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“I see you’re tempted by the bakery,” Nate said, moving closer to Julie. “On the one hand, Martin’s will have those pastries you’re craving.” Nate took her left arm, leaving her no choice but to push the stroller to his table. “On the other, El Rosal has bacon.”
From his seat in the stroller, Duke gasped. “Ba-con?”
“Yep, bacon,” Nate confirmed.
“Are you trying to tell me what’s best for Duke and me?” Julie felt overheated in her thick black hoodie. She was sure it was because she resented Nate’s touch, his calm, his command.
“They have good coffee here, Jules,” Nate said in a soft voice that contradicted the warning in his dark eyes. “And apple fritters.”
She hated that he knew her so well. She also hated that three words softened her resolve—coffee, apple fritters.
“Ba-con?” Duke searched several tables for his culinary prize.
“We’ll get you bacon while Juju parks the stroller and takes a rest at the table.” Nate unbuckled Duke and carried him inside. Into his life and away from hers.
Julie felt cold. Not the cold terror when she’d been shot, but the vein-freezing cold she’d felt when April had drifted off in death. The alone kind of cold. Her toes stung with it.
She parked the stroller inside the low wrought iron fence and took a seat beneath a tall heater, feeling chilled.
The patrons outside were mostly elderly. A few people looked at her curiously.
“You’re staying at the Lambridge Bed & Breakfast.” The mayor came to stand next to Julie’s table. He was wearing tie-dye again today. His sweatshirt was a wild mix of purple and green. “Welcome to Harmony Valley. Whatever brings you to town...” He paused to see if she’d explain why she’d come. When she didn’t, he continued, “We hope you enjoy your stay and perhaps stay.”
The patrons at other tables beamed at her.
“Oh, no. I’m not staying.” Julie put her hands on the table, as if to cradle the coffee cup that wasn’t there.
The mayor was nothing if not the town’s salesman. “Don’t judge so quickly. How many towns can boast affordable living, a winery and views like this.” He pointed to a fog-shrouded mountain towering over the trees.
“I’m sure it’s beautiful when the fog burns off,” Julie allowed, lacing her fingers together.
The mayor pointed at her with both index fingers and backed away. “I won’t give up on you.”
“I can respect that.” Julie fought off the sudden need to yawn.
She couldn’t see Nate inside. She couldn’t see a waitress with a carafe of coffee. She was out of her element here and in her own skin. Her head felt heavy enough from lack of sleep to fall off her shoulders and there was a knot tightening beneath her right shoulder blade, about the place where Nate had stabbed her in the back years ago.
When they were rookies on the Sacramento police force, Julie had had to prove she was tough enough to fit in. Nate fit in just by putting on the uniform. They’d been working the same shift when they’d received a domestic abuse call. Julie pulled up to the house just after Nate did. It was the first time they’d responded to a call together. The first time Julie had been on a domestic abuse call.
The call looked bad from the get-go. Rundown neighborhood. Dingy white house. Dirt where a lawn should be. The crack by the front door handle indicated it’d been kicked in at least once before. It wasn’t the kind of place you sent a patrol officer alone.
“I’ll take point.” Nate’s hand was on his holster as he knocked on the front door. “Police! Open up!”
Inside the house, a gun went off. A woman screamed.
Nate drew his gun and kicked down the door before Julie could report shots fired and request backup. And then she drew her weapon and followed.
“Landry!” Julie tried to control the slight shake to her hands.
There were sounds of a scuffle deep inside the house. At the end of the hall, a woman appeared.
Julie flinched, nearly shooting her.
The woman was unarmed, her face bruised and bloodied. She carried a toddler with a red welt on his cheek. They were both crying.
Crap. Julie’s legs had felt as if she’d run the police academy obstacle course one too many times. She’d trained for worst-case scenarios, but Julie had never been in a situation like this before. “Get out,” Julie ordered the woman, keeping her weapon and her eyes trained on the end of the hallway as the woman escaped past her. “Landry! Answer me.”
Something hit a wall, shaking the entire house. And then there was a thud.
Julie turned the corner of the hall and looked into the master bedroom.
Nate sat on top of a panting shirtless man, cuffing his hands behind his back. He stared up at Julie, breathing heavily, one eye swelling and his lip bloody. Two handguns were on the carpet near the door. “Read him his rights.”
Later, as they’d worked on the report at the station, Julie put a hand on Nate’s arm. “That was stupid, running in there like that. He had a gun. He could’ve—”
“His wife didn’t think it was stupid since he was pistol-whipping her.” There was a dangerous edge to Nate’s voice that Julie had never heard before.
“Do you know them?” He hadn’t put that in the report. “Is this personal?”
“I’ve seen abuse before.” Nate’s jaw ticked. “It’s worth taking a bullet to save someone. He hit that woman and—” his voice roughened “—that little boy.” Nate stared at her, but he didn’t seem to see Julie.
She’d wanted him to. She wanted him to confide in her.
“Do you know what it’s like to feel helpless and trapped?” He did see her then. And behind his gaze was something so bleak, Julie almost couldn’t bear it. “Your options are taken away. Your spontaneity... Your personality... You can’t show anything. And your freedom...” His gaze turned distant again. “It’s like a storm comes in with dark, heavy clouds, and you have no shelter, no choice but to weather the storm.”
“Nate... I’m so sorry.” Was this why he never talked about his family? Because he’d been abused?
“Sorry?” Nate had sat back in his chair, suddenly completely in the present and completely angry. “I was talking about the victims.” He stood and went to get a cup of coffee.
She hadn’t believed him. But what she did believe was that Nate took his work to heart. And she’d respected him for that. Heck, she’d practically worshipped the ground he walked on.
Inside El Rosal, a waiter entered the main dining room through the swinging kitchen door. He held the door for Nate, who carried Duke and a large mug of steaming coffee. Duke clutched a piece of bacon in each hand.
The waiter opened the main restaurant door for Nate, and then followed him to the table. He had a swarthy complexion, thick black hair and a killer smile that probably netted him lots of tips. If he’d brought a coffeepot, Julie might have tipped him well, too.
Instead, she sighed and held up the sippy cup. First things first.
Nate set the steaming mug in front of Julie and sat down across from her, lifting a happy Duke in his lap. Julie’s lap felt empty. It was small consolation that Nate suddenly looked as if he’d been taken over by aliens and was just now realizing he had a small boy with him.
“Truck.” Duke grinned, pointing at Nate’s Ford.
“Truck,” Nate echoed.
The waiter leaned both hands on the edge of the table and beamed at Julie. He’d pinned his name tag—Arturo—upside down. “Sheriff Nate wanted to order you the empanada, which he mistakenly calls an apple fritter. He also wants to order pancakes and eggs for his little sidekick.” Arturo’s gently rolling consonants fell out of his smiling mouth like the cheery notes of a pop song’s chorus. “But my mama won’t accept the order until you confirm it. She says we don’t know you, but we know how bossy Sheriff Nate is.” He plucked the sippy cup from her hand. “Milk or juice?”
“Milk. And just this once we’ll go with the sheriff’s order.” She gave Nate a stern look and then mainlined the coffee.
“I know the difference between an apple fritter and an empanada,” Nate grumbled.
“The key to happiness is to establish expectations.” Arturo moved to a stack of wooden high chairs. “Both in dining and in relationships.” He carried one to the table, and then left them.
“Pay no attention to the talking fortune cookie.” Nate deposited Duke in the high chair like a pro. At Julie’s questioning glance, he gave her the tight half smile. “My sister has a twenty-month-old little girl and I’m one of the few people trusted to babysit Camille.”
Deep down, something inside Julie gave a plaintive cry of foul. She wanted Nate to be all thumbs with Duke, to generate disinterest and temper tantrums. Nothing was going right in Harmony Valley.
Arturo returned with the sippy cup, placing it in front of Duke. “Milk.”
“Milk.” Duke dropped bacon bits on the table and reached for the cup, only to stop midgrab and stare at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I dirty.”
Before Julie could set her coffee down, Nate was wiping her nephew’s hands with a napkin.
“Okay, I get it,” Julie groused. “You have experience with little kids.” Drat and darn. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
Nate met her gaze squarely. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?”
She sat back, resisting the urge to touch her shoulder. He must have called someone from the force. “Why would I? We don’t work together. We’re not partners, friends or in-laws.”
He ignored her boundary setting. In fact, he steamrolled over her defenses. “You look like hell. I thought you were dying of cancer.”
Julie clung to her coffee cup and held her tongue.
“You’re not taking time off to grieve. You’re taking time off to heal and awaiting an internal investigation into the shooting.” Something passed over Nate’s face, a bleakness so fleeting, she couldn’t catch its meaning. “I heard it was your first.”
Her first kill, he meant.
Sweat traced the band of her bra. Only because the fleece of her hoodie was too thick and the heater above her too warm. Her toes were still cold.
“Don’t talk about it as if I was hunting deer.” Julie stared into her mug while Duke slurped his milk and black birds twittered and the morning fog dissipated and life went on happily for other people.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)
JULIE WASN’T DYING.
The relief when Nate had received the return text message this morning from Captain Bradford at Sacramento PD had lifted a weight off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how stressed-out he’d been until he’d nearly run out to meet her in front of El Rosal. Only her scowl had slowed his steps and kept him from wrapping his arms around her. Only her scowl and April’s assumption on their wedding day that he’d loved Julie more than he’d loved his bride-to-be.
Love Julie? He didn’t know how to love someone. That was something you learned by example from your parents.
And so, he’d brushed aside foolish emotions, stopped in his tracks and looked at Julie closely. Blood loss and trauma from being shot took a toll on a body. He’d expected Julie to look rested this morning. But this... She looked worse. Pasty complexion. Dark circles under her eyes. Mouth thinned with tension.
Perhaps his son was partly to blame. Nate’s niece was a good sleeper, but that didn’t mean Duke was. He knew from his sister that being a sole caregiver was draining. Julie didn’t have much energy left to drain. So he’d plucked Duke from the stroller and taken him to the kitchen to give Julie some relief. But when he’d returned, Julie had looked more haunted than before.
The midweek breakfast crowd at El Rosal was at its peak. People were starting their days with a hearty meal. Nate had a long to-do list, rounds to make, people to check up on. It would all have to wait. Unless there was an emergency, Julie was his priority, along with Duke.
Nate’s glance fell on his son. The boy had felt right in his arms when he’d carried him back to the kitchen. Long ago he’d decided not to be a father. Fatherhood should be a choice. Last night, he’d vowed to explain to Julie why he couldn’t be a father, without explaining anything at all. But first, he had to ease Julie’s suffering.
“You aren’t sleeping.” Nate could relate. He hadn’t slept much last night either. “You have to talk to someone about the shooting.” Taking a life was taboo. Breaking a taboo could rattle even the strongest person.
“I sleep fine.” Julie scowled, but the effect was ruined by the light breeze pushing wisps of blond hair across vacant eyes.
“You can talk to me,” Nate persisted. “Just like you used to.” When they’d worked together, she’d unloaded emotions with him like she unloaded bullets at the shooting range. It was part of her venting process. She’d talk and he’d listen.
Today, she let silence be her answer.
Nate wanted to lean across the narrow table, slip his hand to the nape of her neck and make her stop hiding, stop bottling up her emotions and tell him about it. About April. About the shooting. About her feelings for him.
Nate rocked back in his seat. Julie was as off-limits as fatherhood.
“Ba-con.” Duke picked up another piece, grinning at Julie.
She stopped glaring at Nate and grinned back at Duke.
He’d seen a grin similar to hers often on his sister’s face when she gazed at Camille. “You want to keep him.”
“Anyone with a heart would.” Julie lifted her chin, daring him to admit he didn’t have a heart.
She didn’t understand his childhood hadn’t been carefree and loving, as hers had been. He enjoyed children, but he was satisfied enjoying other people’s children. And yet, if he admitted that...if he signed over rights to Duke, Julie would leave town. She’d go home and pretend to be fine when the life she’d taken would be eating her inside.
Flynn entered the patio wearing faded blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt. He was a dot-com millionaire who dressed like a construction worker. Since he’d become a father, he’d been dressing like an out-of-work construction worker. He’d worn that same ratty T-shirt two days ago. Flynn didn’t quite meet Nate’s gaze. “Do you have something for me?”
Nate handed a thick envelope that had been sitting on the chair to Flynn. “Those are all the citations for the past six months.” Flynn had requested them last night. He was helping the town council investigate Nate’s job performance.
Flynn nodded his thanks and wove his way between tables to where the mayor sat in the corner.
Mayor Larry wore black yoga pants, an oversize sweatshirt and the false smile of a lifelong politician. He held Nate’s future in his hands. And not in a tight clasp either.
Would the mayor back him in the race? The breeze shifted, blowing cold air in Nate’s face.
“They’ll be talking about you.” Julie set down her mug, restored enough with caffeine and a change in topic to take a poke at him.
It was a weak poke. “I’m a sheriff, not an administrator.” He might be powerless about his career, but he could do something to help Julie’s.
“Sheriff Nate.” It was Agnes. The short town councilwoman carried a coffee cup from Martin’s and a pastry bag that Julie eyed with envy. “I meant to ask for an introduction last night. Who’s your friend?”
Nate introduced Julie and Duke. He was going to stop at names, but impulsively, he added, “Duke is my son.”
“I Duke,” the boy said proudly scratching his head and dragging his hair over the Landry ears. “You Nay.” He pointed at Nate.
Unexpectedly, happiness buoyed Nate’s cheeks, trying to lift them into a smile.
Duke’s words seemed to have the opposite effect on Julie. She was frowning.
“I see the resemblance now. He’s adorable.” Agnes gave Julie a kind, if shrewd, look. “Sheriff, I hadn’t realized you’d been married before.”
“He wasn’t. He knocked up my sister and jilted her.” The frown vanished and Julie’s face bloomed with color.
That color, that spark in her eyes. It almost made the awkwardness of his past worth telling.
“To be fair,” Nate said flatly, the way he gave testimony on the witness stand. “April didn’t tell me she was pregnant.” And didn’t that still sting.
