His Unforgettable Fiancée. Teresa Carpenter
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him to the hospital.
That version made more sense than the motorcycle-riding geek with an expensive taste in watches and a penchant for knowing things he couldn’t back up with facts.
And yet she believed him.
The concussion was real. The pain was real. The frustration was real. The occasional flash of fear he tried to hide was very real. She’d been in law enforcement too long not to recognize those elements when she saw them. And there were medical tests to back it all up.
Not to mention the fact if he was a thug, she’d probably be lying on the side of the road back near Woodpark.
Well, he would have tried, anyway. She didn’t go down so easy.
The lights of Santa Rosa came into view. She stole a sip of JD’s coffee, wrinkling her nose at the lack of sugar. Surprisingly it still held a good heat. And the punch of caffeine she longed for.
No question about it, he was a puzzle, but a legit one.
Still, she’d be smart to take the things he was so sure of with a grain of salt. There was no sense, none at all, in fostering an attraction when neither of them was sure of their future. When neither of them was sure of themselves.
Because, yeah, losing the campaign had really shaken her. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud. She thought she’d been doing a good job, that the community liked her. But the votes hadn’t been there. It had left her reeling. And feeling a little lost. She put her heart and soul into protecting and serving the citizens of Woodpark, and they chose a stuffed shirt who was more hot air than action.
Their loss, right? Except the experience threw her off stride, made her question her decisions and her vocation. Which was so not her. She always knew exactly what she wanted, and she went after it with a zealousness that earned her what she sought.
Not this time.
So, yeah, she had more empathy for JD than she might have had otherwise.
In a moment of connection and sympathy, she reached across the middle console and gripped his hand where it lay on his muscular thigh. His fingers immediately wrapped around hers, and her gaze shot to his face.
There was no change in his expression or posture, leaving her to wonder how long he’d been awake.
She pulled her hand free.
“We’re about twenty minutes from Santa Rosa,” she told him. “I bought you a coffee. It has a little heat left if you want it. There is cream and sweeteners.”
He straightened in his seat and scrubbed his hands over his face.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I was in a cage fight with a motorcycle and lost.”
“You need to choose your sparring partners more carefully.”
He barked a laugh. “Yes, I do.” He picked up the to-go cup and took a sip. “Black is fine.” He stared over at her. “How are you doing?”
Wow. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time someone asked how she was doing. She blinked, clearing her vision, shoving aside the maudlin reaction to a simple question.
“Fine. The coffee has kept my body alert.”
“Ah. And what’s your mind been busy with?”
“Nothing. Everything.”
“Well that narrows it down. Was wondering if I’m lying mixed in there somewhere?”
“Yes. I discounted it.”
Silence met her response. And then in a hoarse voice, he asked, “Why?”
“The evidence supports your claim.” She told him truthfully, and more hesitatingly, “And I trust my gut.”
“I’m glad.” He turned to stare out his window. “Because I’m trusting it, too.”
She eyed his profile before focusing on the road again. “Then for both our sakes I hope it holds true.”
“Do you have a job lined up in San Francisco?” Now she felt the weight of his gaze on her. “Is that why you’re headed there?”
“I prefer the city.” Amenity was easier in the city.
“Me, too.”
“Another clue?”
“Yeah, let’s call it that.” He sipped his coffee, then dropped the empty cup into the holder. “Losing the election causing you to question your career choice?”
“My ego took a hit.” She lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “I’ll shake it off.”
She hoped.
“Good. You’re better than the lot of them.”
“Really.” His endorsement tickled her, bringing out a rusty smile. “And you base your accolades on what exactly?”
“On my observations. Everyone we talked to liked and respected you. It was a busy night, a holiday they were working, yet they thought enough of you to remember it was your last day and to wish you well in future endeavors. You would have won the election if you put a little effort into it. They’ll be missing you soon enough.”
Hmm. What he said made sense. And she liked it better than her version where they were all thinking good riddance. People did like to know their opinion mattered. Maybe she should have campaigned a little.
Too late now.
“Yes, well, on to the next adventure.”
“And what will that be? Do you have a job offer?”
“I have options.” Her future loomed ominously ahead of her like the fog creeping up on the west side as she took the off-ramp in Santa Rosa. “A town in the next county over offered me an undersheriff position.” The city was bigger than Woodpark, but not by much. “And there are always patrol positions in San Francisco.”
“You don’t sound too excited by those options.”
“The undersheriff is a higher rank, but San Francisco holds more appeal. It’s a dilemma.”
The truth? Neither of them appealed to her.
“The undersheriff position holds some appeal, except for the location. I’ve seen too much of the world to be happy in a small town.”
“Then why run for sheriff?”
Because she thought she’d found acceptance.
She explained how she got the job. “The people were decent for the most part and seemed to like me. For a while I felt like I belonged. But the election results don’t lie. I wasn’t one of them. The mayor’s brother-in-law was one of them.”
It was an old lesson, well learned. And yet she’d fallen for it again. The need to belong. As a child she’d suffered with every base change until she learned to Bubble Wrap her emotions. And as an adult she’d stayed in more than one relationship longer than she should have.
Her last boyfriend let her catch him cheating so she’d finally get the hint. Not one of her more stellar moments. Rather than fall into the pattern again, she’d stayed single for the past two years.
“A position in San Francisco holds a lot of appeal locationwise. It’s a beautiful place with so much history and culture. The problem is it’s an expensive city to live in and a beat cop doesn’t make much.”
“It would be a step backward for you.”
There was that. “I don’t mind working my way up, but I really wanted something more, something to challenge my mind.”
And she wanted a home. Someplace permanent. She appreciated what she’d seen of the world, and had more countries she longed to visit. But more than anything she wanted a place to come back