Patricia Johns - Deputy Daddy

Bryce’s dad had been a police officer, too, until he quit under some fierce allegations of professional misconduct. And while Leroy thought his jokes were hilarious, Bryce had finally had enough. But physically lashing out...that had been wrong and a lot more like his father than he was comfortable with.

Outside an owl hooted, forcing him to take back his last thought about silence. It wasn’t completely quiet, really, because there were sounds, just not the kind that he was used to. The constant hum of traffic and the far-off chug of a train did the trick back in Fort Collins. A mystery novel and a couple of Psalms just before turning in had been a great relaxer as well, but all this quiet made his ordinary routines insufficient. His conscience wasn’t helping matters, either.

That evening, he’d held Emily for an hour or more while Lily went around cleaning up the kitchen. The baby cried in the bassinet and cried in Lily’s arms. The only quiet they managed to get was when he paced the kitchen with Emily snuggled against his chest. What was a guy supposed to do? Lily had cleaned and scrubbed while he paced, and while she worked, she talked. For as much as she talked, though, he had a feeling there was a lot she held back.

Lily was pretty in a way that he didn’t see too often in the city. Her hair was natural—not the bottle blond he saw so often. She wore very little makeup, and he was glad of that because the smattering of freckles over her face was endearing. She was petite and slim, but she wasn’t weak by any stretch. He’d seen her effortlessly lift a twenty-four-pound bag of flour. It was impressive.

And the whole time he’d held little Emily with those big brown eyes and the black hair that sprang off the top of her head like fireworks. Every time he looked down at that pink bow of a mouth, or let her grasp his finger with that tiny little hand, he couldn’t quite forget that he was terrible at this—he had a rotten track record.

There had been other kids in his life, and he’d managed to bungle those relationships. One Christmas Eve, he’d spilled the truth about Santa Claus at his cousin’s house. He still felt slightly wronged in that one, though, because he’d had no idea that kids actually still believed in Santa. He never had as a child, and no one had given him the memo about retaining the innocence or whatever. After that he’d stayed away during the holiday, and gave the kids Christmas cards with twenty-dollar bills enclosed. As far as he knew, they were happy with that arrangement—his cousin included.

Then there was the time that he tried to pull the tooth of his partner’s youngest daughter. That tooth had been dangling by a thread for the longest time, and he thought if he just gave it a tug...only it didn’t come out. The poor girl had hollered and cried and bled into a tissue, and he’d felt like a complete jerk. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and while her parents had been very forgiving and gracious about the whole thing, he still hadn’t forgiven himself for that one.

There was a whole litany of stories where Bryce muddled things up with kids—he was no good at it, and he shouldn’t be surprised. His dad had been the least comforting, most awkward man when it came to being a father, and Bryce had inherited every last bit of it.

So as he’d cradled Piglet, he tried to pull his emotions away. But whenever he did, Emily would seem to sense a change in him, and she’d start to cry, and he’d be pulled right back into singing “America the Beautiful.” And Lily would look at him like he was ridiculous, and he’d know that this arrangement that left him on baby duty was most definitely not working.

He knew it wasn’t, but he didn’t have a whole lot of choice. It was this or sleeping in his truck, and he knew that he’d be an idiot to give up the clean, cozy bedroom. Somehow, he’d just have to get through these next two weeks, and then escape back to Fort Collins. At least doing a background check on Lily’s aunt’s fiancé would help to distract him. Besides the beautiful Miss Ellison, Comfort Creek seemed to offer very little distraction from his own personal issues. Perhaps that was part of the strategy out here.

Outside, a different kind of sound broke the night stillness. It was the thump of feet hitting the ground and a soft grunt, followed quickly by another pair of feet and a male voice muttering in irritation. Bryce tossed back the sheet and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A digital clock glowed 11:00, and Bryce almost rolled his eyes. It felt like the middle of the night here in Comfort Creek. In Fort Collins, he’d be up watching the news.

Bryce crept to the gabled window and looked out. He had a clear view of the yard in the silvery moonlight, and he could see two young men standing in the flower garden, picking their way out of it. They’d obviously just jumped a fence, and they were moving toward the house.

This was the kind of thing he knew how to handle. Babies—not so much. Break-and-enters, trespassers, and general run-of-the-mill bad guys? That was his comfort zone.

Bryce slipped his gun holster over his shoulder and buckled it into place. He slid into a pair of jeans, too. Taking down a couple of perps in pajama bottoms just seemed undignified. His bare feet made no sound on the wooden floorboards as he crept from his bedroom and down the stairs. Everything was silent and still—nothing out of order, but he could hear the muttered voices of the young men outside the kitchen window.

“...give me a boost...”

“Ouch. No, this way—”

Bryce unlocked the side door with a soft click, then swung it slowly open. The hinges were well oiled, much to his relief, and he slipped out onto the veranda, then jumped over the railing into the dew-laden grass. The cottage, located down a stone path and no more than fifty feet away, was dark and silent, and he peeked around the side of the house to see the two teenagers attempting to use a crowbar on the window. He rolled his eyes. They were obviously new at this.

“Hey, there,” Bryce said conversationally, and both young men startled. The crowbar fell with a thunk to the ground and they started moving backward.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Bryce said. “I’m faster.”

At those words, they took off toward the fence they’d jumped to get into the yard. If they’d gone in opposite directions, he would have had to choose which one to take down, but since they hadn’t thought that far ahead, it didn’t take much for Bryce to sprint across the yard and catch them by their shirts halfway up the fence. He jerked them backward and they came down to the ground in a sprawling, wiry mess. Bryce got his knee solidly into the back of one of them, and grabbed the other by an ankle.

“Freeze!” he barked, his tone sharp and cold.

Both young men stopped moving immediately, except for the quick rise and fall of their chests.

Just then, a light came on in the cottage and Lily’s face appeared in the window. She disappeared and a moment later appeared in the doorway.

“Burke and Randy, what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“You know these two?” Bryce asked incredulously.

“Of course I know them!” she retorted. “These are my little brothers. Two of them, at least. Now answer me!”

The demand was obviously focused on the young men in his grasp. He released them, and they both rose their feet, rubbing at sore spots from the tussle.

“Hey, Lily,” the bigger one said. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Get in here!” she snapped, then disappeared from the doorway.

Randy and Burke looked at each other sheepishly, then back at Bryce.

“That hurt,” the smaller one said resentfully.

“Probably did,” Bryce replied, unaffected. “Next time don’t run from a cop.”