A Proposal For The Officer

His jaw went stiff and he fought off the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Just like that, one mention of his awaiting family cemented Kaleb’s decision on whether he was going to give cute, determined Molly a ride to get her nephew. “Would you mind telling my sister something came up and I have to help out a friend?”

Okay, so “friend” was a generous description. In fact, Kaleb sincerely doubted his new acquaintance wouldn’t have already blasted out of the parking lot without so much as a wave if he hadn’t pocketed her car keys.

He hefted the ice into the bed of his dad’s lifted, half-ton truck, knowing he’d have to stop somewhere and get another bag before returning to his sister’s. Wiping a wet hand on his pant leg, he walked to Molly’s car to check on her. She was dozing in the passenger seat and he wondered if he should wake her up. No. That was for concussions, not diabetes. At least he thought so. Hell, he was a software developer, not a doctor. And he certainly wasn’t a damn taxi driver.

But a few minutes later, when the cashier pushed out a cart of bagged groceries, he told Donae to keep the change before loading them in the back of Molly’s hatchback.

Kaleb was often reminded of the fact that he was the shortest of all the Chatterson brothers, yet he still had to slide the driver’s seat back to accommodate his six-foot frame. He started the car and the stereo shot to life. If the booming bass of hip-hop wasn’t loud enough to wake Molly up, the vibration of the cheap speakers through the vinyl seats would’ve done the trick.

“This is for when your levels stabilize.” He tossed the wrapped sandwich on her lap and asked, “So how do I get to the baseball park from here?”

Chapter Two

“This bread has seeds in it,” Molly said as she examined the turkey sandwich he’d given her. She was already dehydrated and couldn’t afford to use the little saliva she could muster to swallow some tasteless looking cardboard.

“It’s whole grain.” Kaleb spoke slowly, as though he was explaining jet propulsion to a kindergartner. “It’s one of those complex carbs you’re supposed to eat once you drink enough fluid to flush out all the excess sugar from your system.”

Her unsolicited rescuer was sure turning out to be quite the know-it-all.

“I’m well aware of what I’m supposed to be eating and drinking.” As if to prove it, she took another long swig of the water he’d thoughtfully purchased after she’d already downed an entire bottle.

“Forgive me for doubting that when I overheard you asking some clueless teenager at the juice bar if the strawberry-banana smoothie was low in sugar.”

“Well, I will be aware. As soon as I meet with the nutritionist at Shadowview.” Molly actually had several appointments at the nearby military hospital, but she’d been putting them off. She could only handle one tailspin at a time.

“So you are in the military.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Technically, she was. But she didn’t know for how much longer. Ever since the flight surgeon wrote up a medical board determining that her recently diagnosed condition made her ineligible to fly, Molly had refused to think about where her career was headed. So instead, she changed the subject. “You can stop looking at the map on your phone. I know where we’re going.”

“But my GPS is saying it’s quicker to take Snowflake Boulevard to Lake Street.”

“Does your GPS also say that Lake Street is blocked off today because the high school drill team is practicing for next week’s Sun Potato Parade?”

“Hmpf.” His hand reluctantly dropped the fancy high-tech device into the center console, then loosely gripped it, as though he might need to grab it again at any second. “It probably would if there was a Sun Potato Parade app available to download.”

“You can talk to my nephew about inventing one. He lives for dorky tech stuff like that.” Molly saw Kaleb’s hand clench tighter around his phone and she wondered what she could’ve said to annoy him. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she might’ve asked him. She pointed to the next stop sign. “Make a left up here.”

“Speaking of your nephew, won’t he think there’s something wrong if you show up with a stranger?”

“I’ll tell him I had too much to drink.” She felt the deceleration of the car before she realized he’d completely taken his foot off the gas pedal. She let her head roll to the side, which was a mistake since it only afforded her a full view of his handsome—and doubt-filled—face.

“You’d rather people think you were drunk than diabetic?” His incredulous tone hit her in the belly with a force. Or maybe she was still sore from where she’d given herself that shot. “Are you seriously that desperate to keep this from your family?”

“Desperate is a strong word,” she said cautiously. In fact, it sounded a lot like weak. And she was neither. “I’m simply protecting them from worrying about me. And I didn’t mean alcohol. His mom warned him not to have too much soda this weekend because it would give him a bellyache. So I was going to go that route.”

He made a weird mumbling sound as he pulled into the parking lot. All the other kids must’ve already been picked up because poor Hunter was the only boy waiting by the bleachers. She curled her fingers into her palm, unable to release the guilt building inside her. Molly came from a big, busy family with at least one parent usually off on deployment. Getting forgotten at school or left behind at soccer practice was an all too familiar feeling and she hated that her condition was now affecting others.

She leaped out of the passenger door before Kaleb had even put the car in Park. Well, she didn’t leap so much as stumble on shaky legs, feeling as if she’d just stepped onto solid ground after a ten-hour flight in a cramped cockpit.

“Sorry I’m so late, buddy,” she said, wrapping her twelve-year-old nephew into a bear hug, made all the more awkward by the fact that he’d shot up a couple inches taller than her this past winter and was carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a batting helmet in the other. As well as by the fact that she’d just seen him less than two hours ago. “Have you been waiting all by yourself?”

“No problem, Aunt Molly. Practice has only been done a few minutes and Coach Russell is still here chalking the base lines for tomorrow’s game.” Hunter untangled himself from her overzealous greeting and opened the rear door to toss his gear into the back seat. “Hey! You didn’t tell me Kaleb was coming with you!”

“Hunter, my man,” Kaleb said casually as he pivoted in the driver’s seat and did a complicated fist bump with her nephew.

“What?” Molly fumbled with the door handle. “You guys know each other?”

“Pfshhh,” Hunter responded. “Anyone living in the twenty-first century knows Kaleb Chatterson.”

“Oh, hell.” She inspected her grocery store hero through squinted eyes. “You’re a Chatterson?”

“That’s another dollar for my swear jar, Aunt Molly.”

“According to my birth certificate.” Kaleb shrugged, then put the car into gear. “The DNA tests are still in question.”

A throb started in her temples and Molly had to wonder if her visit to Sugar Falls could get any worse. She pulled her wallet out and tossed a ten dollar bill onto Hunter’s lap. “Consider me paid up until Sunday.”

* * *

“But you said you were from Seattle,” Molly accused through gritted teeth as she latched her seat belt.

“I am.” Kaleb was doing her a favor. Why was he the one being put on the defensive? “And would you mind telling me where I’m supposed to take you?”

“I’m staying at my sister’s apartment. But I guess you knew that all along.”

Whoa. This lady was coming at him with guns blazing. If that wasn’t discomforting enough, a twelve-year-old kid had his seat belt stretched to the limits as he practically leaned between their two seats, not wanting to miss a minute of the action. “How in the world would I have known that? I didn’t have a clue who you were until fifteen minutes ago.”

In fact, it wasn’t until Kaleb heard Hunter call her “Aunt Molly” that the puzzle began clicking together. The woman beside him must somehow be related to Maxine, who was best friends with his sister, Kylie. But he was still missing the pieces that explained why she was suddenly so annoyed with him.

“But you know me, right, Kaleb?” Hunter’s voice cracked and it didn’t take a rearview mirror for Kaleb to know the kid’s eager freckled face was only inches behind his own. “Remember when we were at your sister’s wedding last year and you promised me an internship at your company when I turned eighteen?”

Kaleb squeezed his eyes shut briefly. How could he forget? Of course, he would’ve called it a surrender more than a promise since, at the time, Hunter was the only person who’d been able to smuggle in a tablet—despite Kylie’s ban of all electronic devices at the reception—and Kaleb’s Tokyo office was in the middle of negotiations to buy out a company that built virtual-reality headsets.

Yet, before anyone could comment on the circumstances surrounding the supposed internship, the kid’s aunt interrupted. “If you’re from Seattle, then what are you doing in Sugar Falls?”

As he turned onto Snowflake Boulevard, which could’ve just as easily been named Main Street, USA, he took in the grassy park in the center of downtown to assure himself that they were still in a free country. “The same thing you are. Visiting family.”

She mumbled an expletive under her breath and he was pretty sure that, at this rate, Hunter was going to have enough money in his swear jar to get him through the first two years of college.

“Speaking of family.” Kaleb emphasized the last word to remind her that children were present. “Does your sister still live above her shop?”

“Not anymore,” Hunter answered for his aunt, who was silently fuming in the front seat. “We moved out to a bigger house when she and Cooper got married. But Aunt Molly is staying there while she’s in town. She says it’s because she doesn’t want to be in our way, but Mom says it’s because she doesn’t want us knowing her business.”

Molly gasped before turning in her seat to look at her nephew. “Your mom told you that?”

Hunter had his palms up. “Not in a bad way or nothin’... She said all the Markhams are like that.”

“So where are we going?” Kaleb interrupted. If he wanted a front-row seat to watch family members bickering, he’d head back to his sister’s house and watch his own brothers argue over who got to man the backyard grill.

“To the apartment over the bakery.” Molly sighed. Even an outsider like Kaleb knew that when someone said bakery in this town, they actually meant the Sugar Falls Cookie Company. “It shouldn’t be that far of a walk for you to get back to your car at Duncan’s Market.”

Not that far? It was at least a mile through town and both his phone and his watch—he never should’ve synced the two—currently sounded like winning slot machines with unanswered texts from his dad and his sister, probably wanting to know where the heck he was with their ice and limes.

“Why’s your car at Duncan’s?” Hunter asked. So far they’d avoided having to explain why he was driving them home, but if the kid was as observant as Kaleb had been at that age, it didn’t take a computer genius to figure out Molly was hiding something.

“Because your aunt had a—”

“Wait.” Molly pointed a finger his way. “Which Chatterson brother are you?”

“I’m Kaleb,” he said slowly, second-guessing his earlier decision to go along with her pleas to not seek medical assistance.

“I caught the name.” Her eyes were narrowed into slits. “I meant are you one of the baseball Chattersons or are you the one who plays video games for a living?”

Despite being on the cover of Forbes last month for their feature article on “World’s Youngest Billionaires,” Kaleb’s siblings never let him forget that no matter how much money he made, he would always be the little brother. So when Molly said “video games” in that tone, she might as well have been asking if he was the one who set fire to small wildlife animals in his parents’ basement. At least his back brace and teenage acne were long gone. Along with his self-respect apparently.

“Video games?” Hunter snorted. “Kaleb’s, like, the most successful software developer in the world.”

Oblivious to the tension in the front seat, the boy launched into a monologue about the company’s top-selling games while Molly’s eyes shot icy glares at Kaleb and her forefinger made a dramatic swipe against her throat. It took him a moment to figure out that she was referring to him staying silent about what had happened at the store, not his job profession. Or maybe she didn’t want him to bring up either subject. All he knew was that he liked her soft pink lips a lot more when they weren’t pursed together in a violent shushing gesture. Actually, he kind of liked them both ways.

He mouthed the words, “What’s the big deal?”

But the minivan behind him honked to let him know the light had changed to green, and he didn’t get a chance to lip-read Molly’s response.

So she had diabetes. What was the big deal? Millions of people probably had the same diagnosis and didn’t go into undercover stealth mode to keep it a secret. He needed to know why.

“Dude, all of your electronic devices are, like, going crazy.” Hunter was apparently done with his rambling soliloquy about Perfect Game Industries, although it did give Kaleb’s ego a boost to know that at least one person in the town of Sugar Falls—besides his mother—didn’t think his company was a fallback career. “Are you gonna answer them?”

Kaleb glanced at the display. Speaking of his mother, his family was certainly busting out the big guns if Lacey Chatterson was trying to track him down. Everyone knew he never avoided his mom’s calls. If he didn’t respond soon, he’d get a firsthand look at how this little ski resort town up in the mountains ran a full-scale search party.

“I’ll call them back later,” he said, slipping his cell phone into his front pocket. “Let’s help your aunt take these groceries inside.”

Falling completely off the grid and being the irresponsible Chatterson might be fun for a change.

Chapter Three

When Molly had initially been medically grounded, she’d still been living on base so the daily routine of military life made it easy to pretend that nothing would change. Just like the time she’d twisted her ankle after a postejection survival training exercise, she pulled office duty—pushing paperwork and keeping her personal life classified. There was no point in getting her family and squad mates all worried about something that would probably require a simple fix. She hadn’t even told her fiancé about her diagnosis. Although, in her defense, she’d been about to when she walked into Trevor’s condo with a bag of Chinese takeout from his favorite restaurant and found him eating pork dumplings from the ends of another woman’s chopsticks.

Canceling vendors, returning wedding gifts and watching her savings account free-fall with all the forfeited deposits was only slightly more pleasant than undergoing a battery of doctor appointments and lab tests. In a last-ditch attempt to get away from it all, Molly had cashed in on Trevor’s trip insurance and went solo on the honeymoon that never was. Unfortunately, besides a great suntan and a somewhat functional straw tote from a street market in Fiji, Molly’s head wasn’t any clearer than it had been two weeks ago.

As she looked around at her sister’s apartment—which she’d been thinking of as her temporary duty station until she could figure out what she was going to do with her life—Molly felt as though she’d just overshot her landing and had to circle around and try it again. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, she was halfway curled into a ball on the oversize white sofa in the living room, watching her nephew and Kaleb put away groceries she didn’t remember selecting. What in the world was she going to do with all those cans of soup?

More important, what was she going to do with this guy who now knew her secret? She shuddered. Even thinking the word secret made her feel all dirty and cowardly, like she was hunkering down in some barren cave rather than Maxine’s plush renovated apartment in the heart of quaint, touristy Sugar Falls.

Kaleb’s face was so handsome the glasses almost looked fake. A few weeks ago, when she’d first experienced problems with dizziness, Molly had been looking at all the advertisement posters above the display cases at the ophthalmologist’s office while she waited for her vision tests to come back. This guy resembled the sexy models in the pictures, trying to convince the middle-aged patients with cataracts and receding hairlines that they, too, would look like some gorgeous stud if only they invested in the right spectacles.

His brown hair was a bit too long and too messy. His jeans were a bit too new and too expensive, despite the fact that they certainly fit his slim hips well. And when he’d stripped off his hooded sweatshirt and she’d seen him in his shirt, Molly let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. His dark blue T-shirt appeared to be made for him, the fabric so soft and well-worn she could see the ridges of his lean muscles under it.

All in all, he didn’t look like the owner of a multi-billion-dollar technology empire. Which was probably why she was so surprised to find out that he was related to her sister’s best friend. Not that the rest of the Chattersons were much different than this one, with the exception of most of them being redheads. And they were only millionaires, as opposed to billionaires.

“Can we order some pizza from Patrelli’s?” Hunter asked after digging around in the shopping bags and only coming up with food that would require a can opener to prepare.

She nodded and would’ve handed him her cell phone, but he’d already pulled out his own. “Get me a large meatball sub,” she said as he started dialing.

“Actually,” Kaleb interjected, “Molly is going to have the chicken Caesar salad. Dressing on the side.”

Hunter gave his idol a thumbs-up before speaking to a person on the other end of the line. Apparently, being a favorite aunt had just been trumped by the guy who invented some stupid video game called “Blockcraft.”

“But I wanted the meatball sub.” Molly crossed her arms across her chest, her voice sounding whinier than she’d intended.

“And do you also want your nephew to have to call 9-1-1 when you go into another one of your blood sugar attacks?” One of Kaleb’s brown eyebrows arched above his glasses.

Molly tried to arch her own brow in response to him, but only succeeded in looking like she had something stuck in her eye. Being tired was one thing, but she was beginning to feel completely useless.

“I’m gonna walk down the block to pick it up,” Hunter said, pulling on a sweatshirt. “I sure like our new house, but sometimes I really miss living in the middle of town like this.”

Kaleb handed the boy two twenty-dollar bills and her nephew was out the door before Molly could even protest. Or ask him not to leave her alone with the hunky tech guy who’d just saved her. Sort of.

“You didn’t have to buy dinner, too. I have money,” she said, looking around for her wallet. Actually, she didn’t know how much longer her military salary would last and she probably shouldn’t be wasting it on pizza—or dry salads, in this case.

“I think all of your cash went to the swear jar,” Kaleb said, his hands loosely tucked into his front pockets. He was probably eager to get away from her. Not that she could blame him. She’d been trying to get away from herself for quite a few weeks, as well.

His watch rang again, or was it his phone? Nope, this time it was his cell. Picking it up from the counter, he said, “I really need to take this.”

“Okay, but if it’s your sister, don’t tell her about...you know...”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll tell my sister, remember?”

He rolled his eyes, then swiped his finger across the screen. “Hey, Kylie.”

Molly dragged her tote bag onto her lap and pulled out her black case. She may as well check her glucose levels before Hunter returned. The distraction might also keep her from listening to Kaleb’s smooth, deep voice.

As she pricked her finger and pressed out a droplet of blood, she heard him make several noncommittal sounds to whatever his sister was saying on the other end.

“Mmm-hmm.” He walked around the coffee table to stand beside her, the waistband of his jeans right in her line of vision. Lately, in the guy department, Molly thought she’d been working on autopilot. However, a shot of electricity zipped through her, activating the dormant wiring circuits in her lower extremities.

“Uh-huh.” He leaned over to see the digital reading on her compact machine. She tightened her lips, taking in a deep breath through her nose. Whoa. Did all billionaires smell this amazing?

“Is that good?” he whispered to her, his hand over the speaker and his eyes soft with concern. She had to force her own eyes away from his flat abdomen and toward the numbers on the screen in front of her.

She was almost back within normal range, yet still gave him an “okay” sign with her thumb and forefinger. His smile mirrored the relief she should have felt. Or would have felt if her heart hadn’t started hammering at how close he was to her.

“No, Molly’s fine.” His voice snapped her brain out of whatever trance she’d just been in and she began waving her arms in front of her face, inadvertently hitting him in the hip and causing him to glare down at her.

“Don’t say my name,” she whispered.

“Too late,” he mouthed.

“Here, let me talk to her.” She reached for his phone, but her energy hadn’t fully recovered and her crisscrossed legs got tangled when she tried to stand up. He sidestepped her and held his palm out, probably trying to cut her off because he thought he had the conversation under control.

“No, she wasn’t too sloshed to drive,” Kaleb told his sister indignantly.

Molly gave him a nod of encouragement. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“Oh, c’mon, Kylie. I’m not going to ask her if she’s pregnant.”

Hmm. Molly tilted her head to the side and tapped a couple of fingers against her lip. As far as red herrings went, it wasn’t ideal. But she could work with it. Maxine knew about the breakup with Trevor and Molly hadn’t exactly corrected her sister when she’d offered up the use of her apartment as a refuge for mending her broken heart. Pregnancy definitely would be a lot simpler to explain, at least for a few months while she bought herself more time.

“Because it’s none of my business,” Kaleb said into the phone. “And it’s none of yours.”

Molly’s eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t believe that he was jumping to her defense, but she nodded her encouragement, anyway.

“Uh-huh.” Kaleb pushed his hair off his forehead, then ran a hand through his dark brown curls, which fell in waves to his chin. “Fine. I’ll be there in thirty minutes and we can talk about it then.”

Molly collapsed backward, her head falling into a pile of down throw pillows. It would’ve been nice if he could’ve stalled a bit more. As it was, she would now have half that time to coach Kaleb on exactly what to say to throw his family off her trail. Or to figure out a way to prevent him from walking out of this apartment.

“No, you do not need to send Dad to come get me.” Kaleb spoke into the phone, but he was staring straight at Molly. And his annoyed expression promised retribution for this farce she’d gotten them both into.

* * *

When he arrived at Kylie’s house a while later, Kaleb surrendered the margarita fixings and tried to give his incredibly nosy family the look that usually sent his employees scurrying back to their cubicles. Or at least the look he intended to convey his authority and his unwillingness to discuss a matter. Unfortunately, his family didn’t work for him and they certainly didn’t respect any boundaries when it came to his personal life—or any facet of his life, really.