“You grew up
here?”
“Yeah.” She took the split
in the drive to the right and pulled up in front of the enormous
barn. Meticulous flowerbeds, Betty’s pride and joy, ran the length
of the white, metal-sided building with a green roof. Several
horses hung their heads out oversize windows.
“You must have loved it.”
Awe rode his smiling tone. “No wonder you seem more at home in your
jeans and T-shirt than the slacks and blouses you’ve been
wearing.”
Her throat thickened. She
was more a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, but she didn’t want to
know what else he’d noticed about her. “Nothing quite like
afternoons, weekends and summers mucking stalls, grooming horses,
cleaning tack and doing uncountable other chores.”
“Maybe.” He turned and
watched her as she put the Tahoe in park. “But what a place to go
when life gets too crazy. To hide your kids from the chaos. To hide
with them.”
She turned the engine off
and met his gaze. “Let me be crystal clear, Harte. I am
not
staying
here.”
“Mags.”
“No.” Shaking her head in
exhausted frustration, she chose her words carefully because she
didn’t want to fight. “I get it. Adalia’s dangerous. Protect me,
but don’t ask me to be a coward.”
His fingertip caressed the
barrel of his gun that he’d put beside him on the seat. “I’d rather
know you were safe out here.”
“I
need
to face this head-on, or I’m
not going to be able to look myself in the mirror.”
He opened his mouth then snapped it shut and
glared. His shoulders dropped and she knew she’d scored a point. He
tried to be abrasive and insensitive but was an insightful and
surprisingly sweet man. He could yell and scream the roof down, yet
had a knack for easing her grief and fear.
She respected him and enjoyed spending time
with him even with their current situation. Too bad.
She’d had no choice in losing Mike, but she’d
realized after awhile she’d taken the safe move, gone for what she
knew, settled. She would never settle again. She would be true to
herself, and if a man came into the picture, he would have to view
her as an equal partner. Harte couldn’t be that man for her. Maybe
for someone who could tolerate his need to be the alpha in all
things or handle the possibility of losing him to his job. She
however couldn’t take the risk—no matter how closely he fit her
desires.
Clearing the lump of
depression in her throat she forced a smile. “Argue later. My
family’s waiting.”
She moved away and hopped out of the Tahoe.
He tucked his gun in his waistband and pulled his shirttail out as
they approached the barn.
The faint smells of sweaty horses, just
cleaned leather, freshly dumped manure, and the stink of fly spray
welcomed her as she stepped into the barn offices. She pushed an
inner door open in time to hear Jared pleading a very serious case
to her mother.
“Grandma Di, tell Mom to
let me have a puppy. She has to do what you tell her. You’re the
mom.”
“Maybe you can try asking
her very nicely.” Her smile was patient and understanding as she
pulled a fat black and white puppy from Jared’s arms. “She’s right
behind you. Tell her hi and then go get your horse
ready.”
Jared spun around. His face
split into a blinding grin, the first Maggie had seen since Mike’s
death, as he bounced on his feet to her and Harte. “Mom! Can I have
a puppy? Please. Burke! Are you gonna watch me ride?”
Oh God.
Maggie’s heart lurched. Restrained tears lodged in her
throat. Her hand shook as she rested it on her son’s smiling face
and unable to speak, she nodded.
Harte glanced between them
before he ruffled Jared’s hair and knelt. “I’d love to see you
ride. First, tell me which puppy you’re going to pick.”
Maggie swiped at her eyes and looked away
from Jared and Harte huddled together. She’d wanted desperately to
see that delight on Jared’s face again. She just wished she
could’ve revived it, that she hadn’t had to send him away from home
for it to happen, and that she didn’t worry he would regress when
he left the farm and Harte left.
She looked to her mom, and the understanding
in her eyes grabbed Maggie by the throat. More tears threatened.
She fled to the bench she’d visited so often, detouring to the tool
shed long enough to grab a hammer.
Betty, Mike’s mom who lived in a house on the
opposite side of the farm, met her outside the shed, silently
followed with a raised brow, to the bench Mike had built. The
silence on the sunny day reminded her of being caught in the eye of
hurricane. The moment of peace which came between the bursts of
disaster.
With the latest developments, the last thing
Maggie needed was to be alone with Mike’s mom. She adored Betty as
much as her own mother, but keeping secrets from her was impossible
and she wasn’t ready to talk.
“You’re pushing yourself
too hard, Maggie.”
“I’m fine.” She swiped at
her lingering tears. “Jared’s smiling again.”
“It’s the puppies.” Betty
wrapped her arm around her waist. “It’s great to see him moving
past his grief.”
“It is. I should have let
him come earlier.” Defeated, she dropped the hammer and sank onto
the bench.
“He wouldn’t have been
happy until he was ready.” Betty lifted Maggie’s face and brushed a
loose hair from her face. “It had nothing to do with being
here.”
“I’m so confused.” Her son
was returning to the rambunctious boy he used to be. She shouldn’t
be sad.
“I’m guessing Detective
Harte is the biggest cause of that.”
Maggie hesitated, then nodded, hoping she
didn’t hurt Betty if she voiced her opinion. She fiddled with the
end of her braid and faced the truth. Harte had moved into her
heart more than she’d wanted. Knowing he wouldn’t want to be there
hurt more than any loss.
“Why does caring for him
scare you? You’ve always been sure of what you wanted.”
“He’s confusing. Kind and
gentle one minute, rude and bossy the next. He’s nothing like
Mike.”
“Perhaps those differences
are part of his appeal.” Betty squeezed her hand and smiled. “Part
of why you fell in love with him.”
“I didn’t say…” Maggie
leapt off the bench and paced. She cared about Harte, but love…
“No.” She batted her hair over her shoulder. “It’s too
soon.”
Betty raised her hands in
silent surrender. “I watched you and Mike grow up together. You
were best friends who slid into marriage easily. You were safe with
Mike, but he’s been gone a year. You’re a different
woman.”
She gaped at her
mother-in-law who was encouraging her to be with Harte. “Harte’s an
arrogant jerk. I haven’t known him near long enough to love
him.”
“He is also kind and
generous by your own admission.” Betty braced her elbows on her
knees and smiled serenely. “You were the perfect woman for my son,
but you deserve a stronger man.”
“Mike was…”
“Special. And he never
gave you the passion your spirit begged for. You loved him, but the
mention of his name never made you flush the way the mention of
Harte’s does.”
She could neither agree nor
disagree. The whole conversation was just too weird. “He’s keeping
secrets.” She couldn’t trust a man who didn’t trust her.
“It’s what cops do. As a
homicide cop, you probably don’t want him to tell you everything.”
Betty walked over and hugged her tight. “Talk to him. Tell him what
you want. You may be surprised.”
Maggie watched her
mother-in-law walk away. If only things could be as simple as
telling Harte what she wanted. He retreated instantly at the
quickest glimpse of intimacy. Besides she had to
know
what she wanted
before communicating it became possible. And then there were the
dangers he faced daily. Involvement with someone she could so
easily lose… No. Not happening beyond the length of his
case.
“There you are.” Harte’s
sexy voice startled her from the personal thoughts and shoved her
mind back to the real reason for their visit.
“Hey.” He approached her
with Emma cradled in his arms. How was it a man carrying a baby was
such a turn on?
“Are you okay? You seemed
sad in there.”
“I’m fine.” She ran a
finger down Emma’s cheek. She itched to hold her baby, but he
looked happier than she’d ever seen him. Stress drifted away,
leaving lightness in her spirit. His happiness filled her with
peace unlike years of agreeing with Mike had.
Was
this love? “Who had
Emma?”
“Phil. I didn’t realize
Mike’s parents had a house here as well.”
“Phil and my dad have
always been friends. They invented some gadget the government
bought. They made a good deal.” She smiled when Emma reached for
her. “Mom and Betty shared their dreams for this place.”
Sorrow darkened his cobalt
eyes as he passed Emma over. Tucking her daughter to her chest, she
narrowed her eyes and studied Harte. Suddenly, it occurred to her
why he seemed so scarred at times. “You were married.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t look
away like she’d expected him to.
“You wanted
children?”
He dropped to the bench.
Bracing his elbows on his knees so his hands hung down, his
shoulders drooped. “Almost had one.”
Seated beside him, curious
at his candor she edged closer. “What happened?”
“Her name was Samantha.
She was Craig’s sister.” His voice sounded gruff. “We were married
for nine months when she told me she was three months
pregnant.”
He drew in a breath so long
and deep his entire body shuddered. “I was working a case that was
getting dicey. She refused to go visit her parents out of
town.”
Maggie’s gut clenched. She knew where this
was heading.
“I was late picking her up
from work one night.” His voice broke. “The man we were after got
to her.”
Sadness and helplessness
and devastation floated in the blue sea of his eyes. The grief
crowded in her mind with memories of her own. No wonder he fought
for distance. She reminded him of what he’d lost. “Did you catch
him?”
“I heard the gunshots as I
walked into her office.” He stared straight ahead. His body shook
and his hands fisted as he relived the experience. “I rushed in,
weapon drawn. He turned the gun on me. She was lying at his
feet.”
“You killed
him.”
“Shot him in the
heart.”
His stark admission didn’t bother her, but
she suspected it bothered him. Not so much from his tone or body
language as from gaining a better insight into the non-cop side of
him. She wanted the closure he’d gotten, to look into the eyes of
her husband’s killer.
He shrugged and scrubbed a
hand over his eyes. “Sam used to say I was her safe haven. I wasn’t
safe enough.”
Maggie squeezed Emma
closer. How could she not remind him of his loss? He’d suffered the
loss of a child, and the agony of never knowing if the child he
would have worshiped would have had his eyes. He saw his need to
protect her as a duty, and her insistence to maintain some
day-to-day normalcy took him back to his wife. “Harte.”
She touched his hand. A
shiver coursed through his body. He gripped her hand tightly and
closed his eyes. “Being with you… Mags, you rip me up inside. You
make me remember everything I’ve lost.”
Tears pooled in his eyes as
his big hand moved to cup Emma’s head. His thumb rubbed back and
forth. “The first time I saw Emma, I had a flash of what it might
have been like to hold my own child. I resented you even while I
knew how you must have suffered.”
“We survived.” She cupped
her hand over his on Emma and hoped he knew she included
him.
“Yeah, and we’re going to
survive this.” He grabbed the hammer she’d brought out effectively
severing the moment. “Now, where are the scrolls?”
Her focus fuzzed into
grainy thoughts as she shifted away from emotional territory to
crime fighting. “We’re sitting on them.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mike built this bench for
us. No problems existed here, only peace. There’s never been a
safer place than this farm.” She stood. When Harte did the same she
used her foot to knock the bench over so the legs faced up. “Pop
the legs off and I bet you’ll find the scrolls.”
He tapped each leg with the hammer, listening
for sounds of one being hollow. With a nod, he dropped the hammer,
stepped into the center of the bench, standing on the base of the
seat and aimed well-placed, powerful kicks at two of the legs. They
snapped off.
A scroll popped out of the
top of each leg. They’d been wrapped in cloth and then plastic.
She’d sat on the reason for Mike’s death many of times over the
last year. If she’d known, if he’d trusted her to handle something
beyond a meal plan, if he’d just told her what was going on…
Think about that later.
“Are you sure the other
legs are empty?”
“Yeah,” Harte said.
“They’re solid.”
“Then let’s go find
answers.”