The Rivals (21 page)

Sarah was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It had been the longest day of her life. Or rather, the second longest. The longest had been the day Tom hadn't come home. At least this day had come to an end. Finally.

“You sure you're okay by yourself?” her boss said as he stopped in front of her house in the wee hours of the morning.

“I'm fine, Jim.” Sarah didn't want to remind him that Drew had taken her kids home, so she wouldn't be alone. She reached up to shove an errant strand of hair behind her ear and realized her hand was trembling. She quickly pulled it down, but it was too late.

“Yeah, sure. You're fine,” her boss muttered as he eyed her shaking hands. “Stay home tomorrow. Get some rest.”

“I'm fine,” Sarah protested. “Really.”

“You're on administrative leave until you talk to a psychologist and he says you're all right—up here,” Jim said, tapping his temple. “Those are the rules.”

“Really, I—”

“Shut up and get out of the car,” he said.

Sarah knew there was no use arguing. Her sergeant was a stickler for the rules. As she headed for the front door, she realized she might very well need the day off, depending on what shape her kids were in physically and emotionally.

Sarah had been anxious about what she might find at home. She certainly hadn't expected all the lights to be off and for everyone, including Drew, who lay prone on the living room couch, to be sound asleep. She closed the front door quietly, relieved that she could put off talking about what had happened. She wasn't sure she could relive the past night without falling apart.

She'd killed a man.

And she'd found Tom. Or rather, her kids had found Tom.

Sarah tiptoed down the hallway in the dim yellow glow of the night-light and checked in the boys' room to make sure they were all right.

She pulled the covers up over Ryan's shoulder and brushed a damp mop of hair from his brow before pressing her cheek against his forehead to see if he had a fever. He felt warm, but not hot. Then she crossed to Nate's bed, laid a hand gently against his warm—again, not hot—cheek and slid the covers over the one bare foot that always hung out at the bottom of the bed. Before she'd finished, the foot had found its way back out from under the covers.

She closed their door quietly and moved farther down the hall to Brooke's room, where she could see a light on under the door. She knocked softly and whispered, “Brooke?” as she opened the door.

Brooke was sitting cross-legged at the head of her bed wrapped in a blanket, the volume in her earphones so loud that Sarah could hear the raucous rap music across the room. Tears had dried on her stepdaughter's cheeks.

Sarah settled near enough to Brooke to lay a hand on her knee. “Do you want to talk?”

Brooke shook her head.

That wasn't unusual. Brooke never wanted to share her troubles. Sarah was reluctant to leave without offering what comfort she could. She didn't ask Brooke to remove her earphones, or even to turn down the volume. She simply talked, sharing her feelings about the discovery of Tom's body.

“As horrible as it was to find your dad that way, I feel relieved to know what happened to him,” she began. “I never really believed he left us. But his truck was gone, and he'd threatened…” Sarah stopped and swallowed past the painful lump in her throat.

She looked into Brooke's dark, wounded eyes and said, “Now we know for sure that he loved us all too much ever to leave us, if he'd had a choice.” She looked down, unable to meet Brooke's gaze, and continued speaking.

The thumping, rhythmic cant in the background suddenly stopped.

Sarah looked up to see more tears sliding down Brooke's cheeks. She opened her arms and Brooke threw herself against Sarah's body.

Sarah held tight as the girl sobbed, “Poor Daddy. Oh, poor, poor Daddy.”

The mournful cries were muffled against Sarah's shoulder. She patted Brooke's back, her own throat aching with unshed tears. She hadn't cried yet for Tom, afraid to let go for fear that she wouldn't be able to stop.

Sarah wasn't sure how long they remained locked in each other's arms, but at last she felt the tension ease in Brooke's body and realized the exhausted girl had fallen asleep.

She laid Brooke down and covered her with the blanket that had been wrapped around her, kissing her on the cheek before she turned and left the room. She stepped into her own room, then realized she should cover Drew with a blanket. He was liable to get cold before morning. She grabbed a crocheted quilt from the foot of her bed and headed back to the living room.

To her surprise, Drew was no longer on the couch. She looked around and saw him standing in the doorway to the darkened kitchen.

“You're up,” she said.

“I should go,” he said. “It's late.”

She smiled wanly and said, “No, it's early.”

“How are you?” he asked.

She felt her chin quiver and gritted her teeth. She tried smiling again, but it didn't work. Her lips wobbled, and then crumpled. She wasn't sure which one of them moved first, but a moment later Drew's arms were wrapped tightly around her. She felt herself sagging as she gave in to grief. She felt him pick her up in his arms as she pressed her mouth against his chest and wailed out her sorrow.

“It's all right,” Drew crooned in her ear, as he settled both of them on the couch with her in his lap. “Cry all you want. I'm here, Sarah. I'll take care of you.”

Which made her wail all the harder and press her face even harder against his shoulder to muffle the sound. She didn't want to wake up the kids, or frighten them with the depth of her despair. She clung to Drew, her arms around his neck, her body as close as she could get it to his. She would have climbed inside him, if she could.

She was shuddering and shivering and couldn't seem to stop.

“Sarah?” Drew said.

She heard the concern in his voice and leaned back to look up into his face. “Did you see Tom?” she choked out. “Nobody seemed to think anything of digging him up right in front of me. He was…he was…”

“Oh, baby,” Drew said, tucking her head under his chin and holding her close. “I wondered why you seemed so calm. You didn't react and I thought…We're all stupid idiots. Me, most of all. I should have known you'd be torn apart inside. You don't have to be so strong, Sarah. I'm here.”

They were powerful, moving words to hear. A man to support her. A man to lean on. A man to trust. Sarah had been self-reliant for so very long. She'd been on her own for over a year, managing fine. But so lonely. And so scared all the time that she would make a wrong choice and the kids would suffer for it.

Drew was talking again, and she had to concentrate to understand what he was saying. “I suppose you're a basket case over that guy you shot, too,” he said. “I'm so sorry, Sarah. I wish I'd realized sooner how you felt. I would have sent the kids home with someone else and stayed with you.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I would have worried about them if they hadn't been with someone I trust.”

He slid a finger under her chin and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “You trust me, Sarah? With your kids? I'm the last person—”

“You're not like that miserable grandmother of yours,” she said softly, but fiercely. “You're a good man, Drew. I'd trust you with my kids any day of the week.”

She heard him swallow noisily.

“Thanks, Sarah.” He cleared his throat and said, “I'd better get out of here so you can get some sleep.”

“I can sleep in tomorrow. I'm on administrative leave for a couple of days.”

“Why's that?” he asked. “They're not giving you a hassle about shooting that guy, are they? Because if they are, I—”

“It's nothing like that. I had to answer a lot of questions, and I had to turn in my Glock as evidence, but they gave me a replacement weapon. I just have to get checked out by a psychologist to make sure I'm okay about the shooting before I can go back to work.”

His hand cupped her head and stroked her hair as he asked, “How are you feeling about it?”

“Sick to my stomach,” Sarah admitted. “Sick at heart. I would do it again, if I had to. But I hope I never have to. What I really want is to be a part of the investigation. I want to find out whether the guy I shot is connected to any of the politicians at that party.”

“Who says you can't?” Drew asked.

“I'm on administrative leave,” she reminded him.

“So what? Haven't you ever done any investigating when you weren't on duty?”

Sarah snickered. “Are you kidding? I've worked more hours off the clock over the past year than on, trying to find those missing girls. It's important to me, but I'm not the only deputy out there following up on leads and looking for Kate. My kids need me here.”

“I think they're fine, as far as their dousing in the river goes. I made sure they got hot baths or showers and were dressed warmly for bed.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said. “They seemed okay when I checked on them.”

“I suppose only time will tell whether they need some counseling.”

“It's available, if it comes to that,” Sarah said.

“I should leave now,” Drew said. “And let you get some sleep.”

“Don't go.”

Sarah saw the surprise on Drew's face. She couldn't quite believe she'd asked him to stay, but she didn't want to be alone for what remained of the night. She looked into his eyes, to make sure he understood that she wasn't offering sex, that all she wanted was comfort, a strong shoulder to lean on and a warm body next to hers to fend off the cold creeping through her.

“I'm here for you, Sarah, as long as you need me,” Drew said.

Sarah sagged against him, allowing the rigidity of control to seep from her body. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She was still on his lap, and she laid her head against his shoulder and slid her fingers into the soft hair at his nape. His heart thumped steadily against her ear.

“Sleep now,” he murmured, his hand threading through her hair to massage her scalp. “I've got you. You're safe with me.”

They were words she hadn't realized how much she needed to hear. Forty-eight hours ago she'd never even heard of Drew DeWitt. Now she would have trusted him with her life. She didn't want to think how she was going to feel when he left.

It was only a matter of time. The rich folks never stayed long. Jackson was too isolated. They came to enjoy the majesty of the Grand Tetons, to hunt or to take a whitewater raft trip down the Snake, or to ski the double diamond slopes. And then they were gone.

Drew was here to recuperate from a broken heart. When it was healed, he would go back to some big law firm in some big city to work. In the meantime, she was glad he was here.

“Drew,” she murmured.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmured back.

“Thank you for being here.”

“I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be,” he said. “Sleep now, Sarah. Rest.”

Sarah closed her eyes and listened for the thump of Drew's heart. She heard the house creak. And the heater come on. And felt an ache in her throat.

The tears slid silently down her cheeks. She felt Drew brush at one with his thumb, then lean down to kiss away another. She turned her face up to his, and their lips caught and held. Then she laid her head once more on his shoulder and gave in to the powerful lethargy that claimed her.

 

Drew woke up on Sarah's lumpy living room couch. Dawn had finally arrived. He smelled coffee. And bacon. He sat up, straightening his crooked neck carefully, and realized Sarah must have thrown the crocheted blanket over him when she got up to fix breakfast.

He lifted the blanket and smelled it, inhaling her scent. He was astounded at how short a time he'd known Sarah Barndollar, and how profoundly she'd affected his life. No one he knew would have believed he'd spent the night baby-sitting. Children hadn't been a part of his world—or his plans for the future.

While he'd experienced a great deal of passion with his former lover, Grayson Choate, he'd rarely felt the sort of connection he'd experienced with Sarah last night. He'd held her in his arms till she was asleep, and then, as gently as he could, had put her into her own bed, kissed her brow and left the room.

That sort of tenderness with a woman was much more frightening—and threatening—to the walls he'd built around himself than a tempestuous night of sex would have been.

He'd returned to the living room with the urge to bolt, to get out, to get away, to escape from the ties he could feel beginning to bind him to this family. The sense of panic was overwhelming.

Which was when he'd realized he didn't have a car to leave in. He'd considered calling a cab, but wasn't sure how likely a cabbie was to gossip about Sarah. He'd sat down on the couch and stared at the moonlight coming through the front window, wondering how he'd gotten himself so involved with this family. He remembered thinking how tired he was and how he wished he were home in his own bed.

He must have fallen asleep.

Drew still had the urge to flee, but even stronger was the urge to see Sarah. To know that she was all right. To comfort her. To protect her.

Shit. He sounded like some romance novel hero. But dammit, that was how he felt.

He scrubbed the sand out of his eyes and brushed his fingers through his lanky blond hair to flatten what was standing straight up and lift what had flattened against his scalp. He ran a hand across the dark stubble on his face and scratched his chin. And grinned. He must look like something the cat had dragged in.

He rose, stretched his arms high over his head and leaned back until his ribs almost cracked, then hitched up his jeans and headed for the kitchen.

Sarah stood at the stove with her back to him, humming a Faith Hill tune and wagging her jean-clad fanny in time to the music.