"Promise me you'll think hard about it, Dad, okay?"
"I promise."
Erin sat at her desk and stared out the front window of the police station, trying not to think about Nick-and failing miserably. Frowning, she looked down at the blur of forms and reports spread out in front of her, and typed a line of information into her computer. Unable to drum up the least bit of enthusiasm for her work, she resumed her vigil of watching the cars as they drove down Commerce Street. She'd been hard at it since seven that morning-two hours ago-and only sixteen cars had passed. Logan Falls, she thought. Life in the fast lane.
What in the world was she going to do about Nick?
Hector's philosophy on training new officers differed dramatically from Nick's. While the chief had started her out with making rounds, Hector preferred to pawn off his paperwork on her, while he did his rounds alone. Erin wasn't happy about the desk work. On the other hand, she didn't feel much like company today.
She wanted to blame Nick for her sour mood but knew she had no one to blame but herself-and that blasted kiss. How was it she could build an illustrious career in a police department the size of Chicago 's, yet in her first week in Logan Falls she'd managed to alienate her counterpart, tick off her boss and generally screw up at every turn? What had she been thinking, letting Nick kiss her like that? What on earth had she been doing kissing him back?
She wanted to believe the kiss was a result of high emotion in the wake of Stephanie's reaction to the basketball. Or Nick's anger. Or her own guilt over having upset the little girl. But Erin knew better, and she wasn't going to start lying to herself now. She'd wanted Nick to kiss her, wanted that hard, uncompromising mouth against hers-consequences be damned. No amount of denial was going to change any of it, or the fact that her pulse kicked every time she thought about doing it again.
Her cheeks heated at the memory of their encounter in his driveway, but she quickly shooed it away. She couldn't change what was already done. It had been two days since the kiss, and she hadn't seen him since. She told herself that was best. She didn't need a man like Nick messing with her head and teasing her body with promises that would do nothing but make them both miserable in the long run.
He'd told her it was her recklessness he couldn't tolerate. Erin knew it had more to do with the fact that she was a career cop who wasn't afraid to put herself on the line. Well, she'd had her fill of men who couldn't handle her being a police officer. Warren Prentice was a prime example, and it still disturbed her deeply that six years ago she'd been naive enough to nearly throw it all away in the name of love.
Love? Whoa. Where had that crazy notion come from? Erin certainly wasn't naive enough to believe in the fallacy of love-or risk her career over it. Things were better if she avoided Nick, she assured herself. Simpler. A hell of a lot safer. She'd do her time in Logan Falls. Get back on her feet. Hopefully, in six months, Frank would reinstate her, and she could move back to Chicago where she belonged.
She started when the bell on the front door jingled. Expecting Hector, she felt a jolt of surprise when Stephanie opened the door and rolled inside. Not sure how to react in light of the fiasco at her birthday party, Erin looked down at the form in front of her and typed another line of information into the computer.
"Hi."
Erin looked up and felt her mood soften as she watched the little girl struggle to get her wheelchair through the door. "Hi, Steph," she said. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." The answer lacked the enthusiasm one would expect from a nine-year-old. "Is my dad around?"
Concerned, Erin shoved away from the computer and watched her approach. "You're not sick, are you?"
No, I'm just desperately sad and lonely and need someone to talk to . Erin saw the words in the little girl's eyes as clearly as if she'd spoken them. Compassion and an odd sense of understanding squeezed Erin 's heart. How many times had she felt that same sadness growing up without her mother? She wondered if Nick saw the same sadness when he looked into his daughter's eyes. She wondered if it tore him apart, because there wasn't anything he could do to fix it.
"I was hoping my dad was here so he'd take me home," Stephanie said.
"Nick's at the courthouse today. Hector said he'd be there most of the day. I can call him for you if you want."
Stephanie looked at her backpack. "Can you take me home?"
Nick had forewarned her that Stephanie skipped school occasionally, and had instructed both of his deputies to call the principal and take his daughter home to Mrs. Thornsberry if she showed up at the station when he wasn't around.
"Sure I can." Erin figured it was the least she could do, since she'd upset Stephanie so terribly the night of the party. "Now I have an excuse not to finish this paperwork."
It took Erin nearly ten minutes to help Stephanie out of her wheelchair and get her strapped in the cruiser. By the time she stowed the chair in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel, she'd broken into a sweat. For the first time, she realized fully the weight of Nick's responsibility when it came to his daughter. She knew he shouldered that responsibility without complaint-but she also realized fully the love and devotion that was required to care for a physically challenged child.
Pulling onto Commerce Street, Erin steered the cruiser toward Nick's house.
"I guess you think I acted like a brat about the basketball," Stephanie said after a moment.
The statement startled Erin. Not knowing exactly how to respond, she glanced away from her driving and studied the girl. "That was my fault, honey. I should have realized the basketball might upset you."
"It doesn't. I mean, it did at first, but not anymore. After I got used to the idea, I started thinking it might be fun to, you know, play."
"It's okay for you not to like it, Steph. I'll take it back and get you something else-"
"But I do like it," she insisted. "I just… when you first gave it to me, I started thinking that I won't ever be able to walk again, and it made me feel sad. But after I thought about it awhile, I started thinking maybe I could take some lessons or something."
"You want to take wheelchair basketball lessons?" Erin asked cautiously.
"Maybe. I mean, you said kids in wheelchairs could take lessons. Didn't you say that, Erin?"
She thought of Nick and wondered how she should handle this. "How did your dad feel about lessons?"
"He worries too much, but he's always like that. Mom used to call him a worrywart. But he promised he'd think about it."
Erin blinked, surprised that Nick had told Stephanie he would consider letting her take lessons. He'd seemed dead set against it. The thought that he might have softened his stance sent a ribbon of warmth through her heart. "So… you had a pretty good birthday, after all?"
"Pretty good." Sighing, Stephanie looked out the window. "My dad's pretty cool. He let me stay up past my bedtime for once. He even got me a green parakeet. I named her Bertha. And Mrs. Thornsberry made that really yummy cake. She's like my grandmother, or something. I just wish…" The little girl's voice trailed off.
Erin gave her a moment, then pressed. "You wish what, honey?"
"I wish my mom could have been there. I mean, she'd probably be sad that I'm in a wheelchair, but she always made me feel better. She was pretty, and she laughed a lot. She made my dad laugh, too. He hardly ever laughs anymore."
The words sent a pang through Erin. The mention of Nick's wife sent another, more complex, pang right through her. "Your dad told me about your mom. I'm sorry." Remembering her own childhood, and the death of her mother, she ached for the little girl.
"I miss her sometimes."
"I know what you mean," Erin said easily.