Chapter 1

Chapter One

" A unt Rose! Wake up! How much longer?"

I was still half-asleep when a small hand gripped my shoulder and gave me a hard shake. " Aunt Rose! "

I hadn't slept very well the night before—the baby was teething and had woken me up twice—so I struggled to open my eyes. Still, I knew my nephew Mikey was beyond excited to play his first soccer game. He'd been counting the days, and since the game was scheduled for six p.m., it was down to hours. I felt sorry for Mrs. McCallan, his first-grade teacher, who would surely be asked to take over countdown duties. "Ask Uncle Joe."

Mikey crawled over me, nearly kneeing me in the stomach, and the bed shook behind me as he bounced onto the mattress between me and my husband Joe.

"Uncle Joe! How much longer?"

Joe, who had the patience of Job when it came to the kids, said, "At dinnertime."

"We're eating dinner during the soccer game ?" Mikey asked incredulously.

"No." The bed shifted as Joe sat upright. "You're playing when we're supposed to be eating dinner. How about I take us all out to dinner afterward to celebrate you winning the game?"

"But Aunt Rose says there are no winners or losers," Mikey said, as though Joe had lost all the sense in his head. "We just play for fun."

"Then everyone's a winner. All the more reason to celebrate," Joe said, and Mikey shrieked with laughter.

I rolled over to see Joe tickling his armpit, making him double over with giggles.

My heart swelled with love. I'd been raising my niece and nephew and had recently had Hope when we married. It wasn't every man who would not only willingly but joyfully walk into an instant family of four. Then again, he'd been around long before I'd taken in my sister's kids and become pregnant with Hope. He'd lived next door to Violet and the kids for a while, and they'd started calling him Uncle Joe way back then.

"Are you awake now , Aunt Rose?" Mikey asked when he saw me looking at him.

"Now I am," I said with a warm smile, then teased, "I really wish you were more excited about your first game."

"I am excited!" Mikey squealed. "I am!"

I gathered him in my arms and hugged him tightly with tears welling in my eyes. My sister should have been the one he gushed to about his upcoming game, but Violet had died three and a half years ago. Then, less than a year later, her husband was sent to prison for fifteen years, and he'd made Joe and me the kids' legal guardians. I considered every day with them a blessing, especially after he'd tried to keep them from me for a short period after my sister's death. But I suspected neither Mikey nor his sister Ashley remembered that, and I wasn't going to tell them.

"You're hugging me too tight, Aunt Rose," Mikey said, wiggling in my arms.

"I'm just trying to fill you with love before you go to school."

"I already have lots of love," he said, sitting back on his heels. He turned to Joe. "Don't I, Uncle Joe?"

"You sure do, buddy," Joe said, his voice tight as he reached for Mikey and hugged him too.

"Why's everybody so huggy today?" Mikey said, shrugging Joe off after a few seconds.

"It's a huggy kind of day," I said, the unshed tears stinging my eyes.

Mikey hopped off the bed and ran out the door, always in a hurry to get to where he was going.

"Go get ready for school," I called after him. "We'll be down to make breakfast in a few minutes."

After he left, Joe turned to face me, sorrow filling his eyes. "You're feelin' it too?"

I nodded, trying to keep my tears from falling. "Violet should be here, Joe. She should be the one he runs to with his excitement."

He turned to me and cupped my cheek, giving me a gentle kiss before pulling back and smiling at me lovingly. "I know, darlin', but she's not. So we'll just make sure he and Ashley feel her love through us."

I nodded, but the sad truth was Mikey didn't even remember his mother. He pretended he did when we talked about her or Ashley brought up a memory, but other than photos and the few videos Violet and Mike had taken of themselves and the kids, his memory of her was a blank. It felt extra sad because my own birth mother had died when I was two months old. I hadn't even known she'd existed until I was twenty-four, and the mother who'd raised me was murdered.

Lordy, that felt light years ago, but in truth, it had only been six.

"Gross," Ashley groaned in disgust behind Joe's back. "You're kissing again."

"Yeah," little Hope said. "Gross."

I wasn't surprised the two of them had come in together. Hope hero-worshiped her ten-year-old cousin, and I was thankful Ashley didn't seem to mind. Not all preteen girls would be thrilled to have their nearly three-year-old cousin hanging on their every word and following them like a shadow. There were times Ashley got tired of her, but usually only when she had friends over, and even then, she let Hope spend a little time with her and her friends before sending her away.

Joe sat back up, laughing. "Unfortunately, for me, I wasn't kissing her when you walked in, but thanks for the suggestion." He made a production of leaning over and giving me a big chaste kiss on the lips, and the girls squealed in protest, although I knew Hope was only protesting out of solidarity with Ashley. She always liked it when Joe kissed me.

I sat up and got a closer look at my daughter. "Hope, what are you wearing?" She had dressed in a pair of pink shorts that she'd outgrown months ago, paired with a brown turtleneck sweater.

Asley shook her head. "I told her she couldn't wear that to school," she said with the ancient wisdom of a near-ten-year-old.

I opened my mouth to tell Hope she should change, but Joe slid out of bed and scooped our daughter into his arms. She broke into a fit of giggles.

"I think you look beautiful just the way you are, princess," he said, then kissed her forehead.

"Joe," I said carefully. "Your daughter is wearing booty shorts."

He glanced down at her and pressed his lips together. "On second thought, while Daddy's so proud of you for dressing yourself, how about you and me go pick out something else to wear to preschool?"

"But I like this shiwt," she said, glancing down at her round tummy.

"You can keep the shirt," Joe said, "but how about we change your bottoms so your legs won't get cold? It's still March, baby girl. It's not summer yet."

"Good idea, Daddy," Hope said, then wrapped her arms around his neck as they headed down the hall to her room.

Ashley remained in the doorway with an anxious look on her face.

"Hey, Ash," I said softly. "Everything okay?"

She moved closer to the bed, standing next to Joe's side, twisting her hands in front of her.

"You can talk to me," I said encouragingly. "About anything."

She made a face. "I don't want Uncle Joe to be mad at me."

My brow shot up, and I patted the bed. She slid onto the mattress and kept her gaze in her lap. "Why on earth would Uncle Joe be mad, Ashy?"

She lowered her voice so I could barely hear her as she said, "I got in trouble at school yesterday."

I wouldn't have been more surprised if I'd heard the pope was converting to Judaism, but now that I thought about it, she'd been quieter than usual during dinner and bedtime the previous evening.

Joe had been the Fenton County Sheriff for less than a year, and since it was an elected position, sometimes he was forced to do some gladhanding. The night before, he'd attended a townhall meeting, leaving me to deal with four children on my own. Needless to say, the night had been chaotic, but I still felt terrible for not noticing that she'd been upset. "What happened, sweetie?"

She picked at the cuticle on her thumb. I could tell she'd been picking at it for a while because it was beginning to bleed. Goodness! She was so much like her mother! Violet used to do the same thing when our mother was on a rampage. You could tell when she was being extra mean because Violet would have multiple Band-Aids on her fingers and thumbs.

Also like her mother, Ashley was the perfect child at school. She never got in trouble. I couldn't imagine what she could have done. The only time Violet had ever gotten in trouble was when she'd tried to protect me. Was Mikey somehow involved?

I covered her hand with my own to stop her from picking at her skin. "Ashley, I promise you that if Uncle Joe gets upset, he'll quickly get over it. What happened?"

She tucked her chin to her chest, her tangled blond curls falling next to her face. She mumbled something unintelligible.

"I couldn't hear you, sweetie."

Tears fell from her eyes onto her lap. "I don't want to say it."

My heart began pounding, not because I believed she'd done something awful, but because something had deeply upset her. "How about you whisper it in my ear, okay? Then we'll figure out what to do about it."

Nodding as she lifted her face, she cupped her hand around my ear and whispered, "Oliver said my daddy was a dirty criminal who worked with a bad, bad man." She leaned back and looked up at me with tear-filled, cornflower-blue eyes. "My daddy's not a dirty criminal," she said defiantly, but then fear filled her eyes. "Is he?"

My heart stuttered. Ashley knew her father was in prison and had seen him only a handful of times because of Mike's insistence that the children stay away. He would be there until after she graduated from high school, and he hadn't wanted his kids to be burdened with his shame. Still, neither Joe nor I had emphasized that he was a criminal. "Ash, honey, people make mistakes. Your daddy made some big mistakes, just like I told you and Mikey."

Her chin quivered. "So he is a dirty criminal? Because Oliver said only dirty criminals go to jail."

My heart ached for her as I cupped her chin and stroked her cheek with my thumb, trying to soothe her. "No, sweetie, he's not a dirty criminal, but he is considered a criminal. It was very unkind of Oliver to say that to you." My anger blossomed, but I tried to keep it in check. Oliver was in Ashley's fourth-grade class. He'd picked on her from time to time since they'd started kindergarten, and while it was probably equally unkind for me to call a ten-year-old a shithead, if the shoe fit…

"Did he work for a bad, bad man?" she asked, eyes wide.

Her question made me pause. A lot of the information about what Mike had done wasn't necessarily made public, but that didn't mean there wasn't plenty of speculation. Most people speculated that Mike had been working for a local drug czar, Denny Carmichael, who was also incarcerated. But in truth, he'd been working for Hope's biological father, who was currently running a tavern in Lone County, Arkansas, about two hours away.

The ache inside my chest deepened.

I hadn't thought about James Malcolm in a good bit, but I saw him in Hope's eyes and her chin. The way she studied things that puzzled her and the way she didn't back down from a fight—although Joe attributed that to me.

Only a handful of people knew that James was Hope's biological father, and I intended to keep it that way. Joe might not share her DNA, but he'd been there since I'd found out I was pregnant. He'd held my hand, offering support during my pregnancy, and then carried at least half the load of caring for a newborn before we'd made our relationship official with a marriage license.

Joe Simmons was Hope's father in every way it counted, and I did count my blessings every day. But I hadn't forgotten that James had willingly sacrificed a relationship with his daughter to keep her safe. I was grateful for that too.

Ashley was waiting for an answer about whether her father had worked for a bad man, but I had no intention of touching that subject with a ten-foot pole. At least not on a Tuesday morning when we were already running late for school.

"Your daddy worked for a group of bad men," I said carefully, "but you don't need to worry about what he did right now. When you're older, we can talk about it…if you want."

She stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded. "Okay."

I forced a grim look. "So now that I know what Oliver said, tell me what happened after he said it."

"He said it in front of the entire class, and everyone started saying my daddy was a dirty criminal. Then he made fun of me when I started to cry, so I kicked him in the shin." Shame washed over her face.

She was worried Joe would be upset with her, but I suspected he was going to be secretly proud. In fact, he was likelier to be disappointed she hadn't kicked both shins.

I took her hand and cradled it in mine. "Two wrongs don't make a right, but I understand why you did what you did."

"Mrs. Pritchard wants to talk to you and Uncle Joe this morning before school."

I tried to keep from making a face. I had a busy morning, and I knew Joe had back-to-back meetings. "Did she send a note home?"

She nodded again. "It's in my backpack." Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. "I'm really sorry, Aunt Rose."

I pulled her into a hug, tucking her head under my chin. "Never be afraid to tell me when you're in trouble, Ash. You can tell Uncle Joe too. We'll always have your back."

"Thank you, Aunt Rose."

"Don't worry. I will be talking to Mrs. Pritchard about Oliver's behavior." I heard fussing across the hall, so I kissed the top of her head and dropped my hold. "We'll drop Hope and the baby off at preschool before I take you to school, okay?"

"But she wants to see Uncle Joe too."

"You let me worry about that. Uncle Joe has an important meeting he can't miss."

"I love you, Aunt Rose."

The fussing across the hall grew louder, followed by a sound that made me smile. "Momma!"

"I love you too, Ash." I kissed the top of her head again. "Now I need to go check on your cousin."

I slid out of bed and padded across the hall into the nursery to find my dark-haired, fifteen-month-old son standing in his crib. He smiled from ear to ear when he saw me. "Momma! Momma!"

"Did you have a good sleep, sweet Liam?" I asked as I lifted him out of bed and settled him on my hip. "How are your teethies doing?"

He opened his mouth and pointed to his teeth.

I grinned. "That's right. Those are your teeth. Do they still have an owie?"

His face morphed into an exaggerated frown. "Owie."

"I'm sorry." I carried him over to the changing table for a quick diaper change, then carried him downstairs, leaving him in his sleeper. I'd put him in his clothes for daycare after he ate because he hated bibs, and it wasn't uncommon for his clothing to get covered in his meal.

Joe was already scrambling eggs and making toast when we walked into the kitchen. After I settled Liam in his highchair, I walked over to Joe and gave him a kiss. "God bless you for starting breakfast."

He shot me a sexy grin. "You can make it up to me tonight."

I gave him another quick kiss. "That can be arranged, Sheriff Simmons."

He waggled his eyebrows. "I like it when you call me that. I have some plans in mind…" His voice had turned husky and trailed off.

Even now, in the midst of morning chaos, this man still made me tingle in all the right places. "Promises, promises," I whispered.

He released a laugh and swatted my bottom. "You go get ready," he said. "I've got this covered."

"You're still wearing your pajamas."

"My first meeting's at nine, and it won't take me long to get ready," he said, scrambling the eggs in a skillet. "We're good."

"Before I head up…" I lowered my voice. "We need to talk about something that happened to Ashley at school."

Turning serious, he glanced over his shoulder. She was standing next to the table, checking Mikey's backpack to make sure he'd put his homework in his take-home folder. I'd told her a million times she didn't have to do that, that it was my job, but she still liked to check. Another way she was like Violet.

"Is she okay?" Joe asked.

"Just shaken."

His worried eyes met mine. "Should I be concerned?"

"No, I don't think so, but I intend to talk to her teacher. I'll fill you in tonight."

He nodded, still frowning, obviously wanting to know more but trusting my judgment.

That trust had been hard earned, and I never wanted to give him cause to doubt me again.