Daddy Undercover (Crescent Cove 9)

“Mmm-hmm.” He tilted down his sunglasses. “Your, ah, personal association with the sheriff doesn’t negate

a ticket. I hope you understand that.”

I did, more or less. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been going so fast. Just write it up and let me get going. My mother is going to flay me to the bone if dinner is late on the table because of me.”

Plus, I didn’t have the pie everyone loved. My watery, deflated pudding-looking thing probably would not save my ass.

“Can I see your license, please? It’s procedure,” he added as I rolled my eyes hard enough to sprain something.

I yanked it out of the wallet in my purse and handed it over. “How’d you pull this duty? You have the big family deal today.”

“I usually work the holiday, but I have a double today because the sheriff took some unexpected personal time.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, shouldn’t you know that? Doesn’t he always come to your place for the holidays?”

I pressed my lips together, my mind racing. He’d taken personal time, which he hated to do. But I hadn’t been there to watch the baby, and he was still in deep denial mode, so what else could he have done?

You shouldn’t have stormed out. Being mad at him doesn’t mean you should hurt Samantha.

Not that I had. I’d just forced his hand in taking care of her. His child. Not mine. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

So, why did it feel as if I had?

“I don’t know what he’s doing right now.” My voice was on the verge of breaking.

I needed to call him. The last thing I wanted was to make his life harder when I knew he was just trying to be a decent dad and a decent cop. He was a good guy. He really was, or I wouldn’t have been in…serious sexual interest with him.

“Can we speed this up?” I told Christian. “I’ve gotta go.”

I’d text Jared from my mom’s and make sure everything was okay. If I had to, I’d apologize and dart out long enough to bring him some of Gabby’s pie. She made a few different varieties.

God, I shouldn’t have rage-canceled the pecan. Now I was in a shame spiral.

“Sure. Let me just check this out, and I’ll be right back.” Christian ambled back to the car and got in, not moving any faster than he had previously. I supposed at that size, he didn’t feel the need to rush for anybody. People could wait.

Ten minutes later, I was on my way again with my shiny new ticket in my purse and another slew of texts coming in rapid-fire. Which I did not check while driving, since that was also a violation, and the last thing I needed was for Christian to sneak up and nab me twice in one day.

And even if I babysat his kid until she took her SATs, Brooks would not get me out of that ticket. If he lived happily on his high moral ground about shopping at Walmart, my desire to be less late to Thanksgiving mattered not at all.

I might’ve admired him if he didn’t irritate me so damn much.

That irritation came into brilliant, blooming focus as I drove up my parents’ street and started taking stock of the cars filling the drive and parked along the curb. A lot of the usual suspects were already in attendance. Pretty much everyone I’d expected, except for one particular vehicle I hadn’t planned on seeing.

The presence of Jared’s Jeep wouldn’t have been shocking if we hadn’t left things on a non-family-Thanksgiving note yesterday afternoon—and if he hadn’t had a baby to care for.

I squeezed my eyes shut. He wouldn’t have left her home with the dog just to get some pie. I mean, my double pecan had won first place at the State Fair three years running, but leaving Samantha unattended for just a slice was a bit much.

He hadn’t even texted to apologize or grovel or even just talk. He’d just shown up and said gimme. As if my family was his family.

And it kind of was, when he didn’t deserve to be disinvited.

But then I opened my eyes again and noticed that Jared’s brother Mason was just getting out of one side of his own vehicle, and their dad was climbing out of the passenger side. What the hell? The whole Brooks clan had never come to dinner with my family before.

Not that they wouldn’t have been welcome. My mom had extra leaves for my abuela’s vintage table and didn’t hesitate to use them. Just why had he invited them when we were on the outs?

I slammed out of my car and belatedly remembered to take the cold bag as I rushed to catch up with Mason and Mr. Brooks. It took three tries for Mason to hear me, and the pair of them turned to watch from the porch as I hurried up the walk and nearly snapped an ankle on the crack in the sidewalk I almost always missed.

“Happy Thanksgiving. Hi, Mr. Brooks,” I added breathlessly once I joined them at the door.

“Hey, Gina. We thought we’d be the latest ones. Oh…huh. Has Jared seen you yet?” Then Mason shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, he couldn’t have, since he asked us to meet him here.”