Undisclosed Desire (The Complete Box Set

by Falon Gold

  Part 2

  The Sheriff’s Heart

  Chapter One

  Malisa Owens

  Arrow, Colorado

  If Apollo doesn’t bring that helium tank and balloons, so help me God, I’ll…

  I can barely get to my feet on my own, so I don’t know what I’ll do if I catch up to Apollo, but I’m going to do something. I shift from side to side in Uncle Luke’s recliner, trying to find a comfortable position for me and three baby boys. Each baby is already sitting on an internal organ of apiece. Not only have they made furniture out of my insides, it feels like they’re having a contest of who can kick the hardest.

  I’m spiraling into mind-numbing boredom waiting on their father to come back. Increasing desperation, for any entertainment besides the television, makes me wish for a member of my family to call from the gardens. It’s located half a mile away from the house on forty acres owned by my uncle and his wife, Natalia, and should be fully decorated for mine and Apollo’s wedding by now. In a year’s time, Natalia will open the fifteen acres in the middle of the property to the public for events that’ll be separated by barricades of lush shrubbery, which she personally planted and nursed for three years. If you ask me, The Owens Botanic Gardens are gorgeous enough to open now, with just the exotic flowers, angel fountains, and stone benches already on the grounds, along with the wide-open spaces. However, Natalia has her vision of her business, and well, nobody asked me.

  Uncle Luke has already established an affluent horse-breeding company and riding school, where he gives horseback lessons on the far-left side of the property. As if that’s not enough money for one household, Natalia works part-time as a botanist for the City of Arrow, and she’s mother to my three-year old cousin.

  How many jobs does a woman need? I ask myself, just as the front doorbell rings, again.

  It’s been going off since I sat down a few hours ago.

  I answer it every time, regardless of the protests from my family. I need something to do, and they’re too busy arguing about what will go where in the gardens. Therefore, the chiming echoes through the living area into Uncle Luke’s man cave, where I lounge, are my entertainment.

  I’m supposed to be resting my swollen feet caused by the triplets every time I stand up. I scoot to the front end of the chair in my robe. Hopefully, I’ll be ditching it for my wedding dress soon. At least, I hope that I will. I’m going bat shit crazy in here, slowly.

  I use the arms of the chair as leverage, pull myself to the edge. The tips of my nails graze my cell phone teetering on the end of the attached tray. I watch it land face down on the floor, and I’m not going to bend over and get it. That’s unthinkable at this point in my pregnancy. Standing up and waddling around Luke Jr’s playpen and toys strewn across the next room is not an easy feat either, but it’s not as challenging as picking up the phone.

  On my way to the door, I reminisce about how eight months ago I weighed a hundred and forty pounds and could see my feet. Now, I can’t even imagine what they look like. Uncle Tommy says that I don’t want to know either. Pillows and pin cushions are what he refers to them as whenever he’s nearby, just to get a laugh out of everyone.

  I reach the door finally, breathing heavily, opening it to another heavily pregnant woman with caramel skin, hazel eyes, and a curly mass of black hair. It curtains her tiny shoulders and teases the edges of her white summer dress that’s pulling tight against her swollen breasts. Her eyes jut out of her head when she sees all two tons of me blocking her view into the house. She whimpers softly, and then her hands rise to her protruding tummy, as if she feels the need to protect her unborn child from me.

  Damn, I’ve scared the lady.

  “Hey, you must be Malisa,” she says with a tremor in her voice, completely nervous. “Is Blake here?”

  “Yes, he is,” I pant, exhausted from the twenty steps it took for me to get to the door. “Would you like me to go get him?”

  As if that’s going to happen before night falls.

  Her bright eyes roam the wraparound porch, as if she must think about her answer before she looks at me again with her mind made up. “No. I apologize for coming here unannounced, but he won’t answer my calls… and he probably won’t come to the door either. Listen, could you tell him that I’m pregnant? I don’t want anything from him, but he has the right to know that his son will be born in another month.”

  Stunned, I stand in the opened doorway with my mouth sweeping the floor. Her eyes bounce around the deck again, landing on one of the pristine pieces of Natalia’s white wicker furniture.

  “That’s it. Thank you.” She whirls around, to shuffle away.

  When she’s getting into a dull blue, two-door truck parked on the circular driveway, my mind resets in time to register that she moves much faster than I can in my condition. Then, I recall that I forgot to ask what her name is. I’m sure Blake will know it though. Right after he tells it to me, he’s going to explain how in the hell she knows my name and why I know absolutely nothing about her.

  She looks familiar though, that’s for damn sure! I’m going to have to get that phone off the floor anyway. Shit!

  ********

  Astrid Daniels

  A few minutes later

  Oh my God, it’s like looking into a mirror when talking to Malisa Owens. Seeing her for the first time in the flesh brought on birdbrain-itis. I’d come seven hours out of my way to Arrow just to forget why, but a painful kick to the inside of my navel fixed that moment of forgetfulness pronto. Baby Blake does not like being forgotten about.

  It hurts even more that almost every member of his father’s family has no inkling that he or I exist. I feel bad for those that are about to find out about us in such a shocking way. But what else could I do? Calling Blake, even as I was walking up to the front door of Luke Owen’s ranch, got me nowhere.

  Writing a letter or sending an email and text seems cold and detached, much like the government who issued me a badge at Arrow Sheriff’s Department once. I no longer work for that entity, and hold myself to much higher standards when it comes to relaying events that will reshape someone’s world, most times for the worse. Today is no different. Except, I’m a part of the awful circumstances, and boy do I appreciate not having to inform Blake of them up close and personal. He has nothing to say to me, and is probably going to hit the roof when he finds out why I’m back in Arrow.

  I may have been spared that gruesome scene, but delivering the message to a face that looks so much like my own is just as traumatic. I couldn’t stuff the double wide trailer I’m becoming in my driver’s seat to get away from the ranch fast enough. The urgency to leave hit me hard as soon as Malisa opened the door, just like it did when I found out why my monthly cycle had packed its bag and absconded like a criminal six months ago. So did I a few days later, after bloodwork done during a doctor’s appointment for a cure to the bug I’d come down with turned into a positive pregnancy test.

  I detest surprises, don’t subject others to them if I can avoid it, which is why I’ve been trying to contact Blake way before my planned visit today, with every intention to talk to him face to face. It only takes a small measure of kindness to ease someone into terrible news, which is exactly what the birth of our son is going to be for Blake. At least I’m not stressing myself out over him not answering his phone all thirty-two times I called, but it stings like hell, especially because it’s my fault that he won’t take my calls.

  Nobody told me to fall in love with him or cut him off with no warning, playing a major part in the clusterfuck that my life and my first impression to Blake’s family is right now. Now, every time I think about how much my child is going to have to do without because of my mistakes, the door to my emotions flings wide open. No matter how many times I board it up, tears push their way through while my chest implodes. I’ve been going through that since I moved… okay, ran away from Arrow.

  What I wouldn’t give for it to be the strange things that make a woma
n in my condition cry; it’s warm outside, the wind is blowing inside the opened window, and the countryside is beautiful against the backdrop of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Instead, I’m swiping at blinding waterworks that stem from the one reason that would cause anybody’s eyes to leak water; a broken heart.

  Oh, and because you let yourself get knocked up by a man that didn’t care to know more about you than the secrets of your body.

  I do not need my conscious calling me out on my fuck-ups right now. I have enough to deal with, like not making the same mistakes twice. It’s why I stood my wobbly ground at Luke’s house long enough to tell Malisa what I should’ve told Blake a long time ago.

  God, I probably looked more like a stalker to her than her mirror image, and what the hell, she’s pregnant too!

  I can only imagine what she’s thinking of me, who’d stoop low enough to show up at a family function uninvited. I didn’t even say congratulations on her wedding day or for the birth of triplets. No, in old-fashion creep style, I dropped a bomb, then left.

  Well, it wouldn’t have gone down like that if it wasn’t much simpler to run back home to the people who love me the most rather than hit Blake with a grenade. I will not be apologizing for panicking and running. He and I don’t, and never did, have a real relationship. It’s a damn shame that I didn’t let that stop me from wanting to be with him, often asking about his life outside of the job to get to know him better. I never got a straight answer from him, and yes, that’s a big, flashing neon beacon with ‘don’t get involved, Astrid’ or ‘cut your damn losses and skedaddle, nut’ written all over it.

  The warnings are easy to ignore if you’re telling yourself that your law enforcement career is all that matters, while not paying attention to what your heart is doing behind your back; giving itself away one tiny, unnoticeable piece at a time. It would be too late when I realize what is happening. The dynamics of our non-relationship would become as easy as breathing, and get me where I am today.

  Nothing left in your chest and inflated around the middle.

  Both are constant reminders of Blake, making it impossible for me to not want to see him again, even if it’s for the last time. Nothing good will come of it though. Blake is an expert at making blissful ignorance seem like paradise, by always doing things that scream boyfriend to anyone listening. He just didn’t want the title, and I didn’t need him to own it when I had unlimited access to his body. The man makes love like a God, and my body refuses to let me forget it. If I’m not remembering how he fits perfectly inside me, I look down and see the evidence of him being there.

  Yep, it’s for the best that I follow the open road to my destination in the next state. If his piercing blue eyes meet mine, my fingers will want to run through his blond, military buzz cut. Mind-blowing kisses from his pink, full lips above his chiseled jaw line with cleft chin will follow next, dulling my good judgment. Truth be told, my intellect ceases to function whenever his wide shoulders and long legs move in my direction. Combine that with his uniform molding to his muscular body like a lover, the blistering touch of his large hands, and six foot two frame that never hesitates to curve around me, and I have a recipe for doing something stupid.

  You’re forgetting it’s the formula for a baby and the taking of your heart, too.

  It would be a blessing if I could forget, but I don’t want my heart back. No man can hurt me again if I have nothing to give. Still, my watery eyes drop to the front of the gearshift, where an empty water bottle sits in one cup holder, my cell phone loitering in the other. It’s not going to ring and I know it. If Blake cared anything for me, he wouldn’t have let me sprint out of his life and stay gone.

  Or contacted you by now. Answered your calls. Yet, your hope springs fucking eternal, doesn’t it?

  Absolutely! But hope is just another ingredient for the makings of a disaster between Blake and I. Determined to evade that at all costs, I press the gas pedal down to floor.

  Chapter Two

  Blake Powers

  A few minutes earlier…

  Vibrations in my front pocket drag my attention to my cell phone. I haul it out, checking the screen. Astrid Daniel’s name is sitting plainly on it. I swipe the ignore icon, have been doing it all week. After shoving the device back in my jeans that I’ll change for a penguin suit in a few hours, my gut churns for the umpteenth time today.

  Something is going to go wrong. I can feel it.

  I’ve been silently dealing with the nagging feeling since I woke up this morning. It gets worse as I sit down one of the chairs for Malisa’s and Apollo’s wedding, a little too roughly. I side-eye the closest eight-foot wall of bushes with lavender blooms that’s separating the ceremony area from the reception. I resist the thousandth urge to sneeze and leave. I stay to make sure that whatever bad happens today doesn’t get completely out of hand.

  When this day turns sour for Malisa, and it will, she’ll probably get hurt by it. Eighth-month pregnant women cry about everything. If she does, somebody isn’t going to make it to tomorrow. She’s my sister in all the ways it counts, even though we’re not blood related, and no one’s allowed to damage her heart in any way. God forbid it’s one more of my secrets that comes out and ruins this day for her. The last traces of my boyhood crush on Malisa being discovered by Apollo almost a year ago almost did ruin things between them.

  That secret wouldn’t have come out if he didn’t need to be taught a lesson for breaking her heart. She’s always been beautiful, even when the full power of her attractiveness is hidden behind ponytails and glasses. I’ve always been a red-blooded male with 20/20 vision and a good degree of intelligence.

  Well, I think I’m smart, or I’d have chased her romantically when we were kids. Because having no shared DNA between us left nothing to stop my lust, which developed way too damn early if you ask Malisa’s mother, Lydia Owens. I call her Mama O. She’s my mother adopted by the heart. I’m not going to lose her for anything, but I’ll have some serious explaining to do if she or anyone else in the Owens clan ever finds out about Astrid Daniels.

  The tossing of my insides morphs into full-blown heartburn, and I’m only thinking about trying to explain why I secretly slept with Astrid, who can pass for Malisa’s sister, for months. Talking to Mama O about anything is damn near impossible; she makes a federal case out of just about everything. She can be completely overbearing too, until she’s satisfied that her kids’ lives are in order again. Poor Malisa just went through enough of that for the both of us, with just trying to convince everyone that Apollo is good enough for her.

  However, the resemblance between my sister and Astrid alone will make Mama O and Malisa both poke their noses in my affairs. That’s why I never introduced Astrid as my girl to anyone. Technically, Astrid can’t be called my girl. We have a silent understanding about where we stand in each other’s lives; no strings attached. Now, I have doubts about whether she really understood that, or she’d still be here with me. Right?

  I sure as hell have no clue. Lucky for me, Malisa isn’t complicated, already knows what she means to me, and is extremely happy that I only felt a light itch for her way back when. I still remember the big smile she gave me earlier this year when I told her that I wasn’t willing to scratch that itch and that it never was that serious to begin with. Her obvious happiness about it would’ve hurt my feelings if I didn’t love being her brother more than any itch I get. It takes a special woman to be glad that a man only felt a light attraction to her.

  Well, Malisa’s that special, and even a hormone-raging teenager can recognize a good girl that’ll grow into a good woman. I’d like to say my testosterone has leveled out since growing up. It hasn’t, but my gut-wrenching hunches are how I know Malisa won’t be thrilled with me when she finds out that I didn’t tell her the whole truth about why I’m still single. Letting her meet Astrid will expose my half-lies.

  I’m not willing to be a part of that conversation, yet. Hell, I’m having a hard time with just
being attracted to Astrid, who I haven’t seen in six months. Talking about how bad it ended between us is off the table for now. It’ll tear me apart, because she’s disappeared, without a ‘see you later sucker’ or putting in two weeks’ notice, just as bizarrely as she appeared out of thin air in my sheriff’s department two years ago. She was ready to go to work. I hadn’t hired a new deputy, didn’t need one because I didn’t want one. My perfect eyesight, a phantom abdomen punch that took my breath, and fully-functioning male parts made sure I knew I had a much bigger problem than unwanted personnel standing in front of me.

  It’s safe to say that I wasn’t ready for Astrid. She’s the version of Malisa Owens that’s actually meant for me and even more beautiful than my sister who’s the perfect girl to measure the perfect girl for me against. I just didn’t expect them to look so much alike. Matching temperament and frame of mind would’ve been good enough for me.

  Despite being everything I want in a woman, Astrid’s timing couldn’t have been more off. What’s worse is having no matching DNA with her too, to stave off my attraction to her, and having too many personal problems to romance her properly. Blood ties would’ve saved me from adoring the craziest shit about her; she’s just as bullheaded and independent as my sister is. Both have the habit of taking off and staying gone, too.

  “What man would love any of that about a woman, Blake?” I ask, criticizing myself under my breath, which catches in my damn lungs when my words sink in.

  Who said I love her?

  I groan, “You said it, jackass.” Then, I line another chair up and let it drop in place beside another one.

  Talking to myself and catching on to my feelings too late is only a few of the unusual things that I’ve been doing since Astrid ghosted Arrow. That’s why I definitely wouldn’t have employed a distraction that she would prove to be. It’s common knowledge that I have no plans on hiring anymore employees as long as I’m elected sheriff, which is why I didn’t get a heads-up from the county council that Astrid was coming to work for me. Or I’d have produced a valid and legal reason to keep her off my payroll, avoiding an expensive discrimination lawsuit that she surely would’ve won.