Emergency Attraction (Love Emergency 3)

Cheryl directed him to a place at the end of the table. Sinclair took what he presumed was her regular spot in the chair to his right. Her father took the seat to his left, and Cheryl settled herself in the chair at the head of the table. She looked innocuous enough, with her tidy blond hair and half smile, but something in that smile told him the game was on, and he was about to square off with a master strategist. She sure as hell had an agenda for this evening, and he was on it.

He didn’t have to wait long for her first move. She handed Sinclair a serving bowl full of bacon-laced green beans and leveled her baby blues on him. “So, Shane, how are you enjoying being back in your hometown?”

He helped himself to a piece of fried chicken from the platter Bill held out. “It’s interesting,” he answered honestly. “Magnolia Grove has grown a lot over the last ten years, but it’s held on to its history. Not every community can say the same.”

“We’re proud of our preservation efforts, which you’re now a part of, right?” She gestured toward him. “You’re going to help us put the necessary plans in place to ensure we’re prepared for any emergency.”

He nodded, and accepted a basket of oven-warm rolls from Sinclair. “Create new plans, in some cases, but also coordinate existing plans into a cohesive response.”

“An important job. Big responsibility.” She tipped her head to the side and considered him. “What brought you to such a career?”

“Uncle Sam.”

“That’s right,” Bill interjected, a forkful of mashed potatoes halted on the journey from plate to mouth. “You joined the service after you graduated, correct? After some dustup with Ricky Pinkerton?”

“Yeah.” He rested his fork on his plate and owned up to this part of his past. “I needed an exit strategy. My parents were moving to Illinois, and I wasn’t much interested in going. College wasn’t in the cards. I hadn’t given school much attention up ’til then, and I didn’t have the grades or the money. After the altercation with Ricky, his parents wanted me gone, and I liked the sound of the USMC better than I liked my odds of convincing a judge not to send me to county for assault and battery.”

“The way I heard it,” Cheryl shifted her attention to her daughter, “you were acting in the defense of another. Ricky was liquored up, and had forgotten how to behave like a gentleman.”

“That’s exactly how it was,” Sinclair insisted and then shot him a look. “But as much as I appreciated you riding to my rescue, I didn’t need help. I could deal with Ricky—”

“Well, now you can,” her father said, and then pointed to Shane with his fork. “After I heard about the incident, I made sure both my girls knew how to discourage an overeager suitor.”

Was that some kind of a warning? No need. His balls retreated just thinking about the afternoon at the high school when she’d threatened to relocate them to his throat. “I’ve had a demonstration. Sinclair learned the lesson just fine.”

She swatted his arm. “I never unleashed on you, but keep talking, and that will change.”

Her father simply sat back in his chair and grinned. “See Cheryl? My work here is done.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes and then leveled them on Shane again. “How did the Marines transition into your position at Haggerty?”

Sinclair stilled, and he sensed her interest from a foot away. He would have shared the information at any time, but, for whatever reason, she’d refrained from asking.

“After boot camp, I was selected for a newly created MOS—a special unit formed to spearhead domestic and international crisis response and relief missions. I spent four years hopping from one disaster to the next, assessing needs, establishing security, and coordinating responses. Then my commanding officer, Jack Haggerty, founded Haggerty Emergency Management. When my tour ended, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I joined his firm. With his encouragement, I filled out my skillset with a degree and certificate in emergency management. Now I’m the VP for disaster planning and crisis management.”

“Impressive,” Bill said and nodded.

He shrugged. “I fell into it, for the most part. Early in boot camp I hit a snag—or created one for myself, depending on whom you ask. Jack helped unsnag me. He sat me down and told me he thought I displayed stronger-than-average protective instincts, which he wanted, and piss-poor impulse control, which concerned him, to put it mildly. But he gambled on being able to cultivate the instincts and instill some discipline. The gamble paid off, for me.”

“And now Magnolia Grove reaps the benefit of your expertise,” Cheryl noted. “You get to reconnect with your hometown. Your”—she gestured to Sinclair—“friends.”

“Mom…” Sinclair’s voice vibrated with warning.

Cheryl ignored her daughter, and looked Shane squarely in the eyes. “Now that you’re back, will you be staying?”

…

Sinclair battled the urge to bang her head against the table. Her mother didn’t always bother with subtlety, but even the thickest blockhead couldn’t help but pick up on the underlying question in this latest inquiry. Namely, What are your intentions regarding our daughter?

Shane was no blockhead. She turned to her father and pointed at her mother. “Can’t you get a leash on this?”

“I’m definitely considering the option,” Shane replied, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Sinclair’s been showing me around, and I can’t deny Magnolia Grove has a certain appeal.”

“That’s very nice of you, honey,” Cheryl said to her daughter.

Ha. Nice was not the word. “Well, when he came to me with the request, I really couldn’t say no.”

“Of course not,” Cheryl agreed. “The least you could do is help an old friend rediscover his home. Although”—she paused and sent her daughter a mild gaze Sinclair knew better than to take at face value—“I wasn’t aware you two knew each other well growing up.”