P.I. Daddy's Personal Mission

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“Well, there is that.” Her expression brightened. “Although, for the record, the term jerk is yours, not mine. Concerned, somewhat overwrought fathers might be a better term.”

“Call it what you want, but I still acted like a jerk.” He met her golden-brown eyes and his chest tightened. “Please forgive me for taking you to task. I do appreciate your concern for Patrick and your willingness to bring his errant behavior that day to my attention. I’d already had a rather stressful day and was on edge about some family matters, but that’s no excuse for the way I bit your head off.”

She blinked and set her glasses aside. “Wow. That’s, um…Apology accepted. Thank you.”

Peter noticed a pink tint staining her cheeks and added her ability to blush to the growing list of things he liked about Patrick’s teacher. “So if jerk fathers aren’t why you’re thinking of moving up to higher education, what is behind the career change?”

“Well…” Her dark eyebrows knitted, and she fumbled with her pen. “My reasons will sound really bad without knowing the whole long, boring personal story behind my decision. Let’s just say teaching older students would be less…painful.” She winced. “Ooo, that sounded more melodramatic than I intended.” She laughed awkwardly and waved her hand as if to erase her last comment. “Forget I said that.”

“Forgotten.” But Peter had already filed both the comment and the shadow that flitted across her face in his memory bank. He had no business delving deeper into her personal life, but he couldn’t deny he was intrigued. And sympathetic to her discomfort. He had painful things in his past that he avoided discussing when possible.

“Is Patrick with you?” she asked looking past him toward the children’s section.

“No. Not today. I’m here on business matters, looking for information for a case I’m working on.”

He could tell by the wrinkle in her brow that his working on the weekend away from Patrick bothered her. A jab of guilt prodded him to add, “But yesterday, Patrick and I took in the MSU game and spent most of the evening playing Monopoly together.”

“Oh, good.” Her lips curved, although the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure he enjoyed that.”

“I hope so. You made some valid points the other day at school.”

She blinked as if surprised, and Peter chuckled. “Despite how it may have seemed, I was listening. I heard what you said about Patrick’s withdrawal and falling grades.”

She held up a finger. “Um, slipping. I believe I said his grades were slipping.”

He scratched his chin. “The difference beings…?”

“His grades are still good. They’ve come down a bit, just a few points. But falling to me is more dramatic. Big drop, by several letter grades.”

Peter chuckled. “You are a master of nuance, aren’t you? Incident not accident. Slipping not falling.”

She flushed a deeper shade of pink, and Peter’s libido gave him another hard kick.

“I’m not trying to be difficult. I just believe in saying what I mean. Exactly what I mean.”

Mary caught his attention from across the room. With an impatient look, she held up the microfiche Lily had retrieved for her.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your studying.” Peter motioned to her books then took a step back. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Walsh.” She held out her hand, and he grasped her fingers. Her handshake was firm and confident, and the feel of her warm hand in his sent a jolt of awareness through him.

Ms. Navarre, Dad. She’s not married.

As he turned to walk away, Peter hesitated. The woman was beautiful, intelligent and single. “Uh, Ms. Navarre…”

Good grief. Suddenly he was thirteen again and asking Cindy Worthington to the Valentine dance. He was a geeky ball of jittery nerves and sweating palms. He hadn’t asked a woman on a first date in more than thirteen years. Not since he’d asked Katie out for the first time in high school. Since Katie’s death, he’d preferred to be alone, to focus on Patrick and losing himself in his work.

But somehow Lisa Navarre was different from the other women in Honey Creek. She’d managed to stir something deep inside him that had been dormant since Katie died—an interest in getting back into life.

She raised an expectant gaze, waiting for him to continue.

His heart drummed so loudly in his ears, he was sure she could hear it. “I was wondering if you might be free next Saturday to—”

Wham!

A loud thump reverberated through the library, drawing his attention to the front desk. When he saw the source of the noise and the ensuing commotion, he tensed. Maisie Colton was not only a Colton, reason enough for Peter to steer clear of her, but the Vogue-beautiful woman was well-known in town as being eccentric and unpredictable.

Maisie angrily slammed another stack of books on the counter, and Lily Masterson rushed over to quiet Maisie.

“No respect!” Maisie steamed, full voice. “Do you know how many times I’ve called that damn show? And they still won’t talk to me!”

Lily murmured something quietly to Maisie, who retorted, “The Dr. Sophie show, of course. My God, this town has enough dirty secrets and public scandals to fill the show’s programming for weeks! But the ninny they have working in PR not only wouldn’t listen to me, but told me to stop calling or she’d contact the police!” Maisie tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder and scowled darkly.

Peter gritted his teeth, mentally applauding the Dr. Sophie show’s PR rep for recognizing a kook when they heard one and having the guts to stand up to Maisie. Not too many people in Honey Creek did. She was, after all, a Colton, and Coltons held a great deal of power in the town.

He knew he should ignore Maisie’s outburst as most of the other library patrons were, but watching Maisie Colton was a little like watching a train wreck. Despite knowing better, you just can’t look away.

In hushed tones, Lily tried to calm Maisie, but she bristled and railed at Lily, “Don’t tell me what to do! This is a public building, and I have every right to be here and speak my mind.”

Mary edged up to the front counter to give Lily backup, and Peter groaned. This could get ugly.

Mary spoke quietly to Maisie, and, as he’d predicted, Maisie rounded on his sister in a heartbeat. He heard a hateful, derogatory term thrown at his sister, and he’d had enough. Turning briefly to Lisa Navarre, Peter said, “Excuse me. I have to go.” He hustled up to the front desk, where Maisie was bristling like an angry cat, flinging insults at Mary.

“…Walsh slut like your sister! Lucy ruined my brother’s life the instant she hooked her talons into Damien and seduced him. I pity poor Jake Pierson. You damn Walshes are all the same!” Maisie huffed indignantly.

Peter stepped up behind his sister, not saying anything but drilling Maisie with a warning look.

“And you!” She aimed a shaking finger at him. “You killed Katie, same as if you’d pulled a trigger.”

Peter stiffened, bile churning in his gut. “That’s enough, Maisie. Go home.”

“She died having your baby! Or don’t you care? Your father sure didn’t care how many women he hurt, how many hearts he broke, how many lives he ruined!”

Mary gasped softly, and Peter sensed more than saw the shudder that raced through his sister. He stepped forward, prepared to bodily throw Maisie from the library if needed, just as another woman brushed past him to confront Maisie.

Lisa Navarre. Startled, Peter caught his breath, as if watching a fawn step in front of a semi-trailer.

“It’s Ms. Colton, right?” Lisa smiled warmly and held her hand out for Maisie to shake. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I taught your son Jeremy a couple years ago.”

Maisie gaped at Lisa suspiciously, then shook her hand. “Yeah. I remember you. Jeremy loved your class.”

“Well, I loved having him in my class. He’s such a sweet boy. Very bright and well-mannered. I know you must be proud of him.”

Maisie sent an awkward glance to Lily, Mary and Peter, then tugged her sleeve to straighten her coat. “I am. Jeremy is the world to me.”

Lisa smiled brightly. “I can imagine.” Then, gesturing with a glance to Mary and Peter, Lisa continued. “Somehow I doubt he’d be happy if he knew you’d been yelling at these nice people, though.”

Maisie lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with contempt. “There is nothing nice about these or any of the Walshes.” Nailing an arctic glare on Mary, Maisie added, “I’m glad your father is dead. One less Walsh for the world to suffer.”

Peter had never struck a woman in his life, but Maisie tempted him to break his code of honor. He squared his shoulders and would have moved in on the hateful woman if Lisa hadn’t spread her hand at her side in a subtle signal asking him to wait.

“Ms. Colton, the town is justifiably upset over the murder of Mark Walsh. Emotions are running high for everyone. I know there is a lot of bad blood between your families, but this kind of name-calling and finger-pointing serves no good. Think about Jeremy. I’m sure the last thing he needs is to hear from his friends that you were causing a scene here today.”

Maisie crossed her arms over her chest and moisture gathered in her eyes. “Their family has caused me and my brother years of heartache. Damien spent fifteen years in jail for something he didn’t do!”

“I’m sorry for that, truly. But do you really think Damien wants you adding salt to the wounds now, or would he rather put the past behind him?” Lisa’s calm tone reminded Peter of the tactful way she’d handled his tirade earlier in the week.

While he hated to consider himself in the same category as Maisie Colton, he had to admire Lisa’s people skills. Already Maisie’s ire seemed to have cooled. Incredible.

Maisie glanced away and quickly swiped at her eyes before returning a less militant gaze to Lisa. “You’re right. I just get so mad when—”

She shook her head, not bothering to finish. Dividing one last cool glare of contempt between Mary and Peter, Maisie tugged the lapels of her overcoat closed and breezed out the front door.

To Peter, it seemed the entire population of the library sighed with relief.

Lisa turned to Peter and twitched a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have butted in, but—”

“No apology necessary. You handled that…beautifully. You have a real talent for talking people down from the ledge, so to speak.”

“If I have a talent, it’s simply for keeping a cool head. And, spending most of my day with a room full of rowdy fourth-graders, it is a skill I’ve practiced and have down to a science.”

Peter laughed. “I bet.”

“So before…you were saying something about next Saturday?” She tipped her head in inquiry, inviting him to finish what he’d started.

Peter blew out a deep breath. “Right. To say I’m sorry, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Lisa’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You’re asking me out? Like…on a date?”

Somehow the notion of a date seemed to bother her so he backpedaled. “Well, not really a date. I thought you could give me some advice about how to handle all the stuff that’s been happening in my family. You know, with Patrick. You aren’t the only one who’s seen changes in him lately. I’m worried about him, too. I want to help him but…I don’t know where to start.”

Patrick’s teacher eyed him suspiciously. “Hmm. Good cover.”

Peter feigned confusion. “Excuse me?”

When she laughed, the sound tripped down his spine and filled him with a fuzzy warmth like the first sip of a good whiskey. “I’d love to go to dinner with you. But—” she held up a finger, emphasizing her point “—it’s not a date.”

Peter jerked a nod. “Agreed. Not a date.”

Yet even as he consented to her terms, a stab of disappointment poked him in the ribs. Not a date wasn’t what he’d had in mind and seemed wholly insufficient with a woman like Lisa Navarre.

But for now, it would do.

Chapter 4

After setting a time to pick Lisa up on Saturday, Peter ignored Mary’s querying looks and got started skimming through the microfiche of old newspapers to see what he could learn about the Coltons. Lisa returned to her table to study, but just knowing she was nearby was enough to distract Peter from his tedious research. He found himself repeatedly glancing in her direction and wondering where they should go for dinner next weekend.

Perhaps a restaurant in Bozeman would be better than the local fare if they wanted to avoid starting rumors. He knew several high-end restaurants in Bozeman that were sure to impress Lisa, but perhaps, for their first date, he should keep things low-key.

Their first date? First implied there would be more than one, and since Lisa insisted it wouldn’t be a date