“I didn’t touch it.”
They were the first words she spoke when they walked into her office.
“Didn’t touch what?” he asked cautiously.
“The gun.”
Even without any context, the words gave his heart an unexpected jolt.
“What gun?”
It was Connor who asked the question, as Reid’s heart was somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, rendering speech difficult.
She pointed to the trash receptacle beside her desk.
Reid shoved his heart back into his chest, looked into the basket and swore. “How did this get here?”
“I don’t know.” But her face was pale and there was a slight tremor in her voice. “Beth always takes out the garbage on Fridays, and I didn’t have appointments yesterday, but I did, um, meet with a client here last night.”
“Who?” Reid demanded.
“You know I can’t—”
“Screw solicitor-client privilege,” he practically snarled at her. “I want to know who was in my wife’s office with a weapon.”
If he’d been thinking clearly, he would’ve realized that was the absolute wrong thing to say to her. But he wasn’t thinking clearly—he couldn’t think past the fact that whoever had callously pulled the trigger to put a bullet in the twenty-three-year-old clerk at The Trading Post had then carried the weapon into Katelyn’s office.
Didn’t she know that desperate people did desperate things? That the client she was determined to protect could have used the gun on her? Didn’t she realize Reid could have left one crime scene and come home to find his wife, not sleeping on the sofa with a baseball game on TV, but bleeding out on the floor in her office?
Just the thought made his whole body break out into a sweat.
But Katelyn only straightened her spine and narrowed her gaze—a warrior ready for battle. “You do your job, Sheriff, and I’ll do mine.”
He knew her mention of his position was intended to draw a line between them, but it also served to remind him that he was there in his professional capacity—and with his deputy as a witness to their altercation, too.
He drew in a deep breath, battling against the fear and impotence that held him captive, and managed a brisk nod. “I assume you have no objection to us taking this—” he picked up the wastebasket again “—into evidence?”
“Of course not,” she said, her tone cool and stiff.
“Why don’t I head over to the office to get it logged in and sent to ballistics?” Connor suggested.
“You can both go,” Katelyn said, but her gaze never shifted away from Reid’s. “I have nothing else to say right now.”
“Well, I do.” Reid shoved the basket at his deputy.
Connor took his cue—and the evidence—and hurried out the door with only a sympathetic glance in his boss’s direction.
“I’m sorry,” Reid said, after he heard the exterior door open and close again.
Katelyn sighed and lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. “I know.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to apologize?”
“What am I supposed to apologize for?”
It was a reasonable question, but he still wasn’t close to feeling reasonable. “Maybe representing scumbag clients,” he suggested. “And, by the way, you are never again to meet with any of them here alone at night.”
“That’s not your call to make,” she said, her tone icy.
“If you won’t think about your own safety, you should at least think about the baby you’re carrying. Our baby.”
“I would never do anything to put our baby at risk.”
“Oh, well then, why would I worry?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
She folded her hands on top of the desk, focusing all her attention on the task of lacing her fingers together. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully neutral. “I think you should probably head back to the Sheriff’s Office now.”
He decided she was right. They were just going around in circles, he was frustrated by her refusal to acknowledge the recklessness of her behavior, and if he didn’t walk away, one of them would say something they’d regret.
* * *
Kate blew out a weary breath when Reid finally walked out of her office. She stayed where she was after he’d gone, still shaking—with both fear and fury—and not certain her watery legs would be able to support her if she tried to move.
Thankfully, she’d managed to pull herself together by the time she heard a familiar voice say, “Knock knock,” from the outer office.
“I’m back here,” she said, hastily wiping at her tears before Emerson came around the corner.
“Hey.” Her friend gave her a quick hug. “I had some errands to run in town and saw Reid leaving, so I thought I’d stop by and see how your dinner turned out last night.”
“It was a complete bust,” Kate admitted.
“He didn’t like the chicken?”
“He didn’t make it home for dinner.”
Emerson frowned. “Why...” And then she put the pieces together. “The shooting at The Trading Post?”
Kate nodded.
“It must be hard, not just having plans ruined but knowing your husband’s life could be in danger just because he’s doing his job,” Emerson said sympathetically.
“Of course I worry about him,” she admitted. “But I trust that he’ll take all necessary precautions to stay safe and come home at the end of the night. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to have the same faith in me.”
“What do you mean?”
So Kate summarized for her friend the argument they’d had after Reid learned about her meeting with the new client—without revealing any details, of course.
“I know you think he overreacted,” Emerson said. “But even I was freaked out listening to the story, and you’re not my wife or the mother of my unborn child.”
“I’m not unsympathetic to his concerns—I just want him to trust me to do my job the same way I trust him to do his,” she said.
“Every marriage has an adjustment period as two people who are used to living their own lives suddenly have to learn to communicate and compromise.”
Kate shook her head. “This isn’t an adjustment problem.”
“What do you think the problem is?”
“He doesn’t trust me.”
“In all fairness, he doesn’t really know you,” Emerson said gently. “You’ve been married for a month, and you dated for only a short time before the wedding.”
All of which was true, of course. She sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have married him.”
“Is that really how you feel?” her friend asked.
She considered the question for a moment. Though she and Reid had only been married a few weeks, she already couldn’t imagine her life without him in it—she didn’t want to imagine her life without him in it. Because despite an overprotective streak that rivaled her father’s and a frustrating insistence on doing things for her that she was perfectly capable of doing herself, Reid was the man she loved.
“No,” she finally said. “I don’t regret marrying him.”
“Then you’re going to have to be patient—and give yourselves both some time to figure things out.”
But it was hard to communicate with a man who was hardly ever around. And after the argument in her office, Reid kept himself busy.
At first Kate thought it was just the ongoing investigation that was monopolizing his time, but when that was complete, he spent every free minute at the new house: stripping wallpaper, tearing out carpets, painting ceilings and baseboards and, after Kate had picked the colors she wanted, walls.
He worked hard—every day. Sometimes he was at the house so late, he would crash on the sofa in the living room when he finally got back to the
apartment so as not to disturb Kate’s rest. At least that was the excuse he gave, but with every day that passed, she felt the distance between them growing.
She’d stayed away from the renovations, because he was worried the dust from sanding and the smell of paint wouldn’t be good for the baby. She decided the distance between them wasn’t good for the baby—or their marriage—either.
Ten days after their big argument, and three days before they were scheduled to fly to Texas for Henry’s christening, she picked up takeout from Diggers’ and took it to the new house.
He looked so sexy in paint-splattered jeans with an old Echo Ridge Sheriff’s Office T-shirt stretched across those broad shoulders and a slight hint of stubble darkening his strong jaw—and she missed him like crazy.
“I thought you might want to take a break and have something to eat.”
He set the roller in the pan and covered it with the corner of a plastic drop sheet. “I am hungry,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Maybe we could sit outside?” she suggested. There wasn’t any furniture in the house, but there was a patio set that the former owners had left.
“Sure,” he agreed.
“You’ve been busy out here, too,” she noted, as they stepped through the patio doors onto the back deck.
“Norm let me borrow his mower,” he said.
“It looks good.”
“Better, anyway,” he agreed.
She opened the bag of food, handed him a foil-wrapped bacon cheeseburger, a paper sleeve of french fries and a can of cola.
“You’re not eating?”
“I had something earlier,” she said. Which was true—she just didn’t specify that ‘earlier’ was actually lunch.
“Little bean still craving cheesecake these days?”
She shook her head. “Pineapple mango smoothies.”
“A surprisingly healthy choice,” he noted.
“Well, it’s only been three days,” she admitted.
For the next few minutes, he focused on eating, though he nudged the fries toward Kate, silently offering to share.
She selected one and nibbled on the end.
When he’d finished his burger, she ventured to ask, “Are we still going to Echo Ridge on the weekend?”
He picked up the can of soda, sipped. “If you want to.”
“Of course I want to.”
“Okay then,” he said agreeably.
“Do you want to?”
“Sure.”
He offered her some more fries; she shook her head.
“Are you going to initiate any kind of conversation or just answer my questions as succinctly as possible?”
He popped a couple of fries into his mouth, chewed.
“I heard you talking to Emerson,” he finally said. “The day you found the gun, I came back with an evidence receipt, and the two of you were in your office.”
“Okay,” she said cautiously, trying to remember any part of the conversation that could’ve caused his withdrawal.
“You said you wished you hadn’t married me.”
Kate immediately shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I don’t remember exactly what I said,” she admitted. “But I know I wouldn’t have said that because it’s not true.”
“Well, it was something along those lines,” he insisted. “And it got me wondering...if you wanted out.”
She swallowed, her throat tight. “I don’t want out.” She folded a paper napkin in half, then again, her heart heavy as she contemplated asking the question she wasn’t sure she wanted him to answer. “Do you?”
“No.” He answered without hesitation, which loosened the vise around her chest a little. “But I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy being married to you,” she said. Then, remembering what her friend had said about honest communication, she elaborated on her response. “I’m also not happy that my husband of six weeks has apparently moved out of our bedroom.”
“I didn’t move out of our bedroom,” he denied. “But I thought we could both use some space.”
“You mean you needed some space.”
“Maybe I did,” he acknowledged.
“Have you almost had enough space?” she asked hesitantly. “Because I’d kind of like my husband back.”
“Yeah—” he reached across the table and covered her hand with his “—I’ve had more than enough space.”
The vise loosened a little more. “Since I’m pouring out my heart here, there’s something else you should know.”
“What’s that?” he asked, a little warily.
“I didn’t just agree to marry you so our baby would have two parents, but because I wanted a partner to share my life, for the rest of my life. And...because I fell in love with you.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again without saying a word, crushing any tentative hope that he might express similar feelings. And then he withdrew his hand, ostensibly to pick up his soda, but she knew the drink was just a diversion.
She pushed her chair away from the table. “Anyway,” she said, pleased that her level tone gave no indication that her heart was breaking. “I just wanted you to know.”
* * *
Reid let her go.
He sat at the table, the bag of garbage balled up in his fist, and watched her walk away because he was an idiot and a coward.
He should have said something. When a woman told a man she loved him, she expected some kind of response. But he’d said nothing, because he didn’t know what to say or what to feel. And yes, because he was afraid—afraid to believe her feelings were real, even more afraid to acknowledge his own.
All the books and articles on pregnancy talked about an expectant mother’s heightened emotions. It was possible that the love she felt for the baby growing inside her was being extended to him because he was the baby’s father. And if so, her feelings could change when the baby was born.
And maybe, an annoying voice that sounded remarkably like his ex-wife said inside his head, he should give her some credit for knowing her own mind and heart. Katelyn was hardly the type of woman to impulsively express her emotions. If she said she loved him, she obviously believed it was true.
And he wanted to believe it, too.
But even if those feelings were real, would they last?
Trish had told him that she loved him. She’d said the words over and over again, urging him to trust her feelings. But in the end, she’d walked away from their marriage. He understood her reasons—she’d wanted something he wasn’t willing to give her. And he certainly didn’t blame her for choosing to build a life with someone else. But that experience made him skeptical about his new wife’s professed feelings.
He didn’t doubt Katelyn believed what she was saying right now, but they’d only known one another a short while. He was committed to her and the family they were building together, but he wasn’t quite ready to drop the shields around his heart—not even for the woman he’d married.
Chapter Eighteen
A few months earlier, Kate might have thought she’d feel uncomfortable traveling with her new husband to attend the baptism of his ex-wife’s baby with her current spouse. Now that she’d gotten to know the other woman and spent some time with both Reid and Trish together, she understood their relationship a lot better. They truly did act more like siblings than exes, and despite her initial predisposition toward her husband’s first wife, she genuinely liked Trish and was looking forward to spending some time with her and Jonah and, of course, little Henry.
Any reservations she had as Reid drove from the airport to the Stiltons’ house weren’t about her husband’s relationship with his ex-wife but his current one. Though they were both making an effort to communicate more clearly, Kate sensed that Reid was still holding back.
They arrive
d just before dinner and after they’d exchanged basic pleasantries, Trish shooed the men—including Henry—outside to start the barbecue while she showed Kate the house and the room where she and Reid would be sleeping.
“Wow,” Kate said, after the quick tour was finished and they’d returned to the spacious open-concept living area. “And you told me you married for love the second time around.”
Her hostess laughed. “I did. I just lucked out and fell in love with a man who has a very well-paying job at Texas Instruments.” She sat on the ivory leather sofa and tugged Kate down beside her. “Speaking of married...how are things with you and Reid?”
There were so many ways Kate could have answered the question—fine, great, wonderful—that would have put an end to the topic. Or even “it’s an adjustment” or “we’re figuring things out,” either of which would have been more honest but still not too revealing. Instead, she burst into tears.
“Oh, Katelyn.” Trish’s arms came around her, offering both comfort and support—and the box of tissues from the antique accent table.
A long while later, when most of Kate’s tears had been spent, Trish rubbed her back and demanded to know, “What did that big stupid man do?”
The question made Kate laugh even through her tears. “Why are you assuming he did anything?”
“Because I love him dearly, but I’m not blind to his faults.”
So Kate started with the confrontation that took place in her office and concluded with her declaration of love—and Reid’s silence.
“The problem isn’t you,” Trish said. “The problem is that no one in his life has ever stood by him, not when it really counted. No one has ever put him first.”
Kate was quiet, considering the other woman’s words.
“His father didn’t even stick around to see him born,” Trish reminded her. “His mother walked out on him a few years later—which might have been the best thing that could have happened because she left him with his grandmother. But then she died, and he was truly and completely alone.”
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