The Coltons of Red Ridge
“Okay, then call Juliette. Cops trust each other, right?” She could see by his expression that she had him thinking now. Actually considering. And she pressed her case. “You don’t even have to pay me. I’ll do it just for the experience.”
“I could talk to Juliette,” he said, but reluctance was still clear in his voice. In that moment, as if conspiring to help her, the second twin woke, seemed to realize she was missing out on interesting things, and began a wail that put her sister to shame.
“And,” Gemma added, with more bravado than confidence, “I’ll start right now.”
Dante’s eyes closed wearily for a moment, and Gemma had an inkling of the kind of night he’d had. It touched her, in an odd sort of way she would never have expected. She tried to imagine.
When he opened them, he said decisively, “I’ll call Juliette. If you can keep them quiet long enough for me to do that, we’ll talk.”
Gemma had no idea what to do to accomplish that. Trying to think, she put the sleeping twin she was holding—how on earth did you tell them apart?—back in her carrier, and set it down beside her sister’s. She reached for the crying twin. The big, droopy-eared dog’s head came up, and she hesitated.
“That’s Flash. Flash, meet Gemma.” The dog looked up at him, and Gemma would have sworn he was asking a question. “Gentleman for now,” was Dante’s answer, given in commanding tone.
With an odd sound, a sort of combination sigh and groan, the dog gave her a studying look, took a deep sniff and settled his big head back down on his paws.
“For now?” she asked, a little warily, as she picked up the crying baby and repeated the earlier procedure, which seemed to work, and thankfully without the spitting up this time.
“Withholding final judgment pending further evidence,” he said.
That seemed fair to her. It was just the dog part that threw her. “And he...gets that?”
“In his own way, yes. It means you’d have to do something he really, really didn’t like for him to come after you.”
She blinked. Glanced again at the dog, who looked for all the world as if it would take an explosion to bestir him from his selected spot.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Dante said in the tone of someone who knew perfectly well what she was thinking. “What he might lack in speed he makes up for with stamina and sheer power. And he’s got a mind of his own. You’re going to have to earn his trust, too. He decides for himself when you’ve crossed a line.”
She drew herself up. “Does he let you know when you’ve crossed a line?” she asked sweetly.
If her manner registered, he didn’t let it show. Then again, he was a cop and probably had a lot of practice with keeping his thoughts unreadable.
Except when his life was blasted to bits.
She remembered not only why she was here, but what had happened to make him need help, and felt bad about her tone.
But he answered her easily enough. “Yes. He just cuts me more slack, because he knows that while I’m a just a dumb human, I usually catch on eventually.”
As she watched him pull out his cell phone and walk across the office, tapping out a text message, probably to Juliette, she found herself thinking that Dante Mancuso was very far from a dumb human.
* * *
“I won’t lie, buddy, she’s spoiled,” Juliette Walsh said in Dante’s ear. “But she’s also got a heart of gold, is quick to learn and very determined. And she’s got depth to her. For a Colton, she’s...a tiny bit naive about some things. Don’t know how she managed that.”
Depending on what those things were, Dante wasn’t sure a little naïveté wouldn’t be welcome. “All I really need to know is can I trust her to take care of the twins?”
“She would never intentionally hurt anyone, but I doubt if she’s ever even babysat in her life,” Juliette said frankly. “Blake could probably tell you that.”
He had the thought that calling Blake might be a good idea anyway. They could share the novelty of instant parenthood, although the situations were very different.
“He’s the one who told her about...my situation.”
“I did mention it to him, sort of in passing. Thought he might know someone who could help.”
“Thanks,” Dante said, meaning it. “Although I bet he never expected his little sister to volunteer.”
“That,” Juliette said with a laugh, “I can practically guarantee. But Gemma can be a real sweetheart, Dante. She’s surprisingly easy to be around, even for us ordinary people.”
“How would you know? Nothing ordinary about you,” Dante teased, and she laughed again. It was infectious. She was so happy these days it fairly flowed over the connection. And he had a suspicion that once that damned Groom Killer, as the ever-helpful media had tagged the serial killer terrorizing would-be grooms in Red Ridge, was caught, some wedding planning would be starting.
“And one more thing,” Juliette added. “If she says she’ll do something, she’ll do it, unless outside forces prevent it. She truly, honestly tries to never break a promise. Their father broke too many, I think, so she’s hard over the other way.”
Dante went still for a moment. Juliette could have been talking about him. He knew all about long strings of parental broken promises, and his reaction had been the same: if he gave his word, his promise, he’d go to whatever lengths necessary to keep it.
“Thanks, Walsh.”
“No problem.”
“Stay happy, will you?”
She laughed, and it was a light, airy sound that was full of delight. “Blake’ll see to that.”
He stared at the phone when the call was done, contemplating for a moment the unlikely way and place Juliette Walsh had found—or rather refound—the love of her life. And as unlikely as it was, he believed his brother had genuinely loved Agostina, at least as much as he was able. Dante was the one who was out of step on that front. He’d never met a woman he thought he could spend the rest of his life with. And cops were generally lousy marriage material anyway. What kind of woman would want to put with the crazy hours, the callouts, the grimness of it all, let alone the fun of knowing every time your husband walked out the door he might never come home?
That had even been one of Dominic’s arguments when Dante had signed up for the police academy. After the shock had worn off, anyway, and after his outrage at the problems this would cause for the family. Especially when Dante had bluntly told his brother not to think he’d now have an in with the department, that he had every intention of becoming and staying an honest cop.
Dominic had never forgiven him for that.
And now he never would.
Chapter 7
As the memory of the scene she had walked in on played back in Gemma’s head, she had to admit Dante was also damned sexy. Not as sexy as smooth, suave Devlin, of course, but in a different, rougher, edgier way.
Not that that type appealed to her. Which did not explain her first reaction to the sight of his bare torso, but she decided not to think about that now. She had other things to deal with. Like keeping these two quiet. She dropped down to sit beside the two babies and the dog.
You two are going to be my résumé. When Dev sees I can handle this, he won’t have doubts anymore. Then everything will go back to the way it should be.
The dog lifted his head again, looking at her steadily. She knew she was being fanciful, but there seemed a world of wisdom in those deep-set canine eyes. She felt the urge to pet him but didn’t know if that would break some K9 protocol. Funny, she’d heard all her life about the Red Ridge K9 unit, had raised money—a lot of money—for them, but she knew very little about the animals themselves. Maybe she’d held herself apart because they had been the pet cause of her father’s first—and, if she were honest, most beloved—wife. Maybe the only one he’d really loved; she’d figured that out fairly young.
She glanced across the office at Dante, who appeared to be waiting for a response to a text to Juliette asking for a convo. Then, tentatively, she held out a hand for the dog to smell. He didn’t seem impressed, but then she remembered the deep sniff he’d taken earlier.
“No harm,” she whispered to him. With some idea that it might be less objectionable than a pat on the head—this dog, with his almost noble mien, did not seem the type for such saccharine gestures—she reached out and stroked one of the long, dropping ears with the back of her fingers. It felt surprisingly thin and delicate, and amazingly, incredibly soft. And it curled at the tip, inward and back, in a way she had spent many hours trying to get her hair to do just right.
One of the babies giggled. Or at least that’s what it sounded like. It startled her, and her head snapped around. It was the baby she’d just put down—she’d have to learn how to tell them apart, so she didn’t call them by the wrong names—and she was watching her and Flash with obvious interest.
She felt another gaze, knew it was Dante. She looked up at him and smiled.
He went very still. But before she could decipher the look on his face—normally she wasn’t much for stubble, but she had to admit on him it looked good—he turned away. For an instant she wondered if it had been an expression of male reaction, but then she heard him talking into his phone as he walked away, toward the window, and laughed inwardly at herself.
God, you really do think it’s always about you, don’t you?
She looked back at the two girls. And for the first time felt overwhelmed at what she’d done. Felt the fierce urge to back out, now, fast, before she got in any deeper.
...an ounce of maternal instinct.
Dev’s words rang in her mind. And her determination returned. She’d set out to prove him wrong, and she would. Somehow.
She stroked that soft ear again. And to her surprise, the big head nudged her hand. She looked at the dog. The dog who had already gotten one of the girls to giggle.
“Will you help me, Flash?” she whispered to him, scratching behind that ear now. “You’ve obviously got the knack.”
The dog gave her another long, considering look, and then turned toward the two babies, as if he understood exactly what she meant. With a sigh that sounded nothing less than long-suffering, he plopped his head back down on his huge paws.
Gemma chose to interpret that as acceptance, if not an outright offer to help. It would have to do.
* * *
Jolted out of useless meanderings, Dante turned to walk back toward his desk. And stopped a few feet away at the sight of Gemma sitting cross-legged on the floor, one hand holding one of the dangling, beaded earrings she’d been wearing in front of one of the twins, who was batting at it happily as her sister slept on, and the other hand stroking one of Flash’s ears. The dog looked as close to blissful as he ever did.
It wasn’t much to go on, he knew that. But the combination of that recognition that he and Gemma had chosen a similar response to parental unreliability and this image of her, the twins and Flash before him made up his mind.
“I hope you can learn to tell them apart.”
Gemma looked up at him, smiling widely. All the Colton polish and elegance was still there, but that smile made her seem...real. “Oh, I can already do that.”
He blinked. “You can?”
She nodded. Gestured at the sleeping twin. “She’s a little smaller, but that might not last, so I looked for something else. And see, her right eyebrow has a little point on top.”
He looked where she was indicating. And indeed saw a point in the shape of the tiny brow, where the other one was a smooth curve.
“I...never noticed.” Odd, he usually had a cop’s eye for details, but he’d missed this.
“It’s a girly thing,” Gemma said blithely, as if she never would have expected him to notice. “Besides, I’d guess you’ve been a little busy.”
That was an understatement. Dante thought. Everything was a blur from the moment he’d picked up the girls from Mrs. Nelson. “Frankly,” he said drily, “I’m amazed we all survived.”
Again that smile. Genuine, he thought. That’s what it was. “I just hope you can tell me which is which.”
“I... They have little bead things with their names. Elastic. On their ankles.” He grimaced. “They come off, though. Thankfully not at the same time so far.”
She laughed. It wasn’t the light, airy thing that Juliette’s had been, but rather a deeper, huskier sound that seemed to make the back of his neck itch.
“Let’s see, then,” she said, with her free hand tugging at the tiny bootie of the twin so entranced with her earring. “Ah, ah, sweetie, that earring would be just too easy for you to swallow, so I’ll just hang on to it while you play.”
He remembered wrestling with the tiny cloth foot coverings in the wee hours, remembered with an odd twinge of...something, that moment when he’d caught that impossibly tiny bare foot in his hands and marveled at it. That these two tiny beings were connected to him, were of his blood, his DNA, even if once removed, filled him with awe. And the burst of protectiveness that had flooded him in that instant had shocked him.
How could his brother stay on that crooked path when he had these two tiny girls depending on him? How could he not be changed, simply by their very existence? How could he—
It had hit him again then, with renewed force. And he wondered if he would ever get over the jolt of having to think of his brother in the past tense.
“Ah,” Gemma said softly, yanking him out of the painful memory. “So you’re Lucia,” she said. “With the affinity for flashy things. I’ll remember that.” She looked at the sleeping twin now. “Which makes you Zita, of the pointed brow. Sounds like a mythical name, doesn’t it?”
Dante was smiling. Widely. And he wasn’t quite sure why. Sure, it was in part because he was feeling better about the impulsive decision he hadn’t even told her he’d made yet. And because he liked her voice. But it was more than just that. It was how she was speaking to them, not in baby talk or cooing, but lightly, with humor, as if they could understand.
And perhaps they could, the tone if not the words. For Zita had awakened as if in response to her name, although she couldn’t really know it yet, could she? Or maybe she could. He sighed, seeing yet another internet search in his future. He really needed to learn where they were at six months, where they should be and what he should be watching for from here on out.
Here on out. Which meant the rest of his life. For the rest of his life, he was responsible for these two. Not just care and feeding, which suddenly seemed simple in comparison to protecting, nurturing, teaching...
It all crashed in on him at once, and he sank down in his desk chair. Gemma looked back up at him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, sounding startled. “You look a bit...pale.”
“Ashen is the word you’re looking for,” he said shakily. “Because it all just hit me.”
“All?”
“That my brother is gone.” He looked at the girls. “That the rest of my life is no longer mine.”
She looked from him to the girls and back. “No,” she agreed quietly. “I guess it’s not.”
“I don’t even know why he did it. Why he chose me for them.”
Any more than he knew why he was telling her this. He never spilled his guts like this, not even to his friends, let alone a virtual stranger.
“You’re his brother,” Gemma said, sounding a little puzzled.
“Yeah, but...” He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. “Never mind.”
“You’re probably feeling what Blake felt when he found out about Pandora. Shocked, and a little terrified.”
“That fits,” he muttered wryly. “Especially the terrified part.”
“He said learning he was a father stunned him even more since she was already here.” She waved at the girls. “Like they are. No months of waiting to prepare, get used to the idea.”
“I’m only their uncle,” he said, not even sure why.
“But you’re going to have to be more.”
He shifted his gaze from the girls—now giggling quietly at Flash, who was looking at them, head tilted and wearing his most quizzical expression—back to Gemma.
She’s got depth to her...
He was seeing that now. Never in a million years would he have expected to be having this kind of conversation with the spoiled youngest daughter of Fenwick Colton.
“I always thought I’d have kids. Someday. But not now.”
She gave him a look that bordered on surprise, but only nodded. Then, after a moment, she said softly, “Maybe it doesn’t matter when you become a father, only that you do.”
He stared at her. She was rattling him, this pampered yet unexpectedly sweet heiress, and he didn’t know what to think of her. Quickly he looked at the babies. They were making soft sounds now, simple ohs and ehs and ahs, but in turns, looking at each other, as if they were carrying on some sort of secret twin conversation. As perhaps they were.
“Maybe if they were boys,” he muttered. “I’d know something about that.”
“Then it’s lucky you have me, isn’t it?” Gemma said airily.
Dante looked back at her. She looked...at home on the floor next to his desk, Flash at her side and the two girls in front of her. He caught himself picturing this same tableau in his living room, maybe before the fireplace, the flames throwing a soft glow over them.
He yanked himself off the uncharacteristic and unwanted path. He wasn’t sure she was qualified, or that she wouldn’t get bored and walk out within the week. But he needed help right now. And just because she seemed to screw up his thinking was no reason to refuse her offer.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Okay,” he said, surrendering to what now seemed inevitable. “You’re hired.” For now, at least.
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