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

“He sure has perked up with you around. He’s talking shit nonstop. He loves to try and get your goat, always has,” her smile was teary.

“You know how we are. It’s all affectionate. We tease each other. I compared him to a baby. He said he missed it before I learned to talk.”

My mom looked shocked.

“Your face is gonna freeze like that. You have to get used to us again. I’ve been gone a long time.”

“But, honey, Rockford Falls never changes. That’s the great thing about it.”

“No, being close to my family is the great thing about it. I was happy in Charleston. But I think it took coming back home to realize how bad I really missed you all. Even Damon. But don’t tell him I said so.”

“I won’t say a word,” she promised with a sparkle in her eye.

“I may head down to the station tomorrow and see about getting an interview here in Rockford Falls,” I said tentatively.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. I shook my head, a grin forming on my face. “Because there is nothing that would make me happier than knowing you were staying. Putting down roots.”

“If the next word out of your mouth is grandchildren, Mom, I swear I’m putting hot sauce on your tongue,” I said.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “But you know I want a baby to love on.”

“Get a cat.”

“Cats don’t like to be held. Also they shed.”

“Well, I’m a cop. I just moved home to help with dad. The odds of me hooking up with my future life partner—”

“Why can’t you just say husband? Why?”

“Because it pisses you off,” I said. “But the odds are not in my favor at this point. I’m thirty. In small-town years, that’s like seventy-five. I’m an old maid and a police officer so people probably think I’m a lesbian.”

“It’s not the cop thing. It’s your hair. Fix it once in a while.”

“I have lesbian hair? Is that even a thing?”

“I have a Pinterest board of hairstyles for you. There are even TikToks on how to fix the hair you have now.”

“You have a Pinterest board devoted to my potential hair?” I said, making a face.

“Yes. I’ve been cooped up with your father for months. I had to do something besides eat Pringles and fold laundry.”

“You have a point. You could have developed a serious drinking problem—which is where I’m headed if I don’t get out of the house and get a job soon. For real. I was eyeing the old bottle of Baileys on the fridge that you use for fudge at Christmas. I was thinking, hey maybe I put a little in the coffee, and Dad’s stories about the firehouse will be more entertaining.”

“Don’t do it. It won’t work. They weren’t great stories to begin with,” my mom quipped.

“And you always say I got my smart mouth from my daddy,” I teased.

“It’s good to have you home, baby. That old fart drove me nuts even before he retired. Then he got sick, and I’m worried all the time, doing everything I can and it’s never enough to keep the Grim Reaper away. Once we were housebound, it was binge the carbs or commit a homicide.”

“He’s not an easy patient. It’s a good thing I didn’t become a nurse. All I’m saying’s I’d be on the news as ‘local nurse slays four’ by now.”

“I know. I can’t even watch a soap opera. He has to have the History Channel turned up so loud I can’t hear myself think.”

“I have noise-canceling headphones. I’ll loan them to you while I’m at work.”

“I’d love that.”

She went back downstairs to Dad. I heard them talking low, heard her laugh and him laughing with her. It had done her good to get out for a while. They loved each other, but too much nonstop togetherness plus a serious illness was enough to stress anyone out. I was glad I could be there, and for the hundredth time, I was thankful for any time I had with him. He might drive us all crazy, but he was my dad. There was no one like him.

I sighed and shook my head, looking for something to do. I had Brody Peters on my mind. Ever since my brother mentioned him, mentioned the prospect of seeing him, I felt like a jar of fireflies had been let off inside me, a sparkly excitement was rolling through my veins. I wanted to get back to work. I was a hell of a cop, and I liked the idea of working in my hometown. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it gave me pause that it would mean working for Brody. I was a grown woman and a professional. But working closely with someone I used to have a major crush on was bound to be awkward. I wanted to fit right in on the hometown force, not fumble my words like I had in front of Damon or do something stupid like get caught checking him out.

Maybe he had gone bald and turned into a racist asshole. A girl could always hope. That would make it easier not to be attracted to him. I could control myself, and I never dated anyone I worked with. Not for lack of offers, because when you work long hours together, and go into danger having each other’s backs, close friendships develop. But I made sure mine stayed just that. Friendships with coworkers. Not personal relationships and nothing romantic. If there was one thing I remembered my dad saying when they hired their first female firefighter, it was ‘don’t shit in your own hand. You never get involved with somebody you work with’. It wasn’t exactly a beautiful piece of wisdom, but I took it to heart.

Remembering that I used to fantasize about my brother’s friend wasn’t exactly the best way to prepare for an interview with him. I had never been close with him, but I knew Damon thought the world of him.