunited with, that had compelled Aunt Sue to leave Forest Glen.

  Jessie blinked and teased, “Huh? What? Did you say something?”

  Belinda chucked a wadded-up napkin at her head. “I thought you were crazy to choose to raise Tommy all alone.”

  “I wasn’t all alone. I had you and Aunt Sue.” And she couldn’t have endured those miserable months of her pregnancy, the endless hours of labor and the sleepless nights of Tommy’s colic without their support. Belinda still helped her with babysitting when Jessie had a night class in Grand Rapids.

  “But Tommy’s Keith’s son, too,” Belinda reminded her. “His responsibility. He should have been here to help you. If he’d been paying you child support and helping out, you’d have your nursing degree and you’d be able to buy your own place instead of renting. You wouldn’t be just scraping by.”

  “I’m not just scraping by,” Jessie proudly insisted. “I have a good job with flexible hours.” Burying a little of her pride, she admitted, “And my parents send me money.”

  Belinda snorted. “Guilt money for deserting you when you needed them most.”

  “I could have gone with them.” And suffocated under the weight of their disapproval and disappointment in her. She was sure she was the reason they’d wanted to leave Fort Hood, Missouri, because they’d been embarrassed that their teenage daughter had been stupid enough to get pregnant. Jessie hadn’t wanted to stay there, either, because she
hadn’t wanted anyone to notice she was pregnant and tell Keith.

  “To live on yet another base, in another country?” Belinda asked.

  “Germany,” Jessie reminded her. “It’s where my mom is from. She has family there.” Which was why her parents had decided to retire in the country.

  “You and Tommy are their family, too.”

  “That’s why they send money,” Jessie said with a smile. “It’s fine. I’m happier here in Forest Glen than I was on any of those bases where I grew up. I want to raise my son in one place, too.” Not split between two households.

  “It must have been hard, growing up like that, switching schools all the time,” her cousin commiserated. “Always being the new kid.”

  She nodded. “It was hard…until I met Keith.” Maybe that was why she’d fallen so fast for him, because she hadn’t known how long she’d be staying at Fort Hood. Then, ironically, he’d been the one to leave her. “You really think I should have told him?” Jessie swallowed hard. “Do you think I should tell him now?”

  “I don’t know,” her cousin admitted.

  “He didn’t want me to be pregnant eight years ago. He was relieved when I lied and told him I wasn’t.” So relieved that he’d dumped her.

  “He was eighteen years old,” Belinda reminded her.

  She shrugged. “But maybe he still doesn’t want kids. Then what do I tell Tommy? That his father rejected him twice?”

  “Are you afraid of him rejecting Tommy or afraid that he’s going to want him?”

  Nerves flipped her stomach. Her cousin knew her too well. “That’s the other thing. What if he’s so pissed that I lied, that I kept him from his son all these years, that he sues me for full custody?”

  “No judge would take that boy away from you,” Belinda assured her. “You’re a great mom. But you might have to share custody. Then you could wind up like me, spending every Wednesday and every weekend alone when Ed and his new bride have my kids.”

  Jessie had had Tommy all to herself for so long that she didn’t know if she could share him. But sharing was the least of her concerns. Despite her cousin’s assurances, she wasn’t convinced that she wouldn’t lose custody of her son.

  She shook off her own fears to comfort her cousin, reaching out to pat Belinda’s jean-clad knee. “You’re always welcome over here.” In fact, to keep Belinda from going crazy, they had a standing date every Friday night—until one of them started dating seriously.

  “Where’s Tommy tonight?” her cousin asked.

  “He’s sleeping over at his friend Christopher’s.” Jessie bit her lip, wondering now if that was a good idea. Seeing his friend with his father was what had inspired Tommy’s latest quest for information about his own dad.

  “The Johnsons, right?” Belinda asked.

  “Yes.”

  “They’re a nice family.” Belinda emitted a wistful sigh. While she was too proud to admit it, she missed her own family.

  “That’s what Tommy wants,” Jessie said with a sigh of her own. “A family.” She wasn’t enough for her son anymore. He wanted a father. His father.

  “Don’t we all?” Belinda asked. She’d thought she had it when she’d married her high school sweetheart, but it hadn’t lasted. Even though Ed had strayed, Belinda blamed herself for trapping him into marriage when she’d gotten pregnant with the twins.

  If Jessie had told Keith the truth, he probably would have insisted on marrying her, too. Then he would have come to resent her as Ed had Belinda. Even when guilt over lying to Keith often kept her awake, Jessie was convinced that she had done the right thing for both of them. But what about Tommy and his longing for a father?

  With a sigh, she shrugged off her own problems and focused on her cousin, who was also her best friend. “You should start seriously dating again, Bee,” Jessie urged her, squeezing her cousin’s knee again.

  “I should,” Belinda heartily agreed. “Maybe I should go after our new sheriff.”

  Jessie’s stomach flipped. She wanted to blame the greasy, take-out food, but she had a feeling that it was jealousy instead as she imagined Chance Drayton with her beautiful cousin.

  “Unless you’ve already called dibs on him,” Belinda said, that brow arched again as she studied Jessie over the rim of her wineglass.

  “I—I—of course I haven’t…”

  Belinda laughed. “Really? Everybody’s still talking about you driving his police car. You know what everyone thinks when a man lets a woman drive his car.”

  “That he just had an allergic reaction and couldn’t see to drive himself home?”

  “No—” Belinda leaned over and tugged on a lock of Jessie’s hair “—that they’re involved.”

  Jessie struggled to hold in a laugh as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then I guess he and Mrs. Wilson must have something going.”

  Belinda gasped. “Mrs. Wilson? The crazy cat lady?”

  “Yeah, she drove his car before I did, so if anyone has dibs on Sheriff Drayton, she does.” She sighed in mock resignation.

  Belinda dissolved into giggles. “The crazy cat lady and the ex-Marine. Yeah, right…”

  It made about as much sense as her and Chance Drayton, Jessie thought. She had absolutely no interest in the man, beyond making certain that he didn’t make any more promises to her son that he couldn’t keep. She doubted he intended to stay in Forest Glen anyhow; he’d be going back to Chicago someday. Soon, she hoped.

  CHANCE COULD BARELY LOOK at his own reflection in the rearview mirror. Tommy Phillips had been right the other day; he was a liar. Well, he hadn’t been lying when he’d made that promise to Tommy, but by not keeping that promise, he had become one. He couldn’t blame the kid for not wanting to hang out with him, as Chance had offered. Hell, his own kid must not want to spend time with him, or Robyn would have at least agreed to visitation. She loved their son, or so she said when she claimed that she was only trying to protect him.

  And right now all Chance had to protect was the citizens of Forest Glen. But not a lot happened here. His allergic reaction was still the talk of the small town. As the story was retold, it got more dramatic. Apparently he’d barely survived the cat attack. He glanced down at the scabbed over scratches on his arm. Damn cat…

  But the feline was the only thing that had come close to breaking the law in Forest Glen. As far as he could determine, Jessie Phillips hadn’t. But he was pretty damn certain she knew who Tommy’s father was. So why had she lied about his identity on her son’s birth certificate?

  She’d denied she was in danger—from anyone but Chance. Thoroughly frustrated, he groaned. Hell, maybe he needed to leave it—and her and her son—alone. He had to stop fixating on Jessie and Tommy Phillips. He had to focus instead on his job. And so he returned his attention to the road as he cruised the outskirts of the town square. Since almost everyone was in school or at work, the road was pretty much deserted except for his car and the vehicle ahead of him, which moved so slowly he nearly rear-ended the heavy, metal bumper.

  The ancient Cadillac straddled the yellow line now, weaving back and forth across it. He flipped on the lights and sirens. The car slowed, or maybe it continued at the same pace, but it didn’t move toward the shoulder of the road. Instead the faded pink Caddy continued to weave across the line.

  Thankfully there was no oncoming traffic. Chance hit the lights and siren again but the car did not stop. He reached for the PA and spoke into the mike. “Please, pull off to the shoulder of the road.”

  But whom was he talking to? Through the rear window, he couldn’t even see the top of a head. The driver could have been an elderly person or a kid. He smiled. Hell, maybe it was Tommy Phillips. Maybe Jessie had confiscated his bike, so he’d stolen a car and set off in search of his father himself. Seeing the kid’s frustration the other day and knowing his determination, Chance wouldn’t put it past him.

  “Pull off to the side of the road,” he repeated into the mike, his voice echoing
on the quiet country road.

  Finally brake lights flashed red as the car slowed, then headed toward the shoulder. He pulled behind it at an angle, so that he could walk up to the driver’s window without other traffic running him over. More cops got injured in traffic stops than gun battle.

  He narrowed his eyes as the brake lights burned red. “Please, put the car in Park,” he directed the driver. He didn’t want to step from his vehicle only to have the other car flee before he could approach it.

  But the car didn’t drive off. Instead it backed right into him—with such force than the air bag burst free of the steering wheel and exploded in his face.

  “IS SHE okay?” he asked.

  Jessie glanced across to where Chance sat in the passenger seat—of her car. Because of the deployed air bag, his had been towed to the body shop.

  “Your car?” she asked. She’d had little experience with men; did they assign their vehicles genders?

  He shook his head. “No. Mrs. Applegate. Is she all right? She was pretty shaken up when I helped her out of her Cadillac. I was worried she might have had a heart attack or a stroke.”

  “She’s fine,” Jessie assured him, moved by his concern for the elderly woman who could have killed him had he stepped out of the vehicle before she’d slammed hers into Reverse. “You’re the one who’s been hurt.”

  He lifted a hand toward his face. “Just some burns from the air bag,” he said, dismissing his injuries. “It’s nothing.”

  “The chemical burned your eyes, too,” she reminded him. “You can barely see right now.”

  “And Doc Malewitz put some drops in to treat them.” He squinted at her, grimaced and added, “I can see better already.”

  “Close your eyes,” she directed him, with a smile at his stubborn male pride. “Let them rest.”

  He expelled a ragged breath. “How come you keep getting the duty of driving me home?”

  “I’m low man on the totem pole.” She hoped like hell that was all it was. That the doctor and his wife were just too busy to drive patients home. She hoped she had just imagined the look that had passed between the sweet married couple and that they weren’t trying to match her and the sheriff.