Of course, it was just as well. It had been clear from the start that the one thing in life Don wouldn’t give Matt was his approval for the often reckless, troubled young man to date Emma.
And, Matt was forced to admit, Don had been right. Not only was he four years older than Emma, but at that point he hadn’t proved that any of her father’s lessons had stuck. He’d had his father’s quick temper and his mother’s lack of self-esteem. It had been a dangerous combination. Back then, he’d needed to leave town and find his way in the world, to make something of himself before he could possibly have anything to offer a woman.
It had taken him a year of working odd jobs in Tampa before he’d been drawn into police work. During his training, he’d learned to defuse his own temper at the same time he’d learned how to defuse a tense domestic standoff.
Now he was back home with a respectable job, more than ready to settle down and raise a family, and Emma was still out of reach. And since it had been nearly ten years since he’d seen her, his feelings for her were more nostalgic than real. She was like an illusion, one he couldn’t seem to shake. Every time some other woman caught his attention, every time he considered making a commitment, an image of Emma popped up and forced him to reconsider. It was not only pathetic, it was damned annoying.
As annoying as it was, though, it had been motivation enough to get him to say yes when he’d been approached about the police chief’s job in Winter Cove a few months back. It hadn’t hurt that the mayor had sent Don Killian to Tampa to do the asking.
Over the years Matt had come back to Winter Cove from time to time, so there had been little in Don’s practiced pitch that surprised him. He’d seen for himself that the sleepy little Central Florida town was growing, that its downtown was turning trendy with sidewalk cafés and the sort of unique little boutiques that appealed to tourists. The trailer parks and orange groves on the outskirts of town were slowly dying out and being replaced with golf courses lined by expensive townhouses. There were Sunday concerts by the lake during the cooler spring months, a winter arts festival, and an old-fashioned strawberry festival that now drew thousands, but somehow managed to maintain its small-town appeal.
Don had mentioned all of that when he’d come to Tampa to see Matt. He’d handed over a fancy, four-color brochure touting Winter Cove’s charms along with a packet of promotional material and statistical information put together by the mayor’s staff.
“Pretty slick stuff,” Matt had noted, watching closely for Don’s reaction.
“Bunch of damned nonsense,” Don had replied succinctly. “You’d think Habersham would know better. This isn’t the kind of thing that’ll get you to come back to Winter Cove.”
Matt had grinned. “What do you think will get me back there?”
“A chance to prove that you’ve made something of yourself,” Don told him without hesitation. “Not that you need to prove anything to anybody, but I’ve known you a long time, son. You’ve had a chip on your shoulder thanks to those folks of yours. This is your chance to get rid of it once and for all, especially now that your mother’s moved on to Orlando.”
That had been news to Matt. He’d made it a point not to stay in touch with her. “When did that happen?”
“A few months back.” Don had regarded Matt intently, then added, “When your daddy got out of jail.”
Matt had felt as if he’d been sucker punched. “She’s back with that lying, scheming, abusive son of a bitch?”
“Hiding out from him, more than likely,” Don replied. “He’s come through town once or twice asking questions about her and about you, but he’s been smart enough not to stick around. He knows people in Winter Cove haven’t forgotten what he did to your mother and to you.”
Clyde Atkins had been a mean drunk. He’d have gone on using Matt’s mother for a punching bag, if Matt hadn’t stepped in between them one night. Not yet thirteen and scrawny, Matt had been no match for his bigger, angrier father, but the resulting commotion had drawn the attention of neighbors and the police. A whole slew of charges had been filed against Clyde, and this time they’d stuck. Matt had seen to it that his mother didn’t withdraw them at the last second as she had in the past. And even if she had, his own bruises, carefully recorded by the police the night of the incident, would have been enough to convict the bastard.
Until that moment when he’d learned of his father’s release from jail, Matt thought he’d put all of that behind him, but the swell of anger and bitterness in his chest had told him otherwise. His father had made his childhood a living hell, and his mother hadn’t done much to help. He’d spent every day since trying to live down the reputation he’d inherited from the two of them.
He met Don’s understanding gaze. “You think I should take the job, don’t you?”
“I think you should give it some serious thought, for your own sake and for the town. Winter Cove can use a man with your experience, but more than that, it can use a man who knows what the town was, as well as what it can be. Personally, I don’t want to see us drift too far from our roots. We’re already dangerously close to doing that.”
Matt had frowned at that. “I’d be coming to keep law and order, not to block change.”
“Sometimes it’s the same thing,” Don told him.
“Haven’t the changes been good for your business? Aren’t you busier now than ever at the diner?”
“True enough, but I don’t know everyone who walks through the door the way I used to,” Don had lamented. “Especially not in mid-February when all the snowbirds are tying up traffic and taking up tables where my regulars like to sit. One of these days we’re going to have a fistfight over that. I can see it coming. Habersham’s likely to be in the thick of it, too. The mayor’s got his favorite table in the corner where he can be seen by everyone. Three sweet little old ladies with blue hair and stretch pants were sitting there when he came in the other morning and he stood there glowering down at them. I thought he was going to have a stroke, especially when one of them responded to his intimidation tactics by beaming up at him and inviting him to join them.”
Matt chuckled. “And you want me around to personally keep the peace in your restaurant?”
“I want you around because Rosa and the boys and I miss you,” Don had said. “We consider you part of the family and you haven’t been home nearly enough.”
The fact that he hadn’t mentioned Emma spoke volumes in Matt’s opinion. Or maybe Don had just been wise enough to know that any reference to Emma would have been taking unfair advantage of old feelings.
Matt hadn’t been able to resist the opening, though. “You didn’t mention Emma. How’s she doing these days? Is she still in Washington?”
“Yes, more’s the pity,” Don said with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand what she sees in the place, much less in that man she’s working for. He’s got sneaky eyes, if you ask me. And you’ll never convince me that Marcel D’Avignon is his real name. More likely, Marty Birdbrain, straight out of rural West Virginia. Maybe I should get you to check him out.”
Matt would have liked nothing better than to investigate any man in Emma’s life, even if theirs was only a working relationship, but something told him Don was only half-serious. “Say the word and I will,” he’d told him.
“And have her come down here and tear a strip out of both our hides? I don’t think so,” Don said with obvious regret. “And if she didn’t, Rosa surely would. No, Emma’s got a good head on her shoulders. I just have to have faith that she can look out for herself and not let the man take advantage of her.”
“Does she get home much?”
“Not nearly often enough.” Don had given him a knowing look. “But maybe you could change that.”
His words were tantamount to