Single Dad Sheriff (Harlequin American Romance) (7 page)

“Full custody,” she murmured, her stomach churning at the thought. Chance should understand more than anyone else why she wasn't willing to take the risk of revealing Tommy's paternity.

“Now I'm doing the same.”

“What?” she asked, shocked at the bitterness and resentment in his deep voice.

“I'm suing her for full custody.”

She released a sigh of regret. He wouldn't understand, especially since he'd just given her another reason not to contact Tommy's father—the fear that he might react as vengefully as Chance had. “So you want to take him away from his mother, uproot him from his school and his friends and move him here to Forest Glen?”

“You don't understand the situation,” he said, his jaw tense again.

Jessie laughed at his hypocrisy. “That sounds familiar.”

“I want what's best for my son,” he insisted.

“Me, too.”

He nodded, as if he'd finally accepted her right to keep Tommy's paternity secret. “Matthew will love it here,” he said, “like I did when I used to come stay with
my grandma. It's a great place to raise a kid.” He looked at her inquisitively. “Isn't that why you stay?”

She'd always figured that she was here because she didn't have anywhere else to go. But even if she did, she wouldn't leave. Forest Glen was the home she'd always wanted. “It's a great town,” she agreed. “So you're staying?”

“For now.”

“You'll win the election this fall,” she assured him, as if he could have had any doubts after the reaction to his announcement to run.

“It's not the election I'm worried about.”

“The custody case,” she said again, her stomach churning with her own fears regarding such a battle.

“I thought about it before I filed,” he said. “I really feel that I can give him much more than I'd be taking away from him.”

“You think you can replace his mother?” she asked, horrified.

“No. But I think I can be as good a parent, if not better. I'll have more time to spend with him here than Robyn ever has.”

And he thought he'd be able to make up for the time he'd been away from his son. She understood. She didn't agree with what he was doing, but she understood. If only he could really do the same with her…

“So if you don't win full custody, you won't stay here?” she asked.

His broad shoulders lifted in a jerky shrug. “I don't know what I'll do.”

The hint of vulnerability in his words had Jessie reaching out to him. Her fingers skimmed across the back of his hand. Her touch was the only support she
could offer him. He turned his hand over. His fingers brushed across hers, then entwined. He squeezed.

Tommy glanced up from his conversation with Christopher and stared at their joined hands. Jessie tugged her hand free of Chance's. No doubt Tommy wasn't the only one who'd noticed as the crowd spilled from the meeting hall behind them.

“You don't know what you've done,” she murmured.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a slight grin.

She sighed and tilted her head in the direction of their audience. “You followed me out of there, right?”

“Yes. I intended to ask you if you would mind my talking to Tommy and enlisting his help, but then he ran up.”

“You followed me out in front of everyone?”

He nodded again and then grimaced as realization dawned. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said. “People were already gossiping about us, and now…”

“Do you care?”

“No,” she admitted, except it might encourage her boss's matchmaking and increase her cousin's teasing. “I stopped caring what people thought about me a long time ago.”

“Let me guess…eight years ago?”

“Yes.”

“So you'll still help me get my house ready for Matthew?”

“Tommy's helping you.” And she was okay with that; Tommy could use a strong male role model.

“He doesn't paint,” Chance reminded her. “And neither do I.”

She had offered to help, but with her skin tingling
from just the brief touch of his hand, she debated the wisdom of that decision. It might be good for Tommy to have a man in his life, but she wasn't so sure about herself. Actually, she wasn't so sure about this man…not after learning that he was doing to his ex what she feared most. He was taking away her son.

“Wow,” Chance murmured as he stared down at the paper Tommy Phillips had unfurled across the table in the kitchen of the old farmhouse. He'd expected a crude crayon drawing when the kid had announced he'd drawn up the plans for the tree house. But these sketches were detailed and realistic and looked nearly professional.

He glanced over the boy's head to meet Jessie's gaze where she leaned against the white cabinets. “I thought you were going to nursing school, not architecture.”

“I am,” she said, her lips curving into a slight smile. “He did it himself.”

Chance turned to Tommy then. “You did this on your own?”

The redhead bobbed. “Yeah. I looked up some tree house plans online and made some 'justments. I figured you'd wanna spend some time up there, too, so it had to be big enough for you.” The kid's small finger pointed out the support beams he'd penciled in. “That's why I put in these, to hold everything up.”

“Wow,” Chance said again. The kid really was bright. “This is amazing. I couldn't have done better myself.”

Tommy's face flushed nearly as red as his freckles, but he beamed with pride and pleasure at Chance's
compliment. Then the kid wadded up the plans, crumpled them under his arm, and jerked open the back door of the kitchen. “What tree?” he asked as he rushed out into the yard.

Jessie moved to follow her son, but Chance caught her, wrapping his fingers lightly around her wrist. She shivered, but it couldn't have been from cold. Afternoon sunshine warmed the yard and the house. She lifted her gaze to his, her green eyes dilating as he leaned closer. He was tempted to steal that kiss his friend had interrupted a week ago, but Tommy turned around and called back to them.

“You two coming?” he asked, his voice high with excitement and impatience.

Chance nodded. “In a minute.”

“I'm sorry we just dropped in,” Jessie said, tugging her wrist free of his grasp. “If you're in the middle of something…”

He shook his head. “No. I'm glad you came by so soon. But when I asked you for help the other day, I didn't expect…”

Her lips curved into a slight smile. “No one does. Tommy's my little genius.”

“He is,” Chance agreed. “How can you not think that a kid that smart would be able to understand whatever your story is about his father?”

Jessie's eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened into that stubborn line. “My story? Whatever I tell Tommy will be the truth.”

“What is it, Jessie?” he asked. He wanted to know for more than Tommy's sake now. He wanted to know for his own.

She dragged in an audible breath as if bracing herself.
“I didn't come over here for you to interrogate me again,” she said, and gestured toward her faded jeans and paint-stained sweatshirt. “Tommy and I came to help you get ready for your son's visit.”

Visit? While his heart beat faster in anticipation of finally seeing his boy again, a week wasn't good enough. He needed more time than that with his son. “I do appreciate—”

“Then let's call a truce,” she suggested. “I don't agree with you going for full custody of your son—”

“You don't understand,” he interrupted defensively, even as guilt nagged at him.

“And you don't understand why I want to wait to tell Tommy about his father,” she said. “So let's just accept that about each other.”

“We could try,” he suggested. Maybe if he could convince her he was doing the right thing, he could rid himself of his niggling doubts and guilt.

She shook her head. “For now, since you have such a short time to get ready for your son's visit, I think we should just agree to disagree. No more promises or judgments.”

“So a truce,” he said, repeating her offer.

She nodded. “We won't talk about our reasons for being single parents.”

“For now,” he agreed. But he wanted to have that talk with her someday, wanted to understand her reasons and her to understand his. He extended his hand.

She slid her palm against his, her fingers trembling slightly. Her skin was silky and warm, and that warmth spread up his arm. He wanted to tug her closer and finally take that kiss he'd been denied too long.

“Mom! Sheriff!” Tommy shouted. “C'mon!”

Jessie pulled free and rushed out to join her son in the yard. More slowly, his heart pounding hard, Chance followed her.

“That tree,” Tommy said, pointing to the tallest oak. “That's it!”

With its thick branches, it was the best choice for the tree house. Chance settled his hand onto the boy's thin shoulder. “Yeah, that's the tree.”

“Then we better get building,” Tommy said. “Where are your tools?”

Chance steered him over to the pile of lumber he'd bought. And he lifted off the small tool apron he'd picked up for the boy. “This is for you.”

Tommy grinned and wrapped the belt around his waist. “This is cool.”

Chance glanced over at Jessie, who was still staring up at the tree. He left Tommy at the pile of lumber and walked back over to her. “Is this all right?” he asked.

“I'm not sure I want Tommy that high up in the tree,” she admitted, her voice quavering slightly. “I don't want him getting hurt.”

“I'll make sure he doesn't,” Chance assured her.

She stared up at him now, as fearfully as she had at the tree. “I thought you weren't going to make any more promises you might not be able to keep.”

And he knew that she wasn't just talking about Tommy getting physically hurt. She was talking about him getting too attached to Chance and Chance having to leave if he lost his custody battle. “You're right,” he agreed. “I can't make any more promises.”

To Tommy or to his mother.

 

“S
O DO YOU THINK
that tree's big enough?” Christopher asked.

Tommy stepped back and eyed the pine tree the same way Chance had sized up the oak in his backyard. The sheriff's backyard was a lot bigger and had way more older trees than Tommy and his mom's puny yard. He shook his head. “Nah. It's not as tall as the one Chance and me built his tree house in.”

“Chance?”

“The sheriff,” he said then drew in a breath that puffed out his chest. “He told me to call him Chance.”

“You and your mom been spending a lot of time with him,” Christopher said, and he was looking at Tommy like Tommy had looked at that tree, sizing him up. Christopher was a year older than him and pretty smart.

“Yeah. Mom's been painting inside the house for him. She's good at that dec'rating stuff.” 'Course she'd asked his opinion, and Tommy had been sure to tell her that ten was too old for trains or stuffed animals or any other baby stuff. She'd promised to redo his room after she finished at the sheriff's house. “Matthew's gonna love what she did over there.”

Like the yard, the house was bigger than theirs, too, with lots of big rooms and a scary attic and basement. Cool places for hide and seek.

“Who's Matthew?” Christopher asked.

“I told you,” he said with an impatient sigh. Maybe Christopher wasn't as smart as Tommy had thought. It would be cool to hang out with someone even older than Christopher and more grown up, like Matthew. “He's the sheriff's son.”

“The sheriff's married?” Christopher asked.

Tommy sighed again, disgusted that his friend couldn't keep up with him. But then most kids couldn't. That was why he usually hung out with older kids. Would Matt want to hang out with him? “Not all moms and dads are married like yours, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“Chance is divorced from Matthew's mom. She's finally letting him come visit, so Chance has had me and Mom helping him get ready.” Tommy rolled his shoulder, which was a little sore from all the catch he'd played. Chance had told Tommy that he was really good at throwing, that he'd probably be a pitcher in the big leagues some day. He'd felt super proud.

“So when's he coming?” Christopher asked.

“Spring break. It's the same as ours.”

“Next week, too?”

“Three days from today.” He and Chance had been marking the days off on the calendar they'd put up in the tree house.

“Me and my folks are going to Disney World,” Christopher said, as if Tommy didn't already know, as if the kid hadn't been telling everyone every day.

Tommy had been jealous, before, that his friend was going to get to go on all those rides. But now he didn't care. He was going to have fun, too, this break—with Chance and Matthew and his mom. “That's cool,” he said.

“Yeah. It's cool you're helping out the sheriff,” Christopher said. “Too bad he wasn't your dad, huh?”

Tommy's heart skipped a beat. “Yeah…but he's not.”

“You know somebody doesn't have to be your dad to be your dad.”

Tommy wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Huh?”

“Somebody can become your dad even if you don't have the same bio…biolog…blood.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like me,” Christopher said. “I'm adopted.”

“What?” Shock froze Tommy in place. Then he shook his head at his friend's fib. “Yeah, right, you look just like your dad.”

Christopher laughed. “Everybody says that. And it's cool. But he adopted me. Still, he's my dad.”

“So you don't know your real dad, either?” Tommy asked.

His friend shook his head, messing up his sandy brown curls. “Nope. And I don't care. I'd rather be with somebody who wants me than someone who doesn't.”

Tommy's heart hurt, as if it were getting squeezed. “Yeah, you're right. My dad doesn't want anything to do with me so I don't want anything to do with him!”

A loud gasp brought his attention round to the little deck at the back of his house. His mom leaned on the railing, and from the surprised look on her face, she must have heard what he said.

But she turned to his friend instead. “Christopher, your mother called. She wants you home for dinner.”

Probably wanting out of the weird situation, his friend waved goodbye and headed around the house to the front gate.

“Is our dinner ready?” Tommy asked.

“Yes,” his mom replied. “But we need to talk first.”

“'Bout what?” he asked, even though he knew. She'd definitely heard him. Her face was all serious-looking.

“I didn't know you thought that,” she said, her eyes shiny as if she was about to cry.

Tommy shrugged. “I get it. My dad's not around because he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be a dad.” Not like Chance did. Chance couldn't wait to see his son, to hang out with him. He wished his dad was like that. He wished his dad was Chance.

“I'm sorry, honey,” his mother said, her voice all soft and shaky.

Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back. He was not going to be a baby. “It's okay…”

“No, it's not,” she said. “Your dad doesn't know about you. I never told him.”

 

J
ESSIE WISHED
the words back the minute she uttered them. But she couldn't let Tommy believe that he'd been rejected. Keith had rejected her, not their son. Why had it never occurred to her that Tommy might believe that his father knew about him but wanted nothing to do with him?

And maybe it was true; maybe Keith wouldn't want anything to do with him even if he was aware that he had a son.

“Tommy, I'm so sorry,” she said, the words a whisper from the emotion choking her.

His eyes welling with tears, he shook his head. “You're not sorry!”

“Yes, I am,” she insisted. Guilt and regret overwhelmed her. “I should have told him about you. He would love you.” Even if he wasn't eager to be a father, Keith wouldn't reject Tommy; he wouldn't be able to resist their son. No one could. “Everybody who knows you loves you.”

“You don't!” he shouted, his face flushing dark with anger. “You don't love me!”

“Yes, I do,” she said. And that was why she'd been so scared of losing him. “I love you more than anyone else in this world.”

“If you loved me, you'd tell me the truth instead of treating me like a dumb baby,” he argued. “I'm not a baby!”

Not anymore. Her little boy had grown up when she wasn't looking. His teachers all praised his intelligence and his maturity. Maybe because it was just the two of them, he'd grown up faster than he should have and acted far older than his eight years. He was mature enough to know the truth of what she'd done.

“Tommy, I know that you're not a baby,” she agreed, “so I can tell you now. I'll tell you everything you want to know.”

He shook his head. “I don't want to talk to you. Not anymore. Not ever again! I hate you!”

Jessie wasn't too crazy about herself at the moment, but she couldn't condone his speaking to her that way. “Tommy…” She reached for him, trying to close her hands over his shaking shoulders.

But he jerked away from her, as if he couldn't bear for her to touch him. “I hate you,” he said again, his voice colder than she'd ever heard it.

And there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. At this moment, he meant what he said. Then he turned and ran in the direction his friend had gone, around the house and toward the gate at the front.

She restrained herself from chasing after him. After what she'd just revealed, she understood that he needed
some time alone to calm down. And she needed a moment to dash away her tears and compose herself.

He didn't mean it. Her loving, sweet son couldn't really hate her, not like she hated herself right now. Her legs shaking, she walked back into the house where their dinner cooled on the kitchen table. She'd made his favorite: lasagna with extra cheese and a salad he claimed he didn't like but then always ate seconds. She picked up the cordless phone and dialed the Johnsons' number, then cradled the receiver between her ear and her shoulder as she put the food away in plastic containers. Tommy would be hungry when he came home but maybe too tired from his emotional outburst to eat.