A Mom for Callie (5 page)

He slammed his locker shut, his fist repeating the sound with an even louder bang.

“Yo, dude, what's your problem? You've been a real drag all morning.” Tom popped a handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth and leaned against the row of floor-to-ceiling lockers on the opposite wall. “One minute you're surly and silent, the next you're bitchin' about everything from the new flashlights the chief just issued to the speed of the computer out in the hall.”

“There is no speed with that piece of garbage.”

“Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I present Exhibit A,” Tom said as he waved his hand with a flourish toward his partner.

“Exhibit A?”

“Yeah. Your bitchin'.”

“Shut the hell up, would you?” Kyle Brennan exhaled loudly as he raked a hand through his hair. “I've just got some stuff on my mind, that's all.”

“Callie sick?”

“No.”

“Your mom sick?”

“No.”

“Heard from Lila?”

He stared at Tom.

“I take that as a no?” Tom popped a few more seeds into his mouth. “Does this have something to do with Betsy Anderson?”

His mouth grew dry. “Why would it?”

“Man, I'm really starting to lose it, aren't I?” Tom leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “What was that…four? Used to get it on the first try every time. Then again, Lila was an easy guess back then.”

Kyle banged the back of his head against the locker behind him.

“Whoa, take it easy there, Ky.”

“Can we just not do this right now?” Bending his leg at the knee, Kyle pushed off the row of lockers and strode toward the door that led from the department's locker room to the hall beyond. “I put out some feelers today and I think we're right on the money with our perp. Seems he and his fellow bank robber were working on building themselves a gang a few towns over. Like-minded thugs interested in scoring money for drugs and partying. They figured that if they could get away with the hardware store and the market…maybe they could score a third time with the bank.”

Tom rose from his bench but didn't fall into step with Kyle. Instead, he simply stood, feet spread wide, arms folded across his chest. “We squashed that thought, didn't we?”

“If it's just the two of them.”

“You seriously think there's more?”

“Two people hardly make a gang.”

“True. And it makes sense. But maybe we shut them down at their main artery,” Tom suggested in his usual positive way.

Kyle bypassed the closed door and began pacing. “Maybe. Or maybe we pissed them off.”

“It's kinda weird how that news footage took on different meaning the more we watched it yesterday. Did you tell Betsy we think she was right?”

He spun around and walked in the other direction. “
Elizabeth Lynn
Anderson is too busy for such small town nonsense.”

“What are you talking about? Betsy isn't like that…you know that.” Tom's confusion was etched in his forehead. “Hell, you, yourself, were singing her praises all day yesterday. What changed?”

“
She
did,” Kyle hissed.

“How?”

“She took off the mask.”

“Mask?”

“Hell yeah.”

“And?”

“She talks a good game, but when push comes to shove she has no use for a town the size of Cedar Creek.”

Tom snorted. “Give me a break, Kyle. She chose to write here, didn't she?”

“Maybe. But this isn't her home.”

“I don't know what's eating at you, dude, but you need to chill out.”

He stopped, stared at Tom for a moment, and then headed back toward the door, his hand stilling on the knob just long enough to utter a single sentence in response. “The only thing I need to do is keep my daughter away from that woman—far, far away.”

 

B
ETSY STARED AT THE BLINKING
cursor in the top left corner of her still-empty screen, unable to think of a
single word. All night long she'd tossed and turned, her latest encounter with Kyle making a continuous loop through her thoughts, the memory of her rude behavior broken only by images of their kiss and the details behind the demise of his marriage to Callie's mother.

She could pinpoint, with absolute clarity, the moment she'd pushed him away. By emphasizing she belonged in New York, she'd likened herself to Kyle Brennan's ex-wife—a woman who thought Cedar Creek was nothing more than a mere stumbling block to a better life.

Betsy rose from her chair and wandered to the window that overlooked Kyle's house. She could still see the look on his face as if she'd slapped him with her words. And she cringed at the memory of Callie's surprise as her father jerked the order form from Betsy's hand and ushered her away.

She'd been wrong. She knew that now. Not about her feelings where Kyle's profession was concerned but, rather, in the way she'd cut him off, making it sound as if Cedar Creek was merely dirt on the bottom of her shoes. She liked this town, liked the people she'd met so far. And she especially liked Kyle and his daughter, Callie.

Determined to make amends at least as far as her rudeness went, Betsy stepped outside and headed in the direction of Callie's house.

 

“T
HIS ONE'S ABOUT THE SUN
. And the way it makes me happy when it lights up the sky.” Callie began reading from the paper in her hand, a wrinkled page covered in large, careful handwriting. When she was finished, she looked up at Betsy. “Did you like that one, too?”

Betsy smiled as she tucked her legs underneath her
body on the wicker settee. “It was wonderful. I liked the way you referred to the sun as the big warm circle in the sky. Very nice, Callie.”

The little girl beamed as she set her paper on top of the pile of similarly wrinkled papers between them. “I've got one more…this one's 'bout my grandma because I don't have a mom—not really, anyway. And my teacher said we had to write one about someone special to us.”

“What about your dad?”

“My teacher said it could only be half a page. My dad would take up more than that.”

Her throat constricted as the little girl's earnest words took root in her heart. If Callie felt a sense of loss at not having a mother, it didn't show. “You could write one now if you wanted.”

“You mean, outside of school?”

The surprise in Callie's voice made Betsy laugh. “Of course. All you need is paper and a pencil, right?”

“Right!”

“And after you write it, we could put all of these—” Betsy lifted the pile of poems into the air then set them back down “—into a little booklet.”

“Could we make a cover? So it looks like a real book?” Callie asked, her eyes large.

“A book of poetry—
your
poetry.”

Callie pointed at the stack of poems she'd read to Betsy. “Could I rewrite all of those? I dropped my writing folder on the floor of the bus the other day and someone stepped on it. That's why they're so messy. And if I did them over, I could work extra hard to make my writing look neat and pretty.”

“Sure. I think that's a great idea, though your handwriting looks neat and pretty to me already.”

The slam of a car door made them both look up. “Oh no, it's Daddy! I wanted to get started on his poem.”

Betsy dropped her feet to the ground as Kyle headed in their direction, a slash of anger where a smile had been just the day before. “Why don't you go inside? I have paper and pens on the sunporch. You can get started while I talk to your dad for a few minutes.”

“Do you have any pencils? 'Cause I make mistakes.”

“They're in with the pens…I make mistakes, too.”

“Okay.” Callie scooted off the settee, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Don't tell Daddy 'bout my surprise, okay?”

Clamping her lips shut, Betsy curved her thumb and index finger against her lips and turned it in a locking motion. “Your secret is safe with me.”

As the little girl disappeared inside, Kyle's pace quickened. “Where is she going?”

“She's working on a surprise. For you.”

He stepped onto the porch, his uniform from yesterday replaced by a pair of jeans and a Chicago Cubs shirt. “She can work on a surprise at home.”

Betsy placed a gentle hand on his chest as he approached the door, the feel of his skin beneath hers unleashing the butterflies in her stomach. “Please, I want to help her with this. It was my fault she was upset yesterday afternoon and I'm sorry about that.”

“My daughter is none of your concern.”

She winced at the anger in his voice but stood firm. “I'd like her to be.”

“She doesn't need you riding in, trying to fill some void you perceive in her life only to turn around and ride out as quick as you can. She's fine.”

“A void? In her life?” Betsy jerked her head in the
direction of the closed door and held a finger to her lips to quiet his rising voice. “I'd be blind not to see that's one well-adjusted little girl in there. If there's a void in someone's life…it's mine.”

Shock chased anger from his face. “Yours?”

She shrugged. “I've felt more pangs of healing in the three days I've been in this town than in the twelve months prior in New York. And spending time with Callie…talking about her poetry and listening to her innocent observations on the world around her is healing.
For me.
”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Then don't. Just accept my apology for being rude yesterday. It's what I was coming over to tell you when I found Callie on my front porch. My rudeness wasn't a reflection of anything you did or didn't do. Not the you that's standing in front of me right now, anyway. It's what comes along
with
you…when you're dressed the other way.”

She met his gaze, felt her defenses cracking at the raw emotion splayed across his face. “Dressed the other way? What does that— Wait! You don't like the fact that I'm a cop?”

“I admire the fact that you're a police officer. I respect what you've decided to do with your life but it's what comes with—”

Callie appeared on the other side of the door, her face stretched nearly ear to ear by a grin that magnified the sapphire-blue eyes she shared with her father. “Daddy, guess what?”

She felt his eyes leave her face, swallowed at the break in the scrutiny as he addressed his daughter with an air of distraction. “What's that, pumpkin?”

“Miss Anderson put my flower exactly where I said. It's right next to her computer.”

“Of course I did.” Betsy matched Callie's smile with one of her own. “The color reminds me to be happy.”

“You need a reminder?” Kyle asked.

“Sometimes, yeah.” And it was true. Though, for some reason, happiness was coming a little easier since arriving in Cedar Creek.

For a long moment he simply studied her, the sudden silence between them anything but awkward. When he finally spoke, he addressed Callie with his words while maintaining his visual focus on Betsy.

“I was thinking, Callie, about those hamburgers and hotdogs we bought the other day. The pretzels, too. What do you say we have a barbecue tonight and invite Tom and Ang to join us? Miss Anderson here, too…if she can put aside her writing for a few hours.”

Callie's squeal escaped the screen between them, her enthusiasm matched only by the sound of her feet as they jumped up and down. “Can you? Can you, Miss Anderson? My daddy makes the best hamburgers
ever.
”

A deep breath chased away the parade of fears that threatened to answer for her. Betsy winked at Callie before looking back at Kyle. “The best burgers
ever?
Wow…with an endorsement like that, how could I even think about declining?”

She knew she was staring but she couldn't help herself. In or out of uniform, there was no denying the fact that Kyle Brennan was a good-looking man. Though, in all fairness, she wouldn't mind seeing what he looked like with absolutely nothing on.

Feeling her face warm at the thought, Betsy returned her attention to the version flipping burgers in front of her rather than the version in her fantasies. The man at the grill was an alluring mixture of confidence and approachability with a healthy dash of both playfulness and sincerity.

“Pretty easy on the eyes, isn't he?”

Startled, she looked up as Angela dropped down on the picnic bench beside her, her face flushed from an intense game of one-on-one volleyball with her husband. “What are you talking about?”

Angela jerked her head in the direction of the grill. “The host.”

“I'm not sure I know what you mean.” She knew the words were lame, the believability behind them laughable, but she gave it a shot anyway.

“You know exactly what I mean. You've been eyeing
Kyle for the past ten minutes. I know it. Tom knows it. And Kyle knows it.”

She gripped the edge of the picnic table as her mouth grew dry. “You think he knows?”

Rolling her eyes skyward, Angela reached for a chip from the brimming bowl in front of them. “You think most men naturally flex their muscles while lifting a beer bottle or handling a spatula?”

She laughed in spite of her embarrassment. “You think that was for my benefit?”

“Judging by the way he watched you from the corner of his eye every time he did it…I'd say, yeah.” Angela considered the half-eaten chip in her hand before popping it into her mouth. When she was done chewing, she continued. “And judging by the way you were watching every move he made, I'd say he was successful in his mission.”

“His mission?” Betsy rested her head on her fist and grinned at her new friend. “You think he has a mission?”

“Do pigs fly?”

She laughed. “Actually, no.”

“Oh, sorry. Bad analogy.” Angela looked around the Brennans' backyard, her eyes stopping on the swing set where Callie was happily doing tricks on the monkey rings for Tom. “Is Callie Brennan cuteness personified?”

Lifting her head from her hand, Betsy looked from Angela to Callie and back again. “You're
that
sure he's trying to impress me?”

“And then some.” Retrieving another chip, Angela held it out to Betsy, who shook her head, prompting Angela to make a face before happily munching away.
“This is exactly why the chubby get chubbier and the thin stay thin. Anyway…is it working?”

Her gaze traveled back to the grill and the man standing in front of it, a beer bottle in one hand, a spatula in the other. “Is what working?”

Angela's hearty laugh got Kyle's attention but not before he caught Betsy looking and flashed a knee-weakening smile in her direction. “Hey, just because I'm slaving over this hot grill doesn't mean I should be left out of all the fun. What's going on over there?”

“Nothing more than two chicks ogling the chef.”

Betsy felt her mouth gape open, her face flame red. Looking down at the table she peeked up through long lashes to find Kyle sporting an aura of satisfaction. To Angela she gasped, “What are you doing?”

“Giving things a little nudge.”

“What things?”

“You and Kyle. You're perfect together.”

She widened her eyes in mock horror.

“Oh, c'mon… Handsome, yet skittish cop. Beautiful, yet wounded next-door neighbor. You couldn't write it better yourself, Betsy.” Angela dug her hand back into the bowl. “But being the impatient reader I am, I want you two to skip straight to the good parts.”

“Good parts?” Tom asked as he plopped down on the bench across from them. “What good parts?”

She shook her head at Angela but it was too late. “The hot and heavy date, the wildly intense sexual buildup.”

“Whoa, now. What'd I miss?” Tom looked from Angela to Betsy and back again before looking over his shoulder at Kyle. “You could have told me I was missing this kind of conversation, dude.”

Exhaling a soft groan of embarrassment, Betsy rested
her forehead back on her hand as Kyle's voice tickled her ears. “I was too busy trying to follow it for myself, partner.”

She dropped her head all the way onto the table.

“Daddy, you better hurry up with those ham burgers…Miss Anderson looks mighty hungry.” Callie's soft little hand stroked the side of Betsy's cheek, her eyes rounding as she did. “And maybe get out the sprinkler because she seems really hot.”

Where's the rewind button when you need it?

“No ‘seems' about it.” The huskiness of Kyle's voice and the meaning behind his words made Betsy lift her head just in time to see Angela's thumb shoot up at Tom in a celebratory gesture. “Now, who's ready for a burger and a dog?”

Tom leaped to his feet, stopping only long enough to hike his shorts upward on his rounded form. “Don't have to ask me twice.”

“C'mon, Miss Anderson. You're gonna love my daddy's burgers. They're really, really yummy.”

“Just like Daddy,” Angela quipped devilishly, her voice just loud enough for Betsy's ears.

 

I
T WAS HARD NOT TO NOTICE
how well Callie and Betsy hit it off, their rapport one of mutual admiration and interest—Callie intrigued by Betsy's career, Betsy fascinated by Callie's…

Youth?

Sweetness?

He wasn't entirely sure.

Kyle turned the scraper in his hand and pushed it against the wire rack, his attention on the mismatched volleyball game in front of him. Or, rather, the woman
in the white shorts and yellow halter top who had teamed up with his daughter to take on the Murphys.

His gaze followed the soft curves of Betsy's body as she stood poised and ready at the net, lingered on the long shapely legs that darted around Callie with ease. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have those legs wrapped around him.

“You gonna keep messin' with that grill or are you gonna get out here and play?” Tom's voice carried across the lawn before being cut off by a stray ball to the face. “Whoa now.”

Callie's giggle propelled him from the grill, his desire to spend time with her met only by his desire to be as close to Betsy as possible. Jogging over to the net, he took his place behind his next-door neighbor as she waited for the ball, his attention stolen from the game by the way her shorts framed her—

Whump.

Kyle staggered backward, his hand holding his head.

In an instant Betsy was at his side, her long slender hand pulling his backward. “Are you okay?”

He inhaled her scent, an alluring mixture of violets and soap that got his heart thumping and his body reacting.

“That's what you get for not keeping your eye on the ball where it belongs, dude.” Tom didn't even bother hiding his smile as he flashed a knowing look at Kyle. “Your eyes need to be focused on game-level not—”

“Yeah, I got it, Tom,” he said, cutting his partner off midsentence but not before catching a note of curiosity on Betsy's face. To her, he said, “Shall we take them down?”

Her mouth tugged upward in a conspiratorial smile that nearly rocked his world. “Oh, yeah.”

For the next ten minutes the two of them dashed around in pursuit of the ball, high-fiving one another as spike after spike left their opponents speechless. More than a few times Betsy bumped into him while moving back for a volley—a contact he could have avoided but opted not to. Every time it happened he felt his body react, hoped and prayed she didn't notice. Her laughter was intoxicating, making his head spin with a level of desire that was foreign yet undeniably exciting.

There was no doubt about it. Betsy Anderson stirred things inside him. Things that would be best explored in private…with candles burning…soft music playing…and no one around for miles…

Whump.

Again, her hands were on him, the feel even more heady than it had been the first time thanks to the images that had been playing in his mind since the game started. “You're going to be black and blue by the time this game is over.”

“Nah, I'll be—”

“Gotta keep your eyes on the ball
and
your head in the game, dude.”

“My head
is
in the game,” he countered as he shook off the latest ball strike.

“Not in this game it ain't.” Tom looked at his watch and then his wife, his teasing grin turning to one of affection. “It's getting kind of late. What say we wrap this up and head home?”

Angela looked as if she was about to protest until she followed the direction Tom's not so subtle eyebrows were indicating. Kyle grinned. There were times Tom was a bit thick, slow to get a hint even when it was fairly
obvious to everyone else around him. But this time he was getting it before Kyle even gave it.

After the Murphys left, Betsy stayed behind to help shuttle dishes and leftovers into his kitchen, chattering with Callie the whole time. Once everything was inside and put away, she took a step toward the door, a move he stopped with a gentle hand on her arm. “Let me put Callie to bed and then walk you home.”

She gazed up at him through thickly lashed eyes, a sweet yet smoldering look that made him wish, for that moment, that he had a nanny. “It's just next door. I won't get lost.”

“I know, but I want to walk you home.” Turning to his daughter, he felt an entirely different pull on his heart—the kind of pull that made him feel like a superman and a ball of mush all at the same time. “Hey, pumpkin, I think it's time you went off to dreamland, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” And as easy as that, Callie slipped her hand inside his and led the way down the hall, waving good-night at Betsy before disappearing into her room. After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, she climbed into bed and settled her head on her pillow. Looking up at him, she flashed a sleepy smile. “She's really pretty, isn't she?”

He cocked his head as he smoothed her hair from her face. “Who is?”

“Miss Anderson.” Callie yawned, her words growing softer and more difficult to discern. “And she's really, really nice, too.”

As his daughter's eyes drooped closed, he bent over and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Yes, she is. On both counts.”

Once he was sure his daughter was fast asleep, he headed back out to the living room and a waiting
Betsy, his heart rate accelerating as she came into view. “Thanks for waiting.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the kitchen door and out into the now-empty backyard. “I'm glad you came tonight. I really enjoyed having you here.”

“I enjoyed being here. I can't tell you the last time I had this much fun.”

He stole a glance at her face as they walked between their homes, their bodies fitting easily through a gap in the hedge line. “Any chance you'd be up for some more tomorrow?”

“More what?”

“Fun.”

The soft, melodic sound of her laughter brought an instant smile to his lips. “Will there be burgers involved?” she asked.

“Now you sound like Callie.” He reached for her arm as they approached her back door, turning her slightly so their eyes met. “I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic at the park for just the three of us. Maybe some sandwiches, some chips, some fruit.”

Her hand came down on his, her eyes sparkling in the glow of the moon. “Ooh, let me pack it. To repay you for such a nice time tonight.”

“Your smile is all the payment I need.”

She blushed. “Please. I'd like to do this.”

“Okay. Say three o'clock?”

“You don't have to work tomorrow?” she asked.

“I've got a six-to-two tomorrow. But enough about that…” He stepped closer, reveled in the feel of her body in such close proximity to his own. Lifting her chin with his fingers, he closed his mouth over hers, felt the sensuous heat as his tongue slid between her lips—teasing, exploring, tasting. Their tongues danced
with one another as she molded against him, her arms snaking around his neck as his hands found her tiny waist. He pulled her toward him, wanting her to feel his attraction, to know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—how much he wanted her at that moment.

Finally she pulled away, the longing in her eyes surely a mirror of his own. “You need to get back…to Callie. But I'll see you both tomorrow.”

He reached out, held her face in his hand as he soaked up every detail of her expression, committing it to memory. “I can hardly wait.”