by Sarah Hegger
She giggled. “Let me say this because it’s been too long in coming. You know how hard it is for me to trust.”
He nodded, his throat too constricted for words. He coveted her trust like a rare jewel but felt almost unworthy of it.
“I’m giving you my trust,” she said.
Eric inched closer, his heart crashing against his chest wall. “Do you trust me now when I say I want to give you everything? And to be clear, by this I mean marriage.” He motioned the house. “You, me and Kim living here and when he’s better, maybe Will as well. Marriage, the picket fence, the whole deal. Even the dog.”
“The whole deal.” She grinned. “And along with me, you get all of my hefty baggage as well.”
“I’d like to help you carry that.” Not Barron’s though; that asshole still needed to pay for hitting her.
She laughed, her face awash in delight. “You see! I know that and I want you to help me carry it.” She stopped laughing and frowned. “To a point, because I don’t care what we are to each other, I don’t like handouts.”
She would be the death of him with that pride. “I love you.”
“I know.” She beamed. “And I love you.”
“I know.” He was grinning like a loon, but he didn’t care. “Get over here, sweet thing.”
She lifted her chin. “What for?”
“Everything. I have everything for you, over here, and waiting for you to take it.”
Sarah Hegger
Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A hot Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble.
Mimicking her globe trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.
She currently lives in Littleton, Colorado, with her teenage daughters, two retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.
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Read on for an excerpt of Drove All Night, #1 Passing Through Series
Drove All Night
Welcome to the Passing Through series
STAY A WHILE…
Out of luck, out of hope and out of diapers, Poppy Williams is so far out on a limb she’s clinging by one broken fingernail.
Strong, silent-type Police Chief, Ben Crowe has seen it all, until Poppy’s minivan runs a red light and she leaps into the road begging him to arrest her.
Stranded in Twin Elks, Colorado, can the town filled with warm, funny characters help Poppy find the way back to hope again, and can Ben find the faith in himself to join her there?
Coming Soon!
Chapter 1
At Main and Fourth, a minivan shot through the stop sign. Ben hit the lights and siren.
The minivan veered across the road and screeched to a halt at an angle from the sidewalk.
“Shit.” Ben punched the brakes. Keeping his eye on the vehicle, he called it in.
Whoever drove that thing had bought themselves a couple of hefty fines. Reckless asshole. Some people should not be allowed behind the wheel.
Stepping out of the cruiser, he palmed his sidearm. The car had Pennsylvania plates. Not from around here, and driving like a crazy person. He approached with caution.
The driver’s door flew open and someone leaped out.
The pale, wide-eyed woman hit the ground. Her knees smacked the blacktop so hard he winced. She threw her hands out in front of her. “Do it.” The woman sobbed. “Arrest me. Take me away. Lock me up and throw away the key.”
Fifteen years as a cop and this was a new one on him. Ben stopped midstride and loosened his grip on his weapon. “Ma’am?”
“I can’t.” Her shoulders jerked up and down. “I just can’t anymore.”
A rusted pickup stopped and Hank Styles hung his grizzled old head out the window. “Everything all right here, Ben?”
That’s all he needed, Hank Styles playing deputy. He waved him on. “All good.”
“She don’t look so good.” Hank leaned further out his truck. “What’s wrong with her?”
It went easier if you didn’t engage the conversation. “Drive on, Hank.”
The woman staggered to her feet, wrists still held out to him. She took three tottering steps in his direction and collapsed.
Ben caught her a heartbeat before her head hit the road.
“Holy crap.” Hank jerked his head back in. “She’s dead.” He rolled up his window and gunned his truck down Main.
Ben checked for a pulse and found one at her neck. Her skin felt hot and clammy. She was burning up. An ambulance, maybe?
“Is my mommy dead?” A plaintive voice came from the van.
The van door opened and Ben stared straight into hell. A boy, maybe five or six, and covered in barf blinked back at him. From the far side, a scarlet-faced toddler hiccupped and then yowled. Two older kids, wearing identical girl faces peered around the van door at him.
The smell made his eyes water; an unholy miasma of body fluids that did not belong on this earth.
The woman stirred. “Ryan?”
“You fainted.” Ben hoisted her into his arms. First step, get her out of the road. “Lie still.”
“Where are you taking her?” One of the girls cocked her head at him.
Ben jerked his chin to indicate the side of the road. “Stay put.”
He walked around back of the minivan and set her gently on the grassy shoulder.
“Are you arresting her?” The girls moved to the other side of the van, hanging over the squalling baby, heads jammed together as they peered through the open window.
“Nope.”
The woman opened her eyes, squeezed them shut, and then opened them again. “Who are you?”
“I’m the police chief, ma’am.”
“My children.” She bolted upright, slamming her head against his chin.
Ben tasted blood as he pressed her back down. “Lie still. You fainted.”
She blinked at him, but lay back. She had brown eyes, dark like his morning coffee and huge in her pale face. When not passed out on the side of the road with sweat sliding down the sides of her face, she might even be pretty. Too thin, but real pretty.
He turned to the minivan. “Any water in there?”
“Nope.” Three heads moved from side to side. The baby kept right on bawling.
Ben jerked his chin at the red-faced crier. “He sick?”
“Uh-huh.” One of the twins slow-nodded. “He’s got the flu, and he pooped in his diaper. Mommy didn’t have any more so we were going to Walmart to get some. He’s screaming coz he’s got a sore bum.”
Sick mum, one sick toddler, one puking boy and a set of lively twins. He weighed his options.
They didn’t cover this sort of shit in the police academy, or the army, and Ben was man enough to know when he’d drifted way out of his league. He reached for his cellphone.
Ma answered on the fourth ring, sounding as delighted to hear from him as ever. “Ben!”
“You home, Ma?”
“Of course I am. It’s baking day and they want some cupcakes for that fundraiser for the library. Do you think I should put sunflowers or flip-flops on the top? What with it being summer and all.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice sharpened. “Did you get shot? Are you injured?” She heaved a sigh. “You forgot to eat lunch again, didn’t you?”
He had, but not his biggest concern right now. “Bringing some kids.”
“What? What kids? Whose kids? Where did you find them?”
“See you.” Ben hung up on her still firing questions. If he answered those, she’d only find a raft more for him.
“Ma’am?” He looked down at the woman. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Poppy.” She swallowed. “Poppy Williams.”
“Well, Poppy Williams, I’m gonna have to drive your car.”
“Are you a car thief?” Her eyes widened.
Ben shook his head and hoisted her into his arms. She weighed next to nothing. Her sweatshirt claimed her as Property of Philadelphia University and hung on her narrow frame. He placed her gently in the passenger seat.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as she fought sleep. He’d bet by the shadows under her eyes it had been a long, long time since Poppy Williams had gotten a good night’s sleep. Her fever must be knocking the crap out of her round about now.
Her eyes flew open. “My children.”
“I got them.” He buckled her in.
“Are you kidnapping me?”
“No, ma’am.”
Her lids fluttered closed, only to startle open again. “Are you a rapist?”
“Nope.” He took his badge out and held it in front of her fever-glazed gaze. “I’m the police chief, ma’am. I got you.
Chapter 2
The stink in the car had Ben driving with his window wide open and still nearly dry heaving all the way. Poppy Williams woke every now and then, and went back to sleep as soon as he assured her he was still the police chief. Eventually he put his badge on the dash right in front of her.
Ma stood on the sidewalk, hopping from one foot to the other. That was the thing with his mom. She never walked when she could run, or stood when she could bop about like a jackrabbit. Today, she wore a red T-shirt announcing to all Police Chief’s Mom. It might put his passenger at ease.
Poppy hardly looked old enough to have four children. Her dark hair had escaped her ponytail in tendrils that stuck to her temples. He’d bet his last dime she had one helluva story.
“Who’s that?” One of the twins peered out her window. Their names were Brinn and Ciara but damned if he could tell them apart. One had on a blue T-shirt and shorts, the other some kind of dress with flowers all over it.
“Is that the perp?” The older boy, Ryan, leaned forward in his car seat.
“That’s my mother.” He stopped beside her.
Ma frowned at the unfamiliar car, caught sight of him and beamed. She appeared at his door before he even had it open.
“Ben.” Face full of delight, as if she hadn’t seen him in months, and not yesterday for lunch, she kissed his cheek. “I had no idea what to make of that cryptic message.”
“I need your help.” He walked around the car with her tailing him.
“You’re so like your father. Never use three words when one will do. I thought you were doing traffic duty today. Isn’t that what you said? Yes, you did say that. You said people were speeding out of the Walmart parking lot.” She paused for breath. “And they nearly hit that nice Barker boy. Isn’t that what you said?” She nodded. “That’s what you said.”
Ben gave her a nod to cover all those questions and opened the passenger door.
Ma snapped her mouth shut. That had to be a first. She took a step closer, straightened and stared at him. “Who is that,” she whispered.
“A woman.”
“I can see that.” She slapped his arm. “Is this her car?”
“Yup.” He slid open the side door. The reek charged out to the sidewalk.
“Oh, my.” Ma clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my.”
The baby’s lip quivered, his eyes filled up, and he opened his mouth and bellowed.
Ma folded like a cheap deckchair. Her arms shot out and she unclipped the little guy. “You poor baby.”
“Sean.” Poppy stirred, and tried to sit up.
Ben flashed his badge. “Chief. I got this.”
She settled down again.
Ma had the baby in her arms and rocked him side to side. “You poor little guy. Are you unhappy? Tell Dot what is making you so unhappy.”
“He pooped,” Ryan said.
The girls craned forward between the first row of seats. “And he’s got diaper rash,” said the one in the dress. “It makes him super cranky.”
“Well, of course it does.” Ma put the kid’s head on her shoulder, and ran a soothing hand down his back. “Dot is going to fix that for you. Yes she is. No need to fuss.” She gave Ben a reproachful glare, as if he was somehow to blame for all of it. “What happened to these children?”
He shrugged, because other than their mother losing her shit, he had no answers.
“Come on, honey.” She motioned to Ryan. “You climb out here and see Dot. You look like you could use a bath.”
“I barfed.” Ryan nodded. “All over myself and some of it got on Sean, too.”
Ma had a stomach of iron, because she took the news without a flinch. “Did you?” She held out her hand to Ryan. “How very nasty for you.”
She leaned in closer to Ben and jerked her head. “Is that their mother?”
“Yeah.” He unclicked Poppy’s seatbelt. “I think she’s sick. I didn’t know what to do with all these kids if I called an ambulance.”
“Sean’s sick too.” Dress twin bounced to the ground. Her sister followed more cautiously. “He got sick one day after we left Philly.”
“Is that where you’re from?” Who needed interrogation when you had a ma like his? The baby had quieted down to loud sniffles, his flushed face pressed into ma’s neck.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dress twin seemed to suffer from the same inability to stand still as Ma. She bounced on her toes, canting left and then right, flipping her ponytail from side to side. “Four-twelve Mifflin Street, South Philadelphia, one-nine-one-four-six.”
“Oh, my. Aren’t you clever.” Ma widened her eyes.
“I am.” Whip, whip, whip went the ponytail. “I get the best grades in my class. Even better than Randall Greer, and he’s always telling everyone how smart he is. He once cried and tried to hit me when I beat him at spelling.”
“He sounds like a perfectly horrid little boy.” Ma leaned in closer. “I don’t like people who brag. How about you?”
“Nope.” She stopped and smoothed her dress. “I like this dress. It’s my favorite.”
“It’s very pretty.”
She went back to bouncing. “I’m Brinn and this is Ciara.” She jabbed a thumb at her sister. “We’re twins.”
“I can see that.”
Ben felt tired watching her.
Poppy moaned and twisted in the seat.
“Inside?” He jerked his chin to the house.
“Yes, indeed.” Ma gripped Ryan’s hand tighter. “Brinn? Why don’t you and Ciara follow me into the house? My son will bring your mother.”
“Is he your son?” Twin sets of dark brown eyes fastened on him.
“He is.” Ma nodded at her T-shirt. “See, I’m the chief�
��s mom.”
“Ten-four. Copy.” Ryan grinned at him. “Roger. Copy that.”
“He’s very big.” Brinn stopped bouncing long enough to eye him up and down. “Are you sure my mom will be all right.”
“I’m quite sure.” Ma hustled them toward the house. “I raised him, you know, from when he was even smaller than Sean here.”
“Sean’s the smallest in our family.” Brinn gripped her sister’s hand and towed her after Ma and the boys.
Poppy opened her eyes, gazed around her in an unfocused way, and found him. “My children?”
“Chief. Got ’em.” He leaned in and hoisted her into his arms. She weighed less than a bag of feed. Under her sweatshirt he could feel the hard ridges of her ribs. One helluva story.
“Put her in your old room.” Ma stood in the hallway, a staff sergeant in charge. “I’m going to run a bath for Ryan here, and get this little guy changed.”
“We ran out of diapers.” Brinn scrutinized him carrying her mother. “Is my mother going to be all right?”
Ciara’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“Oh, honey.” Ma hauled Ciara in for a hug. “Mommy’s going to be fine. She’s a little sick is all. Ben is going to find a nice comfortable bed for her, and then we’ll call Doc Cooper.”
“She doesn’t look good.” Brinn’s lip quivered.
“Nobody looks good when they’re sick,” Ma said. “Now, would you like to help me run a bath? Then we can all get something to eat. Would you like that? Are you hungry?”
“I want to stay with my mom.” Standing rigid Brinn glared at him.
Ben tried to look nonthreatening. Also not to loom over her like Ma said he had a bad habit of doing.
“Then, that’s what you must do.” Ma smoothed her hair. “You go with Ben and see that he takes proper care of your mom.”
The twins trailed him to his old bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot and stepped right into his past. Ma had barely changed a thing. His old football pennant still hung above his twin bed.
