Safe In The Lawman's Arms. Patricia Johns

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      “Not in the least. I was just getting unpacked. Katy is coloring.”

      An odd look came over his face. “You’re good, you know.”

      “I know.” She laughed. “She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure we’ll get along very well. In fact—” Malory looked at her watch “—for her age, it’s just about nap time.”

      “Nap time?” He frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

      “That would explain how frazzled you look.” She laughed softly.

      “I’m new at this,” he said.

      “That isn’t a crime,” she reassured him. “When we get a good routine going, everything will fall into place. You’ll see.”

      She wanted to make him feel better, but she had to wonder if there would be other surprises coming. Katy might have any number of issues to deal with because of her rocky beginnings, and they’d just have to deal with them as they arose. Regardless, a well-rested child would help any situation.

      He nodded, an amused smile quirking his lips. “I’m counting on that.”

      She reached over and brushed a curl off Katy’s forehead. “Katy, come with me. It’s time to lie down on your bed.”

      “Why?”

      “We’ll do this every day. We’ll have a rest, and then we can play again in a little while.”

      “Nanny Mal?”

      “Yes, sweetie?”

      “Will you go away?”

      Malory smiled sadly. This little girl had had too many goodbyes in her short life. “No, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

      “Mommy went away.”

      Malory held out a hand. “I know. But I’ll be here. I promise.”

      Katy didn’t look convinced, but she consented to be led to Mike’s office which had been made into her bedroom, Mike trailing behind them. She crawled up onto the bed that was squeezed in next to the desk, popping a thumb into her mouth as she lay down on the pillow. Malory eased a blanket over the tiny form, and before she could stand, Katy put out one small hand and pressed it against Malory’s belly. Malory quickly moved Katy’s hand away and rose to her feet, hoping that Mike hadn’t noticed.

      “After you rest, I have a fun game for us to play together,” Malory said quickly. “But a rest first, okay?”

      “But I don’t want you to go.” Katy’s face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. “Don’t go...”

      Malory sighed and sank back down onto the edge of the bed. “I’ll stay for a few minutes, but only if you keep your eyes closed.”

      Katy clamped a small hand over Malory’s fingers and obediently closed her eyes. This child was desperate for some stability, and for a little while, Malory could provide it. But Katy needed more than a nanny. She needed a permanent parent. Glancing back at Mike in the doorway, she gave him a reassuring smile.

      Mike stood rigidly, his face a granite mask of professional reserve. He might as well have been at a crime scene for all the emotion he allowed to slip through.

      “I thought I’d get a bit of work done at the station, if you’ve got everything under control,” he said. “Of course, I’ll start paying you today—”

      “We’ll be fine.”

      He gave a curt nod, then disappeared, his footsteps echoing along the hallway and down the stairs.

      Malory turned her gaze back to Katy, whose eyes were open again, staring up at her with uncertainty.

      “It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “Close your eyes. I’m here.”

      A couple of minutes later, the front door opened and shut, leaving them in quiet. Her new boss interested her, and she couldn’t help but wonder about the confident cop. He was handsome and intriguing—and while she tried to push that fact from her mind, she couldn’t quite banish it.

      Rein it in, Mal, she chided herself silently, putting a hand over the flutter in her middle. You have someone else to worry about.

       Chapter Two

      Hope, Montana, was a small ranching community consisting of a few schools, a well-stocked grocery store and a Main Street that sported murals on the sides of buildings, celebrating the Old West history. A mayor with a flair for the dramatic a few years back had dubbed the place “the Town of a Thousand Murals.” There weren’t exactly a thousand, but Main Street certainly did give a history lesson. The Hope Sheriff’s Department was tucked between the local bank and a community hall, the side of which displayed an old-fashioned harvest with horse-drawn combines. The police station was a squat brick building, the office space cramped and out-of-date, and the parking lot only large enough to house the town’s cruisers.

      A warm summer breeze pushed across the plains, carrying the scent of ripening wheat from the surrounding fields. Hot prairie sunshine beat down on the dusty streets, and as Mike pulled open the police-station door, he waved to an older woman walking her dog along the sidewalk.

      “Hi there,” she called.

      “Hi, Mrs. Hyatt,” he called back, then headed in. He knew almost everyone in this town. He’d been raised in Hope and now served on the police force. That meant that most of the people he protected remembered him as a gangly kid, and he doubted that he’d ever completely grown up in their eyes. He’d matured into a muscular man, over six feet tall, but for the older ladies around town, he’d never stop being “that Cruise boy.”

      Mike blinked as his eyes adjusted from the afternoon sunlight. He pulled off his hat and held it under one arm as he headed inside.

      “I thought you had the day off, Mike,” Corporal Tuck Leavitt commented, looking up from his desk. He had a phone pinched between his cheek and his shoulder, the hold music playing loud enough for Mike to hear it clearly. Tuck had a big brush of a blond mustache and gentle, soulful eyes.

      “I do.” Mike tossed his hat onto his desk and sank into the creaky office chair.

      “Then what are you doing here?” Tuck took a sip of coffee.

      “Getting away. The nanny started today.”

      “Oh, yeah?” Tuck put up a finger and turned his attention to the phone as someone picked up. “Hi, this is Corporal Leavitt from the Hope Sheriff’s Department...”

      Mike turned away as Tuck went about verifying the alibi for a suspect. Like any other law-enforcement officer, Mike procrastinated his paperwork until either it was due to be submitted or he needed to avoid feeling something. As an escape, work always seemed better than a bar. At least he could get something productive done, and nothing was quite so numbing as filing a report in triplicate.

      He turned on his computer and flipped СКАЧАТЬ