Falling In Love With A Police Officer (Rich & Rugged: A Hawkins Brothers Romance Book 4)

by Ellie Hall

  “I would like to go as a princess,” Harper said.

  “Well, Princess Leia from Star Wars,” Brynn added.

  Both girls tilted their heads as though they didn’t know what she was talking about, but she detected the faintest smirk on Owen’s lips. His lips. The bottom was a bit bigger than the lower one in a rugged, masculine way.

  “Can I be a princess, Daddy?” Harper asked.

  “Of course, but it’s time for us to get back to the palace.” He winked at her.

  That simple motion may as well have had wings, picking Brynn up, and sending her aflutter.

  Just before leaving for the day, Brynn went to the faculty lounge to get her lunch leftovers from the fridge. As she turned, she startled. Phoebe was standing there, wearing a clown wig and red nose.

  Brynn pressed her free hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

  “My Halloween costume scared you?” Phoebe asked.

  Brynn nodded slowly. “And probably half the student body. Clowns can be scary.”

  “They’re funny.”

  Brynn wrinkled her nose. “Sadder than funny.”

  “I guess sad is better than scary,” Phoebe said. “That explains why three kids who came to my office today, ran away, backed away, or didn’t say a word before turning around and leaving.”

  “I’m not entirely sure why clowns can be scary and sad, but it’s true.” Brynn shrugged.

  “Where’s your costume?” Phoebe asked then looked closely at Brynn. “Oh, wait, I see it. You’re a smitten kitten.”

  “A smitten what?”

  “You have a crush.”

  Brynn started to shake her head, but Phoebe wasn’t entirely wrong. “It’s not a crush, but why didn’t you tell me Owen Hawkins is extremely good looking?” Brynn was a far cry from crush-city, but she couldn’t deny that she hadn’t felt butterflies like that in ages.

  “Good looking and strong, masculine, capable... And single. Did I mention he’s single?” Phoebe asked, taking off the clown wig and tossing it to Brynn.

  She caught it and then tossed it onto the table like a hot potato. “No, you didn’t mention any of it other than that I was getting a new student. A woman has to be prepared for these kinds of things. When I saw him, I fell on my pumpkin.”

  Phoebe’s eyebrows drew together.

  “On my tushy.” Her tailbone still hurt a little. But her hand did not. It still felt tingly as though he’d warmed her up after a long chill.

  “That’s right, you fell head over heels.” Phoebe snapped her fingers.

  “No, not head over—” Brynn cut herself off. “Never mind. Happy Halloween,” she said before moving toward the door to leave after the long day.

  “I already have future couple costumes for you two. You could go as peanut butter and jelly. You know, one of you as the bread with peanut butter and the other with jelly. Or wait, I know, Prince Charming and Cinderella, Superman and Lois Lane, or Princess Leia and Han Solo...”

  Brynn shook her head.

  Phoebe plonked the clown nose on Brynn’s nose and honked. “You just wait. I saw Owen and thought, he and Brynn would make the perfect couple.” She winked.

  Brynn took off the clown nose, gave it back to her friend, and exited. If Phoebe made any other suggestions, Brynn didn’t hear them because she was already down the hall.

  Once she got home, she kicked off her heels, changed out of the pencil skirt and ruffled blouse and into whatever comfy pants and shirt she had lying around.

  After a quick snack, she bulled into her latest project in the old house, updating the downstairs bathroom. Removing the wallpaper was quite a chore even though it had bubbled away from the wall in some places.

  The deal was she could live in the old house for very low rent relative to the number of rooms and beautiful location. She’d met the owner’s wife in town when she was looking for a place to rent. Sadie introduced herself and said she hated to see the old place empty. Brynn didn’t ask too many questions but got the sense that her husband’s parents had passed away and left the place to their kids who were locked in a disagreement about whether to keep or sell it. Meanwhile, the house grew dusty and uncared for.

  Brynn said yes, sight unseen because she was desperate and the rentals that she’d looked at were too high with her teacher’s salary. After moving in, she asked if it would be okay if she made some updates—on her dime, not that she had many, but she’d always been thrifty and resourceful.

  The house had been well-loved and she sensed a family had once lived there, but it was definitely in major need of TLC. There was potential in the old farmhouse, in the family home. The banister needed to be sanded and re-stained. The wainscoting was chipped and in need of repair in some places, and the painted walls had seen their fair of scuffs and blemishes. But the bones were good. She had the internet and could look up pretty much any DIY fix. Not to mention she loved watching home renovation and makeover shows on TV.

  When she finished removing the tile in the three-by-six half bath, she decided to reward herself with a batch of pumpkin cinnamon rolls. Anytime she finished a project she made a deal with herself to bake something scrumptious. Even though she still had a lot to do in the bathroom renovation, it was Halloween so she made an exception. Besides, she didn’t buy any candy since she didn’t expect any trick-or-treaters to venture to such a rural location.

  She imagined the house, the kitchen in particular, had once been lively, but now it was lonely. A little bit spooky. The wind howled outside. She was told winter came early to Hawk Ridge Hollow, nestled up in the mountains as it was.

  She peered out the window. The sky was clear so she didn’t worry that it would rain on the trick-or-treaters in town. She leaned against the glass, sadness whispering at the fringes of her mind. It seemed like she was always an outsider, never quite finding a way into the middle.

  Headlights beamed through the window as a car approached down the long, winding driveway. She sat up, not expecting anyone. As the wind continued to howl, Brynn’s blood chilled in her veins.

  Chapter 2

  Owen

  Owen slowly wound up the long driveway lined with a white fence. His muscle memory knew the contours of the curves in the road and the low spot that would always get icy in the winter. He sensed himself slowing down as he neared that part even though the night was clear.

  The stars twinkled overhead and the wind whipped down from the mountains something fierce. His father called that wind a zephyr. And his grandfather before him would say a zephyr meant change was coming. For a moment his chest felt thick, heavy. Change had already come for Owen Hawkins. It came and went, leaving him slightly lost. It had rustled up his map, spun his internal compass, and he wasn’t sure which way was north, which way was home. Though he’d managed to find his way back to Hawk Ridge Hollow.

  As he parked the cruiser in the driveway, he glanced through the window at the silhouette of the mountains. He and his brothers had each claimed a peak. There was Tripp’s Triumph, Blake’s Brow—because the degree of the peak was roughly the same as his eyebrows when he was upset. There was also Big D for Dallen, Owen’s Apex, and Rocky Mountain—the last wasn’t all that original since the youngest of the Hawkins boys was nicknamed Rocky, but the kid was about Harper’s age at the time they’d named the peaks so they’d let it slide.

  The sixth peak had been reserved for their sister, but she wasn’t around anymore. At least in his mind, Owen had named it Harper’s Heaven. Nadine hadn’t been sure about naming their daughter after his deceased sister, but it was an old family name. Eventually, she came around and agreed to it. He thought of it as an homage and so far, his little girl was as amazing as his little sister had been—at least of what he’d remembered about her.

  Owen’s shoulders lifted and lowered with a long exhale. Gone were the days when the boys would run free in the fields surrounding the old farmhouse, build forts in the woods, plan adventures, go to the lake, ride horses...

  T
hey’d return home for lunch covered in mud, grass stains, and stories that were only partially believable. Dallen once claimed a dragon was charging after him while he was riding his horse. Tripp had convinced all of them the barn on the east quarter was haunted, and they’d once had a cocoa drinking contest and Owen had won even though Blake took the credit.

  Their mother had none of it. Even when the boys were young, she wasn’t well-adapted to country life or mothering five rambunctious kids. Looking back, he supposed she’d tried, but she preferred the fancy dinners at the lodge, the celebrity visits to the resort, and the luxury trips his father’s empire afforded the couple.

  Owen hadn’t seen Judith Hawkins in years. Hadn’t seen any of his brothers since the will had been read. And to think family had always been what he valued most. It still was, even if there were only two of them. Harper and him.

  Owen’s attention turned to the house and he cut the lights to the cruiser. As he got out, the crisp autumn air, the smell particular to that stretch of land with its apple orchard, came at him along with dozens of memories, hurtling in his direction like rotten pumpkins on Cabbage Night. He’d been on duty the evening before and vegetables were the least of his problems. Then again, his brothers and he had gotten up to plenty of mischief over the years. Toilet papering trees, ringing doorbells and running, and he didn’t want to think what else.

  He steadied himself on the open door of the cruiser. It was probably a mistake going out there to the old house, but the light was on, glowing warmly, invitingly. Someone was home.

  Rumors and realities had reached his ears the moment he’d made his presence known in his hometown. Some to his benefit and others he’d rather not have heard—old Skip Wilson had passed recently. He’d tended the orchard and Mrs. Wilson made the best pies in the world. Also, the board in charge of the resort were making some questionable decisions and word was things weren’t quite up to his father’s standards—the ones he’d established when he was alive.

  But Owen could take no part in it.

  Also, Sadie had made an honest man of Tripp. They’d been high school sweethearts and he somehow managed to convince her he was a decent person. No, that wasn’t fair. Tripp was one of the most honest, hardworking, and courageous people he knew. Too bad they no longer spoke.

  The twins each had women in their lives as well. And that was just the thing. Owen had been married. Then everything happened at once. His father hadn’t meant it. He didn’t know what had happened between his son and Nadine. For all Charles Hawkins’ many successes, he’d failed to address possibilities of separation, divorce, and death in his will, leaving the brothers divided.

  He couldn’t imagine how or if they’d ever reconcile. But they’d have to figure out a way eventually. Otherwise, that resort up on the hill, the lantern lights on the grounds sparkling like stars—his father’s legacy—who knows what would happen to it?

  Owen had been a Chicago city police officer. He knew danger, grit, and had the kind of bull-headed determination combined with clear, quick thinking that made him great at his job. However, he stood frozen in front of the old farmhouse, lit from within, while he felt little more than darkness inside. But he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

  What family had replaced his? Who’d moved in?

  At last, he willed his legs to move, not sure he was ready to find out. But he could do it. He had to. Owen had managed to return to Hawk Ridge Hollow because it was the right thing to do for Harper. Visiting the house, putting the past to rest at last, was what he had to do for himself. Both were so he could be the father his daughter needed. That was his singular focus.

  The steps on the porch sagged in a way he didn’t remember. The wood felt soft underfoot. The planks groaned as he approached the door and knocked.

  The red door flew open and a woman with her hair piled on top of her head blurted, “Officer, I promise. I have permission to live here.”

  He expected the light to flick on, but they both remained shrouded in semi-darkness. He reached for his flashlight and scanned the woman, starting at her bare feet. Shiny red toenail polish. She wore mismatched pajamas. The bottoms had pink polka dots and the top was green and red stripes. It said Property of the North Pole in sparkly gold block letters. It was his job to observe everything: the big picture and the details.

  When he reached her face, he staggered back. She was dusted white. Was she wearing some kind of bizarre Halloween costume? He’d seen plenty of freaky and all-too-real getups over the years on the job in the city, but he didn’t know what to make of her outfit.

  “I’m sorry. The bulb is out,” she said, pointing overhead, and wincing under examination.

  He reached inside and around to the familiar switch on the wall and jiggled it. The overhead light flickered and then slowly brightened. It was the one thing that his father hadn’t been able to fix and drove his mother nuts. His dad had said it was something about the old wiring being like a mouse’s nest.

  As if the light prompted her to realize she looked a wreck, the woman brought her hands to her face. It was only then that he realized she was Harper’s teacher, Brynn Powell.

  He took off his hat as he clicked off the flashlight.

  Her eyes widened from behind her fingers as they locked on his. She said, “Oh, oh. No, no.”

  “Do you mean ho, ho, ho?” He said using the voice he reserved for reading Santa’s part in Harper’s favorite Christmas storybooks.

  Her head tucked back in confusion.

  He pointed to her shirt. “Property of the North Pole.”

  “Oh, this. No. I was sanding and baking and oh my goodness this is embarrassing, unexpected, entirely bad timing,” she rambled.

  He inhaled deeply. She certainly had been baking. He caught the scent of cinnamon over the dusty smell of plasterboard that had been disturbed—both of which explained the white coating on her face.

  Her eyes flitted to his nametag. “Officer Hawkins.” Her hands reached for the messy pile of hair on top of her head as though she was suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Is there a problem?”

  “No. Not at all.” It was as though he’d stepped back in time. Into a dream. An alternate reality. She was in his old house. He felt like a teenage boy waiting on the steps for his date. He stood in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, despite her current appearance. There was something adorably cute about her imperfect at-home get up compared to her perfectly styled and fashionable school attire.

  Earlier, he’d forced himself to shut down all notions of attraction when he’d extended his hand and helped her to her feet when she’d gotten tangled up during the class play. He ignored the smooth lines of her legs, dressed in the conservative pencil skirt and low heels. He disregarded the way her blouse draped over her delicate collarbones, and he pretended that her oval face, framed by her smooth dark brown hair, didn’t rustle feelings inside of him.

  However, he couldn’t deny that her gentle eyes with long lashes didn’t mesmerize him or that he didn’t see the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, or the way he was drawn to her lips as she spoke.

  As she was doing just then. “Your daughter is as sweet as they come. I’m glad to have her in my classroom.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” He shook off his trance.

  “So, um—” Likely, she was about to ask what he was doing there when from inside the house the fire alarm started going off. “Oh, that thing. Don’t worry.” She rushed inside, shouting over the blare.

  He followed, steeling himself as he crossed the threshold.

  For the first time in about a decade, he felt like he was home. He fought against standing there a second longer, immersed in what he’d been searching for, how he wanted to give Harper a place to call home and hurried to the kitchen.

  Brynn balanced on a stool with a broom in hand so she could reach overhead as she tried to turn off the fire alarm with the end.

  “I can get it.”
He took her hands in his to help her down. If he weren’t in uniform, he’d have been distracted by the connection, the warmth. He took her place, turning the blasting thing off.

  She exhaled with relief. “Thank you. I’m a competent baker. I promise.” She brushed her shoulder. “Maybe a little messy. But this isn’t only flour. Anyway, anytime I turn on the oven, the fire alarm—”

  “I know.”

  “I’m so sorry if the alarm, um, alarmed you.” She turned to the oven, removing a tray.

  “It smells good.”

  “I usually make these pumpkin cinnamon rolls for Thanksgiving. It was a little tradition I started years ago. I figured I wouldn’t get any trick-or-treaters out this way so I didn’t have an excuse to buy a bag of Halloween candy. Instead, I baked them... I’ll bring the rest to the teachers tomorrow. They always say yes to delicious treats in the lounge. Also, I managed to get the wallpaper in the half bath down along with the tile. It was a triumph if you ask me, so a reward was in order—” She cut herself off as though she realized she was rambling. “Wait, you said that you knew the fire alarm would go off.”

  He nodded.

  “And you knew how to jiggle the light switch to the get the porch light to work...” A little crease formed on her forehead.

  He nodded. “And that the floral wallpaper in the bathroom was dreadful. I have a daughter so I’m well acquainted with pink, but that particular shade always reminded me of this medicine my mother used to give me when I had an upset stomach.”

  She stared at him, leaning in, waiting for him to deliver an explanation.

  He wanted to smile, to only feel the good memories and not the bad ones that came after. He scrubbed his hand down the back of his neck. “I grew up here,” he said at last as if that would explain something.