Page 2 of Her Dying Secret

He shrugged. “Well, yeah, but it didn’t go quite…” his eyes panned the room again, “this badly.”

Josie tried to tamp down her annoyance. A corner of Noah’s mouth twitched, and she knew he was about to laugh.

She held up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t even think about laughing at this.”

Carefully, he stepped over a particularly elaborate splatter along the floor and walked over to her. He touched her hair and came away with a smudge of sauce on his index finger, which he licked clean. “It’s not that bad.”

Josie swatted his arm. “It is that bad! Look at this place.”

“I’ve seen worse at crime scenes.” He leaned closer, one hand pushing her hair from her shoulder. “You have a little bit…” She felt his mouth against her neck. In spite of herself, a shiver of delight ran down her spine. She braced her hands against his chest. “Noah.”

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him. As always, her body responded instantly to him. The kitchen suddenly felt extremely hot. He trailed kisses from under her ear to where her collarbone met her throat. “I prefer whipped cream,” he said against her skin. “But I can make spaghetti sauce work.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “Don’t make this sexy. This isn’t sexy.”

His hands roamed up and down her back. Now his mouth was at the hollow of her throat. “Just give me a chance.”

Gently, Josie pushed against him. He lifted his head to meet her gaze. His hazel eyes flickered with playfulness, and again she had to remind her traitorous body that they had things to do—other than what her mind was already envisioning. “I’m serious. We need to get this cleaned up. This will set us behind.”

He kept her body flush against his but used one hand to brush a stray hair behind her ear. His expression turned serious. “The case manager won’t be here until tomorrow at ten. We have plenty of time. Besides, the main criteria is that the house is safe for a baby. It’s okay if it looks lived-in, remember?”

He was right, of course. Josie was confident about their safety measures, and the house was relatively clean to begin with since they were hardly ever home. They both worked for their local police department. Noah was a lieutenant and Josie was a detective. Both of them were part of the four-person investigative team. The city of Denton was not a major metropolitan area, ensconced as it was in a valley bisected by a branch of the Susquehanna River and nestled among some of Central Pennsylvania’s most beautiful mountains. Still, it saw its fair share of crime. Its population had been steadily rising in the last several years so their department was busier than ever.

Josie felt a stab of worry at the thought of their schedules. If they ever hoped to adopt a child, they’d have to be home to do it. Assuming that the case manager from the adoption agency they’d chosen would approve them to do so. They’d decided to try to have a baby last year but when they couldn’t conceive, Josie underwent extensive testing only to find out that her chances of having a baby were slim to none. Her fertility issues were not easily remedied and even if she endured surgery and fertility treatment, she still might never conceive. They’d decided instead to look into adoption.

They’d done weeks of extensive research into the process and vetted licensed adoption agencies until they found one they’d felt comfortable with. Then they had gone through a lengthy intake process, which included a head-spinning amount of paperwork. Financial information, proof of insurance, medical records, even their dog’s medical records—and that was just the tip of the iceberg. Josie had had to disclose the childhood abuse she had endured at the hands of a woman who’d posed as her mother as well as the details of her ongoing mental health treatment.

They’d had to complete the requisite hours of training and take classes on multiple topics like how to talk to your child about adoption; how to talk with birth parents; how to care for a baby; and more. Josie had felt overwhelmed at first but the classes were a blessing, putting her more at ease and helping her feel more prepared for what was to come. For her, more information was always better. It always helped alleviate anxiety. The next step in the application process was a home study by their case manager at the agency. The very thought of it had Josie’s nerves frayed. It had taken months just to get to this point and it was the culmination of all their efforts thus far. The home study was crucial to getting approved to adopt.

“Hey.” Noah brushed his fingers through her hair, looking for more sauce, no doubt. “What is it?”

“No one is ever going to give us a child if we can’t even cook a meal.”

Their lack of culinary skills was legendary among their friends. Noah was passable but Josie was downright terrible. The sauce massacre was tame compared to her usual kitchen catastrophes. They relied heavily on takeout and the kindness of their best friend, Misty DeRossi, who was a masterful cook. She brought them meals two or three times a week. It was her way of thanking them for being such a huge part of her son’s life. Harris was almost eight now. Josie’s late first husband Ray had become involved with Misty after he and Josie separated. After Ray’s death, Misty gave birth to Harris. Josie had initially detested Misty, letting her jealousy get the best of her. Then she held Harris for the first time and felt a surge of love so strong, she knew she’d do anything to protect him and be part of his life. Misty had extended Josie the grace that Josie had been too emotionally insecure to give her, and now they were close friends. Found family.

“We already had to disclose that our culinary skills need work,” Noah said, breaking through her thoughts. “It’s not like we have to cook a meal for our case manager tomorrow. At least, I don’t think so.”

Josie took a step back from him. “But we can’t cook! How are we supposed to feed a child when we can’t even cook for ourselves? I mean sure, there’s formula and baby food when they’re infants, but what happens when they get older?”

“We’ll ask Misty to teach us,” Noah said easily. “If she gets too frustrated with us, then we’ll take a cooking class together.”

“With our schedules?” Josie demanded. Part of the home study involved in-depth interviews with the case manager. Their crazy work schedules would come up and neither of them was about to lie as to just how much time they devoted to work.

Josie could feel her face burning but not with desire this time. She threw her hands in the air and let them fall back to her sides. Trout must have heard her voice go up an octave because he was standing with his paws pressed into the screen again, watching her closely. He whimpered this time, the sound mournful instead of demanding. He had always been uncannily in tune with her feelings, and he didn’t like it when she was upset.

“You’re worried about how our work schedules will affect our application for adoption again?”

“Of course I am!”

Noah snagged one of her hands and held it tightly. His skin was warm and dry. This time, his touch sent a wave of comfort through her. Gone was his earlier playfulness. Now his eyes were filled with compassion and sympathy. “Josie, we talked about all of this. We will work it out. We managed to make time for all the classes, didn’t we? Maybe we’ll need to make adjustments. Sacrifices. Plenty of couples both work full-time and manage to raise families.”

“But—”

He squeezed her hand. “But we won’t know until we try. Come on, I’ll help you clean this up and then we’ll get the rest of the house ready. Also, let’s just order pizza.”

Josie felt some of her anxiety ebb. Smiling, she said, “That sounds good.”

From the door, Trout barked. He loved pizza crust.

---