Beth Andrews - Do You Take This Cop?

“Yes, I’m lame and overprotective and I’ve said all of this before. Humor me. Don’t stop in any other stores besides the hardware store and bookstore and—”

“Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t get into the car with a stranger.” He lowered his voice. “I’m not a baby.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still my baby.” She supposed it was natural for a boy his age to be disgusted by someone calling him a baby. But that didn’t mean she had to like his expression. “I just want you to be careful.”

“I will be.”

“I’ll expect you back within thirty minutes,” Faith said. “Got it?”

“Got it.” He flicked a glance over his shoulder and, seeing Nick’s back was turned, puckered his lips and accepted a quick peck from her.

“Don’t run through the—”

Austin raced off. She prayed he wouldn’t crash into anything in the salon. Such as a customer.

She dug through her purse and, as soon as Nick hung up his phone, stalked over to him. “Here.”

Frowning at the five-dollar bill she held out, he stuck his phone in his front pocket. “What’s this?”

“It’s the money you paid my son to run an errand you didn’t even need done.”

His eyes were hooded, his expression blank. And to think at one time she used to be an expert on reading men. Either she’d lost her touch or he excelled at the whole stoic thing.

Probably the latter. After all, weren’t all cops emotionless robots? The ones she’d dealt with were.

“I don’t want your money, Faith.”

Yeah? Well, she didn’t want to give it to him, but more than that, she didn’t want him to worm his way into her son’s life with money. “Take it. Please,” she insisted.

He held it as if it were a live rattlesnake before tossing it on top of the washing machine. “I’m not sure what the problem is.”

“You stuck your nose into my personal business,” she said before she could censor herself. “I’d prefer you didn’t involve yourself in something that’s between me and my son.”

“I wasn’t involving myself in anything,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t stepped over a line. “I needed some screws, he needed some cash.”

She clasped her hands behind her back. “You’re changing the hoses.” Keeping her tone unfailingly polite just about killed her. “All you have to do is shut off the water, disconnect the hoses and connect the new ones.”

“You moonlight as a plumber?”

She gritted her teeth. “It’s not rocket science. Austin could do it. But he wouldn’t need any pan head screws, that’s for sure.”

Nick unhooked one hose from the wall. “I need the screws for something I’m doing later.”

“No. You don’t. You overheard me tell Austin he couldn’t have something he wanted, and you thought you’d swoop in and save the day like you do with everyone else.”

He shot her an irritated glance. “You have no idea what I do with everyone else.” He let the end of the cold water hose fall on the tile floor. Water dripped out and made a small puddle. “We’ve seen each other at least once a week for the past few months and this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

True. And she couldn’t wait for it to end.

“Every time I so much as say hello, you act wicked nervous,” he continued. “If I did something to—”

“You didn’t.”

He grinned. “Good. Because seeing as how we’re probably going to run into each other quite often—and considering that you’re working for my sister—why don’t we try to at least be friends?”

She narrowed her eyes. Did he really think he could charm her into believing he was the type of guy who did nice things for people out of the goodness of his heart? She didn’t care if he was considered around town to be a prince among men. She didn’t trust him.

And even if she did, they couldn’t be friends. She didn’t have any friends.

So what if she got lonely? Or that there were times when she wondered if she could do it all alone. Raise Austin. Keep him safe. Keep their secret. But the decision she’d made when she’d left New York meant she didn’t have a choice now.

“We can’t be friends,” she blurted.

For some reason, that only seemed to amuse him. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

NICK’S SMILE DISAPPEARED. Didn’t like him? What the hell? Everyone liked him. Just ask around.

“Maybe if you weren’t in such a hurry to get away from me,” he claimed irritably, “you’d learn to like me.”

“I don’t like you getting your hero worship fix from my son.”

“Hero worship?” He clenched the wrench he still held, and gave it a backhanded toss into his toolbox. Faith jumped when it hit the handle with a loud clang. “Funny how we’ve barely spoken, and yet you have no trouble coming up with a shitty opinion of me.”

“You had no right to involve yourself in my personal life—”

“I wasn’t trying to stick my nose into your business.” He hated losing control, even for a moment. “Austin seemed upset…”

“Sad to say, life is full of disappointments. And while I don’t relish the idea, Austin is going to have to deal with not always having things go his way.” She dumped the rest of her coffee into the utility sink and rinsed out the cup, her movements jerky.

“I was trying to help.”

“I didn’t want or need your help. You don’t need to befriend the struggling single mother. I’m not one of your sisters.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re at their beck and call.”

He scowled down at her. “Lady, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Let’s see…” She gestured toward the washing machine. “You’re here, on what I’m assuming is your day off…?”

She paused and looked at him expectantly. What else could he do? He nodded once and she continued. “And what are you doing on this gorgeous morning? You’re changing water hoses.”

“They needed to be replaced and—”

“Yes, they did, but Britney could’ve done it.”

“Britney can’t tell a wrench from a screwdriver.”

“If you’d teach her how to take care of things herself, she wouldn’t have to have someone ride to her rescue all the time.” Though Nick had at least five inches on Faith, she somehow managed to look down her nose at him. “I didn’t want or need your help with Austin. What I want is for you to keep your nose out of my business.”

“So you’d rather have your pride than accept a helping hand every once in a while?”

She flushed, but he couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. “I don’t need your charity.”

“You think I don’t understand what it’s like for Austin, sitting here while you work? How bored he is?” Nick clamped his lips shut. The last thing he wanted was to open up to her about how he knew exactly how the kid felt. Not when she obviously thought so little of him.

His mother might not have dragged him to work with her, but she had left him at home in charge of his sisters. There were plenty of times he’d had to put his needs second.

But he hadn’t minded having to quit baseball so he could be home to watch Britney after school, or that he didn’t get a video-game system when he was fourteen because they’d needed new snow tires for the car. He had a responsibility to his mother and sisters—the same responsibility Faith Lewis felt for her son. Family did for each other. So why did she think his favors for his sisters were anything different?

“I thought Austin would like something to read to pass the time,” he continued. “But if I was out of line, I apologize.”

Then, because he didn’t care one way or the other if she accepted his apology, he went back to the washer. Kneeling, he unscrewed the hoses from the back of the machine. Water dribbled onto his hands and he wiped them on his jeans. After a moment, he heard the sound of her footsteps as she walked away. Too bad she’d left her soft floral scent behind.