Читать книгу The Protector's Promise - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 9

Honor hurried through the dining room and living room, sure that she could feel Grayson’s steady gaze on her back. His eyes were the bright blue of the flowers that had bloomed in her mother’s garden every spring. Looking in them had been like coming home.

Frustrated by her foolish thoughts, she yanked the door open, not sure how she had gone from enjoying a hot cup of tea alone to making coffee for a good-looking, smooth-talking man.

“Next time you might want to ask who it is.” A dark-haired stranger stood on the porch, his hard face shadowed by the dim morning light, his sheriff’s uniform shouting his identity.

“I knew you were coming, so—”

“You can never be sure who is standing on the other side of the door, ma’am. It may not always be who you’re expecting.”

“I know. I guess with everything that has happened this morning, I wasn’t thinking clearly. You are Sheriff Reed, right?” She knew her face was three shades of red, but Honor tried to smile anyway.

“That’s right. And you’re Honor Malone.”

“Come on in.” Honor stepped back, allowing the sheriff to move into the living room. “The dispatcher said you were coming out to make sure everything had been cleared up with my neighbor.”

“And to meet you. This is a small town, and I make it a habit to say hello to people when they move in.” He didn’t even crack a smile when he said it, and Honor wondered if his reasons for meeting new people were altruistic or if he just wanted to add to his list of potential suspects.

She didn’t dare ask.

“I’ve just made a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” It seemed like the right thing to say, but Honor couldn’t help hoping that the sheriff would refuse her offer. Two men standing in her kitchen drinking coffee was two more than Honor could handle.

“A cup of coffee would be good right about now. Thanks.”

Wonderful.

She led the sheriff toward the back of the house, sure he was noticing every detail of the cluttered living and dining rooms—the still-packed moving boxes, the faded furniture and dusty floors. The peeling wallpaper that she planned to pull down as soon as she had a spare minute. Lily’s crayons were scattered across the dining room table. Candace’s textbooks were piled on a chair.

In the past week, Honor had spent all her time making the kitchen warm and inviting. In her mind, it was the heart of the home, the place where the family gathered to share in each other’s lives. The sheriff wouldn’t know that, though, and would probably think the chaos was a normal part of Honor’s daily life.

“I’m really sorry about the mess, Sheriff Reed. We just moved in a week ago, and I had to start my job two days later. Things have been hectic and…”

Her voice trailed off as she stepped into the kitchen. The room was a lot more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago. Not only was Grayson still there, but Candace and Lily had joined him. The first wore faded jeans and a sweatshirt, her blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. The second wore pink-and-red-striped tights, a pink tutu, an orange sweater and a baseball cap. Both were looking at Grayson as if he were a fairy-tale prince come to life.

Appalled, Honor strode across the room, deciding to deal with the only problem she could. Her daughter’s attire. “Lily Mae Malone, what in the world are you wearing?”

“My princess clothes.” Lily met Honor’s gaze with wide-eyed innocence, her curly brown hair brushing against cheeks still baby-smooth and chubby. At four years old she was only just beginning to lose the baby look, her bright eyes and bowed lips making her look like a mischievous cherub.

“You know better than to entertain guests dressed like that. Now, march back to your room and put on something else.”

“But—”

“Go. Now. Before you lose your library privileges.” It was the worst threat she could make, and Lily’s eyes widened even more. Precocious and imaginative, Lily had begun reading at three and liked nothing better than to check out books of fairy tales from the library.

“I’ll help her find something.” Candace spoke quietly. Her eyes—so similar in color and shape to Lily’s—were much more somber than her younger counterpart’s. She shot a last look in Grayson’s direction before taking Lily’s hand and hurrying her from the room.

“I’m so sorry if the girls were bothering you, Grayson. We haven’t been here long enough for Lily to make friends, and Candace has been busy with her college schedule. They were both probably anxious for a little change in the new routine.” Honor grabbed another mug, poured coffee and handed a cup to the sheriff.

“They weren’t bothering me. And your sister-in-law isn’t really a girl.” Grayson stood near the mudroom door, his hip leaning against the counter, a coffee cup in his hand. Light brown hair fell to just below his collar and a hint of stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked rugged and outdoorsy. Exactly the kind of guy Honor would have taken note of years ago.

But this wasn’t years ago, and she’d decided after Jay’s death that her days of noticing men, of dating them, of falling in love were over. She’d had enough of all three to last a lifetime. “No, she isn’t. She’ll be nineteen in a few months.”

“You said she was a college student. Is she attending Liberty University?”

“Why do you want to know?” Honor’s question came out much more abruptly than she’d intended it to. A month ago, Grayson’s curiosity wouldn’t have seemed odd. Now she was suspicious of everyone.

“Because he can’t leave his work at the office,” Sheriff Reed answered, a touch of amusement in his voice and a half smile easing the harsh angles of his face.

“His work?”

“He’s a prosecuting attorney for the state of Virginia. And he’s never met a question he didn’t want to ask.”

“Guilty as charged.” Grayson flashed a dimple Honor hadn’t noticed before and shouldn’t be noticing now. “Sorry. Sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. Although this time I had a good reason for asking. We’ve got several teens in the community who are attending Liberty. I thought Candace might like to meet them if she’s attending the same school.”

“She is.” Feeling foolish, Honor stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee and topped it off with a dollop of cream. She was suspicious of everyone lately and knew she shouldn’t be.

“I’ll give the kids a heads-up. Maybe they can stop by one day.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s no problem.” He raised an eyebrow as she spooned more sugar into her coffee, but didn’t comment.

“And I may be able to hook your daughter up with a play date or two. How old is she?” The sheriff broke into the conversation, and Honor gladly pulled her attention away from Grayson.

“Four going on forty.”

“Mine is three going on thirty. They probably have a lot in common.”

“I think they probably do. Would either of you like a biscuit to go with your coffee? I’m sure I’ve got shortbread.” She opened the cupboard closest to her and stretched to reach the box of biscuits on the top shelf.

“Let me.” Grayson grabbed it from her hands, his fingers brushing hers. It had been a long time since a man had helped her like that, and Honor’s cheeks heated, her heart jumping in silent acknowledgment.

“Thank you. The biscuits are from Ireland. My mother sends them every few months because she knows how much I enjoy them.” She opened the box of biscuits, biting her lip to keep from saying more. The last thing she wanted to do was babble on about biscuits when what she should really be doing was hurrying the men through their coffee and out of her house. With Grayson on her left and the sheriff on her right, Honor was boxed in. Out-sized and outnumbered by two men who seemed to be taking up more than their fair share of space.

“Ireland, huh? I thought I heard a bit of Irish brogue in your voice.” Grayson took a biscuit from the open box she held out to him, smiling his thanks.

And what a smile it was.

Stunningly warm and inviting, begging Honor to relax and enjoy the moment.

“Yes, well, it’s faded a lot since I arrived in the States thirteen years ago. Would you like one?” She held the box out to the sheriff, but he shook his head, setting his mug in the sink.

“Actually, I’ve got to head out. Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Malone. It was nice meeting you.”

“Thank you for coming out for a false alarm. I’ll see you out.” She set her coffee down, but Sheriff Reed shook his head.

“No need. I can see myself out. Grayson, you take care of yourself. Keep us updated on your brother’s progress. Tiffany and I will keep the prayer loop going as long as necessary.”

“Thanks. My family and I appreciate that more than you know.”

His brother was ill?

Honor wanted to ask, but she was sure that would qualify as getting involved in Grayson’s life. And that was something she was certain she didn’t want to do.

Of course, she knew she would do it anyway.

As soon as Sheriff Reed walked out the back door, she turned to her visitor, noting the shadows beneath his eyes and the tension bracketing his mouth. Now that she knew something had happened to his brother, she saw the evidence of his worry clearly. Whatever was going on, it had to be big. “You said you were out of town for a couple of weeks? Was that because of your brother?”

If he was bothered by her question, his expression didn’t show it. “I’m afraid so. Jude was nearly killed by a hit-and-run driver two weeks ago. Both his legs were crushed, his back was broken and his spinal cord was affected. Add that to head trauma, and you’ve got injuries that were barely survivable. Jude is stabilized now, but it was touch-and-go for several days.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too. My brother is a homicide detective in New York City. A good one. That’s been his passion for as long as I can remember. Now he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to return to work.”

“That’s terrible. Is there anything I can do besides pray for him?”

“Unless you can assure him that he’ll be up on his own two feet, running and climbing and working like he used to, no.”

“I wish I could do that, but the prognoses on spinal cord injuries are as varied as the injuries themselves. That, combined with the injuries to your brother’s legs, will give him a long row to hoe, but if the spinal cord wasn’t severely damaged then there’s every chance your brother will walk again.”

“So the doctors said, but it’s two weeks after the injury and Jude still has residual paralysis.”

“Two weeks out isn’t as long as it seems. I’ve seen people regain nerve function all at once. I’ve seen others regain it slowly over the course of weeks and even months. Don’t let your brother give up hope.”

Grayson grabbed another biscuit from the box, eyeing Honor with steady intent. “I’d forgotten that Jake said you were a nurse.”

“Should I ask how he knew that since we’d never met?”

“News travels fast here in Lakeview.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Why? Is there something you’d rather people around here not know?” He raised a dark eyebrow, and Honor laughed, hoping he didn’t sense the truth. Of course there were things she’d rather keep to herself. Like the fact that she’d been attacked and nearly killed a month ago. Or that the death of the drug user who’d broken into her apartment had been headline news.

“Just that my daughter believes in fairy tales and that she’s constantly looking for a prince.”

“In that case, your secret is safe with me.” He placed his cup in the sink. “I’ve got to head out. Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Funny, I had the impression you’d much rather I’d declined your invitation.”

Honor’s cheeks heated, but she refused to look away from his steady gaze. “Entertaining guests wasn’t on my agenda for today.”

“But you invited Jake and me anyway.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“And you always try to do the right thing?”

“Are you back to prosecutor mode?”

“Actually, this time I was just being a curious neighbor.” Grayson smiled, his firm lips curving, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Not a man given to sulking and anger, Honor thought. More the kind to find the fun in the most ordinary of circumstances. It was a good attitude to have, though carried too far it could lead to trouble. Honor had seen enough of that in her husband, Jay, to know just how far a happy-go-lucky attitude could take a person—from the height of success to the depth of ruin and back again.

She grimaced as she hurried through the mudroom and opened the door for Grayson, waving goodbye as he strode across a yard bathed in silvery morning light.

It was for the best that he was leaving, and for the best that Honor avoid seeing him again. She’d fallen for an easygoing, fly-by-night kind of guy once. In the six years she and Jay had been married, she’d been passionately in love with him and, at times, just as passionately frustrated with him. No way would she go through that again. Not for love. Not for companionship. Not for anything. Her girls deserved a stable, secure home. That’s exactly what Honor planned to provide for them. Nothing would change that. Not circumstances. Not friendships. And certainly not a good-looking prosecutor whose eyes reminded her of home.