скачать книгу бесплатно
Deputy Daddy
Patricia Johns
A Family for the OfficerOfficer Bryce Camden never expected his two-week stint in Comfort Creek, Colorado would mean diaper duty. But that’s exactly what happens when he stays at the local bed and breakfast where Lily Ellison is fostering an abandoned baby girl. Bryce is drawn to the lovely B&B owner, but being a dad is not part of his plans. His troubled past has shown him that he’s not the nurturing type. But he soon finds himself wishing he didn’t have to leave. Because Lily and the baby have taken root in his heart and made him think that maybe he could be a family man after all…Comfort Creek Lawmen: Men in blue with hearts of gold
A Family for the Officer
Officer Bryce Camden never expected his two-week stint in Comfort Creek, Colorado, would mean diaper duty. But that’s exactly what happens when he stays at the local bed-and-breakfast where Lily Ellison is fostering an abandoned baby girl. Bryce is drawn to the lovely B and B owner, but being a dad is not part of his plans. His troubled past has shown him that he’s not the nurturing type. But he soon finds himself wishing he didn’t have to leave. Because Lily and the baby have taken root in his heart and made him think that maybe he could be a family man after all...
“Did you miss me or something?” he whispered.
The baby blinked up at him, then her eyes drifted shut once more. Bryce couldn’t help but feel a little smug about her preference for him. He’d kind of missed her, too, if he had to admit to it.
Lily stood at the stove scooping cookies off the pan with a spatula and depositing them onto a plate. She was beautiful—even more so when she was focused on a job she enjoyed, like this one. He could see her happiness in the way she held herself, the way her shoulders were squared and the way her eyes shone.
Stop enjoying this, he told himself gruffly. This isn’t yours.
The baby in his arms, the beautiful woman across the kitchen, the family arguing at the table—none of this was his. It was tempting in a way he’d never felt before, but it was firmly out of reach. And he’d best remember it. This was a closed door.
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).
Deputy Daddy
Patricia Johns
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows... God sets the lonely in families.
—Psalms 68:5–6
To my husband, who inspires all this romance.
And to our little boy, who really wanted Mom
to dedicate a book to him, too.
You are my everything!
Contents
Cover (#u84c5c03e-790f-55d6-8112-dd270122d3df)
Back Cover Text (#uaf7bb85f-0492-5adc-a6ba-f727dc6fab77)
Introduction (#u77bcf6af-3b19-5bf3-afef-f581958c9d95)
About the Author (#u9e65cf24-cceb-571f-868d-07cfa454b9d7)
Title Page (#ud3a0ee20-c3f3-5f8b-8d56-51b8497f460f)
Bible Verse (#u57917144-6a1f-5a15-89d7-df71990303ed)
Dedication (#udaa31c66-ac5b-5ee1-9f0b-e57bc45b21cf)
Chapter One (#u6baea559-d045-5833-9e0a-1ee9e5f238e3)
Chapter Two (#u999717fc-eb89-58be-b86b-ebad354d1547)
Chapter Three (#ud78203d2-9faf-5aa0-a9bf-6f88e03af4d0)
Chapter Four (#u0e108377-2028-5a36-a0e3-1907bb827c8a)
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)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u892e2ff7-b5d1-566a-8074-3c88b2ad6476)
“You’ll need to burp her after that bottle,” Police Chief Chance Morgan said, glancing over his shoulder on his way past Bryce Camden’s temporary desk.
Bryce looked down at the tiny baby in the crook of his arm. She barely seemed to weigh anything, her rump resting in the palm of his hand and her tiny hands opening and closing in the rhythm of her drinking. The small Colorado town of Comfort Creek was the remote location of his disciplinary action for having punched a fellow officer in the kisser. He’d arrived that morning with an angry simmer in the pit of his stomach that barely covered the sour taste of humiliation, and the police chief dropped a newborn in his lap.
He’d never burped a baby in his life.
“Is that an order, sir?” Bryce asked.
“Yes.” The chief shot him an amused look. “Consider this part of your sensitivity training.”
The baby had been abandoned at the station in the wee hours of the morning, an out-of-date car seat left on the doorstep. Whoever had left her had pounded on the door and slipped away. When Bryce clocked in for the start of this two-week debacle, they’d immediately put him on baby duty.
So far, sensitivity training looked a whole lot like babysitting, and he’d never been very comfortable around kids, something he had in common with his dad. Some things were hereditary, like the combination of black hair and blue eyes. He was confident that his discomfort with kids came from the same genetic source. His father had been a lousy parent, and he had it on good authority—from his overworked and chronically frustrated mother—that he was just like his old man. And if anyone wanted confirmation on that, they could ask the officer with the split lip.
Christian cops weren’t supposed to go around venting their anger with their fists, no matter how good their reasons, and while he’d never been the preachy type, his faith was pretty common knowledge. On Sunday mornings when he was on shift, he’d stand in uniform at the back of his local church and listen to the sermon from there, his radio dialed down to a whisper. So there were certain expectations when it came to him. When anyone else on the force messed up, there was a well of commiseration. They were all human, and a badge and a gun didn’t change that. But when the Christian cop messed up, there was a little more judgment, a little more surprise. He’d let them all down.
For the last few hours, Bryce had been calling the baby “Piglet.” It just seemed to suit the little thing, and as she drank the last dregs of the bottle, he was forced to stand by the nickname. She released the nipple with a pop and he put the bottle onto the desk, then lifted her gingerly. He’d already been schooled on supporting the downy head, and when he tipped her forward onto his chest, she squirmed again and let out a little whimper of protest.
“Okay—” Bryce patted at the tiny back tentatively. “How do I do this exactly?”
The last few burpings and diaper changes had been taken over by some officers who had kids, so they knew the ropes when it came to infants. Now it was his turn, and no one seemed to pity him. He heard the front door open and close behind him as he attempted to position the baby on his shoulder.
A female voice said, “Where is the baby now?”
He heaved a sigh of relief. Reinforcements were here. That was probably the promised foster care provider. He patted the baby’s back gently, afraid of pummeling the infant too hard. In response, she let out a resounding burp.
“Nice one, Piglet,” he congratulated the infant, and he turned to see who would be relieving him of his duty when he stopped short.
She wasn’t the matronly type that he had anticipated. This woman was young with short-cropped blond hair that swept over her forehead and brought out her big blue eyes. She had a smattering of freckles over her nose, too, that struck him as sweet. A white sundress patterned with stemmed cherries swung around her knees, and she wore a pair of low sling-back heels that completed her feminine look.
“Just over here,” the police chief said. “This is Officer Bryce Camden. He’s here in Comfort Creek for a short time.”
There was a depth of meaning behind those words, and the young woman regarded him with one arched brow. Did she know what that meant—that he was here completing disciplinary action? He gave her a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too. I’m Lily Ellison—your temporary foster care.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and her face was transformed from pretty to stunning. “Now, who do we have here?”
“No name provided,” the chief said with a shake of his head. “I suppose you could do the honors, Lily.”
Lily leaned closer to Bryce, a delicate fragrance of vanilla wafting around him momentarily as she slipped the infant out of his arms. Her skin was silky as it brushed against his when she took the baby, obviously more practiced than he was. She smiled down into the baby’s face. “Hi there, cutie. You need a name.”
Lily stood next to Bryce, so close that her skirt brushed his pant leg where he sat at the desk he’d been assigned for the next couple of weeks. A bottle, a cloth and a few diapers sat on the desktop next to him, and he wondered if he should gather them up for her, but he wasn’t sure where she’d even put them, so he left them where they were.
“What have you been calling her?” Lily asked, glanced down at Bryce.
“I’ve been calling her Piglet.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s awful.”
“Wait till you see her go to town on a bottle,” he retorted.
“How about Emily? If I ever have a little girl, I want to name her that, so I could share it, I suppose.” Lily looked down at the baby again. “Little Emily. Does that suit you?”
When the police chief headed off toward his office to grab the paperwork, Bryce eyed her speculatively.
“You look really young for this,” he said.
“For what?” she asked, brushing some hair out of her eyes.
“Foster care. Normally foster moms are—” he paused, uncertain how to say this delicately “—more mature.”
In his experience, foster moms were a tough lot of women—they had to be. Sometimes they had raised large families of their own, and they’d seen a lot, been through the wringer with the system more than once. They knew what troubled kids looked like, and their big hearts took thorough beatings.
“I’ve helped raise four younger brothers,” she said. “I’m qualified. Trust me.”
“Four.” He joked, “I’m sorry. That sounds painful.”
Her expression melted into a more relaxed smile. “You think you’re funny, but you haven’t met my brothers. So, you’re Bryce Camden?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re staying at my bed-and-breakfast.” She turned her attention back to the baby, although her words were meant for him. “Two weeks, paid in full. You’re my first guest, actually. I assume you’re arriving tonight after work?”
Bryce’s mind went back to the phone conversation he’d had with the owner of Comfort Creek B and B when he’d been irritably setting up his living arrangements for his stay. It had been a hurried discussion, but the B and B was pretty much the only place to stay in Comfort Creek, except for a dumpy-looking hotel that the department would have paid for, but the rebel in him wanted at least a small part of this on his own terms. He’d never imagined that the woman on the other end of that phone call was as pretty as this, or that he’d have to explain too much about his reasons for being here. “Yeah, I’ll be coming by after my shift is done.”
The police chief sauntered back to Bryce’s desk with a clipboard, and as he had Lily sign the necessary paperwork, Bryce looked at the baby once more. She had fallen asleep in Lily’s arms, her rosebud mouth still moving in a sucking motion. While he’d done his best not to bond with the infant, he had a feeling that he’d miss her.
“I’ll see you later,” Lily said, handing the clipboard back to the chief. She shot Bryce a smile. “I have your room ready. I think you’ll be very comfortable.”
There was no way to politely get out of this tonight. He’d just have to make the best of it. Right now, he was sincerely regretting having paid for the full two weeks up front. Staying with the town’s temporary foster care wasn’t a great idea.
“Thanks,” he said. “Do you need this stuff?”
“Please.”
Chief Morgan passed him a plastic bag, and Bryce gathered up the various baby accoutrements from his desk and put them inside. When he handed the bag to Lily, her hand lingered under his for a moment, and he met her clear gaze. Long lashes fringed her blue eyes, and for a moment he found all of his thoughts draining from his head.
“I’ll see you this evening,” she said. “For a nominal fee, I include dinners, too. Tonight would be chicken fettuccini.”
“That sounds great,” he said, which it did, but this still wasn’t a great plan. One night at the B and B with a decent dinner wouldn’t kill him, though. It would sure beat eating at that local burger joint that would effectively clog his arteries by the end of his time in Comfort Creek. It might be an acceptable risk, given the circumstances. “Oh, I should mention—she likes ‘America the Beautiful.’”
“Like, as a lullaby?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know what else to sing to her, and it worked. So—” he shrugged “—heads up on that.”
“We’ll muddle through.” She cast him a smile, then turned toward the door. He’d just have to find a way out of the rest of the stay, because baby care wasn’t his strong suit, and Lily Ellison was too charming for his own good. He was here to do his time and get out. Period.
* * *
Lily peeked into the bassinet where little Emily lay in the corner of the spacious kitchen. Lily had been surprised when Chief Morgan called and asked if she could stand in as temporary foster care, and for a moment she’d considered turning him down. She had her first guest checking in today—a much-needed start to paying off some of this debt she’d accrued in renovating the old house. But she’d gotten her foster parent certification for a reason: she loved kids, and their town needed a backup to the one foster family it already had.
Growing up, her brothers had been like a tornado, and keeping up with their antics had been difficult. She’d gone from child to babysitter overnight, and she’d never had the luxury of messing up. The boys, however, ran roughshod over every rule or limit she put up for them. They’d eaten all the food in the house, devoured any treat their mother might have scrounged for the kids, occupied every spare inch that Lily might have been able to use for herself. And instead of terrorizing them back, she’d grudgingly let them have the bag of cookies, the TV time, the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, their mother’s attention...because she loved them. And while foster care wouldn’t be easy, she had enough experience with rowdy, difficult kids that she felt like she had something to contribute. Every kid deserved love.
But when she started her business, she’d decided to put foster parenting on hold. She was finally fulfilling a lifelong dream of owning her own bed-and-breakfast, and that would require her whole attention. Then, of course, there was Aunt Clarisse’s wedding coming up—more family obligation—and her plate was officially full.
But hearing that the child was a newborn baby girl, her heart had melted. How much trouble could a tiny little girl be? The houseful of boys has been a noisy stampede, but she’d always wished for another girl in the family—someone to appreciate the feminine things with her. Her mother had been too busy with work and the boys for that. Lily was assured that this was a temporary arrangement, and she agreed. Her freedom would have to wait until Beverly Starchuck, the regular foster care provider, returned to Comfort Creek.
The kitchen was large, using up a full half of the main floor of the house. An old-fashioned stove and refrigerator dominated one side of the room, and a counter island sat squarely in the center, copper pots and pans hanging down from ceiling hooks above. A pot of thick Alfredo sauce sat cooling on the back burner of the stove, a colander of noodles draining in the oversize sink. This evening, the side door was propped open with a rock, revealing the wraparound veranda, and a warm, fragrant breeze swept inside.
