Sidearms and Songbirds (Hearts of Nashville Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  No—he’d do this for any citizen who had experienced vandalism, and he shouldn’t feel guilty for the time and resources that were being spent on him. He just did because he wasn’t used to being the center of attention like this.

  He shook his head as he got out of the car. He’d try to push this to the side and enjoy his night with Carly and the girls—he wasn’t here on official business, after all. He was here to eat dinner and braid Barbie hair and remember that they had lives apart from what they did for a living.

  ***

  When Sam rang the doorbell, Carly’s heart gave a massive leap, and she wondered if he knew CPR because she might end up needing it. Giving herself permission to explore the possibilities had unlocked all kinds of emotions, and she felt like a sixteen-year-old girl waiting for the captain of the football team to pick her up for prom. It was crazy. She hadn’t felt this twitterpated in forever—not since those first heady months with Mick.

  This was different, though. Mick had been possessive right from the start—at the time, she’d thought it was sweet, that it meant he really loved her. Sam felt protective of her, with good reason, but he also allowed her to stand on her own two feet. That was something she badly needed, whether in a relationship or a friendship.

  She grinned when she opened the door and saw him standing there with a loaf of bread and a bouquet of flowers. “Two of my favorite things,” she said, stepping back to let him enter. “How are things at your house?”

  He shook his head. “Crazy. Took me hours—”

  “Daddy!” Tillie raced down the hall and threw her arms around his legs. “Daddy, wait till you see the Barbies. Sophie has so many shoes!”

  Carly laughed. “I warned you.”

  “Yes, you did,” Sam replied, sounding amused. “I’ll tell you the rest later.”

  She nodded. Little girls didn’t need to hear certain things.

  The lasagna was hot and bubbly, just like it should be, and she invited everyone to come sit down at the table. Without conscious thought, she’d set a place for Sam at the head of the table, where the father would sit, and when she realized what she’d done, she felt a little embarrassed. Would he get the wrong idea? She didn’t want him to think that she expected him to fill that role in their lives—this was only their first date, after all.

  He took his seat without making a comment or even seeming to notice, and she inwardly scolded herself. She was overanalyzing this, as she usually did. It was a place setting at a table—it wasn’t like she’d met him at the door wearing a wedding dress. He could take from it whatever he wanted.

  “My mommy is the bestest cook,” Sophie told Tillie while Carly served up the food. “See all the cheese? Cheese makes everything good.”

  “I don’t remember if my mom made food,” Tillie replied. “She died when I was a baby.”

  Sophie didn’t reply, but put her arm around Tillie’s shoulders, and that made Carly choke up a little. “Here you go,” she said, setting Tillie’s plate in front of her. “It’s kind of hot, so be careful.”

  “Thank you, Sophie’s mom.”

  Carly glanced over at Sam to see him grinning. She thought about telling Tillie her actual name, but “Sophie’s mom” was so cute, she could let it slide for a while.

  Sam ate the food eagerly, but he didn’t say much, and she could tell that he was distracted. Whatever had happened that day really must have gotten to him.

  “And now guess what, Daddy—we helped Sophie’s mom make a cake! And guess what kind?”

  Sam blinked. “What, Tillie?”

  “We made a cake! And guess what kind! Chocolate!”

  He smiled. “That’s my favorite.”

  “Mine too!”

  Sam nodded, then turned to Carly. “I’m sorry—I haven’t been very good company tonight. I just keep thinking about everything.”

  “I understand. There’s a lot on your mind.”

  He reached out and laid his hand on hers where it rested on the table. “This is the most delicious dinner I’ve had for a really long time. Thank you for making it.”

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed making it.” She also enjoyed the touch of Sam’s hand—it was strong, but gentle, and it made her feel safe.

  “Can we cut the cake, Mom? I ate all my green stuff.” Sophie pointed down at her plate.

  “Yes, we can cut the cake. Why don’t you get down the pretty dessert plates?”

  The two girls ran over to the cupboard, and Sam rubbed the back of Carly’s hand with his thumb. “On the way over here, I kept thinking how nice it was that I had a welcoming place to go. You didn’t have to bend over backwards for me, but I have to admit, it was sure nice.”

  “You’ll always be welcome here,” she said softly. She wanted to say more, but Sophie called out that they needed her help.

  She cut them each a slice of cake, and Sam’s eyes widened when he saw his. “You really are spoiling me.”

  “You’ve done a lot for us. This is the least we can do for you.” Her words came out sounding a little bit trite, but she didn’t know how to verbalize what she was feeling. Anything she said was liable to come out gushy and kind of clingy, and that’s not what she wanted.

  As soon as the girls finished their cake, Sophie turned to Tillie. “And now I have something to show you!”

  “You do? What is it?”

  “Barbie’s wedding dress!”

  They raced down the hall, giggling all the way, and Sam shook his head. “Peas in a pod.”

  “They really are.” She stood up and nodded toward the living room. “Come sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

  “Can I help with the dishes?”

  “Sure, but let’s talk first. The dishes can wait, and something’s bothering you.”

  He followed her into the living room and sank down onto the couch. She sat on the end of the couch, tucked one leg beneath her, and faced him so she wouldn’t miss anything.

  “So, as you know, Rose called while we were having lunch—the mailman had reported the vandalism of my house because no one else was home. All my neighbors work, just like yours. There were eggs splattered all over my house, huge zigzagging loops of black and white spray paint—it was a mess. My deputies got to work asking questions, but no one had seen anything or they weren’t home, and they’ve been checking the traffic cams, but I live down a quiet street, and the only cams are on the cross streets. Essentially, we’ve got almost nothing to go on.”

  “Oh, wow. That really stinks.” Again, she wished she had the right words, but they didn’t seem to exist. Eggs and paint might not seem like a big deal on the surface, but there was so much more to it than that—a feeling of being violated that was much harder to erase.

  “Yeah, it really does. I’ve left a message with the home security company to see about repositioning my sensors, and we’ll see when they call back.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about getting one of those—what’s a good company and all that.”

  “Well, don’t get the same one I have—they take forever to answer their calls.” He chuckled, then paused. “Thank you for keeping Tillie. She didn’t need to see all that. I’m able to keep the death threats and whatnot from her, but this would have been impossible to hide without your help. Mrs. Stevens next door usually picks her up if I can’t make it, but she’s out of town visiting her daughter for the rest of the weekend.”

  “You get death threats?”

  He shrugged. “Not often, but yeah. It’s just part of the job.”

  “A really crappy part of the job.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do all this and keep your cool. I wouldn’t even last one day in the academy, let alone this other stuff.”

  “Well, we just won’t send you to the academy then. I’ll take care of that part.”

  He looked up and met her gaze, and she almost couldn’t breathe. He sounded like . . . like this might be a thing, and she wanted it to be a thing, but she wasn’t sure if that’
s what he meant, and she didn’t want to presume, but . . .

  He reached out and cupped her cheek, stroking the side of her face with his thumb, and she closed her eyes. Had she ever been touched this lovingly before? She honestly didn’t think she had. Mick was always grabbing her and yanking her in for a kiss when he wanted one. Sam’s touch was an invitation, one she knew she could reject if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to.

  She opened her eyes to see him studying her face. His gaze flickered to her lips, and she knew he was feeling out the moment, asking permission. He wouldn’t come one inch closer without a sign from her.

  She smiled, feeling the tension grow thicker between them and loving the knowledge that she had a choice. Whatever happened in the next moment was up to her, with no coercion, and he would understand if she turned away.

  She wrapped her fingers around his shirt collar and gave it a little tug, pulling him closer, and he grinned, closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around her. He held her so carefully, as if she was the most delicate, precious thing he’d ever touched, and it made her want to cry. This was the way she’d always craved being treated. This was the way Mick should have treated her—how every man should treat the woman in his life. It made her want to be extra good to Sam, to treat him with the respect he deserved in return. How was it that she was just now realizing what a relationship could and should actually be?

  When Sam ended the kiss, he didn’t let her go, but rested his head on the back of the couch, and she snuggled into his shoulder. “You’re something else, you know that, Carly Wayne?”

  “I think you’re pretty something too.” She looked up into his eyes. “I like having you here.”

  “I like being here. And I like eating cake, and I like kissing you . . . I’ll probably want to kiss you again sometime, just so you know.”

  She grinned. “I think I can work that into my schedule.”

  He pulled her a little closer and kissed the top of her head.

  She didn’t know how long they sat that way, but she felt herself becoming drowsy. That was easy to do when she was safe and warm, wrapped up in the arms of the kindest man she’d ever met.

  When she opened her eyes sometime later, she saw that she and Sam had been covered with doll blankets from Sophie’s room, and two teddy bears had been tucked in with them. Sam was asleep too, his arms still protectively around her even though his eyes were closed and his deep breathing told her he was miles away.

  She really didn’t think she could be any happier than she was in that moment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carly didn’t know how she was supposed to act like a normal person the next day. She kept thinking back to the night before, when Sam had woken up and smiled down at her, then laughed when he saw the blankets and the teddy bears. When he’d gathered up Tillie and her school bag and promised to call the next day, his eyes sparkling, full of possibilities. When he’d sent her a text to tell her goodnight just half an hour later. She was hopeless, and she knew it—she’d given her heart to Sam Bolton, and she didn’t think she’d ever want it back.

  It was Friday, and the girls would be getting out a little early. Sam texted mid-morning to ask what she thought about going on a picnic for dinner—he’d pick up some fried chicken and potato salad, and they’d go to the city park. It sounded perfect, and she put the leftover cake in a plastic container so they could bring it along.

  When the mailman came, she flipped through the envelopes, tossing half in the trash, and then she noticed a letter in the stack from Lotus Leaf Records. She set down the rest of the mail and flipped this envelope over, almost giving herself a paper cut as she slid her finger under the flap. What was this? Were they cancelling her contract or something?

  When she saw that the envelope actually contained a check for sales on her single, and when she saw what that amount actually was, she stumbled back and leaned against the wall. This . . . this was incredible. It was so much more than she’d expected—well, she hadn’t allowed herself to expect anything. She hadn’t wanted to be disappointed, so she’d never put a dollar amount on it. With shaking hands, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

  “Julia? I just got my check. Is . . . is this right? I mean, they didn’t get me confused with someone else, did they?”

  “Oh, I hope not. Let me call down to accounting, all right? I’ll call you right back.”

  Carly hung up, then stared at the wall until Julia rang. “Hey, Carly? Yes, those are the right figures. You looked over the statement and saw the different markets, right? I’m sorry the check is less than you thought—things will definitely pick up once the album is released, and the tour is really going to help.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Carly replied with a shaking voice. “This is so much more than I expected. I’m not complaining at all. I’m shocked and grateful.”

  Julia laughed. “Well, like I was just saying, it’s going to get even better when your album is released. You’re on your way, Carly.”

  “And if I cash this, they aren’t going to want it back, are they?”

  Julia laughed again. “That money is yours. Go spend it however you like.”

  “Thanks. I . . . I think I will.”

  Carly hung up, the check still clutched in her hand. She wanted to be wise with it—she didn’t want to go nuts and waste it on stuff she didn’t need. At the same time, she wanted to celebrate, to do something meaningful with it, something that would improve their lives. She glanced out the front window, where she could see her sad little car sitting in the driveway, and she laughed. Yes, she was going car shopping.

  ***

  “Chief, Vera Swenson is on the phone for you.”

  “Thanks, Rose.” Sam let go of the intercom button, then picked up the telephone. “Hello, Vera. What can I do for you today?”

  “Hi there, Chief Bolton. It might not be anything, but it might actually be something, and I thought I should tell you just in case. You remember when you came in and you showed me that man’s picture, and I told you he’d been in the shop?”

  The small hairs at the back of Sam’s neck began to prickle. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, the whole situation gave me the heebie-jeebies, and when you showed me that picture, I noticed his name written underneath, and I just took a phone order from a man with that same name.”

  Sam fisted his other hand, trying to contain his sudden anger. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. “I’ll be right down,” he said. He could take the information over the phone, but he’d rather interview Vera in person—sometimes people remembered more that way.

  He strode out of his office and past the front desk, telling Rose he was leaving, and drove over to the floral shop with his siren going. It wasn’t technically called for, but it relieved some of the pressure building up in his chest.

  “Here’s the order,” Vera said when Sam walked in, handing him a sheet of paper with trembling fingers. It was for a dozen red roses and a dozen white tulips in a large crystal vase to be delivered that day to Carly Wayne. The card was to read, Until next time. Don’t forget about me.

  The name on the order was Mick Clark.

  “This only came in a few minutes ago,” Vera said. “I haven’t processed the credit card yet or anything. What do you want me to do?”

  “You did exactly the right thing already, Vera,” Sam told her. “I’ll take this order slip for now, and you can go about your day as usual. I’m sorry to cost you the sale, but it’s best that it not be filled.”

  “Oh, believe me, this whole thing gives me the creeps. I’d rather not fill that order, thank you very much. My flowers are for love and romance, not whatever this is that’s got the police involved.”

  Sam smiled. “Thanks, Vera. You’re the best.”

  When he got out to his car, he sat there and squeezed the steering wheel for a moment. He’d known in his gut that Mick hadn’t given up, but he’d hoped that there would be a little mo
re peace before it was time for the next round. He thought about how good it felt to hold Carly in his arms, like she had always been meant to be there, and resolve grew in his gut. He was going to keep her safe—he was going to keep her daughter safe. Anything else was unacceptable.

  He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his business contacts until he found the number he needed. “Hi, Meg. This is Sam Bolton from the Cherry Creek Police Department. Do you have a minute?”

  “Oh, hi, Chief Bolton. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m working on the restraining order violation case for Carly Wayne.”

  “Yes, she mentioned you.”

  “I wondered if you’d had a chance to get those papers filed.”

  “I took them down to the courthouse the other day, the morning after Carly approved them. I’m sorry to say, I haven’t heard anything back yet. The wheels of justice turn slowly, as we’ve all learned the hard way.” She paused. “Has something happened, Chief?”

  Meg would need to know to strengthen her case. “Mick Clark just placed an order for a floral delivery to be sent to Carly, with a note saying ‘Until next time.’ The florist called me and I intercepted it. I’m on my way to see Carly now and tell her.”

  “Sometimes I just want to wring people’s necks. Tell Carly I’m here if she needs anything, all right? And I’m adding this information into the file—the judge can’t ignore all these infractions.”

  “Thanks, Meg. I’ll have Carly give you a call.”

  Sam took a moment to breathe before he turned over the engine. As frustrated as he was, it wouldn’t do any good to take that with him into Carly’s. He had to stay focused.

  When he knocked on her door, she opened it wide and grinned at him. “I thought you were just going to call—this is much better.”

  He felt a pit form in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Carly, but this is an official visit.”

  “And that means something’s happened.” She stepped aside and let him in. “What’s going on?”

  Sam pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket. “Vera at the floral shop called me. She took this order about half an hour ago.”