Page 9 of Vodka and Chocolate Drops

“It was almost as though they didn’t believe he was my father.” Amber watched her mother’s back. Her busy moves ceased for a split second.

“Is there insurance on Russell’s holiday trailer? I can’t imagine one of those things being cheap even though it was an older, secondhand one.”

Her mother was keeping something from her. Something about Amber’s dad. Something vital.

Amber felt as though her world was deep, shifting sand and she no longer had solid ground to stand upon.

* * *

Amber rinsedout her teacup and, through the kitchen window, watched Scott pull up the driveway in his police truck. He got out slowly, assessing the yard as though on the lookout for clues, his badge winking in the early April sunshine. He ambled slowly to her door, his gait relaxed in a way that said he was in charge and nothing could faze him. No wonder he was the one steady presence in her life.

The only person who didn’t keep secrets from her. The one man who might be able to help her get to the bottom of her life, then help her up again.

He knocked twice, then let himself in.

“I’m in the kitchen, Officer Malone,” she called, meeting him in the entry with a big smile.

“I love it when you call me that,” he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. They grew more serious as they roved over her. “How are you today?”

“Fine.” She was still upset about Russell putting her in a book, but not nearly as bothered about him breaking up with her as she thought she should be. Maybe the unexpected grand event of both the book and trailer was overshadowing the emotional fallout of the breakup. Or, even more odd, maybe she was okay with him being out of her life. She’d always felt as though she had to work to be bright, funny, and everything he needed. Add in the fact that the man was a usurious schmuck and it was a case of well-timed good riddance.

Seeming satisfied with his assessment and her answer, Scott moved past her, his fingers drifting over her hip so he probably wouldn’t knock her over. Shivers ran through her at his touch and she shut the outer door, following him into the house. “I hear the ladies brought you pie the other day,” he said from the kitchen. “Any left?”

“Nope.”

His lips twisted into a pouty frown, which undoubtedly got him what he wanted from women 99 percent of the time.

“Did you really think there’d be any?”

“A guy can hope.”

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

Amber paused, thinking. He knew things. He was one of those quiet, protective sorts that people confessed to--even when he was out of uniform. If anyone knew who her father was, it would be him.

“If I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?”

Scott was quiet for a long moment, then his gaze drifted up, meeting hers. “Always.”

“Do you know who my father is?”

Scott blinked slowly. “Come again?”

“That’s what she said.”

He snorted at her lame, off-color joke.

“Come on, that was a perfect setup for an innuendo,” Amber said, hoisting herself onto the kitchen counter so she’d be closer to eye level with her best friend. “So? Do you? I’m getting the vibe that it’s not Philip Powers.”

“Right.”

Amber felt as though every molecule in the room had stopped moving. “What do you mean, ‘right’?”

She watched him for a moment as he struggled with what to say.

“Youknewit wasn’t Philip and you never told me?” Amber exclaimed. She gave him an outraged glare, reaching out to give his chest a massive shove, sending herself off the counter and into Scott’s arms instead. “Some friend you are.”

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