My Fake Husband by Black, L. (motivational novels TXT) 📕

officer here in town. Ray Shaw’s finally retiring. Brody’s the chief now. I’m sure he’d give you an interview if you wanted to join the RFPD.”

“Brody’s the chief?” I asked, trying to pretend that my cheeks didn’t flush at the mention of his name.

Brody was my big brother’s oldest friend, tall and handsome and out of reach, my teenage crush. If we’re being honest here, he’s the reason I have a type. My type is tall, dark hair, quiet and brooding with the warmest brown eyes—those coffee eyes that missed nothing, that seemed to hint at depth and compassion and strength, dark eyes fathoms deep. I felt a pull in my stomach remembering his eyes. The eyes of a man I never dated, never slept with—a man who was just my brother’s friend who married a sweet girl I was always low-key jealous of. Now he was grown up and the chief of police. I tried to act more casual than I felt.

“That’s great. I’d love to talk to him. I mean I’d love to talk about a job, have an interview,” I said, stumbling over my words in a way that made me feel younger again and stupid.

“He’s not much on catching up. He’s been a bit of a loner since Missy died.”

“I heard about that. I sent a card,” I said.

I didn’t come back for the funeral. I hadn’t really known her and hadn’t seen Brody in years, so I hadn’t taken off work. Now somehow, I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t offered my support in person. I knew Damon had always been a good friend to him, almost like a brother. So I was sure he supported him a lot during that time. I shook my head. I had too much time to sit around and think. That was my problem. A job interview was just the thing for me.

“I’ve got to head to the firehouse. Just wanted to stop in and say hi. Where’s Mom?”

“I made her go into town. She’s getting her hair colored. I can’t believe she’s been doing it all on her own for months.”

“I’m sitting right here, daughter,” our dad said grumpily.

“Yep. You sure are,” I teased. “Not that he’s not a complete delight to take care of, it’s just a big job to handle the house and cooking and the health care needs of another human. At least with babies they don’t talk back,” I said to Damon, shooting a mischievous look at my dad.

“I can still take you out behind the woodshed and bust your ass, little girl,” he said wryly.

“We don’t have a woodshed, and Mom always busted my ass with a wooden spoon. You were the good cop, remember?”

“Those days are gone. It’s bad cop worse cop now, right Damon?”

“It’s no cops. It’s firemen only,” he said. I rolled my eyes.

“Remember when she was little and we thought she was so sweet?” Dad asked pointedly to Damon.

“Yeah, those were the days,” he said.

“Then she started talking, and we found out we were wrong,” Dad sighed.

“More green tea?” I asked sweetly.

He rolled his eyes big time at that one. “You sure you counted my pills right? Cause I remember we never thought you’d learn your times tables.”

“Yeah, sis, we thought you’d have to be a stripper when you grew up because you sucked at math too bad to wait tables,” Damon chimed in.

My mom walked in then, tossing her shiny, newly darkened hair in its neat bob.

“You look fabulous!” I said, hugging her.

“See, she’s nice to her mother. Saves the backtalk for me,” Dad said.

“Well?” Mom posed, showing off her haircut.

“Have you got a tan?” Dad asked.

“Laura was a sneak. She called ahead and paid for the works. I had my hair done, my nails done, and a spray tan. I feel like I’ve been to Jamaica!” she said. I grinned. It was money well spent. My mom deserved a little spoiling.

“You look beautiful as always,” Dad said. “But don’t you go running off to Jamaica with some guy that has two working kidneys.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” my mom said, kissing his cheek, “Never.”

“It’s grim humor. I enjoy it,” he said.

“Dark humor,” my brother corrected.

“Oh, go to work, you’re as bad as your sister,” he said with a wheezy chuckle. I was worried about him, but it did us all good to hear him talking shit and full of spunk. When he really felt bad he was cooperative. It was scary as hell, and none of us ever wanted to see him like that again.

I followed her to go hang her coat up, “I called Hester at the hospital auxiliary. She’s getting me a list of names, people who help out with home health care.”

“Your dad—”

“Is going to have to deal with it.”

“But I—”

“Need my help? I know. Look, I’m the bossy one. And you always encouraged me to do what I knew was right. So here we are. I’m being bossy, and I know what’s best here. Between you and me and the cleaning lady and the health aide, we can do this and keep our sanity. I also checked at the library and book club is still during Wednesday afternoons.”

“But your dad has dialysis Wednesday mornings and—”

“And so we’ll make sure someone is here on Wednesday afternoons in case he needs something. You look great, but you’re run down. I know it, Mom,” I said.

“I want to go back to the gym,” she admitted. “I used to go to the seniors’ aerobics class. I’ve gained thirty-eight pounds since your dad went into kidney failure. He lost weight and I found it,” she said ruefully. I nodded.

“Then figure out when you need to be there, and I’ll make sure we build that into the schedule for the people who’ll be helping us out.”

“I’m not sure about this. Your dad won’t like it.”

“Dad also doesn’t want you running yourself ragged trying to meet everyone’s needs but your own. I’m here, and I’m a fixer. Let