“Sounds delicious,” Trent said. “She said you stayed up until ten.”

  “I won’t be cranky,” Porter said, his eyes turning into those puppy dog eyes that begged for food.

  “If Miss Terry emails or calls, you’ll be in so much trouble.” Trent gave his son a stern look. “Lauren won’t be able to stay with you anymore.”

  “I like her,” Porter said. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Trent wanted to point out that he’d already broken one promise, but he was tired and just wanted to go to bed. “All right. Well, let’s get up and get ready. I’ll go fry you an egg.”

  Chapter 18

  Lauren didn’t want to leave Trent’s house, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. But it felt wonderful and comfortable to be sitting in his kitchen, sipping coffee he’d made and poured for her.

  He returned from waking Porter and said, “Did you want breakfast? I’m making eggs for Porter.”

  She declined and slipped off her barstool. “I better head home and get ready for the day.”

  “Yeah? What are you working on now?” He unhooked a pan from the rack hanging above the island.

  “I just signed a new basement,” she said. “It’s huge too, from one of those massive houses out on the bluff.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, indoor job,” she said. “Though I am a bit worried about it running into our Christmas plans.”

  Trent pulled open the fridge. “Go over those again with me?”

  Lauren had told him at least three times, but she’d go over it a dozen more if it meant he’d be there. Him and Porter. So she moved into his personal space as he turned with a carton of eggs in his hands.

  She wrapped her arms around him, thrilled when he received her into his embrace. “My whole family is coming,” she said. “I’ve told them all about you.”

  Trent looked so, so tired, but she thought she also caught a flicker of panic in his expression. “It’s a Christmas dinner, right?”

  “Right. My brothers are coming on Christmas Eve. My parents are coming on the twenty-third. So you can meet them in stages.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, and while Trent had never spoken about his feelings for her, Lauren could definitely feel them in the way his mouth moved against hers. Lauren let herself get caught up in him, the taste of him, the smell of him, the very nearness of him. And she felt herself falling, and all she could do was hope he would be there to catch her.

  She broke their connection and looked at him. “You’re still okay to do all of that?”

  “Mm hm.” He pressed his cheek to hers, and they just breathed together. Lauren wanted to tell him how she was feeling, but so many emotions ran through her she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “Dad, I can’t find my shoes.”

  Trent stepped away from Lauren and said something, but she didn’t catch what. She hoped her late night with Porter wouldn’t get him in trouble, because then Trent wouldn’t trust her with his son again.

  “I saw them in the closet,” she called after them, her mind finally starting to work again. Sure enough, Trent found the shoes there, and Lauren gave Porter a hug. “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

  Porter leaned his forehead against Lauren’s and whispered, “Daddy says we can’t stay up late or you can’t stay with me.”

  “Then we’ll make sure you’re in bed by nine tonight, okay?”

  He nodded, and she straightened. Trent was busy with the pan on the stove, but she knew he’d seen her exchange with his son. She lifted her hand in a wave and said, “See you guys tonight.”

  “’Bye,” they said together, one low voice and one high, and Lauren’s heart sang with joy.

  Outside, she stood on the top step and vowed to herself that she’d follow Trent’s rules for his son. After all, she wasn’t the boy’s mother, and if the situation had been reversed, she’d be bugged if her babysitter just did whatever she wanted.

  And she loved both of the males inside this house. A smile touched her lips, and though the winter temperatures had her breath wisping out of her mouth in white clouds, she felt warm from head to toe.

  Because she was in love with Trent Baker.

  Lauren worked alone in the basement of the house on the bluff, measuring and marking, cutting and constructing. It had taken a couple of days just to get everything hauled into the area, but now that she was set up, the work was moving quickly. If her pace held, she’d have the basement framed and insulated by the end of the week.

  She’d done enough basements to know when she needed to focus and when she could let her mind wander. So she concentrated when at the saw and with the measuring tape in her hand, but she thought about Porter and Trent while she hammered the studs into place.

  Porter especially lingered in her mind. Why had she thought she didn’t like kids? Maybe you haven’t met the right ones, Trent had said.

  But Lauren knew that everything stemmed back to Rick. He hadn’t liked children, and she’d known from their third date that he didn’t want kids. So maybe she’d just told herself for so long that she didn’t want them either.

  By the time she returned to Trent’s that afternoon, she was tired of measuring, cutting, and nailing. But she put up a section of the railing before he and Porter arrived home from school.

  “Heya,” Porter said, immediately picking up his child-sized hammer. “I didn’t get in trouble at school at all today.”

  She beamed at him, more relief than she thought she’d feel pouring through her. She glanced at Trent, who wore his police officer stern expression. “That’s great, bud. We’ll be sure to get to bed on time tonight.”

  “So can I help?” A gust of wind almost blew the boy’s words away.

  Lauren nodded. “I’m just about to cut the next section.”

  “It can wait,” Trent said, finally moving forward and putting his arm around her. “You look tired.”

  “So maybe I need to get to bed earlier tonight too.” She relaxed into his side, definitely more exhausted than she thought.

  “Porter’s going to lay down for an hour.”

  “Dad—”

  “We already talked about it, bud.” Trent cut him a glare. “You can too, if you’d like. I’ll make dinner.”

  Lauren gazed out across his yard, most of the greenery brown now. It was still beautiful, and though the wind whipped and another storm would be here within the hour, Lauren felt more comfortable than she ever had.

  She went with Porter and Trent inside, and the two boys disappeared down the hall. She heard them arguing, but she kept herself busy with getting water and cleaning up from her long day of work. Maybe Trent would put off making dinner and just hold her on the couch until she dozed off.

  By the time Trent returned, he looked tired too. He didn’t say anything, and the tension in the air nearly suffocated Lauren.

  “If he’s not tired, he doesn’t have to take a nap,” she said.

  Trent whipped his gaze to her, and it utterly scathed her. “He is tired. That’s why he’s acting like that.”

  “Okay, I’m just saying⁠—”

  “Well, don’t. He’s not your son, and I think I know him a lot better than you do.”

  His words lashed her insides, and any thought of curling into the couch with him and kissing away the afternoon vanished. She nodded, tight little movements of her head. Tears pricked her eyes, and the thought of staying here made her chest tighten until she couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m going to run home and shower,” she managed to say.

  “Lauren,” he said, not an ounce of regret in his voice.

  “No, it’s fine.” She waved him back. “I just feel itchy from the insulation.” What a liar she was. She hadn’t even touched the insulation yet, and Trent seemed to know it. Still, he let her go, and Lauren wept as she drove from his house to hers.

  So maybe she shouldn’t be telling him how to raise his son. Bad move, she told herself, finally getting enough control of her emotions to make the tears stop. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, pulling into her driveway in control of herself.

  Inside, she went straight into the bedroom and laid down. Maybe she was acting the way she was because she was tired too. After all, she hadn’t cried over anything in years—since leaving Rick.

  Then, it seemed like she’d never stop crying. But she had. She started working with a therapist and examining what she really believed, what was true and what wasn’t, and she’d come out a different version of the Lauren she’d been.

  She didn’t want Trent to be upset with her, so before she allowed herself to truly calm enough to doze, she sent him a quick text. I’m sorry.

  Hours later, she still hadn’t heard from him, and it was almost time for her to get over to his house so he could go to work. She assumed that was still the plan, so she slathered peanut butter on a couple pieces of bread and grabbed an apple from the fridge.

  She finished eating just as she arrived at his house, only to find his truck already gone. Confusion and doubt raced through her. Had he taken Porter to his sister’s? His mother’s? Maybe they were just out with the dogs, but the rain splashing the windshield suggested otherwise.

  She parked in his spot and dashed up to the front door. The doorbell sounded too loud amidst the rain, and it took several long moments for Betsy to answer the door. Lauren stood there and stared, unsure of what to make of this new development.

  “He got called in suddenly,” she said, gesturing for her to come in. She did, stepping onto his floor and starting to drip everywhere. “He said you’d be by soon, and I said it was no problem.”

  “Oh,” Lauren finally managed to say. She searched her brain for her husband’s name and couldn’t find it. “How’s your husband?”

  She offered a kind smile, but it was the kind that said she was tired of answering the same questions all the time. “He’s doing better tonight, which is why I could come.”

  “I would’ve come,” Lauren said. Why hadn’t Trent just called her? She lived ten minutes away, and watching Betsy put on her shoes and then her coat, it had honestly probably taken the older woman at least that long to make it over here from next door.

  “I was here with dinner when the call came in,” she said. “So it was no problem to stay.” She gave Lauren a warm smile and paused in her preparations to leave. “So, how are you and Trent getting along?”

  Lauren put a plastic grin on her face. “Just great.” She nodded like her statement needed extra emphasis. “Yep. Real nice.”

  Which was mostly true. They’d been getting along so well, with a few minor bumps that all couples had. Right?

  All she knew was that she thought so, and she didn’t necessarily want to talk about it with his next-door neighbor, a woman she’d met once and didn’t know.

  “Well, hang in there, dear.” She stood and patted Lauren’s hand. “Porter’s in bed already, and Trent said he’d call you later.”

  “All right.” Lauren said, the papery quality of Betsy’s skin so like Aunt Mabel’s.

  “Trent can be prickly sometimes,” she said. “Don’t take it too seriously. I’ve been telling him for years to lighten up.” With that, Betsy made her way to the front door, where she pulled up the hood on her coat and stepped into the storm.

  Lauren followed her and stood on the porch to make sure she got home okay. Once she was safely inside her own house, Lauren returned to the warmth of Trent’s home. She loved this place where she’d spent so much time with him and his son.

  She ran her fingers along the back of the couch where they’d cuddled together after dinner, where he’d fall asleep and she’d hold his hand and dream of that being their reality all the time.

  Maybe he didn’t want that. “Maybe he just needs more time to get used to the idea.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she sucked in a breath. How many times had she said that while waiting for Rick to do something she wanted? First, it was to put a diamond ring on her finger. Then it was to set a date—which had never actually happened.

  She’d always told her mom that maybe he needed more time to think through the idea, make sure he liked it.

  She pulled out her phone and sent him another text. Made it to your house. Betsy went home. Porter’s asleep. Her fingers hovered over the screen. She wanted to tell him she would’ve come had he called, but she didn’t want to add to his stress or make him feel like he’d done something wrong.

  She shook the old Lauren’s thoughts away. She got to have feelings too, and they were valid.

  I would’ve come whenever you wanted. Why didn’t you call me?

  She sent the message without second-guessing herself and then dialed her mom. With Christmas just shy of two weeks away, Lauren should probably check with Aunt Mabel on the state of the Mansion and the dinner.

  Knowing Mabel, the Mansion would be decked out from floor to ceiling with wreaths and trees and garland. But Lauren should still check with her. Tomorrow, she told herself as her mom’s line started to ring.

  “Hey, baby,” her mother said. “How are you?”

  Every emotion Lauren had been feeling that day rushed at her, choking her words from coming out.

  “Lauren?” Her mother’s concern could be heard from miles away.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said through a tight throat. Her mother would be able to hear the emotion in it.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen with Trent?”

  So many things had happened with Trent, and Lauren didn’t even know where to start. “I don’t know, Mom. I like him so much.” Another lie, but this one was necessary. Wasn’t it? She knew her mother worried about her, and she didn’t want to admit she’d fallen in love with a man who might not be ready for another wife.

  All at once, Lauren realized what she’d been fearing and doubting. That she was more than ready to move to the next stage of her life with him, but that for Trent, he might still be struggling with the concept of letting go of Savannah and taking hold of Lauren.

  “Well, what’s going on?” her mom asked, kindness in her voice where there had been disapproval of a relationship with Trent before.

  Lauren told her, ready to be reprimanded. She could handle the truth, and she could change. Heaven knew she’d done plenty of that over the last six years.

  “You two should probably have a conversation about parenting,” her mom suggested. “If he’s not interested in you disciplining Porter, you should know. He is the boy’s father, and well, those are his decisions to make. You need to honor them.”

  “I know,” Lauren said, but really, she only knew intellectually. She didn’t have children of her own, or a past spouse, or any of the things Trent was dealing with. She took a deep breath, feeling more settled now. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

  Lauren nodded and sniffed. “Okay. Love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, Lauren.”

  The call ended, and Lauren let her arm drop to the couch. She sat cross-legged in front of the TV she hadn’t switched on. She had taken a nap that afternoon and didn’t feel physically tired. Just mentally and emotionally exhausted.

  So when Trent’s text of, Betsy was already there came in, she read it and swiped it away. Her phone buzzed again, probably him with another message. But she didn’t read it. She curled into herself on the couch and closed her eyes, imagining the way Trent would come home from the graveyard shift and kiss her awake once they were married and living in the same house together.

  She must’ve dozed off right there on the couch, because the next thing she knew, she woke up to the sound of Porter screaming.

  Chapter 19

  Trent stared at his phone, willing Lauren to answer him. The dead time had arrived and it was only nine-thirty. The night stretched ahead of him, and he was in no mood for it. He thought about walking across the street to the firehouse, where surely there’d be good food and probably a dance party happening.

  Why they didn’t have barbecues and big-screen televisions in the police department, he didn’t know.

  What he did know was that he and Lauren needed to talk. He hadn’t liked her keeping Porter up, and when she’d suggested his own son didn’t need to take a nap, Trent’s anger had returned in full force.

  He’d been thinking about it since he’d woken that afternoon to go get his son from school. No, he hadn’t gotten in trouble with Miss Terry. But Trent knew Porter, and the boy was tired. Did it really matter if a six-year-old didn’t want to lie down for an hour?

  No. No, it did not. Trent was the adult, and once Porter had gotten up, he’d been back to his playful self.

  He looked at his phone again, his question burning into his retinas. Should I bring breakfast back to the house and we can talk before Porter wakes up?

  Maybe she didn’t want to talk. Maybe she’d go get Betsy and wouldn’t even be there when Trent returned.

  “Trent, where are those files on the Bighorn case?”

  Trent startled away from his thoughts and his device. He looked up at Adam, who should’ve gone home hours ago. “Uh, right here.” He moved a few folders on his messy desk and handed a stack to the Chief.

  “Thanks.” He turned away and then twisted back. “Thanks for coming in early.”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I’m going to take these home with me.”

  “Good idea.” Trent flashed him a smile that didn’t stay on his face for more than a second. He flipped his phone over and over, but it didn’t chime or buzz. So she was going to ignore him. Surely she wasn’t asleep yet, but Trent wasn’t really sure. He hadn’t answered her right away, and maybe she’d gone straight to bed after texting him.

  Determined not to spend his ten-hour shift obsessed with hearing from Lauren, he set his phone face-down on his desk and started working on the report from the incident he’d been called to that evening.

  He could barely read his own handwriting, but he managed to make it through his notes, transferring them into the file. Then he went through the witness statements and was about to start on the other statements from the man and woman involved in the domestic dispute when a flashing blue light caught his eye.