I straighten. “Stone. Officer Stone.”
I swear her eyes fucking twinkle at my name. Is that recognition? “See you around, Officer Stone.”
God, I hope not.
Gray hairs are already starting to dust my temples. My eight-year-old Nellie is responsible for most of it, but this womanmight have encouraged a few more to sprout during this short encounter.
My shoulders sink with a sigh as I track her across the parking lot to a bench parallel to the road. Thank fuck her car isn’t here. Without a doubt, she would have climbed into the driver’s seat in defiance of my strict instructions. And the law, for that matter.
I scrub a palm over my face.
The radio at my shoulder crackles to life. The incoming call serves as a swift reminder of my sworn duty and why I don’t have time for infuriating, albeit compelling, women.
I answer with an affirmative and return inside to find my brother.
I have him and Spence and Mom. I have Nellie. I have a large group of friends.
They’re enough.
They’re more than I can possibly keep safe,I remind myself.
The front porchlight suspended from my house twinkles at me as I pull onto my street. The yellow light reflecting off the several unexpected cars in my driveway is unusual. I wipe my palms on my slacks and remind myself that dispatch would have told me if there was an emergency at home.
This is more than likely one of Mom’s wacky ideas. I can only brace for what sort of event I’m about to walk into. Her babysitting shenanigans can go far beyond princess tea parties and border on irresponsible, not that she’d ever admit it. The rights and wrongs of modern parenting don’t penetrate when she successfully raised my two brothers and me as a single mom.
I sigh heavily as I exit the car. Mom has saved my ass more times than I can count when I needed a last-minute sitter. The usual avenues don’t last when my hours are long and unpredictable. The late nights are one thing, but when I’m needed for a SWAT call? Forget it. Most quit the moment I return home. The polite ones wait until they’ve left the premises before rescinding their employment.
Opening the door feels like cracking open an ancient, long-buried text.
One foot crosses the threshold, and I freeze amid an exponentially larger pile of shoes in the small foyer.
“Hey, Officer Smiley.”
My brows snap together. “What the hell are you doin’ in my house?”
Her face scrunches somewhat adorably, but I can’t focus on that right now. The woman I arrested not a handful of hours ago is standing in socks in my goddamned kitchen like she pays the mortgage.
Ms. Thompson,Alice, cocks a brow. “I’m pretty sure that’s a quarter in the swear jar.”
“Daddy’s too broke for a swear jar. If he says a bad word, I get to say one,” Nellie helpfully chimes in. She beams up at Alice from her side.
I zero in on her small hand wrapped tightly around Alice’s wrist, before slicing through the small crowd of people standing in my kitchen. My mom, Silas, my other brother Spencer, and his fiancée, Cortney Powell. Whitney and Jack Powell, two people I’m surprised to see wrapped up in whatever this is.
Half the damn town is in my kitchen, and somehow, I’m the last one invited. I tread fully into the room and stand to my full height.
“Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
I narrow my gaze on Silas.
His conversation with my detainee seems far too convenient for whatever the hell this is to happen randomly. “Did you have something to do with this?”
His palms rise in surrender, but his grin stretches across his face. “I had no idea.”
I study my brother for signs of deception. Finding none, I let out a sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “So I’m to believe what, exactly?”
“I heard you need a nanny.” Alice removes Nellie’s hand to spread her arms wide and step forward. “Here I am!”
“Absolutely not,” I snap.
