A Proposal For The Officer. Christy Jeffries
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exactly what you could do. Maybe he can get a ride home with a friend?”
“Right. And then my sister would find out and wonder why I couldn’t handle it myself.”
Kaleb seriously doubted that this woman slouched on the seat next to him could handle it. His heart constricted and his head was heavy, which was why he had to keep it supported against the door behind him as he balanced beside her, their bodies only a few inches apart. He of all people knew what it was like to not want someone—especially an overly concerned family member—to think he was weak or needed help.
Still. He was shocked when she turned those pretty blue eyes on him and asked, “Can you give me a ride to the baseball field?”
His throat closed in on itself as if it were the plastic water bottle she’d just drained. He coughed to clear it. “But...you don’t know me.”
“Hi, I’m Molly.”
Instinctively, because his mom had drilled good manners into him, he put his hand out and shook hers. “Kaleb.”
“Good. Now we know each other.”
“But you don’t know if I’m a criminal,” he argued.
“I know that you’re the type to rush to aid a stranger, which means you have a hero complex.”
“Ha,” he snorted. His brothers would argue that he was the least heroic of all of them, or at least the most self-absorbed. “Maybe I have a villain complex and you’re too weak to have figured it out yet.”
“I am not weak.” Her piercing look sent a chill down the back of his neck. He’d always associated the name Molly with a lovable cocker spaniel. But right this second, she looked more like a pissed-off Chihuahua. “Besides, a villain would’ve already robbed me or kidnapped me by now. And bad guys don’t have trusty assistants named Angela.”
“So you’re the expert on bad guys?” Why was he arguing with her about this? Just tell her you don’t want to give her a ride. Because he suddenly found himself actually wanting to take her anywhere she needed to go. She looked so delicate and fragile, yet he had a feeling there was a spine of steel under that petite frame. Plus, she was a mystery, a riddle, and he didn’t like leaving things unsolved.
“If you’d met my ex, you’d quickly figure out that I’m definitely not an expert on jerks.” He raised a brow at that little admission and she clamped her eyes shut. “God, forget I said that.”
Too late. Kaleb never forgot anything.
“Sir,” a cashier with salt-and-pepper dreadlocks called as she crossed the parking lot. “You forgot your ice and your limes.”
“Oh, geez, don’t let anyone see me like this.” Molly slouched lower in the seat. Great, now she was a cowering Chihuahua. “They’ll tell my sister.”
Kaleb sighed and stood up. He jogged toward the cashier, trying to meet her halfway.
“Thanks, Donae,” he said, reading the name tag on her apron. His father always said that people gave better service when you used their first name. Kaleb usually avoided the practice because it tended to invite familiarity when he was usually trying to keep the public from recognizing him. But he had a feeling he’d need all the allies he could get if he was going to survive the next ten days in this small town.
Kaleb took the dripping bag from Donae’s hand and set it down on the asphalt. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Listen, my friend isn’t feeling well and she left her shopping cart in aisle eight. Would you mind ringing those things up and throwing in a liter of water and one of the prewrapped turkey sandwiches from the deli section?”
“No problem, Mr. Chatterson,” she replied. Ugh, that was why he didn’t do familiarity. It gave strangers the impression that they knew him, which was fine if they’d limit their long-winded conversations to his work life and not to which model or actress or pop singer he’d recently dated. Fortunately, Donae only gave him a wide smile and took the large bills he passed her. “And just so you know, your sister, Kylie, called the store a couple of minutes ago asking if you’d left yet. I told her you were on your way. You want me to call her back?”
His jaw went stiff and he fought off the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Just like that, one mention of his awaiting family cemented Kaleb’s decision on whether he was going to give cute, determined Molly a ride to get her nephew. “Would you mind telling my sister something came up and I have to help out a friend?”
Okay, so “friend” was a generous description. In fact, Kaleb sincerely doubted his new acquaintance wouldn’t have already blasted out of the parking lot without so much as a wave if he hadn’t pocketed her car keys.
He hefted the ice into the bed of his dad’s lifted, half-ton truck, knowing he’d have to stop somewhere and get another bag before returning to his sister’s. Wiping a wet hand on his pant leg, he walked to Molly’s car to check on her. She was dozing in the passenger seat and he wondered if he should wake her up. No. That was for concussions, not diabetes. At least he thought so. Hell, he was a software developer, not a doctor. And he certainly wasn’t a damn taxi driver.
But a few minutes later, when the cashier pushed out a cart of bagged groceries, he told Donae to keep the change before loading them in the back of Molly’s hatchback.
Kaleb was often reminded of the fact that he was the shortest of all the Chatterson brothers, yet he still had to slide the driver’s seat back to accommodate his six-foot frame. He started the car and the stereo shot to life. If the booming bass of hip-hop wasn’t loud enough to wake Molly up, the vibration of the cheap speakers through the vinyl seats would’ve done the trick.
“This is for when your levels stabilize.” He tossed the wrapped sandwich on her lap and asked, “So how do I get to the baseball park from here?”
“This bread has seeds in it,” Molly said as she examined the turkey sandwich he’d given her. She was already dehydrated and couldn’t afford to use the little saliva she could muster to swallow some tasteless looking cardboard.
“It’s whole grain.” Kaleb spoke slowly, as though he was explaining jet propulsion to a kindergartner. “It’s one of those complex carbs you’re supposed to eat once you drink enough fluid to flush out all the excess sugar from your system.”
Her unsolicited rescuer was sure turning out to be quite the know-it-all.
“I’m well aware of what I’m supposed to be eating and drinking.” As if to prove it, she took another long swig of the water he’d thoughtfully purchased after she’d already downed an entire bottle.
“Forgive me for doubting that when I overheard you asking some clueless teenager at the juice bar if the strawberry-banana smoothie was low in sugar.”
“Well, I will be aware. As soon as I meet with the nutritionist at Shadowview.” Molly actually had several appointments at the nearby military hospital, but she’d been putting them off. She could only handle one tailspin at a time.
“So you are in the military.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Technically, she was. But she didn’t know for how much longer. Ever since the flight surgeon wrote up a medical board determining that her recently diagnosed condition made her ineligible to fly, Molly had refused to think about where her career was headed. So instead, she changed the subject. “You can stop looking at the map on your phone. I know where we’re going.”
“But my GPS is saying it’s quicker to take Snowflake Boulevard to Lake Street.”
“Does your GPS also say that Lake Street is blocked off today because the high school drill team is practicing for next week’s Sun Potato Parade?”
“Hmpf.”