“Yes?”
“Clear my calendar. I’m going to be gone for a couple of days.”
At this she opened the door and peered into the room, her face flushed with excitement. “Is it the baby? Is your wife in labor?”
He prayed Peyton could manage on her own and that nothing would happen to their daughter. Or their son. Or anyone else he loved. As soon as he dropped off Laurel’s kids, Rex would be flying back to Montana to look out for Laurel, and Virgil would be in L.A. He’d have to move Peyton, Brady, Jake and Mia into a motel until he could get back. They could order room service and swim in a heated pool. That was the upside. The downside was that he didn’t know how long he’d have to be gone. “Not yet.”
Sandra’s smile faded as she glanced at the damage the stapler had done to the wall. “So…where are you going?”
“I have a job to do.”
“A protection job?”
“Yes.”
Nonplussed, she let go of the handle and the door swung wider. “But we don’t have any jobs scheduled for out of town. You haven’t accepted one of those in weeks.”
“I can’t get out of this.”
“Is it what you were telling me about before? About…the people in L.A.?”
With a nod, he grabbed his keys, left the stapler where it had fallen and walked right past Mr. Winn before taking the stairs two at a time and hurrying into the parking lot. Breaking the news to Peyton wasn’t going to be easy. But he had to get on the next available flight.
22
While Myles went upstairs to change out of his uniform, Vivian walked around the main floor. Except for the section of living room visible from the front door, she’d never seen the inside of his house before. The coziness of it, the family portraits, the ceramics and drawings Marley had created, reminded her of what so many women wanted—a home and family, a steady relationship, a place to call their own, safety and security. Even the expansive, unused deck out back appealed to Vivian because it symbolized a man’s love for his wife— Myles’s commitment to Amber Rose as he cared for her in those last months.
Vivian wanted the same kind of love and commitment. And from the same man. Sure, she’d stayed in Pineview because of Claire, the gals at the Thursday-night book group, Myles’s daughter, who was so willing to babysit, Nana Vera and all the others. She’d also stayed because she loved her home, and her children were happy here. But all these things wouldn’t have been enough, wouldn’t have motivated her to take the risks she was taking now. It was Sheriff King she hadn’t been able to leave. She was afraid she’d never meet another man like him, one who so closely fit her ideal of what a husband and father should be. If not for him, she probably would’ve gone to New York and considered herself lucky to have escaped The Crew yet again, lucky to be reunited with her brother.
But living near Virgil didn’t hold the same attraction if it meant living without Myles. She’d fantasized about the sheriff far too many times to walk away from the hope that’d taken root inside her, especially after making love with him at the cabin. Maybe she’d chased that desire into a corner, but it was still there. Despite all her denials, she’d allowed herself to believe, at least on some level, that they had a chance of becoming a couple. She was fighting for that chance, fighting to establish the family she’d always wanted. That went beyond a house. After finding him on her doorstep when she returned, she understood that he was what she’d been looking for all along.
Only now he’d taken a giant step away from her. Had she been crazy to send her children to New York, to take a gamble on trying to have it all?
“You hungry?”
Startled by the sound of his voice, she turned away from a portrait of Amber Rose to find him standing at the foot of the stairs. She hadn’t heard him come down because she’d been studying the photograph of his wife with such intensity. He had pictures of her all over. Not that the house was a shrine, exactly. Far from it. She figured these pictures were the same ones that’d been up when Amber Rose was alive but they still made Vivian a little uncomfortable. She’d been so worried about her own problems, her own reasons for being unable to sustain a relationship, she hadn’t really considered whether or not she could compete with someone like Amber Rose. In death, Myles’s wife only became more perfect. While Vivian had to live with whatever life threw her.
“No, I’m fine.” She was too exhausted to eat. And she was afraid, that if she ate the wrong thing, her ulcer would act up again. Her stomach had been burning all day.
As his gaze moved over her, she realized she wasn’t looking her best. Knowing how much she was going to miss her children, she’d cried the whole way back from Kalispell and hadn’t bothered to repair her makeup. And she was wearing loose-fitting jeans with holes down the legs, sandals and a simple T-shirt, nothing that would impress him.
He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, too, but after a shower, he looked fresh. Smelled good, too. The scent of his shampoo brought back the night she’d pressed her face into his neck and breathed in the same scent she was enjoying now.
“Did you ever have dinner?”
They’d been staring at each other. Slightly embarrassed by the appreciation that must’ve shown on her face, she blinked. “No, I had a late lunch with Claire.”
“It’s midnight. Even a late lunch would’ve been hours ago.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
He started to move past her but hesitated. She could sense him behind her, large and solid, and wished he’d place his hands on her shoulders, her arms, anywhere. With so much at stake, she needed him to reassure her that she’d put her hope in the right thing. But he didn’t. After a pause, in which it felt as if he wanted to say something but didn’t, he skirted past her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“I make a mean omelet. Will you eat one if I cook it?”
Her stomach burned enough already. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“What’s wrong?”
She adjusted her position to try to ease the discomfort. “Nothing.”
“You keep rubbing that spot. Does it hurt?”
“A little,” she said with a shrug. “I have an ulcer that gives me trouble every once in a while. Nothing big.”
“An ulcer.”
“It comes and goes. The wine I drank the other night might’ve caused it to flare up again. I don’t do well with alcohol. And stress makes it worse.”