“Aha! I got you.” Julie raised her arms as if she were a referee calling a touchdown. His admission meant she could legally collect his blood alcohol level. She faced Nate. “I did it!”
Nate smiled at Julie the way he’d smiled at Duke the other day in the bakery. Julie’s heart bump-bumped.
“You did.” Prescott leaned closer, washing her in alcohol breath. “Take me in.” He turned to the audience at their thunderous applause and took a bow.
Duke slid off Nate’s lap and came to stand next to Julie. He took a bow, too.
Prescott grabbed Julie by her injured shoulder and gave her a bear hug.
Julie’s breath caught in her throat as pain sliced through her. Her knees buckled.
And then Prescott was ripped away, leaving Julie staggering for balance.
“Never touch an officer of the law without permission.” Nate escorted Prescott to the back of the church, holding the man’s arm. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Nope. I walked.” Prescott was unfazed by Nate’s reprimand and his removal from the stage. “I walk everywhere now.”
The audience had grown silent.
Nate returned to the front, boots echoing on hardwood.
“Well,” the mayor looked as surprised as everyone else. “That concludes our demonstration. We’d like to thank our candidates and volunteers. Tomorrow, the shooting competition will be held at ten o’clock at the winery.”
A subdued crowd began to break up. Pieces of conversation drifted to Julie over the creaking of pews and sound of feet on wood floor.
“Did you see how fast he moved?”
“I never realized how even-tempered the sheriff was. She was getting angry.”
“Even when she wins, we lose.” Doris tossed her hands and walked out.
“She did fine.” Nate swung Duke into his arms.
Julie’s skin tingled as if she’d been shocked. She didn’t often lose or get outmaneuvered. Her knees locked in place. “You chose Prescott.” He’d chosen someone who’d humiliate her.
“Hold that thought until we get home.” Nate walked out, leaving Julie no choice but to follow. He waited until they’d crossed the town square and were alone on the sidewalk approaching the sheriff’s office before saying anything more. “Someone else suggested Prescott. I could have picked anyone in that church tonight. They’re all of the same caliber.”
“Soused?” Julie hadn’t brought a jacket. The breeze had a chill and it reached to her bones. Or maybe it was how Nate had tried to sabotage her.
“I mean, they all have unusual characters. Like Prescott. He was a dancer in the chorus of community theater in San Francisco.” He scanned his surroundings as they walked. “They’re all argumentative. And innocent in their own minds. Plus many of them are so independent they refuse to acknowledge they’re getting older and are less capable doing everyday tasks, like driving. Two-thirds of the population is over the age of sixty-five. It’s not so much about preventing crime as protecting these people from harming themselves.”
Julie had to stop herself from saying she had no interest in working in a retirement home, because she didn’t want to argue and she didn’t want Nate’s stupid, stupid job. Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d stop being so sensitive about these stupid, stupid events.
“You’ll look back on this and smile one day,” Nate teased. He even threw her a bone—a half smile.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll tell my grandkids about the day I pulled over a drunk and he nearly danced his way to freedom.” When she put it like that, it didn’t sound like such a dastardly deed.
“See? It stings less already.” Nate opened the station door for her.
It was unlocked. He didn’t lock the place when he left? How could a town like this even exist?
She led the way upstairs, aware of Nate behind her, of her morning intentions to co-parent.
“Tomorrow we should call off the competition,” he said. “You aren’t ready to shoot, much less shoot a rifle.”
Couldn’t he show some faith in her? “I can push through.” They’d probably only fire a handful of shots.
He caught up to her at the second-floor landing, crowding into her space as she struggled with the door to his apartment. “What if you freeze in front of all those people? What if the recoil reopens your wound?”
“Dr. Landry, I’ll be fine,” she reassured him, finally getting the doorknob to turn. “I don’t want to talk about this now.” She didn’t want to talk about her weaknesses, physical or otherwise.
He walked past her to put his cell phone on the charger. “Then we’ll talk about it again tomorrow morning in time for me to call it off.”
Julie let him think what he would.
From the kitchen table Nate watched her put Duke to bed. His regard should have been unnerving or made her feel self-conscious. It didn’t. His gaze was relaxed and open. She felt the same.
She came to stand next to the table, staring into Nate’s dark eyes. He understood this town in a way she didn’t. He’d noticed the kittens being abandoned. He knew just how to handle the residents. And himself.
But he didn’t know how to handle her.
Julie took him by the hand and slowly pulled him to his feet. She led him downstairs and sat on the bottom step of the sheriff’s office, tugging him to join her. Nate was warm next to her. She leaned into that warmth without intending to, lacing their fingers together. “You belong here. And so does Duke. Shared custody. No arguments. I get him on weekends.”
He didn’t argue. He seemed preoccupied with their joined hands, which made her preoccupied with their joined hands.
She’d forgotten how their fingers fit together perfectly. That fit. His warmth. Her sigh. They were comfortable together. She could almost forget who they were and where they’d been, and sit here in limbo forever.
Well, maybe not forever. She’d never been good about sitting still and keeping silent. “I admit, I’m a little envious of your life here. I’ve always had to bang down the door to belong.”
“You never had to prove anything to me.” His voice had the gruff quality of a man who was unsure of himself.
Because of her? Because she held his hand? She gripped it tighter. “I’ve had to prove myself to you most of all.”
“Why?” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
Using her free hand, she turned his face to hers. Stubble scraped her palm. “I don’t know. But I think it has something to do with this.” And then she followed her instincts and kissed him.
He didn’t fall back against the wall and demand to know what she was doing.
He didn’t push her away.
He didn’t do anything, except...kiss her back.
His arms gathered her close, being careful of her shoulder and the awkwardness of being on the stairs. He was always so kind, so thoughtful of others. He must have recognized the spark between them these past few days. He must have fought it the same way she had. She pressed closer, feeling less alone, less unsure of the future.
“Jules,” Nate murmured against her lips.
She leaned back and looked deep into his eyes, searching for a mirror of the feeling that threatened to overwhelm her—that this was the right place and the right time and the right person. She should be thinking of April. She should be thinking Nate was off-limits. She couldn’t think beyond the feeling that there was a reason their hands fit together so well. And then Julie remembered she was the reason Nate refused to share custody with Duke. “I should drop out of the race.”
“No.” His hand rested on her hip.
“But you don’t want me to shoot tomorrow.”
“That’s right.”
“And you don’t want me to win.”
“That’s right.” There was that r
elaxed partial smile, the one he gave those he was fond of in town. He was fond of her. He cared, just as Terrance had said.
Julie reminded herself to breathe. “But you don’t want me to drop out.”
“That’s right.”
Outside, an owl hooted. In the distance, a car honked.
“I don’t get it,” Julie said mildly, content to be confused if she was in his embrace. “What’s the point of staying in the race if I’m not shooting?”
He stared at her so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. And then he said, “You’d leave. You already tossed out the Daddy Test. Why would you stay if you weren’t running for sheriff?”
I’d stay for you.
“You are the most infuriating man alive.” Nate didn’t want her to leave! She was tempted to jump up and do a dance inspired by Prescott. And she might have done so if Nate’s arms weren’t encircling her.
She slid her hands around his neck. “Kiss me again.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NATE AWOKE IN his recliner thinking about Julie—her tender touch, her gentle kisses, her willingness to quit the race so he could keep his job.
Thinking about Julie made him smile. He kept his eyes closed, content.
Nothing he’d said about his past deterred her from her conviction that he should raise Duke. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite. Almost as if she had complete faith in him—despite years of resentment and hearing about his childhood.
Julie was doggedly determined to do the right thing, to seek out justice, to be as good as anyone else at anything she did. Yet in spite of the competitiveness, she was fiercely protective of April and Duke. And him.
That was the most surprising part of all. After everything that had gone down, Julie seemed to like him. More than like him. They’d kissed. He’d held her close.
Nate wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to wake up to the sound of her voice and go to sleep at night knowing she’d be nearby in the morning. He wanted...
He wanted things he shouldn’t want. He wanted more than he’d had with April. He wanted...
He wanted a love like Terrance had had with Robin. He wanted the father-son bond Flynn was making with Ian. He wanted to love Julie and have her love him in return.
Was it possible? Or had the kisses last night been something Julie would regret this morning?
Nate opened his eyes.
The apartment was quiet. Most likely Duke and Julie were still asleep. Nate stretched and looked around the room.
Midmorning sunshine streamed through the windows. The bed and the bedroll were empty and in a jumble a few feet away. The bathroom door was open. There were no whispered voices. No tiptoeing feet on the floorboards. No Julie. No Duke.
Julie’s notebook sat on the kitchen table. From the recliner he could just reach it. She’d scribbled a note on a page. “See you at ten.”
At ten. At the shooting competition.
The clock on the microwave read 9:00 a.m. He’d overslept. Nate never overslept. But he’d had too many long days, too many sleep-deprived nights. It’d caught up to him.
Nate bolted out of the chair. Why couldn’t it have caught up to him tomorrow?
Julie hadn’t fired a weapon since she’d been shot. If there was a saddle to climb back on, she’d need a safety harness to prevent being bucked off. They were going to use rifles. She was right-handed. She’d have to put the gun stock against her shoulder. Her wounded shoulder.
Rutgar was providing them with rifles to shoot. Who knew how powerful they’d be. And if Julie reopened her wound, she’d need medical treatment, which she should get from the doctor who’d sewn her up. Which meant she’d have to return to Sacramento. She and Duke would leave.
No more early mornings with his son while Julie slept. No more spoiling Duke with bacon and airplane games. No more little boy filling his arms and his life and his heart.
Nate gripped the kitchen counter. He didn’t want Julie to go. He loved her. He didn’t want Duke to go for the same reason. He loved his son. He wanted to watch him grow and help him be a better man than Nate had been. He wanted him to know his great-uncle Paul, his aunt Molly and his cousin Camille. And he wanted Duke to know his grandmother.
Nate sank to the wood floor. He’d let his mother go long ago, but family was important. Knowing where you came from was worth awkward reunions.
What had happened to his life? Where did he go from here?
He’d kissed Julie last night, but they hadn’t discussed anything. They hadn’t talked more about April and all the reasons the wedding had been called off.
He quickly showered and changed clothes, only bothering to make the bed because he didn’t want Julie to think he was a slob.
“Nate?” Terrance called from downstairs.
And then a louder, “Nate!” from Rutgar.
Nate hurried down. He had a lot to sort out in his life, but the first priority was to keep Julie from shooting.
“Today’s the day you seal the deal and win this thing.” Rutgar stood without a cane. His gray-blond hair looked clean and brushed. And there were no crumbs in his beard.
“What’s wrong?” Trust Terrance to notice Nate’s agitation. The widower studied Nate’s expression like a hawk tracking a possible gopher sighting.
Nate saw no reason to lie. “I’m thinking about throwing the shooting competition.”
“Unbelievable.” Rutgar dropped into Nate’s desk chair, which groaned almost as loud as the big man himself. “I attached myself to a dark horse.”
Nate told them about Julie’s wound. “I think I should concede, so she doesn’t have to shoot.”
“Why did you have to have a good reason?” Rutgar buried his head in his oversize hands. “I could have argued with you if you had a bad reason.”
“Ignore Rutgar. He doesn’t like to lose.” Terrance put a hand on Nate’s shoulder. It was a supportive hand, and he looked at Nate the way a father should look at a son. “Have you talked to Julie about this?”
“Briefly. She refused to back out.”
Terrance sighed and guided Nate into an office chair. “Do you know what women hate more than a man who lies to them?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Nate checked his phone. He didn’t have time for one of Terrance’s long lectures. “Just be quick about it.”
Terrance planted one hand on each arm of Nate’s chair. “Women hate a man who makes decisions without consulting them.”
“Julie’s not a cream puff.” Rutgar lifted his head. “She’ll most likely slug you either way.”
“Ignore Rutgar,” Terrance said again, calm when Nate wanted to shout. “You have to tell Julie why you don’t want her to shoot. There’s forty minutes until the competition starts.”
Nate nodded, drawing a deep breath. “You’re right.”
But Terrance wasn’t done. “And when I say you have to tell Julie your reasoning, I mean you have to tell her you love her.”
“How did you...” Of course. Terrance had seen it before Nate had. “No.” Nate pushed Terrance’s hands off the chair and stood. He couldn’t tell Julie how he felt. He wasn’t ready. His temples throbbed. “If I tell her...”
“He can’t even say the words.” Rutgar stood, towering over both men. “Why bother being preventative? I say we bring the first-aid kit and let her shoot. We’ll win. We’ll patch her up. No serious harm, no serious foul.”
“Rutgar,” Terrance chastised. “Nate is a gentleman.”
“And I’m not.” Rutgar shrugged. “I’m okay with that.” He came around the desk and dropped his beefy arm on Nate’s shoulder. “Shoot today, play Romeo tomorrow.”
“He’s going to do the right thing.” Terrance gave Nate a gentle shove in
the back, freeing him from Rutgar’s hold. “Knowing Julie, she’s going to insist upon competing, no matter what Nate says.” Terrance pushed Nate toward the door. “Come on. We need to get Robin’s gun. It’s designed for a woman, so it won’t have the kick of your weapon.”
“You own a gun?” A shaft of fear pierced Nate’s chest. Terrance had taken Robin’s death hard. What if he’d done more than walk around in flannel pants and bunny slippers? What if he’d—
“I know what you’re thinking.” Rutgar joined the shove-the-sheriff-toward-the-door club. “Terrance ain’t no fool. He gave me his guns after Robin died.”
“You were shooting Terrance’s guns,” Nate realized, remembering the bullet-ridden cans at Rutgar’s house and the reports of gunfire.
“You’ve been using my guns?” Terrance’s voice simmered with anger.
Rutgar shrugged and nudged Nate forward again, none too gently. “I cleaned them afterward.”
“I thought you were my friend.” Terrance lowered his brows and used his hand to guide Nate toward the door. “Friends don’t sneak shots with their friend’s firearms.”
“I can’t do this.” Nate dug in his heels and spun away from both men. “Not this way.”
* * *
JULIE COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d been this happy.
She and Duke were finishing off a breakfast of bacon and eggs. More important, Julie was finishing off a mug of strong coffee while Duke tore into a chocolate chip waffle.
She’d woken up in the middle of the night just as she was beginning to relive the shooting in a dream. Instead of dipping into the nightmare, she’d opened her eyes and found Nate sleeping in his recliner a few feet away. Duke had climbed into his lap, his head resting on Nate’s shoulder.
It was official. Nate had passed the Daddy Test.
Nate may not have had an idyllic childhood, but he could provide one for Duke. She could see the two of them together over the years. He’d teach Duke how to play sports and shoot. He’d teach Duke how to drive and the intricacies of tying a tie. He’d stand tall and stoic when Duke left for college. And then she saw herself standing next to Nate, her arm looped around his waist, her head nestled against his chest.
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