A Baby for the Officer: Boys of Rockford #1 Read online

  A Baby for the Officer

  Boys of Rockford #1

  Henley Maverick

  Contents

  1. Clay

  2. Lyla

  3. Clay

  4. Lyla

  5. Clay

  6. Lyla

  7. Lyla

  8. Clay

  9. Lyla

  10. Clay

  11. Lyla

  12. Clay

  13. Lyla

  14. Clay

  15. Lyla

  16. Clay

  17. Lyla

  18. Clay

  19. Lyla

  Also by Henley Maverick

  About the Author

  1

  Clay

  I still couldn’t believe I was here.

  It felt like one of those old black and white movies with a ridiculously cheesy plot, yet people still flocked to see it. The montage was going in slow motion, and for some reason, here I was. Smack dab in the middle.

  The star of this particular movie.

  If I listened closely, I could almost hear the reel, and the silent laughter in the background that didn’t seem to register.

  I tugged on my tie to loosen it, but it still felt horribly constricting. Just like the button-down shirt I had on. It was sticking to my skin like leather. Beads of sweat were rolling down my back causing sweat stains to form.

  That was the last thing I needed right now.

  I’d never been in here. Sure, I’d passed by enough times to know how the exterior looked. It was a menacing building with tall columns and faded colors, which I suppose served its purpose.

  The steps to the courthouse were quite the climb too, if you were out of shape, which thankfully, I wasn’t. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for my lawyer, a young man in his 30s with oily black hair and dark eyes that looked almost black.

  To his credit, he did try his best with my case. An unusual one, according to him, but one that should easily be a win.

  “Do I really have to wear this monkey suit?” I asked as I pulled again at my tie.

  My lawyer, Emmett Hudson, gave me a stern look and slapped my hand away. “Stop playing with that. You need to look presentable.”

  “I thought the point was to make me look incompetent,” I pointed out as I shoved my hands in my dress pants.

  At 35, I, Clay Baker was forced to admit that, unlike what my young and idealistic self had thought, I was probably never going to make it out of this town. My chance had most likely come and gone. Besides, taking the job of Sheriff pretty much guaranteed that I was going to be here for a while.

  It sure was fucking generic though.

  And I never thought that is what I would be.

  Like all graduates, I had big dreams and even bigger plans, but I never realized just how much small-town life grows on you. You can move to the big city and try to get it out, but try as you might, you can’t take the country out of a country boy.

  I learned that lesson the hard way sleeping on an old creaking mattress in a decaying apartment in the middle of New York City. The sounds of the city whizzing and whooshing by made it nearly impossible for me to sleep. I was used to the sounds of crickets, or just blissful silence.

  Eventually, I realized that I was working at a cutthroat job that I hated, living in an apartment that was practically a health hazard, with no friends or social life to speak of. All for the sake of appearances.

  Around the same time, my mom got sick, and my dad needed help taking care of her. He was reluctant to ask, but he was getting old, so he had to. He insisted that it was temporary, and that I could return to my big fancy life sooner than I could say ‘Mississippi.’

  “Yes,” Emmett agreed with my earlier point about looking incompetent. “But you don’t want to look sloppy. Otherwise, they’ll think you aren’t taking this seriously, that you’re tanking this on purpose.”

  “I do want to tank this on purpose,” I whispered furiously, as Emmett struggled to keep up with me. My long strides put me way ahead of him.

  I paused at the top of the stairs and let my gaze sweep over the town.

  My town.

  I’d become oddly protective of it once I returned. An odd sense of pride and loyalty I never knew existed had blossomed upon my return. Most people speculated that was the reason why I returned and chose a career in law enforcement.

  There was a lot of grunt work though.

  Loads and loads of papers. More than half the job was filling out paperwork. Only a tiny percentage actually involved being out on the streets, catching bad guys and the like.

  Emmett huffed and puffed as he joined me, his face turning red with exertion. “You need to slow down.”

  “Now remember, there’s no jury today. Just a judge, and the case should be a slam dunk,” Emmett reminded me as we hurriedly made our way inside. “The judge has a lot on his docket, so he’ll want to hear bullet points. I wrote down the points you should highlight, and you should be good to go.”

  “You got it, chief.”

  I nodded to a few of the locals who knew me as I stepped inside the courtroom and quietly followed Emmett to my seat. Once there, we sat down until they announced the judge.

  “The Honorable Judge Johnson presiding,” a bailiff called out, his voice echoing in the nearly empty room. Aside from a social worker, the state’s lawyer, and the two of us, nobody else was there.

  The judge walked in a flurry of swishes. He was somewhere in his late 50s with a shock of white hair and kind brown eyes. He gestured for us to sit as soon as he did.

  “Let’s get right to it.” The judge said as he peered at us over the rim of his spectacles.

  “Your Honor, my client barely has any experience with children, and as such he isn’t fit to take care of an infant child who would find a much better fit if she were placed into foster care,” Emmett argued.

  The state’s attorney leapt to her feet. She was a young woman with sharp, hazel eyes and short, brown hair. “Your Honor, his client already knows that the foster home is unfortunately full, and they are unable to take in a baby girl at this time. It would be cruel to send her there.”

  “It would be negligent to leave her with a man who is single and works long hours as the Sheriff in this town,” Emmett countered. “Your Honor, please. The only reason we are even considering this is because the infant’s mother was fond of Mr. Baker. A feeling that was mutual but was never meant to be a prerequisite for something like this.”

  The judge cut his gaze to mine. “Mr. Baker, is this true? Were you and the child’s mother on good terms?”

  I looked at Emmett who nodded. My legs felt like lead as the chair scraped backwards across the floor, and I stood up, feeling awkward and unsure.

  “Yes, your Honor, it’s true. Annabelle was a teenager who ran away from an abusive home. My mother took pity on her and offered her a place to stay, and when my mother passed, I agreed to let her stay.”

  The judge turned his solemn gaze to the state’s attorney. “And has any attempt been made to find the baby’s maternal grandparents?”

  The prosecution nodded grimly. “Yes, your honor. Several attempts have been made to contact them, and all have been unsuccessful. We simply can’t find them.”

  My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. That poor little girl faced rejection before she even learned how to utter her first words. What kind of people were they?

  The state’s attorney nodded at the social worker, a kind-looking woman in her late 30s with dark hair and blue eyes. She looked demure and meek next to the prosecutor, but the strength she held within herself was nonetheless visible.

  Shit.

/>   There was no way to spin this to make it seem doable.

  Yet, I could already tell with each second that ticked by that the judge was seriously considering granting me custody.

  Why, Annabelle?

  “Are you sure this is what Annabelle wanted?”

  “Yes, your honor. All the papers are filed and legitimate.”

  I remembered Annabelle helping my mom out with little things like knitting and organizing the house, and she also took the time to talk to my dad about things he might like such as sports and politics. It was no wonder my parents loved her. Pretty soon, she got under my skin too.

  The judge took off his spectacles and sighed as he began to polish them. The sound of our quiet breathing was all that could be heard in the courtroom as we leaned forward in our seats.

  “This is very unusual, Ms. Evans. You see, the court likes to rule in favor of the family. Except there are none present.”

  He gestured in my general direction. My heart slammed in my chest, and I tasted bile in the back of my throat.

  “Your Honor—’ Emmett began, but he faltered as he struggled with the words.

  The judge interrupted, “I’ve seen many fathers who’ve risen to the occasion, Mr. Hudson. I find that men can be just as resourceful as women if given the opportunity.”

  Emmett paused, his mouth gaping open like a fish.

  I almost wanted to laugh.

  “Mr. Hudson, you’ve made your case. However, there are extenuating circumstances here, and in a town like this, everybody wants to help,” the judge sounded apologetic. “The court wishes to honor the mother’s wishes as does social services. As such, I rule in favor of the state. Mr. Clay Baker, congratulations. You’re now the legal guardian of Emily Johnson,” he announced, his voice ringing with finality.

  He banged his gavel and stood up. By this time, my heart had plummeted to somewhere near my feet, and I was covered in a cold sweat.

  The social worker, Ms. Evans, walked up to me, never faltering in her steps.

  “Mr. Baker, I’m going to go get Emily for you right now,” she said slowly, as if she were talking to a wounded animal.

  “Okay,” I heard myself say.

  Fuck.

  This was real.

  If somebody pinched me, I’d still be here.

  “I’m sorry, Clay. I honestly thought I could win this,” Emmett said as he placed his hand upon my shoulder briefly.

  “Any advice?” I asked weakly, as my legs wobbled like jelly beneath me.

  “I’d suggest you start looking for a nanny,” Emmett advised. “I know a few places, so I can help with that. Are you nervous?” Emmett asked, his dark eyes bright and curious as he studied me carefully.

  “You have no idea,” I admitted as I yanked the tie off and stuffed it in my pocket. “I don’t even know if I’m fit to do this, Emmett.”

  “Annabelle picked you for a reason, and they’re not wrong about the benefits of living in a small town. Everybody will offer to help. It’s just a matter of learning from them,” Emmett pointed out, kindly.

  “I guess so, but shit. I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout taking care of babies!” I raked my hand through my salt and pepper hair, making it stand out in wild tufts.

  I really hadn’t anticipated this outcome, and it hadn’t settled in yet. Mostly, I was still in shock. The idea that I was now the legal guardian of an 8-week-old baby was ludicrous to me, and I wondered if it ever wouldn’t be.

  “Here she comes,” Emmett said under his breath, as he straightened and watched Ms. Evans push a stroller towards them. A bright smile was plastered onto her features. Before I knew it, she placed this tiny human with big, blue eyes in my hands, and the baby stared at me as if I was the most fascinating thing in the world.

  My heart did an odd fluttery sort of thing as she grasped my hand.

  “Good luck, Mr. Baker. My card is in the baby bag, and please don’t hesitate to call if you need any help,” Ms. Evans stated as she placed a quick kiss on the baby’s forehead and left.

  Emmett had to leave as well, so next thing I knew, I was standing on the steps of a courthouse with a baby bag and a car seat.

  And a newborn baby.

  I was officially a Dad.

  2

  Lyla

  3 months later

  I pressed my lips together in a firm line to avoid telling this jackass what I really thought.

  How could he do this to me?

  It wasn’t just downright unprofessional, it was also cruel.

  Hadn’t he thought of that?

  I stared at this man, who was wearing a button-down shirt, and dark jeans. He was dressed to the nines, and he didn’t seem even the least bit apologetic as he looked at me. It almost made me reach across the desk to throttle him.

  But that could be because I’d just driven for hours on end with only one pit stop in the middle. I’d pulled off to the side of the road at a run-down motel that I could barely afford just so I could get some shut-eye. The entire place creaked and groaned, so in the end, I wasn’t able to get much sleep.

  Just enough to make sure I could get to my destination. Now, I was wondering if I should’ve just continued sleeping.

  At least I wouldn’t have been subjected to this.

  This complete and utter bullshit.

  I took a deep breath. “Mr. Baker. I’m not sure I understand.”

  I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I truly did, but his words were echoing in my ears, and they were filling me with a sense of dismay.

  “Your CV is impressive. You graduated top of your class, and you’ve been working at summer schools pretty much since you were 15 which is a rare commodity because most teachers have to be trained from scratch,” Mr. Baker complimented.

  Chris Baker was obviously a man who was used to getting his way. I could tell by the way he was smiling at me that he was a regular charmer who could talk his way out of anything. It was a talent, one that would ordinarily impress me, but at this particular point, I wasn’t feeling too charitable.

  Especially considering I was the one he was trying to dupe.

  Like hell I was going to let that happen.

  “These are all good things, right?” I gave him a bright smile as I adjusted myself in my seat and sat up straighter. I wasn’t a tall person to begin with, “petite” seemed to be invented for me, but I was determined not to let that hold me back.

  Chris Baker might’ve been tall and muscular, but he had another thing coming if he thought his size would intimidate me. I’d learned pretty early on how to defend myself, and my parents often called me a firecracker because of how much energy I had.

  Obviously, things had changed since then. But one thing hadn’t.

  I still wouldn’t hesitate to give people a piece of my mind if they crossed me. My rapid-fire tongue was often what got me in trouble when I was a student, so when they first enrolled me in an after-school program to help kids, I scoffed.

  The idea that I would be able to not only tolerate kids but teach them during the summer was not only laughable but downright impossible. The first 2 weeks, I’d sulked and refused to do the work. I hated that they were making me do this, but they said it would help foster a sense of belonging.

  I had a lot of rage as a teenager. At the world, at my parents, who gave me up, at my foster parents, who couldn’t seem to fix that, and at the system that forced me to accept it.

  Like I said, lots of rage.

  What I had no way of knowing was that working at summer school was the best thing that ever happened to me. Being around those kids all day was tedious - until they started getting to me.

  There was something about having a deep conversation with a 4-year old that really got a person thinking. No one else asked me to sniff the dandelion they’d just pulled out, or why I didn’t have a second favorite color.

  At first, I took all their questions with a grain of salt, but pretty soon, they had me wondering about things I’d never paused
to question before. Like why did we say the ocean is blue when it’s really transparent? Why are adults always in a hurry? Why can’t kids play more?

  They seemed like silly questions in the beginning, but soon enough, I looked forward to hearing them. The transformation was almost instantaneous. My parents couldn’t believe that I’d changed that much.

  But I had.

  Deep down, I was no longer the same angry little girl. Suddenly, I began to view things differently, and I credited the kids for this positive change.

  “Ordinarily, yes. They are excellent things. You are more than qualified. This isn’t an issue of qualification. It’s more a matter of preference,” Mr. Baker explained as he clasped his hands in front of him.

  My smile faltered, and my eye twitched. “So, you’re telling me that it’s okay to make a person drive across the country to accept a job, only for you to decide that you’ve changed your mind?”

  Chris Baker, the school principal, frowned and gazed at me disapprovingly. “Now, Ms. Pratt. You know that it isn’t like that. It isn’t quite that simple.”

  “It sounds simple to me,” I insisted. “You offered the job, and I said yes. Why did you offer it to someone else?”

  Chris Baker wasn’t fazed by my frustration or my impatience. Frankly, it only made me more irritated. “We decided to go in a different direction. We’re a small town, Ms. Pratt. It makes more sense for us to choose someone local.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “There are other small towns nearby. Maybe you can inquire there.” Chris Baker stood up and held out his hand. After debating if I should just slap it away, I gingerly took it and immediately released it. I snatched my purse and stormed out of the room, the adrenaline flooding my veins.

  I immediately pressed my fingers to my forehead to ward off the onslaught I was sure was coming as I gazed around at the empty street.

  Now what?

  I’d sold everything so I could move here for a fresh start. There was nothing left for me in Philly anymore, and I knew that. I hadn’t anticipated that my fresh start would be thwarted by small town ideals.