The Deputy's Unexpected Family Page 7

  When six o’clock came around, Gabe arrived at Harper’s door dressed in those khakis and the freshly ironed button-down shirt. He held a pair of toy handcuffs in one hand—it seemed silly to wrap them—and stared down at his shoes while he waited for Harper to answer.

  The door opened, revealing Harper dressed in a soft green sweater that brought out the sparkling green of her eyes. Her red hair hung in spiral curls, free around her shoulders, and she stepped back in a gesture of welcome.

  “Hi,” he said, and he glanced around to see Zoey standing next to the couch, eyeing him speculatively. She wasn’t the same bouncing kid from earlier, so he could only guess that Harper had filled her in. He had the sudden urge to apologize.

  “Thanks for coming,” Harper said, a smile toying at her lips. “Very prompt.”

  Gabe glanced down at his watch, then shot her a bashful grin. “First impressions, and all.”

  For one little girl, at least. Harper put a hand on his arm, and the warmth of her touch calmed his heart just a little bit.

  “Hi, Zoey,” Gabe said.

  “This is...” Harper looked up at him questioningly.

  “She can just call me Gabe,” he said quickly.

  “This is Gabe,” Harper said, crossing the room, and squatting down next to the little girl. “Remember how we talked about how every family is different? And how we all have a mom and a dad? Well, Gabe is a part of our family. He’s your dad.”

  A part of their family. He’d never quite looked at it that way before, and he watched conflicting emotions battle across Zoey’s little face.

  “I don’t want a dad,” Zoey whispered, and Gabe’s heart sank. Yeah, he didn’t really blame her. She had some great women in her life, and Gabe wasn’t exactly the dad any little girl dreamed of.

  Harper looked over at him, and Gabe smiled past his feelings and shrugged. He had good practice with that—it was his go-to move.

  “Well, Gabe has come for dinner,” Harper said. “I thought it would be nice if we could all get to know each other a little better.”

  “Is he gonna live with us?” Zoey asked hesitantly.

  “No!” Harper laughed. “No, no, no... Every family looks different, sweetie. In some families, the mom and the dad aren’t married. That’s what our family is like. You and I live together, and Gabe—” She looked over at him again.

  “I’m just here for dinner,” he said with a reassuring smile. “And then I’ll go away. So no worries.”

  It looked like Zoey was in a bit of hurry to get rid of him, and he glanced around awkwardly. Harper’s home was small, but pleasantly furnished. The gray couch had different colored throw pillows—blue, pink, yellow—and on the wall over a fireplace hung a bright painting depicting a meadow of wildflowers. The space was fresh and clean—a cloth tub of toys in one corner betraying a recent cleanup. The scent of garlic and spaghetti sauce permeated the air.

  “Have a seat,” Harper said. “Dinner will be ready soon. Spaghetti is Zoey’s favorite.”

  “Mmm.” Gabe looked in the girl’s direction again. “I like it, too.”

  Zoey was silent—no more offers of pictures from her, apparently. Harper headed toward the kitchen, and Gabe stared after her in a mild panic. She couldn’t just leave him alone with the kid! He looked back over at Zoey.

  “I’m a surprise, aren’t I?” Gabe asked.

  Zoey didn’t say anything. Instead, she went to the cloth bin and pulled out a doll. She angled to the other side of the room and sat down on the floor with her doll, casting Gabe a sidelong look. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. This kid hadn’t asked for a dad, and here he was, invading her space.

  “Uh, Harper—” Gabe crossed the room and poked his head into the kitchen. Harper stood at the sink, pouring a pot of noodles into a colander.

  “Hi,” she said. “Everything okay?”

  No, it wasn’t. He looked over at Zoey, and she was regarding him in silent disapproval, and then back at Harper. “Just thought I’d offer a hand.”

  “Go talk to her,” Harper said, lowering her voice. “Just...say hi.”

  “I tried that. She doesn’t seem to like me much.”

  Harper nodded, her smile slipping. “Yeah, I know. It’s hard for her. She’s lost a lot, and maybe I should have given her more warning, I don’t know...”

  It wasn’t Harper’s fault, though. This wasn’t going to be an easy introduction, regardless. He looked back toward the little girl, and he realized he’d never felt more insecure in his life. He could deal with criminals, drug addicts, beautiful women—but that little girl was scarier than all the others combined.

  “Zoey!” Harper called. “Why don’t you come help me? I need someone to get the juice from the fridge!”

  Zoey slowly rose to her feet and ambled into the kitchen. She sidled past Gabe and leaned her little shoulder into Harper’s leg. There, she deflated with a deep sigh. The poor kid. His heart went out to her. Harper leaned down and gave Zoey a squeeze. She murmured something in her ear, and Zoey looked back at Gabe.

  “Go on,” Harper said.

  “Mommy says you want juice,” Zoey said.

  “Uh—” Gabe nodded. “Yes, please.”

  Zoey went to a bottom cupboard and pulled out a juice box. “You can take that home with you,” she said, handing it up to him.

  He looked over Harper and he caught the laughter sparkling in her eyes.

  “The jug in the fridge,” Harper chuckled. “Zoey, you’re a character today!”

  “You don’t like the idea of having a dad, do you?” Gabe asked as Zoey carried a sloshing jug of red juice to the table.

  “I got a Mommy here and Mommy in heaven,” Zoey said. “And two grandmas and two grandpas.”

  “I get it,” he said. Then he remembered the toy handcuffs in his pocket. “I brought you something, though.”

  Zoey’s gaze brightened somewhat, and she eyed him with more curiosity. Gabe pulled the plastic cuffs from his pocket.

  “What’s that?” Zoey asked, not moving.

  “Handcuffs. I’m a police officer, remember? Well, I thought you might like your own handcuffs, so you can arrest your mom from time to time.”

  A smile tickled the corners of the girl’s mouth, and she came closer to get a better look.

  “For me?” she asked hopefully.

  “For you,” he said with a nod. “Look—” He gave her a quick lesson on how the latch worked. “And now you can arrest people.”

  Zoey slapped a cuff on Gabe’s wrist. “Like that!”

  “But you have to say, ‘You’re under arrest,’” Gabe said. “Or they don’t know what’s happening.”

  “You’re under arrest!” Zoey said, and she tugged at the cuff, trying to get it off. Gabe released the latch and Zoey looked down at the cuffs in satisfaction. Maybe there was a little bit more of him in this kid, after all.

  “The stores weren’t open,” he said, glancing over at Harper.

  “It looks like you did just fine,” she replied with a small smile.

  Harper had the food on the table—a heaping dish of noodles next to a bowl of steaming sauce. Three plates were laid with three glass tumblers waiting for that plastic jug of juice. It reminded him of TV family dinners—the kind he’d see on sitcoms. It felt oddly intimate.

  “Come, have a seat,” Harper said. Zoey beelined to the chair with a yellow booster seat attached, and Harper gestured Gabe toward another chair.

  Gabe was a big man, and the table seemed to be of more feminine proportions. He eased himself slowly onto a chair and scooted it up. When they were all seated, Harper bowed her head.

  “Lord, thank You for the food before us, the family and friends beside us and...” Harper paused “...the love between us. Amen.”

  Yeah, well, maybe there wasn’t a whole lot of love lost
between himself and Harper, but he was glad to see that Zoey had such a loving home. It took some of the pressure off. She didn’t need him.

  They raised their heads and Harper put a pleasant smile on her face. “So, Gabe. Maybe you could tell Zoey a little bit about you.”

  “Oh.” Gabe nodded. “Uh, I’m thirty-two years old. As we’ve established, I’m a police officer. I like using handcuffs a lot, and red juice is my favorite.”

  “I like purple juice,” Zoey said solemnly.

  “Purple is in my top three,” Gabe said, meeting her gaze with equal solemnity.

  Zoey nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. “Okay, then. I also like princess crowns.”

  “Yeah?” Gabe pretended to be surprised. “I can see the appeal there. All sparkly and stuff. Can’t say I’ve ever worn one myself. How do you feel about tools? Because I like tools a lot.”

  A smile broke over Zoey’s face. “Yeah, I like tools!”

  He hadn’t felt anything besides trepidation up until now, but looking at those gray eyes and the tiny cleft in her chin, his heart melted just a little. She didn’t feel like his, exactly, but she might not hate him quite so much. That was something.

  Tools. Tiaras. Purple juice.

  Who was he kidding? He was in way over his head.

  Chapter Six

  After the meal, Harper cleared the table and Zoey put her plate on the counter—the job that was expected of her after dinner each night.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Harper said, and she wondered if Zoey understood what was happening here tonight. Did the word father mean anything to her at this young age? She’d never had a dad before. Granted, she’d seen that other children had daddies, but she’d never asked about her own. Four years old didn’t seem mature enough to grapple with those questions of parentage.

  “Let me wipe the table off.” Gabe’s arm brushed against hers as he reached for the tap. He was warm, and smelled musky and just a little bit like cinnamon. Comforting—which was frustrating. She glanced up at him, noticing just how tall and broad he was up close, then dropped her gaze.

  Gabe didn’t look like a dad. He was roguishly handsome, had an air of confidence that bordered on flirtation. Gabe seemed like a perfectly responsible adult, but men grew into fatherhood—it changed them, tamed them. Gabe was far from tame.

  “Thanks.” It was a nice gesture, and her arm felt a little cold as he moved away, back to the table. It was his charm that was so frustrating. She’d never been completely immune to his good looks, but she’d known what she wanted—marriage, kids. She had standards and priorities, and she’d never been the kind of woman who took too many risks.

  As well as that worked out, she thought wryly. She was thirty-two and still hadn’t found her guy. She was ready for married life, but God hadn’t sent her the right man.

  “Zoey, while I wash up the pots, why don’t you show Gabe your unicorn show on TV?” Harper suggested.

  “Does he like unicorns?” Zoey asked skeptically, and Harper chuckled, reaching into the sink for the plug, but as she did, she felt a tug and a sharp sting.

  “Ouch!” She pulled back without even thinking, and her finger came up bloody.

  Harper clamped a hand over her finger and blood dripped onto the floor. She shut her eyes, willing the kitchen to stop spinning.

  “Mommy’s bleeding!” Zoey squeaked.

  “I’m fine, Zoey,” Harper said. Zoey hated blood, but it was normally the child with a skinned knee and not Harper bleeding onto the kitchen floor. Harper felt a warm hand clamp over her wrist and she opened her eyes to stare straight into a broad chest. She tipped her chin upward to find Gabe looking down at her.

  “You look woozy,” he said.

  “It surprised me,” she said, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed with herself. As a single mother, she didn’t have the luxury of getting lightheaded at the sight of blood. She was the go-to for every emergency now, and she felt as if she still had to prove herself in that arena.

  Gabe grabbed a dish towel. “You terribly attached to this?” he asked. “It’s about to get bloody.”

  “It’s fine.” She smiled shakily, wishing that she’d pulled off the confidence she’d intended.

  “Now open your hand.” His grip was gentle but steely strong, and she didn’t have much choice but to do as she was told. She let go of her finger as he lifted her hand for a quick inspection. Then he clamped the towel over her finger and gave her a boyish grin.

  “You’ll live,” he said.

  “Does it hurt, Mommy?” Zoey asked, eyes wide.

  “A bit,” Harper admitted.

  “You need a Band-Aid,” Zoey confirmed. Her daughter’s panic seemed to be subsiding, and curiosity was taking over. “Maybe two. Or three. You never know.”

  “She does,” Gabe confirmed. “Do you know where they are?”

  “In the bathroom,” Zoey replied.

  “Can you get some?” he asked.

  Zoey nodded sagely, then turned and dashed out of the kitchen. Gabe loosened his grip on Harper’s finger to take another look. She watched his face for a reaction, and got nothing. He must see a whole lot worse than a cut finger when he was on the job.

  “Do you want stitches?” he asked.

  “Is it bad enough?” she asked with a wince.

  “I don’t know... I’m on the fence about it. Up to you. I can bandage you up real good, or I can take you to the hospital.”

  “No, no.” Harper shook her head. She realized belatedly that he’d entirely taken control of the situation, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. This was her home—he was just visiting, and her sense of control was starting to seep away. This wasn’t the plan. “I can bandage myself, you know,” she said.

  “Yeah? And hold pressure on it at the same time?” Gabe looked down at her, flinty eyes pinned to hers, and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. What was it with this man? But this was no different than him turning the high beams on Officer Tammy in the police station break room, and Harper was the one woman who wouldn’t melt for him. Not visibly, at least.

  “Fine. I’ll accept the help,” she said, but it sounded irritable even in her own ears.

  Zoey came back into the kitchen with a box of princess Band-Aids, and Gabe nodded toward the kitchen table.

  “Go sit,” he said, and when Harper shot him an annoyed look, he added, “Please.”

  Harper did as she was told, and Gabe settled in a chair opposite her and set to work. His hands were warm and confident.

  “You don’t like it when I get bossy,” he said conversationally as he worked.

  “You know anyone who does?” she retorted.

  A smile flickered at the corners of his lips. “It might have a tiny bit to do with why I’m here to begin with.”

  “Well, why?” Zoey asked, suddenly interested.

  Harper and Gabe both looked over to Zoey and were silent for a beat. Then they both answered, “Nothing.”

  Harper laughed. “Sweetie, it’s just grown-up stuff. Why don’t you get the unicorn show started?”

  Zoey didn’t need to be asked twice, and she bounced from the room. Gabe finished bandaging Harper’s finger and released her hand. It was well done, and she smiled. It felt comforting to have another adult to be sharing moments like these—grown-up “secrets.”

  “I don’t know how much of this she understands,” Harper admitted.

  “She knew she didn’t want a dad—that’s something.” His smile was an eyelash shy of humored.

  “You don’t have to want a father to have one,” Harper said, returning his smile faintly. “Or a daughter, for that matter.”

  Gabe’s gaze moved in the direction of the living room. “I don’t want her to grow up knowing that I hadn’t wanted—” He didn’t finish. “It’s...cruel.”

  �
�I’d never tell her that,” Harper said.

  “Other people around here?”

  “Your actions will speak louder than people’s comments,” she replied, and she wished that her words were a vote of confidence, but they weren’t. She would just have to wait and see what happened with Gabe, and she’d do her best to fill in the gaps. She was already mentally preparing explanations for her daughter. Your dad had limitations, sweetie. He couldn’t be the father you needed, and he wanted what was best for you. That’s why he left you with us in Comfort Creek...

  “She looks a lot like you,” Harper said, and she felt a small stab of anxiety as she said it. It would be easier if Zoey looked nothing like her dad, if she’d taken after her mother a little more strongly. Gabe might be easier to file away when he eventually left town, but having looked at Zoey and Gabe from across the table, she’d been struck by their similarities—from the clefts in their chins to the way they held their forks. Father and daughter were awfully alike.

  “Poor kid,” Gabe said, and she could tell he was trying to joke, but he didn’t quite pull it off.

  “If I’d known about Zoey, I would have—” Gabe stopped. “I don’t know. I’d have done the right thing.”

  “You mean, you’d have gotten married?” she asked, mildly surprised. It was a sad thought to think that Andrea might have missed her chance at a requited love if she’d only told Gabe about her pregnancy instead of running away.

  Gabe sighed. “Getting married isn’t always the right choice, you know.”

  “Not when the parents have made a baby?” Harper asked.

  “Oh, come on, Harper! Parents who are married for the sake of the children end up messing the kids up in whole new ways. We’ve all seen it—it’s hard to watch. Marriage is about something deeper and more profound than that.”