He broke eye contact. Like many others, he no doubt found it difficult to talk to the widow of a fallen comrade. What can you say that hadn’t already been said? Besides, what cop wanted an in-your-face reminder that some police officers, like soldiers, never come home?
“Officer Wallace! What are you doing here?”
She turned to see Cory dash out the front door, eyes aglow with curiosity and excitement. He jerked to a halt beside her, an eager gaze fastened on their visitor.
“He brought you this.” She reluctantly handed him his baseball glove, not thrilled to elevate the police officer any higher in her son’s estimation than he already was.
“Oh, man. Oh, man.” Cory thrust his hand into the glove, mixed emotions warring in his eyes. He took a step toward the uniformed man, hesitated, then moved in closer to wrap his arms around the startled officer for a hug. “Oh, man, thank you. I thought someone would steal it.”
Officer Wallace’s hearty laugh rang out as he returned the enthusiastic embrace, his gaze flickering to hers and holding it longer than necessary. “You’re welcome, Cory. I know what a favorite glove can mean to a guy.”
Flustered, she glanced at her watch. “Thank you again for going out of your way for Cory. But he needs to get to his homework, and I need to get back to my job.”
He smiled down at her son. “Can’t slack on the homework, mister. Wannabe police officers have to keep up their grades.”
Cory groaned, then lifted a hand for a parting high five before trotting back to the house, the glove held high in triumph.
Still smiling, the officer turned to her, his probing gaze setting loose a truckload of battering rams in her stomach.
“You’ve got a good kid there.”
She shot him a grateful look. “Most of the time. He’s had his moments lately.”
“It’s not easy on a boy, losing his father.”
“No.” Nor was losing a husband easy. Or discovering he wasn’t who you’d believed him to be. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Mr. Wallace, but if you visit the school again I’d appreciate your not indulging his obsession about becoming a policeman. He talks about it nonstop. It’s not healthy for him.”
Or for me.
He squinted one eye and offered a hint of a smile. He probably thought her overly protective. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, ma’am. He’s six, right? Today he wants to be a lawman. Tomorrow it will be a veterinarian. Or an astronaut. Or a cowboy.”
“I can hope—and pray—that’s so.”
For a moment she thought Cory’s cop was going to say something else. Make an observation. Ask a question. But he merely motioned to her vehicle at the curb. “I’d better let you get on your way.”
“I am cutting it close. Can’t afford to be late.” With a polite but dismissive nod, she moved toward her car. To her dismay, he kept up with her stride for stride.
“Where do you work?”
“Not too far from here. At a medical clinic down the street from that big used-car dealership. You know the one?”
“I do. So, you’re a nurse? Therapist?”
She noticed he didn’t ask if she was a doctor—the neighborhood alone answered that question easily enough. But the assumption that she’d have a degree beyond high school stung. Becoming a physical therapist had long been her dream. But Cory had arrived shy of a year of marriage and Duke had insisted that education take a backseat until the kids—however many came along—were in school.
“No. I’m a receptionist, medical records manager and general go-to gal.”
“So on your feet all day.” A smile tugged as he glanced down at her strappy, high-heeled sandals, the wisdom of which his amused expression questioned.
“Right.” She took a slow breath as she reached her vehicle, unwilling to get too chatty with the undeniably attractive man. No, he hadn’t crossed the lines of propriety as a few had done. He hadn’t boldly hinted that a woman alone might appreciate some male companionship. He hadn’t asked her out. Nevertheless, she kept up her guard. “Thank you again, Officer Wallace, for making a little boy very happy.”
“The name’s Grayson. Or Gray.” He held out his hand.
“Elise,” she offered reluctantly, as his big hand swallowed hers. She didn’t want to be on a first-name basis with this cop.
“Pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
He released her hand, his brown eyes again questioning—as if still attempting to gauge the level of her interest. She braced herself, preparing to share too-often-practiced words to decline coffee. Dinner. Dessert. Or other more presumptuous propositions.
But to her surprise he merely fished momentarily in his uniform shirt pocket, then handed her a business card. Was this the latest strategy in the dating game realm? He thought he’d made a good enough impression that she’d call him?
Arrogant man.
He stepped back. “Good to meet you, Elise—and Cory as well. Hope you both have a great weekend.”
With an absurd prick of disappointment, she watched him stroll to his SUV and climb in, lift his unencumbered hand in a parting gesture and drive away.
She glanced down at the business card and shook her head. Talk about egotistical. But he did have beautiful eyes and was polite.
And speaking of polite, where had her manners gotten off to? He’d gone out of his way to bring the baseball glove and she hadn’t thought to ask how he’d injured his arm. How long he’d been in law enforcement.
Or if she would ever see him again.
* * *
Grayson pulled up in front of the Colby Ranch’s sprawling main house just short of midnight. With considerable effort, he shoved aside the nagging thoughts of Elise Lopez and her son that had followed him as each mile stretched westward from Fort Worth. He could admit that if it weren’t for the romantic debacle with Jenna months ago and the severed relationship with her son, he could see himself being drawn to the attractive single mom. Maybe even offering to mentor Cory. But he’d been burned. Badly. Did Jenna’s boy feel the void of his abrupt departure as deeply as he did?
He turned off the ignition and, still gripping the steering wheel, sat staring at the two-story brick home, a few of its windows faintly aglow even at this late hour. The distinctive sweet, dry scent of western Texas wafted through his rolled-down window. The occasional low of distant cattle teased his city-accustomed ears, reminding him of his earliest boyhood years in another small rural town.
Had it been only a month since he’d returned from his undercover assignment to emails and frantic phone messages from his sister? He’d thought she’d lost her mind—Dad missing, a biological mother deep in a coma and an identical twin for both him and Maddie. But one look at their twins last weekend had settled any doubt about the blood connection. They were kin, all right. Maddie’s wild stories were true, but unfortunately Dad hadn’t been located despite his and his siblings’ best efforts.
“Lord,” he whispered, absently massaging his injured shoulder, “you’ve gotta help me out here. Every fiber of my body wants to head straight back to Fort Worth. I don’t want to deal with this.”
He squared his shoulders as he exited the SUV and stretched his stiff legs. His newfound family was counting on him to locate Dad and find answers to the thousand and one questions they all had about their heritage. Questions no one but Dad or the woman going by the name Belle Colby could answer.
But that was another worm in the apple. Belle—he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as “Mom”—lay unconscious