should have brought roses. Never mind that she didn’t like roses… It was what he was supposed to do. And he should be driving away now…not watching her with golden-brown eyes, as calm and measuring as a timber wolf’s.
Those eyes locked with hers and Emma had the uneasy feeling he could read her thoughts. “Do you have a shovel handy?”
Afraid of where the question might lead—possibly to Jake Sutton staying longer?—Emma didn’t respond.
Unfortunately, Jeremy did. “There’s one in the shed,” he called over his shoulder, his mood a whole lot more cheerful than hers.
“Good. You find a spot for the tree while your mother and I round one up.”
Didn’t she have a say in this?
Emma’s hands clenched at her side. “That’s not necessary, Chief…Sutton.” Her mind was still having a difficult time adjusting to the change. Not only in the name but the man himself. “You must be busy. Jeremy and I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
“It’s Jake. And don’t worry about me getting into trouble.” A glint of humor appeared in his eyes. “I’m the boss.”
Said, Emma thought a bit resentfully, with the confidence that police officers seemed to wear as comfortably as their uniform. And if that weren’t enough, the amusement bloomed into laughter, causing a chain reaction. It spilled into the creases fanning out from those amber eyes and tugged at the corners of his lips. The result was a charming, if slightly lopsided smile.
He wasn’t supposed to smile, either.
Emma tried to ignore her uninvited guest as they made their way around the corner of the house, past the rusted swing set Jeremy had already outgrown. Weeds sprouted at the base of the poles, a reminder that she’d been neglecting the yard work.
She caught a sigh before it escaped.
Not for the first time, she wished there were more hours in the day.
Between working at the library and her responsibilities at home, Emma didn’t have a lot of time to devote to general maintenance around the property. There had been times when she’d thought about selling the place and leaving Mirror Lake for good…if memories of Brian hadn’t become fragile threads that held her there.
And if she’d had somewhere else to go.
She tried to see the property from Jake Sutton’s eyes. Did he notice some of the shingles had begun to peel away from the roof like the soles of a worn-out shoe? That dandelions dotted a shaggy backyard in desperate need of a lawn mower?
In spite of his easy stride and that disarming smile, something warned her that the man didn’t miss much.
“How about right here, Mom?” Jeremy waved to them from the spot he’d chosen. Smack-dab in the middle of the yard.
Emma looked around, not sure if she wanted it in such a conspicuous spot. Before she had time to respond, Jake nodded.
“Good choice. It’ll get full sun there.”
Jeremy seemed to grow several inches, basking in Jake Sutton’s approval as if he’d been the one exposed to sunlight.
It didn’t make sense. Her son, ordinarily shy around strangers, was responding to the police chief as if they’d known each other for years.
Emma changed direction, veering toward the shed in search of a shovel. The knot in her stomach loosened when Jake didn’t follow her. Facing any critters that might have taken up residence inside was more appealing than facing him at the moment.
When she returned a few minutes later, brushing cobwebs from the rusty shovel she’d unearthed, Jake was kneeling beside Jeremy. Heads bowed together, shadow and sun, as they studied the planting directions printed on a ragged piece of paper attached to one of the branches with a piece of twine.
Her lips tightened.
The sooner she started digging, the sooner Jake Sutton would leave them alone.
Emma aimed the shovel at a random spot in the grass but Jake plucked it gently from her grasp. “Jeremy’s got it.” He aimed a wink in her son’s direction, as if the two of them had already discussed how to deal with the possibility of any maternal resistance.
“We haven’t had much rain. The ground is pretty hard.” She reached for the tool again but Jake handed it to Jeremy, who reacted as if he’d been given the Olympic torch.
Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth while she watched Jeremy’s face scrunch in concentration as he threw his weight against the handle. The ground barely cracked beneath the blade.
“I can—” Emma started to say.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Jeremy gasped. “I got it.”
“You’re doing great.” Jake smiled again. At her. As if he knew how difficult it was not to take over. To watch Jeremy struggle.
The next five minutes seemed like an hour. Finally Jake stepped forward. “Looks great, Jeremy. Why don’t you take the tree out of the bucket while I clear some of this loose dirt out of the hole?”
“Okay,” Jeremy panted the word, relinquishing the shovel with a grin.
Emma felt something shift inside her. She had a feeling that by the time Jake cleared some of the “loose dirt” out of the hole, it would be deep enough to plant the root ball.
Jeremy wrestled the apple tree out of the bucket, and together he and Jake dropped it carefully into the hole.
If possible, the sapling looked even more forlorn than it had in the bucket.
Jeremy must have thought so, too. “I’m going to get some water.”
He scampered away, leaving Emma alone with Jake Sutton.
“I hope you don’t mind.” The rough velvet of his voice scraped across Emma’s frayed emotions. “I thought you might like a change this year. Something that will last longer than a vase of flowers.”
Change?
Emma almost laughed.
She’d been through enough changes to last a lifetime.
Chapter Three
“So, how are you adjusting to small-town life?” Matthew Wilde slid into the booth opposite Jake.
“Did we have an appointment?” Jake feigned confusion. “Because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t choose to answer that question during the morning rush at the Grapevine Café.”
“I don’t wait for my congregation to make appointments.” The pastor shrugged. “I’ve discovered it’s more effective to go where they are. Like Jesus did.”
“Mmm. That explains why you spend so much time out on the lake.”
“Jesus did say something about becoming fishers of men.” Matt grinned. “What better place to find them?”
“What can I get you, Pastor?” Kate Nichols, the owner of the café, appeared beside their table, her smile as vibrant as the auburn curls that poked out like rusty bedsprings under the yellow bandana she wore. “Just coffee.”
Kate propped one hand on her hip. “You know as well as I do that as soon as I leave you’re going to change your mind and want the special with a side of hash browns and bacon. Why don’t you save me the trouble and put the order in now?”
“I’m surprised you stay in business, Kate. The way you treat your customers. And your pastor,” Matt added piously.
Kate arched a brow. “Eggs?”
“Over medium.”
She turned to Jake. “Chief?”
“Just coffee, thanks.”
Kate