A Cop's Honor

by EMILIE ROSE

  “And you’re afraid that if you question Mason too closely he’ll take off like your mother did.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hannah, you can’t let fear keep you from having the difficult conversations.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not afraid of losing your child.”

  He pulled out a pad of paper. “What was your mother’s name?”

  “Janine. Why?”

  “Maiden name and birthdate?”

  “Brandon, what does it matter?”

  “I can look into her disappearance. It’ll only take a few minutes. Humor me.”

  “Wilson. April tenth, 1968. But you’re wasting your time. I’ve done internet searches and found nothing.” She checked her watch. “I’m running out of time. What do you make of the note?”

  “Probably just from a schoolyard bully. But with social media being what it is these days, you can’t ignore that threat.”

  “Mason isn’t on social media.”

  “He might have an account that you don’t know about. I didn’t think to check when I looked at your computer. Other kids his age have accounts. You need to ask him about the note, social media and if he’s having trouble with a bully.”

  He unwrapped his Philly cheesesteak sandwich and his mouth salivated. Hannah didn’t appear to be having the same reaction to her salad. Her brow remained puckered with worry. Her fist clenched beside her plate. After a moment she shook her head.

  “If I ask about a bully he’ll know I read his note.”

  At least now he understood her fear. But she was going to have to get over that before Mason hit his teenage years—if not sooner. “Then talk to the school and find out if they know of any bullying issues.”

  “I can try that. I don’t like the idea of him being bullied.”

  “Neither do I.” His stomach churned with hunger and concern. “Eat, Hannah.”

  “I don’t think I can. But go ahead.”

  “No can do. My momma taught me to always wait for the lady at the table.”

  She blinked. “That’s old-fashioned.”

  He shrugged. “That’s my family. Good ol’ Southern stock.”

  Reluctantly, she popped the clear plastic lid from her takeout container. The spicy aroma filled the air.

  “It’s a Cajun chicken salad. Hope you still like spicy food.”

  “I do. Thank you.” She stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and slipped it between her lips. The simple process of eating shouldn’t be fascinating, but she had his attention. “I’m eating. That means you should, too.”

  “Right.” He pried his gaze away from her mouth and took a bite, trying to focus on something he could have rather than something he couldn’t.

  “Thank you for bringing lunch. Next time’s on me.”

  He liked the sound of that. Too much. “You can cook Saturday. I’m coming over to work on the treehouse. I’ll also talk to Mason about bullies.”

  Once again, he held up a hand when her lips parted to protest. “A couple of weeks ago I promised him I’d teach him some self-defense moves. This will be follow-up. He won’t suspect a thing. And if I’m good, I’ll even get a description of the kid—if there is one—at the same time.”

  Chapter Nine

  “NO WONDER YOU called dibs,” Lucy said over Hannah’s shoulder as they both looked out the kitchen window into the backyard Saturday morning.

  “I did no such thing! I only said he wasn’t your type.” Hannah flushed and turned away, but the sight of Brandon, stripped down to his jeans and work boots, with sweat rivulets rolling down his tanned skin to dampen his waistband, was tattooed on her retinas.

  “Wrong!” Lucy fanned her face with her hand. “He’s hot. And girl, I don’t mean because it’s pushing ninety degrees today.” She took the position Hannah had vacated and leaned closer to the glass. “Is that a six-pack or an eight-pack? I wish he’d turn this way so I could see better. Lordy, I would love to lick that slice of pale skin between his jeans and his tan line.”

  Hannah bit her tongue on the unexpected need to tell Lucy to keep her bawdy comments to herself. If she said anything it would only reinforce the idea that she had a more-than-friendly interest in Brandon. And she didn’t. Never would.

  She fisted her hands, and her engagement diamond bit into her palm. She turned it around and the sun caught the stone and flashed, reminding her of Rick, the one who’d put it on her finger. Fast on the heels of that memory, she recalled her husband telling her that Brandon had helped him pick out her wedding set and loaned him the money to buy it.

  Guilt settled heavily on her chest. Why couldn’t she have a simple thought about her husband without his former partner tainting it? Even if she had none of Lucy’s desire to test-drive Brandon in bed, she had no business being so preoccupied with his physique.

  She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the kinks, and directed her attention to her friend. “You always did like a guy in a tool belt.”

  “It’s not the tool. It’s whether or not he knows how to use it. If you know what I mean.” Lucy waggled her eyebrows, making Hannah’s face burn hotter. She’d heard similar comments from Lucy before, and they’d never bothered her the way they did now. But knowing the subject of Lucy’s lust changed everything. She hated for Brandon to be discussed like a bar pickup.

  “He has the confident swagger of a guy who knows how to please a woman.” Then Lucy’s expression sobered. “My rampant hormones aside, he seems to be good with Mason, and very patient teaching him to use the power tools. I wish my ex would show half as much interest in his girls.”

  Hannah remained silent even though she was tempted to spur Lucy on to another rant about her deadbeat ex rather than listen to her discuss Brandon.

  “And Brandon has common sense—a rare quality these days,” Lucy continued, making Hannah wish she’d spoken up. “He put up the slide first so the girls would stay out of his hair while he worked on the rope. I just about melted when he let each of them screw in a bolt. I might go down the slide a time or two myself. Just to show my appreciation.”

  “You do that.” But Lucy was right. Brandon was surrounded by children, and he interacted with them comfortably. She didn’t know many single guys who could do that. He’d done the same at his family’s cookout when the kids had climbed all over him. Like a train car connected to the engine, the memory of how she’d practically crawled into his pocket in the barn followed.

  She derailed that unwelcome thought by remembering Rick, who’d been natured differently. Her husband had preferred to tackle projects alone and without interruption. Brandon, on the other hand, included those around him, and he taught as he worked, talking the kids through unfamiliar deeds repeatedly, if necessary—the same way he had with Rick.

  And there she went again, making unfair comparisons.

  Lucy pushed away from the counter. “He looks thirsty from all that hard work. I think he could use some lemonade. Wasn’t it smart of me to have made a gallon?”

  “Brilliant.” Hannah tried and failed to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  Lucy and the girls had shown up unexpectedly with cookies, lemonade and a sack full of hot dogs to grill thirty minutes ago. Hannah wished she’d never mentioned Brandon was coming over. And while she was grateful to her friend for providing lunch, it meant the double batch of chicken tetrazzini Hannah had made this morning would have to wait until tomorrow, and because she and the kids couldn’t finish it, she’d be carrying it for lunch every day next week. Carb overload.

  Lucy grabbed the pitcher from the refrigerator and headed for the back door, carrying only one cup.

  “Lucy, what about Mason and the girls? I’m sure they’re hot and thirsty, too.”

  “Oh, right. Why don’t you bring some extra cups? After we cool ’em off then maybe we’ll both test Brandon’s
skills.” She paused. “Wipe that look off your face, Hannah. I meant test the slide he installed.” Then the door shut behind her precocious friend.

  Hannah shook her head. Had she made a face? She’d have to be more careful with her expressions. And because she really didn’t know if she could trust Lucy not to put the moves on Brandon, she quickly piled the cups, along with a bucket of ice, on a tray and headed outside. The girls came galloping toward them, but Hannah’s gaze locked on Brandon. He stood with his back to her and his hands on his hips, staring up at the rope he’d draped over the giant oak tree branch twenty-five feet above his head. He had swimmer’s shoulders. Her gaze drifted from his deltoids and trapezii to the thin, pale strip of flesh above his waistband. Darn Lucy for mentioning it.

  Brandon turned. She yanked her gaze north. But not before the thin, dark line of hair descending from his navel to behind his fly snagged her attention. Rather than drift any further into forbidden territory, she averted her gaze to her son, who stood beside him.

  “It’s up, Mom.” Excitement sparkled in Mason’s eyes, revealing no sign of worry over the note she’d found in his room. Maybe it was an old one. Or a joke. Or something he’d picked up in the hall to play finger football with and never unfolded. Maybe it wasn’t his and he had no idea what it said.

  “All set?” she asked. It was more of a struggle than it should have been to keep her gaze fixed on Brandon’s face and not his flat nipples or the defined rectus abdominals Lucy had pointed out.

  “Almost. I want to make sure it’s safe before anyone else climbs it.” Brandon reached up to grip the rope and tugged, making his impressive back and upper arm muscles flex. He had to work out hard and regularly to get that kind of definition.

  “Hannah?” Brandon’s rough voice forced her gaze from the curve of his pectorals and biceps to his eyes. The awareness reflected back at her made her stomach swoop. He’d caught her looking. Again. Her face overheated. Ogling him was taboo. She forced air into her empty lungs and set the tray on the table before she dropped it.

  “Think you’ll be able to reach the top?” he asked.

  She blinked. “Me?”

  White teeth flashed and his hazel eyes twinkled. “Mason and I are taking bets as to whether you can make it. He says no.”

  His grin weakened her knees. She turned to a safer subject—her traitorous son. “Really? You have so little confidence in me?”

  “You’re a girl and you’re old,” Mason stated baldly.

  Ouch. “I’m only thirty. And as for being a girl—you should never underestimate us. Just for that, smarty pants, I might have to prove you wrong.” She turned back to Brandon. “Do I even want to know how you voted?”

  “Wheee!” Lucy cried out as she emerged from the corkscrew slide before he could answer. Her momentum carried her forward. She stumbled several steps, landing conveniently against Brandon’s broad chest. He caught her. Then she looked up at him and said breathlessly, “The slide is great, Brandon.”

  Hannah’s nerves jangled anew and a sour taste filled her mouth. Lucy’s obvious bid for Brandon’s attention disturbed her on multiple levels she didn’t want to explore.

  He steadied Lucy and released her. “Glad you and the girls like it. Better yet that you just showed me where we need to dump mulch for the kids’ landing zone.”

  Then he turned to Mason and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “So, you ready to learn to climb?”

  Hannah saw the stunned look on her friend’s face. Lucy was pretty—so pretty that guys rarely turned down her overtures. But Brandon had acted as if he hadn’t even noticed her flirtatious pitch.

  “Uh...” Mason dug his sneaker toe into the dirt.

  “Come on, man, you were excited about the rope earlier.”

  “I um...don’t know how to climb. I kinda...suck at it actually.”

  “No problem. I’ll teach you. Watch my technique. Focus on my feet. How you trap the rope between your arches is as important as your handhold. Your upper body strength is something you’ll have to work on and build up. That takes time. But there are several ways to climb. I’ll show you one today that uses your legs more than your arms.”

  Then Brandon jumped, grasping the rope as high as he could. He curled his lower body, lifting his knees and revealing the eight-pack Lucy had mentioned and widening that sliver of pale skin. After clamping the rope again with his feet at waist level, he straightened and repeated the process, inch-worming his way upward in a rippling, mesmerizing display of physical power.

  She tried to tell herself her appreciation of his physique was purely professional because she worked with a lot of athletes. But her dry mouth and erratic pulse gave away the lie. And she wasn’t the only one watching his ascent. Lucy seemed equally awestruck.

  At the top, he clung precariously with his feet while he bounced to test the stability of the limb and tree. Fear clogged Hannah’s throat. What if he fell? He was pretty high. Broken bones would be inevitable.

  Finally, he descended. Once his boots hit the ground air gushed from her lungs. Only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath.

  “You’re pretty good. For an old guy,” Mason jibed.

  Brandon mock-punched his shoulder. “Knucklehead,” he said with a smile on his face that made Mason beam. “Ready to try?”

  Mason shook his head.

  “Then who’s next? Hannah? You going to show your boy how it’s done?”

  She gulped and prayed Brandon had no idea of the excitement that watching him climb had stirred in her veins. Good grief, she was almost as bad as Lucy. Apparently, avoiding dark places with him wasn’t going to be enough to keep her unwanted hormones in check.

  Lucy squeezed between them. “I take a pole dancing exercise class, and I have excellent upper body strength. I’ll bet I can climb it. Could you give me a boost?”

  She flipped Brandon a look from under her lashes, but he stepped back, shaking his head. “I won’t be here to help you later. You need to get started by yourself.”

  As far as rejections went, it was a gentle one. And Lucy took it well. Looking determined, she jumped at the rope, grasped it and hung for several seconds. She climbed a yard, but her arms weren’t strong enough without the proper foot grip and she soon slipped to the ground. “My hands must be slick with suntan lotion.”

  Brandon swung his attention to Hannah. One corner of his mouth lifted and his hazel eyes sparkled in a challenge. He caught the thick rope and pushed it toward her. “Come on. Show me what you’ve got. I have five bucks riding on you reaching the branch.”

  He had bet on her. Exhilaration raced through her. Did he know one of her clients owned a CrossFit gym, and that Hannah often worked out with him? She’d climbed enough to know she should be able to do this. But trying and failing in front of Brandon was different than having a bad day at the gym. Talk about pressure. Then she saw Mason, Belle, Celia and Ella standing by with rapt expressions.

  “Come on, Mommy. You can do it,” Belle cheered.

  “Put up or shut up, Mom,” Mason said with a smirk.

  She couldn’t refuse. Hannah stepped to the rope. Impressing Brandon was not her goal. Really, it wasn’t. She deliberately turned her back on him and took a deep breath, psyching herself up for the climb, then she leaped into action and locked her fingers and feet around the thick hemp. Nervousness made the first couple of yards difficult. Her muscles quivered. Then she blocked out everyone on the ground and focused on reaching the branch above her.

  Hand over hand and one foot grab after the other, she worked her way to the top. Her arms and thighs protested the effort. She could hear the girls cheering then the bark of the neighbor’s dog, but she didn’t dare look down with the branch only a yard away. The girls’ screams intensified as she reached the top and touched the limb. Pride surged through her. Then the rope went sideways and Hannah almost lost her grip
. Panicked, she clamped her arms and legs around it and looked down.

  Rocky, the neighbor’s new oversize mutt had the end of the rope in his mouth like a giant chew toy. The kids chased him, trying to get it away, but Rocky took that as an invitation to play and ran in circles with the rope tip. Brandon caught the dog by the collar with one hand and anchored the rope with the other, stabilizing it. If she hadn’t nearly fallen, the circus below her would have been funny. Heart racing, she descended. About a yard from the bottom she released the rope, intending to drop the last few feet.

  Brandon caught her around the waist and snatched her tight against him. With her back to his bare chest she slid down, her buttocks gliding over his groin. The moment her feet touched the ground he spun her to face him. “Are you all right?”

  His pallor surprised her, but the heat of his body so close to hers made it impossible to process words. His hands branded her just below her bra band. They must have slipped beneath her loose tank top when he grabbed her. The skin-to-skin contact stole her breath.

  “I’m fine.”

  He searched her face as if he didn’t believe her, and his hands tightened. She could feel the hard, fast thump of his heart beneath her palm. The urge to stroke and soothe him coursed through her. Then suddenly, her surroundings penetrated. Lucy and the children were all watching.

  She broke the connection, twisted free and knelt to scratch the panting, tail-wagging pup at her feet while she struggled to regain her equilibrium. “Are you looking for a playmate, big guy?”

  “The damn dog almost made you fall. You could have been hurt.”

  “But he didn’t. And I wasn’t.” Brandon had been afraid for her. She heard the concern in his voice, but she couldn’t look at him. She focused on the pooch. “Rocky, does your momma know you’ve dug out of your yard again?”

  “He’s a hazard,” Brandon insisted.

  “He’s a puppy. And the kids adore him.”

  Mason bounded forward. “He wasn’t trying to hurt her. I’ll take him home.” Leading Rocky, he headed toward the fence but paused to look over his shoulder. “That was pretty cool, Mom.”