A Mom for Callie (6 page)

Betsy padded into the kitchen, her pink slippers making a soft tapping sound on the linoleum. For the first time in months she'd slept through the night, hope winning out over the nightmares and regrets that ordinarily drove her from bed before dawn. And it was all because of Kyle Brennan.

Or, rather, the slack she'd finally cut herself where he was concerned.

He was fun.

He was sweet.

He was a loving and attentive father.

He was accomplished at the grill.

He was gorgeous.

And he was an amazing kisser.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the counter and inhaled the memory of his lips on hers, savored the passion that fired between them as their backyard goodbye had threatened to become an all-night affair. The verbal details of their impending picnic in the park had melted on their tongues as his lips strayed from hers in search of her chin, her neck, her shoulders—a methodically sensual exploration that had been cut short by a strange sound behind Kyle's house.

In a split second their moment had ended, Kyle's hand finding hers for a quick squeeze before running back toward his home and Callie. What the sound was, or what exactly had caused it, she didn't know. But what she did know was simple.

She was falling for Kyle Brennan.

Officer
Kyle Brennan.

Was she crazy for allowing herself to get tied up with a police officer—a person who swore to protect the public at all cost? Was she insane to put her heart on the line once again—knowing that this time it was actually engaged?

Probably. But being a police officer in Cedar Creek, Illinois, was a far cry from its big-city counterpart. Here, people left their doors unlocked at night. Here, people retired for the evening when the sun went down. And here, everyone knew everyone.

It was okay. Falling for Kyle Brennan was okay.

She peered at the microwave clock, making note of how long she had before being with Kyle again. Six hours would be more than enough time to get a little writing in, get herself showered and dressed and to prepare a picnic lunch that would appeal to both Callie and her dad.

The ring of her cell phone put an instant stop to the mental inventory of her refrigerator, the jingle it boasted signaling a call she couldn't ignore.

Marsha Greene had been her editor since day one with Yorkshire Publishing and, for the most part, it had been a relationship of mutual respect. Lately, though, things had been different and it was Betsy's fault.

Lifting the phone from her purse, she flipped it open and held it to her cheek. “Good morning, Marsha.”

“Betsy.”

“What can I do for you today?”

“You can tell me when you'll deliver your next book so I can stop looking at the floor every time my boss asks me that question.”

She could hear the stress in the woman's voice and rushed to reassure her. “You'll have it on your desk in six months.”

“Six months is much too long, Betsy. Especially for a book we should have had six months ago.”

“Marsha, I've been trying. I just didn't have anything that could come close to what you need from me.”

“And now you do?”

Betsy sat in front of her computer and opened the file that would, eventually, be her next novel. Other than her name and address in the top left corner, she had nothing.

Not on paper anyway.

“Yes, I do. It's been percolating in my mind almost nonstop the past few days and I think I'm ready to go.”

“Then go. I'll be expecting it on my desk by the first of August.”

She rolled her mouse over the calendar icon on her toolbar and clicked, the year-at-a-glance feature causing a reflexive swallow. “That's three months away.”

“Yes, it is.”

A slew of protests sprang up inside her throat only to be swallowed back down. She'd only herself to blame after her nearly yearlong pity party. Now it was high time to put an end to the festivities and begin the long-awaited cleanup process on her life.

Squaring her shoulders, she inhaled deeply, deter
mined not only to get back in the game but also to win one for the team. “You'll have it on your desk by the first of August.”

 

“B
RENNAN
, M
URPHY…IN HERE
,
now.
”

Kyle glanced at his partner as they stopped, in unison, outside the lieutenant's door, the man's bluntness as much a given around the department as off-color jokes and tall tales. In fact, it was the rare occasion when their boss was polite that they had reason to worry.

“Lieutenant, you're looking well.”

“Shut your piehole, Murphy.”

“I'll do that, sir.” Tom threw his shoulders back as he clicked his heels and came to parade rest.

Kyle rolled his eyes then cut to the chase. “What's up, Lieutenant?”

“My antennae…as should be yours, Brennan.” Doug Grady pushed his chair back and stood, his stance one of tension. “We've got a problem.”

“A problem?” He stole a glance at his partner, confirming that he, too, was clueless as to the direction of this particular conversation.

“Rumblings have been called to the department's attention.”

“Come to think of it, I could use some food myself.” Tom smacked his hand into Kyle's arm. “Hot dogs sound good to you, Ky?”

Shaking his head, he kept his attention focused solely on the lieutenant as reality overshadowed his friend's futile attempt to lighten the mood. “Does this have something to do with the perp from the bank?”

Doug raked a hand through his crop of salt-and-pepper hair, nodding as he did. “You were right. About
all of it. The two of them were part of a gang. One that appears to have fairly long-reaching arms.”

“How long?”

“Long enough to keep you on your toes, Brennan.” The lieutenant walked over to the window that overlooked Cedar Creek's town square and spun around, his gaze a mixture of anger and concern. “Word on the street has it that you ruined their fun. And now they're wanting to repay the favor.”

“Repay the favor?” Tom repeated.

Doug ignored Tom's question and focused, instead, on Kyle. “Home number still in your mother's maiden name?”

He shifted foot to foot, his stomach tightening as the implications of his boss's words took root. “Yes, sir.”

“You have a security system in your home?”

“The best kind,” he answered as his hand instinctively fell on the handle of his gun.

“But what about when you're not there? Is there a security system wired to your doors and windows?”

“No.”

“We're gonna change that.”

“We're?” Tom asked.

“The department, Murphy.”

“The department, sir?” Kyle echoed.

“That's right, Brennan. When we feel the safety of an officer's family may be in jeopardy, we'll take whatever precautions are necessary to correct the situation.”

“You think Callie—” He stopped, his mouth unable to put words to the thought squeezing his heart.

Doug's hand shot up in the air, his palm faced toward them. “We've got no reason to believe they know where you live. But Cedar Creek is a small town. Most people
know where our officers live. Whether that information can be coaxed out by a stranger remains to be seen.”

“But why Kyle?” Tom asked.

“Because Kyle was the one who arrested one of their own. The one who messed things up for them, so to speak.”

“But what about Logan? He cuffed the other one.”

The lieutenant waved Tom off. “But Kyle was the one caught in the camera lens with one hand on one of their buddies. And it was
that
perp who was working the camera…sending whatever message he was sending to his fellow thugs.”

“Oh, man—” Tom turned to look at Kyle. “Your name tag was in that shot, wasn't it?”

Kyle simply nodded, his mind racing to corral the implications of what he was hearing. Should he send Callie and his mom on a vacation for a while? Should he pack up her dolls and clothes and send her to live with Lila?

The last thought made his teeth clench, his hands fist in anger.

“Look, we've got no reason to believe these guys know where you live or that you have a daughter. None whatsoever. I'm just saying to be aware when you're at home. Keep the security system on when you're not. And if you hear anything…anything at—”

He knew the lieutenant was still talking, could see the man's mouth moving, but it was all lost on Kyle, drowned out by the sound that had cut short his kiss with Betsy less than twelve hours earlier.

At the time it had sounded like a stick snapping under the weight of a body, but when he'd jogged to the break in the hedge between the two properties, there'd been nothing.

Had it truly been a squirrel or a raccoon as he'd justified to himself at the time? Or could it have been someone outside his home…waiting, watching? The thought made him shiver.

“You holding something back, Brennan?” the lieutenant asked sharply.

“I don't think so.”

“What happened?”

He looked from his boss to his partner and back again, still unsure whether what he'd heard was something pertinent or absolutely nothing at all. “Last night. I walked my neighbor home after a little backyard barbecue and while we were…while we were saying good-night, I heard a sound. Like someone was walking around my house. But when I looked, I saw nothing. Chalked it up to an animal.”

“Maybe it was. And…maybe it wasn't. Let's hope it was the latter but be prepared for the former.” The lieutenant dropped back into his chair, planting his elbows on the top of his desk. “Now, get back to work…the both of you.”

With barely more than a nod, Kyle followed Tom back into the hallway and out into the parking lot that housed the department's fleet of patrol cars, the chief's warnings replaying their way through his mind. As they reached their car, Tom broke the silence, his usual joke-a-second attitude surprisingly muted. “You okay, dude?”

He shrugged then slid into the driver's seat of the patrol car while his partner took the passenger seat. “At this point it's all speculation—a bunch of ifs. Of course I'll be vigilant for Callie's sake. But I don't even know if that sound I heard last night was an animal or what.”

“You mean, the sound you heard while you were—”
Tom's voice changed, morphed into a near dead-on impression of Kyle's “—saying good-night to your next-door neighbor?”

He laughed, his partner's mimic a much-needed break after a tense conversation with their lieutenant. “Betsy is my next-door neighbor and we did say good-night.”

“I notice you didn't mention she's also hotter than hell.”

Kyle started the car. “I didn't mention the kiss, either.”

“Whoa hoa hoa…a kiss?” Tom's hand shot into the air in celebration only to come back down and punch Kyle in the shoulder. “Man, you move fast.”

“Fast was the other night…after pizza with you and Ang.” He stole a sidelong glance in his partner's direction as he steered the car out of its parking space and toward the main road that led through Cedar Creek. “Last night was much more slow. And hot. And—”

“And I'm just hearing about this
now?
”

“I didn't think I should kiss and tell.”

“Like she'd find out?” Tom asked, his voice echoing with stage-worthy indignation.

Kyle stared at Tom. “I love Ang, I really do. But she's not exactly adept at keeping secrets.” With anyone else, Kyle would worry that his words would offend. But with Tom, he knew he was safe.

“Because keeping secrets would mean having the ability to keep one's mouth closed.”

Kyle laughed. “Something like that.”

They rode in silence for a few blocks, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Tom spoke, his words jetting Kyle right back to Betsy's back stoop. “Was it good?”

“What?”

“Don't play coy with me, dude. Was it good?”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips as he turned the car onto Gander Street on the western edge of town, his foot instinctively letting off on the gas pedal as they approached the row of empty warehouses that dotted the area. “It was incredible.”

“When are you gonna see her again?”

A warm feeling spread throughout his body as the answer succeeded in chasing away the dread ushered in by his lieutenant. “At three o'clock. We're taking Callie to Paxton Park for a picnic.”

“Sounds good. I like her…she's a sweetheart.”

Tom's description rolled around in his thoughts as they pulled in and out of each and every empty lot, looking for any signs of criminal activity. A favorite spot for restless teenagers and the occasional small-time drug dealer, the derelict warehouses had become a bone of contention during many mayoral races over the past decade.

“Do me a favor when you're at the park today?”

He glanced over at his partner. “Be on my toes? Trust me, I'm already there.”

Tom shook his head. “I was thinkin' more the other way.”

“The other way?”

“Look, I realize you've got to keep your eye open after what Grady said…I get that. But don't let it ruin the picnic. Use that time to relax. With Betsy.”

Tom was right. What the lieutenant said certainly bore consideration and extra vigilance but it didn't have to consume him. Today was about him and Callie…and getting to know Betsy even more.

Inhaling the memory of Betsy's lips on his, Kyle smiled. “Roger that, partner.”

 

“D
ADDY, CAN
I
KNOCK
?”

Kyle smiled down at his daughter, the excitement in the little girl's eyes impossible to miss. “Absolutely.”

Callie knocked, the sound surprisingly loud against the door. “Did you remember the Frisbee?”