The Detective's 8 lb, 10 oz Surprise

by Meg Maxwell

  Georgia didn’t have a good answer for that. She certainly didn’t want a relationship like that either, but maybe when you were married for sixty years, you got cranky with each other. Not that her grandparents had done so. Essie and Benjamin Hurley had been married for forty years when Grandpa Ben had died of a heart attack. Georgia had never heard her grandparents talk like that to each other. Sure, they disagreed, they had arguments like all couples, but they treated each other with respect.

  Nick needed to see that. Couples who were kind to each other. He had to see love and respect in action. Perhaps she’d invite Annabel and her husband, West, and their daughter to dinner soon, and Nick could have longer than ten minutes to see how wonderfully loving marriage could be.

  Perked up, Georgia stared at her condo and knew that love had conquered its opposite. Her feelings for Nick were too strong for anything to topple them.

  Love, beautiful love, was possible. Happiness was possible. You just had to watch the signs, know which were red flags waving and run the other way. With James, she’d ignored a few very bright red flags early on before she knew what he was. She’d thought she was the problem. Her lack of experience. Her lack of sophistication. She’d been naive, but those days were over.

  The problem with Nick seemed to be that he thought of himself as a red flag.

  But she wasn’t running. Not from the good guy.

  Georgia Hurley: bullfighter. She almost laughed, but her chest puffed out a bit at the thought.

  “I’m ready to go,” she said, settling back in her seat, her mind at a certain peace. “I’m okay now. Houston is where our child was conceived, Nick. That’s what it’ll mean to me.”

  He eyed her, clearly skeptical of her Pollyanna-ness.

  “I’m not saying I’ve magically forgotten what happened here,” she added. “How terrified I was. But better, stronger memories were made here, Nick.” She put her hands on her belly. “This baby was created here.” She smiled and felt a swell of happiness inside her.

  He took her hand and looked at her, holding her gaze, his dark eyes soft on her. “I’m glad for you, Georgia. I really am.”

  She thought he might have turned a figurative corner with his own issues about places and memories and good feelings, good memories outweighing bad, but he slipped his hand away and turned the key in the ignition.

  “Let’s go visit the Pattersons and see if they recognize Timmy,” he said, moving on, which was what Nick liked to do. Move on.

  Nick made another left and drove about ten miles to a more run-down part of town. He slowed the car and came to a stop in front of a peeling, two-story small gray house with a chain-link fenced yard.

  “You know what I hate about my job?” Nick asked. “The part where you don’t know what you’re going to find when you knock. I’ve never gotten used to that.”

  “You knocked on my door and found me,” she whispered.

  He looked at her and took a deep breath but didn’t respond.

  * * *

  Nick felt something of a shiver as he rang the Pattersons’ doorbell. He’d thought Eleanor would have moved from this house after her husband’s death, but she never had. For the first few months, she’d said she just needed to adjust to all the changes in her life now that she was a widow and she’d wanted Dylan to stay in the same school. But two years later, she hadn’t moved.

  Georgia stood beside him, holding Timmy’s carrier. Nick wondered what reaction he’d get when Eleanor Patterson opened the door. He had no idea if he was on the right track here, if Timmy were connected to the Pattersons. His gut wasn’t telling him anything.

  But there was no response from inside. Nick rang the doorbell again. Then knocked. Still nothing.

  “Are you looking for Dylan?” a voice asked.

  Nick glanced to his left. An elderly woman was leaning out the window of her home next door.

  “Well, I’m looking for his mom, Eleanor,” Nick explained.

  The woman’s face fell. “Eleanor passed away about six months ago. A car accident.”

  Dammit. His shoulders sank, his chest tight. How much did Dylan have to deal with? The boy was only seventeen now if Nick remembered right. “And Dylan?”

  “I don’t see much of him these days,” the woman said. “He graduated from high school a couple of months ago and works in a diner. Short-order cook, I think.”

  “Do you know which one?” he asked.

  “It’s right up the street,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction. “Neon sign. Can’t miss it.”

  He thanked the woman, and he and Georgia got back in the car, Nick’s heart heavy. He shook his head, barely able to believe the hand that poor kid had been dealt. And Eleanor. After everything she’d been through. A damned car accident. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, his frustration getting the better of him. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Survived all that and gone.”

  Georgia finished settling Timmy in the backseat, then slid into the passenger seat and put her hand on his arm. “From what you told me of the case, Eleanor Patterson spent the past two years not being scared anymore—for herself and her boy. At least she had that. You helped her get settled into a new life, a life she was able to enjoy.”

  He nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “James wasn’t quite sixteen when his father died. Now he’s lost his mother, who he was very close to, before his eighteenth birthday.” He closed his eyes for a moment, sorrow hitting him in the stomach.

  “Let’s go see if we can find him at the diner,” Georgia said.

  Nick lifted his head and nodded. He could see the neon sign for the twenty-four-hour restaurant from here. Nick got out and unlatched Timmy’s carrier, and he and Georgia walked up the block and across the avenue to the corner diner.

  Inside the small restaurant, which smelled like bacon and burgers, a middle-aged waitress carrying a coffeepot nodded. “Sit anywhere.” She glanced at Timmy in the carrier Nick held. “Aw, cute baby.”

  He gave something of a smile, all he could muster. “Actually, we’re just looking for Dylan Patterson.” He glanced around. “I was told he might work here.”

  “He’s right back there,” she said, pointing to the pass-through between the kitchen and behind the counter.

  Nick could see an elbow, a hand flipping pancakes on the griddle. Then he saw a burger get flipped.

  “Dylan,” the woman called out. “Some folks to see you.”

  Dylan slid over and poked his head into view. He was a lot taller than he was two years ago, more muscular, but still looked like a kid. He stared at Nick in complete shock, then turned as if running away. Nick heard a screen door slamming shut.

  What the...? Did he just run? Nick handed Georgia the carrier and rushed through the swinging door of the kitchen, then through the screen door to the back alley. He could just make out Dylan hopping a fence.

  “Dylan, wait! I just want to talk to you!”

  But he was out of sight before Nick could even think about chasing him.

  Nick hurried back inside. “Has Dylan been in any kind of trouble lately?” he asked the waitress. “Trouble with the law?”

  The waitress shook her head. “Opposite. I’m the manager here, and Dylan is a model kid. Hard worker too. Comes in early every shift, stays late, wants as much overtime as possible.”

  “Dylan lives alone?” Nick asked.

  “He lives with his elderly great-aunt,” the woman said. “Ever since his mom passed. Dylan cares for her best he can since his mom died. She’s hard of hearing and on the frail side.”

  Poor Dylan. He’d been practically on his own for the past six months. Nick thanked the manager for her help and let her know that if Dylan came back, she should assure him he wasn’t in any trouble, that Nick just wanted to see how he was. After getting
Dylan’s cell phone number, he and Georgia left.

  “Why would he run?” Nick asked as they headed back to the car. “Why would he be afraid of me if he’s a model citizen?”

  Georgia shrugged. “Maybe we should stay a day or two. You could ask around about him. Speak to his aunt.”

  Nick nodded and resettled Timmy in the backseat, then opened Georgia’s door for her until she slid in and buckled herself in. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about being all right with being back here.”

  “I’m with you,” she said, her green eyes on his. “I feel safe.”

  He held her gaze, unable to look away. A surge of emotion hit him in the chest and it was so overpowering that he closed his eyes for a second. God, what was happening to him?

  He certainly couldn’t do this without her. On the teamwork front alone, he needed her to watch Timmy, hold Timmy, take care of Timmy. He couldn’t poke around on unofficial business with a baby in his arms.

  He was aware again of how much it comforted him to have her near, to know she was safe because she was by his side—but this time, there couldn’t be secrets. If something was wrong, he wanted to know. She hadn’t said a word about the other night, how he’d walked away from her after they made love. That had to have stung, unless he was flattering himself that sex with him meant anything to her. Regardless, he’d acted like a selfish, self-absorbed toad and she hadn’t called him out on it. He’d made some brief apology for his behavior and she’d accepted it and they’d moved on. But it had to bother her on some level, right?

  Again, maybe he was flattering himself. But he wanted her to speak her mind. If he did something wrong, he wanted to know it, even if it pissed him off. Which it probably would. Nick Slater liked to keep things swept under that ol’ rug where all the bits and pieces of his past lay either dormant or festering. Nick mentally shook his head at himself.

  He got in the driver’s seat and turned to face Georgia. “You’ll tell me if anything is wrong. If anything’s bothering you, right? No secrets this time. No matter what.”

  “Even if it bothers you to hear it?” she asked with a smile.

  Again it pricked at him that she seemed to know him so well. “Even if. I’m kind of the king of that lately, wouldn’t you say?”

  She smiled again and placed her hand on his for just a second. “You sure are. I will admit that I wish Timmy could speak and tell me what he needs,” she said as the baby fussed a bit, then settled. “I feel so helpless sometimes. I keep thinking I should have this down by now, but I don’t always know what to do.”

  He stared at her, surprised she felt that way. She seemed like a natural to him. Yes, she was learning as she went, since she had no experience with babies or children at all, but she was doing a hell of a job.

  “I guess I shouldn’t admit that to my boss,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your boss.”

  “Well, you kind of are. I’m your nanny. I work for you. You’re my boss.”

  He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of their spot in front of the Pattersons’ house. “I’m no one’s boss. Which is how I like it. I don’t have any interest in telling anyone what to do or how to do it.” Which was why he wouldn’t be much of a father.

  “But you uphold the law,” she said. “It’s your job to tell people what to do and how to do it.”

  “Almost a good point,” he conceded. “But I’m a detective. I solve crimes. I hunt for clues. I look over evidence. No one reports to me. I like it that way. I’m responsible to my cases. That’s as responsible as I want to be.”

  He thought about adding something so that he didn’t sound so...robotic or as though he didn’t care. He cared plenty.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You sure did tell your sister what to do and how to do it.”

  “That’s different. Avery is my kid sister. I am responsible for her. Legal adult now or not,” he added as he turned left toward the historic district.

  “You do know that love you feel for her, the responsibility you feel, all the stress over her decisions—that’s how parenthood feels,” she said. “You’re already doing it, Nick. A little bossily for someone who doesn’t want to be a boss, but quite well. You love Avery. You want the best for her. You care.”

  His chest tightened. Somehow the conversation had morphed from boss to fatherhood. “Taking care of a sixteen-year-old girl for two years isn’t the same as parenting a baby into adulthood. And if I did such a good job, then why is Avery marrying at eighteen? Running off to Nashville after some pie-in-the-sky dream?”

  “She’s engaged because she’s in love. Because she believes in love and marriage. Because she found the one—young, but she found him. And she’s chasing her dream because she believes in herself. I have no doubt you had a lot to do with that.”

  He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes straight ahead on the road. She just didn’t understand. Or he didn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t sure. But he was almost certain it was the first. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree, as they say.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Except I’m right.”

  He laughed. “I admit I like your confidence.”

  “I actually surprised myself with it. What do you know? I’m getting my groove back. In Houston, no less.” She sat up straight and lifted her chin. “I know I’ll be fine on my own,” she said, placing a hand on the swell of her belly. “I’ve got this,” she added—to her belly and not to him.

  He looked at her, full of admiration for her strength, full of...disappointment in himself for making her feel that she’d be alone in raising their son. He pulled over into a spot and put the car in park, turning to face her. “Georgia, I’ll take full responsibility for our baby. You know that, right? I will not let you or the baby down.”

  “Meaning you’ll sign your name to the birth certificate. You’ll fulfill financial obligations. You’ll come by a few times a month to see him, since you’ll probably be living in Houston.”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’ve been thinking about how this will work, but I don’t know yet.”

  She stared at him and let out a frustrated breath. Timmy fussed from the backseat. “I think he’s ready for a nap.”

  Using Timmy’s need for a nap or a bottle or a diaper change had always been his old standby for getting out of a conversation. But this time it was Georgia who was weary and done. Not that he knew what else to say on the subject. He really didn’t know how it would work, how their “family” would operate.

  Family. Would they be a family? His son would be his family, of course. And Georgia was his baby’s mother, so that made her family.

  A twitch started forming in his right temple. He needed some time to himself to not think.

  “I know a nice hotel in the theater district,” he said, starting up the car again. “I can do some research into Dylan’s background and Timmy can get some rest. And you can put your feet up.”

  She offered a smile. “That does sound good.”

  I wish I could be what you need, he thought out of nowhere as he continued on down the street.

  But he didn’t see that happening, even if he willed it to be.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Slater,” the hotel desk clerk said as she handed Nick two key cards.

  Georgia stiffened. Mrs. Slater. She glanced at Nick, who shifted Timmy’s carrier in his other hand, then smiled tightly at the clerk. Mrs. Slater, she thought again. Mrs. Slater.

  It had a familiar ring to it, a nice ring, a comfortable ring.

  As if there were any ring at all, she reminded herself, glancing at her bare left hand. Nick Slater wasn’t proposing. There would be no big happy family. Well, there would be a happy family. And a big one, given her clan. But she wouldn�
�t be Mrs. Slater. She felt bereft all of a sudden as if she’d ever been Mrs. Slater.

  Nick slung their just-in-case overnight bags, which had come in handy, on his shoulder and took the carrier, then led the way to the elevator across the marble lobby.

  “You’re sure you’re okay with the one room?” he asked as they stepped inside and he pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. “I can try to find a room for me in a nearby hotel.” Because of two conventions being held in Houston, hotel rooms were scarce for the next couple of days.

  “You’ve seen me naked already,” Georgia said, again surprised by how bold she was getting. She liked that the old Georgia was coming back. The Georgia who spoke her mind. The cheeky Georgia. “Twice,” she added dryly. “So it’s okay.”

  Well, it wasn’t really okay. She wanted to share a room with him, but she wanted him to keep his hands off her and on her at the same time. Not touch her so that she wouldn’t yearn for him, for his love, for a future with him. Touch her because she loved him and wanted him desperately.

  Was that win-win or lose-lose? Georgia wasn’t sure.

  His eyes widened at her brassiness, which always seemed to surprise him too, and he laughed. “I’m sure there’s a club chair. I’ll sleep in that.”

  She said nothing, but took one of the key cards from between his fingers and slipped it in the door of room 1412. The room was large, the king-size bed dominating. There was the usual desk and chair, a long bureau with a big mirror, an armoire holding a television and a minibar. Nick put Timmy’s carrier down on the desk, then opened the heavy drapes, revealing an expansive view of the city. There was indeed a club chair too, which didn’t look comfortable.

  “You’ll be okay on your own?” he asked. “I figure I’ll be gone a couple of hours to pay Dylan’s aunt a visit. I recall mention of an aunt on his father’s side, but she didn’t live with the Pattersons two years ago.”

  She sat down on the edge of the big bed. “I’ll be fine. I’m zonked so will nap when Timmy does.” She would be fine. Just as she’d told him in the car. She’d be fine on her own because she had to be. Wasn’t necessity the mother of invention? Reinvention too.