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A Dad For Charlie
Anna J. Stewart
Doesn’t she know she can trust him with anything?To Butterfly Harbor deputy sheriff Fletcher Bradley, Paige Cooper is a mystery he’s dying to solve. Ever since the single mother and her equally irresistible young daughter showed up, life in his California town has changed for the better. Fletch isn’t sure what Paige is running from; he only knows she’s keeping some pretty serious secrets. Yet here she is, already a vital part of the community and working with him to crack a series of recent break-ins. Paige has to trust someone sometime. Why not Fletch? Doesn’t she know that she belongs here—with him?
Doesn’t she know she can trust him with anything?
To Butterfly Harbor deputy sheriff Fletcher Bradley, Paige Cooper is a mystery he’s dying to solve. Ever since the single mother and her equally irresistible young daughter showed up, life in his California town has changed for the better. Fletch isn’t sure what Paige is running from; he only knows she’s keeping some pretty serious secrets. Yet here she is, already a vital part of the community and working with him to crack a series of recent break-ins. Paige has to trust someone sometime. Why not Fletch? Doesn’t she know that she belongs here—with him?
“You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”
Before she could stop herself, Paige walked across the yard and grabbed hold of his arms; solid, muscular arms that tensed at her touch. Looking up at Fletch, memorizing every inch of his handsome face, from that slight twitch as he fought a grin to the amused glint in his sea green eyes, she stopped thinking.
Without breathing, without worrying, Paige stretched up on her toes and very softly, very carefully, pressed her lips to his.
What she’d thought was an expression of gratitude shifted in the blink of an eye, in the flex of his fingers. She held on to him even as his hands moved and settled lightly on her hips. He didn’t take; he didn’t demand. He let her lead wherever she wanted to take them.
Until she realized she couldn’t go where she wanted.
Dear Reader (#u760a3c9d-5538-5b04-9853-a5cde400e719),
Welcome back to Butterfly Harbor. I’ve been looking forward to writing Paige and Charlie Cooper’s story since they first walked into the Butterfly Diner back in book one (The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor). They were both a surprise, characters I never expected to exist. When they stepped onto the page they did so with a wink, a smile and most definitely some secrets. Above all, they arrived searching for what so many of us want: a place to call home. But Charlie wants a bit more than that. She wants a dad, and this determined eight-year-old has her sights set on Deputy Fletcher Bradley.
Whenever I begin a story, I’m usually pretty certain whose story it is: the heroine, or in this case, Paige, a woman doing her best to protect her only child from the mistakes she’s made. Or maybe it’s the hero, Fletcher, who struggles with being thought of as a hero, especially when his own failure as a young man changed his family’s future forever. There’s usually a leaning one way or the other. But as I wrote, I realized this was the first story where a third person was equally important: a little girl desperate for the same family stability her best friend has. She wants—she needs—someone other than her mother to count on, to love her.
I’m a firm believer in family, and not just the kind we’re connected to by blood. My friends are my family, and they’re who I think of whenever I come back to Butterfly Harbor. I love that we can choose our tribe, that we can thrive in communities we might not have been born into but that we find along the way. Taking that one unexpected turn (or in Paige’s case, a highway turnoff) can give you all you’ve ever wanted—and needed—in life. I hope you enjoy Paige and Fletcher (and Charlie’s) journey to their happily-ever-after.
Anna J.
A Dad for Charlie
Anna J. Stewart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Bestselling author ANNA J. STEWART can’t remember a time she wasn’t making up stories or imaginary friends. Raised in San Francisco, she quickly found her calling as a romance writer when she discovered the used bookstore in her neighborhood had an entire wall dedicated to the genre. Her favorites? Harlequins, of course. A generous owner had her refilling her bag of books every Saturday morning, and soon her pen met paper and she never looked back (much to the detriment of her high school education). Anna currently lives in Northern California, where she continues to write up a storm, binge watches her favorite TV shows and movies and spends as much time as she can with her family and friends…and her cat, Snickers, who, let’s face it, rules the house.
For all the Charlie Coopers
May you find your forever dad.
Contents
Cover (#u824143be-040e-524f-ae11-03dc15c8b4de)
Back Cover Text (#uf0ee2774-89fa-5552-b475-b8895bfe5ebc)
Introduction (#u090419b8-e147-597c-8255-9a050923cf75)
Dear Reader (#u5239b29a-2790-575d-a7fd-c3ecc62d2f10)
Title Page (#u13a8fbd5-0f9c-57a0-892d-5821884226f5)
About the Author (#ud0bf83ac-ffe0-519d-9396-b8dc52fc613e)
Dedication (#u38193eff-1b4c-534a-bda1-754c8bd59ac1)
CHAPTER ONE (#u9d72392d-fab7-50ee-99ad-9fd378606177)
CHAPTER TWO (#u83188835-b6fc-58b4-9d52-66bcb60010de)
CHAPTER THREE (#ucdbda23b-b3cb-5721-8d34-2ccf06a99eef)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ubd1840c2-f9b2-5527-b925-32c3dbfe605c)
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)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u760a3c9d-5538-5b04-9853-a5cde400e719)
“WHAT DO YOU think that’s all about?”
From where he sipped his beer, Deputy Bradley Fletcher pulled his attention from the besotted bride and groom and followed his fellow deputy’s curious gaze across the expansive—and newly landscaped—roundabout of the Flutterby Inn.
Every nerve ending in his body fired against the cool Pacific breeze coming in off the ocean beyond the nearby cliffs. Over the din of conversation and the ever-so-faint tunes of a four-piece string quartet emanating from inside the landmark hotel, the nerve-racking sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed in his ears. He shifted position, his knuckles going white around the bottle. How, after over fifteen years of living in the oceanside town of Butterfly Harbor, could the sound of the ocean still fill him with dread?
As he caught sight of Gil Hamilton chatting it up with a neighboring town sheriff, the anxiety and unease slipped to the back of his mind.
If there was one talent Fletch had honed in his thirty-one years it was his ability to know when someone—especially a suspicious someone—was up to something.
And there were few people in Butterfly Harbor more suspicious than their very own mayor.
“Excellent question.” Grateful for something to concentrate on other than his personal demons, Fletch straightened and tugged down the edge of his rented tuxedo jacket.
“Heard Mr. Mayor is getting a little anxious about the upcoming election,” Ozzy said in his own lowered voice. “With more than a year out, I don’t think Gil expected Luke to declare his intention to run for sheriff again quite this soon.”
“Gil isn’t a fan of anyone he can’t manipulate and control.” One of the reasons Luke Saxon had earned Fletch’s respect within his first few hours on the job had been the way he’d stood up to their former classmate turned boss. The onetime Chicago Bomb Squad officer didn’t take anything from anyone; not even the mayor who had reluctantly appointed him over his personal choice of the man he was currently speaking to. “Gil might put on a good show, but he hates the fact Luke’s approval ratings are higher than his. Even in a town this small.”
“You think Gil wants to talk Sean into running? You think Gil’s coming after Luke?”
“He wouldn’t be his father’s son if he didn’t.” Far across the manicured grounds of the iconic landmark hotel, Sheriff Sean Brodie gave the mayor a toothy grin. His chuckle carried across the breeze of the perfect late summer day and rankled the last nerve Fletch managed to hold on to. “Timing can’t be a coincidence,” Fletch said. “Not with Luke heading out of town on his honeymoon. I recognize an ambush when I see it.”
“What kind of ambush?”
“Another excellent question.” Fletch toasted his fellow groomsman and took a step away to grab two more bottles. “How about I go find out?”
“Fletcher.” Ozzy’s wide eyes grew even larger in his round face. The youngest and most rotund of Butterfly Harbor’s three deputies might be the smartest of them when it came to all the advancements in law enforcement, but he wasn’t exactly the diplomat of the group. Not that Fletch was much better, but he had half a lifetime of experience with their head politician.
“Don’t worry, Oz.” Fletch patted Ozzy on the shoulder. “I won’t do anything to cause a scene.” His only goal was to stave off any potential controversy that would mar Holly and Luke’s wedding. As best man, it was his job to make sure the happy couple’s day went off without a hitch.
As Butterfly Harbor’s longest-serving deputy, it was his obligation to protect the town and everyone in it.
Fletch maneuvered his way around people he’d known ever since he and his sister had come to live with their grandfather right before freshman year of high school. Shop owners and residents turned friendly faces, smiled at him and waved as he passed, the gushing comments and well-wishes echoing in his ears. There was little Bradley Fletcher enjoyed more than a big community event like the celebration today. Unless it was watching two of his favorite people find their way to happily-ever-after.
Not that he’d ever voice that out loud. Closet romantic that he was, Fletch would be more than content to take that particular character quirk of his all the way to the grave.
As he approached the two men—both of whom he’d had the displeasure of traversing his dodgy teenage years with—Fletch caught a flash of suspicion in the mayor’s eyes. Yep. Gil was definitely up to something.
When the suspicion faded and slipped into that familiar, over-wide, simpering smile on the face of a man who, by all rights, should be chilling out on a surfboard riding the waves far below them, Fletch shifted into what some of the kids in town would have called superhero mode.
Sans billowing red cape, of course. Fletch didn’t do capes.
“Mr. Mayor. Sheriff.” The title nearly caught in Fletch’s throat, but he was going to play nice with their neighboring town’s head of law enforcement. For now. “Pretty good turnout, wouldn’t you say?” He handed them each a beer and lifted his own in a mock toast. “Don’t think anyone stayed home today. Always great to see how much the town supports its local heroes.”
“I wouldn’t call almost getting himself blown up by a psychopath being a hero.” Sean Brodie’s dark eyes narrowed as he took a long drink. “Rex Winters did have some friends, you know.”
Fletch forced a smile onto his lips. So much for playing nice. “As difficult as that is to believe, yes, I am aware. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Winters. Some of those firearms Rex had in his possession, we haven’t been able to trace where he got them. Any ideas?”
“I really don’t see where this is the time or place to discuss closed cases,” Gil interrupted. “Whatever Rex Winters was up to died with him. Was there something you needed, Deputy?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Fletch nodded as he drank. “Yes, actually. Luke mentioned you scheduled a meeting with him on Friday. Something about the string of break-ins and vandalisms we’ve been having.”
“With both Luke and Sean here, I did, yes.” Gil barely twitched. “I think it best to be kept up on the ongoing investigation, especially given these crimes are affecting both our communities. I was sorry to hear Luke won’t be able to make the only time I have open.”
“You mean because he’ll be on the honeymoon he planned a month ago and you only asked him to meet two days ago? Yeah. Funny how that worked out.” Fletch’s fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle. There was the spin he’d been waiting for. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Sean?”
“Of course.” A coolness crept into Sean’s shifty eyes.
“I have to hand it to you.” Fletch managed to maneuver the mayor to a clear spot away from both the steep stairway down to the beach and the throng of party guests. As his ears cleared and his mind eased, he slipped into uniform mode. “You never cease to amaze me, Gil.”
“How’s that?”
Funny how Fletch could see that rich-kid “I dare you to stop me now” face in the eyes of the man Hamilton had become. Fletch didn’t like Gil any more now than he did the first day he’d met him. Of course Gil and his buddies had been in midbully session and slamming one of their smaller bespectacled classmates into a bank of lockers at the time. That didn’t make for a good first impression. “You never have any problem going behind people’s backs to get what you want. Yet here you are, celebrating Luke’s wedding and the entire time you’re commiserating with your longtime buddy about how to oust Luke while he’s on his honeymoon.”
“I think you’re reading a bit too much into two men talking,” Gil said without looking at him. “If Luke isn’t able to make the meeting—”
“You want an update on the case you should talk to me, seeing as I’m the one in charge of it.” Fletch watched Gil’s eyes widen at his lie. “Luke handed it off to me a few days ago. Must have slipped his mind to tell you with all he’s had going on. He wants to make sure someone will follow through while he’s gone. So if you had thoughts of bringing your buddy in to take over our side of things, you can forget it. I’m more than capable of keeping Luke’s seat warm for him.”
Gil tilted his head and looked at him for a good five seconds before saying, “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were vying for Luke’s job yourself.”
“But you do know me, Gil.” The last thing Fletch wanted was a promotion. He was more than happy in his current position despite the sudden necessity to be anything other than honest. If there was one thing Fletch couldn’t abide, it was a liar. And he was standing in front of one of the best in the business. “You also know the lengths I’ll go to in order to protect my friends.”
Gil’s face went blank. “I assume you and Luke have discussed the case in detail then. You know he’s only a few pieces of evidence away from issuing an arrest warrant for Jasper O’Neill?”
“Of course.” Fletch swallowed more beer along with the sudden unease. Jasper O’Neill? Okay, how had that kid’s name come into this? Jasper was an odd one for sure. And he’d had a few run-ins with them over the years. A few breakings and enterings, loitering and other nonviolent charges. But nothing that led Fletcher to believe he’d do something of this magnitude. The destruction of property alone would carry a felony charge.
Then again, one of Jasper’s best friends was currently doing an eight-month stretch in juvenile detention. Who knew what vacuum that left in their, for want of a better term, social circle. Fletch didn’t want to believe Jasper was involved in anything that would put more stress on his family; the O’Neills had been dealt more than their share of hardships lately.
But what Fletch got to believe and what was the truth... Well. He knew better than most you didn’t always get to choose which came out on top.
Fletch glanced over his shoulder to where his boss and friend smiled at his new bride. Why hadn’t Luke said anything to his deputies about his suspicions?
“Luke and I are completely on the same page.” Fletch pushed the words out of his mouth before he changed his mind. “I plan to follow the evidence while he’s gone wherever it leads. If Jasper’s responsible, I’ll make sure he’s punished for it.”
“It’s good to know our sheriff is leaving the town in excellent hands,” Gil said. “Wouldn’t want the failure of one of his deputies affecting the election.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” How was it the urge to sink his fist into Gil Hamilton’s solar plexus didn’t diminish over time?
“Of course, it’s still early,” Gil said. “There’s plenty of time for damage control should things go awry.”
“You would know about damage control. Speaking of jeopardizing things.” Fletch glanced to his right and raised his glass in acknowledgment of Harvey Mills, the local hardware store owner who was commiserating with a group of town volunteers working out their next community fundraiser. “I hear you’re just about ready to decide on the final site for the butterfly sanctuary. A lot of people aren’t overly pleased with your preferred choice of location. Duskywing Farm could be a destination spot on its own. You don’t have to encroach onto its property to enhance your own agenda.”
“You do hear a lot.” Gil had become the master of the unreadable politician’s expression. “No decision has been finalized as of yet. The town council will get their say. Making unpopular choices is part of the job of an elected official, Deputy Bradley. I’ll do what’s best for Butterfly Harbor. Always have.”
“Like when you kicked more than a dozen families out of their homes last year? Yeah, sounds like what’s best to me. You know what wouldn’t be best for you?” Fletch leaned in close, much in the way he’d seen Sean Brodie do earlier. He lowered his voice, enunciated every word so there was no mistaking his meaning. “Ousting a sheriff everyone in the county limits loves. Just something to keep in mind as you move forward.” He clinked his bottle against Gil’s. “See you Friday morning.”
* * *
“MOM, DO YOU think next week we can finally go look for those ocean caves Mrs. Hastings told me about?”
“What? Charlotte Rose, don’t you dare!” Paige Cooper steered her almost eight-year-old daughter away from the wedding cake before a baby pink rose found its way onto Charlie’s finger. “We’ll have to see about the caves.” Paige’s schedule these days barely gave her enough time to breathe, but she knew at some point she’d have to find time to quell her daughter’s curiosity about one of Butterfly Harbor’s more mysterious legends. Something about ocean caves, a treasure box and your heart’s true desire. She supposed it was only a matter of time before her normally practical, well-reasoned daughter had her head turned by a fairy tale. No treasure box could solve life’s problems. “The caves aren’t going anywhere.” Wherever they were.
