Page 35 of Sweet Deal
“I know,” she said, a teasing note in her voice. “But it got you to laugh.”
Their hands still joined atop the covers, as sleep began to claim him, Jim realized that whatever this arrangement was—real, pretend, or somewhere in between—it felt dangerously close to right.
Chapter Fifteen
Rachel leaned toward the dresser mirror, carefully applying lipstick. Satisfied, she reached for her small pearl earrings—professional but not flashy, perfect for an impromptu visit to the county health department.
Over the last several days, they had settled into a strange yet comfortable rhythm of married life. Shared breakfasts, brief touches as they passed each other or sat together at mealtime, and—most important—careful navigation of the bathroom schedule. It was all so… domestic.
She fastened the second earring just as the click of the bathroom door opening made her turn. Jim emerged a towel slung low on his hips, another one vigorously rubbing his damp hair. Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders and chest. Rachel’s mouth went suddenly dry. She swallowed hard, willing herself not to smudge her freshly applied lipstick. He looked… good. Too good for seven in the morning.
“Sorry.” The amusement in his eyes suggested he wasn’t entirely sorry at all. “Forgot to grab my underwear.”
“No problem.” Despite the sudden flutter in her stomach, her voice sounded impressively steady. She moved slightly to the side, giving him access to the dresser while steadfastly keeping her eyes on her own reflection.
Jim reached past her for his clothes, his arm briefly brushing hers. The casual contact—skin against skin—sent a ripple of awareness through her that was anything but casual. The second towel now draped around his neck, he held an armful of clothes and paused in the bathroom doorway, looking at her over his shoulder. “Isn’t today your work-from-home day?”
She nodded, turning back to the mirror to fuss with an earring that didn’t need fussing. “Yes, but I haven’t been able to get anywhere with the county health department over that case I told you about, the one that’s escalating. I thought if I showed up in person, maybe I could actually get something done.” She picked up her purse. “And while I’m in the city, maybe do a little window shopping. Clear my head.”
Jim leaned against the door jamb, his eyes never leaving hers. “Want some company?”
The offer caught her by surprise. “For real?”
“Why not? There’s nothing pressing on my work schedule today. Could be nice to get out of the house for a bit.”
Rachel hesitated. She’d been mentally preparing herself for a potentially frustrating morning of bureaucracy and red tape. Having Jim there would be… a complication. Or a comfort. Maybe both. “I could be waiting for hours. These government offices aren’t exactly known for their efficiency.”
Jim shrugged, the movement causing the towel to slip slightly lower on his hips. Rachel quickly averted her eyes.
“Then we can wait together,” he shrugged simply. He pushed off the door jamb and walked towards the closet. “Give me five minutes to find something that doesn’t scream bruised ribs and impending doom.”
She watched him go, a small smile playing on her lips. He really was something else. Giving in, she nodded, more to herself than to him. “Okay, Henderson. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in Jim’s car heading toward the county seat. Rachel had her case files balanced on her lap, reviewing notes and mentally preparing for the meeting she hoped to have. The Torres case had been weighing on her heavily—seventeen-year-old Michael struggling with schizophrenia, substance abuse issues, and a recent expulsion from his group home. His mother Maria was at her wit’s end, especially concerned about Michael’s younger sister Lily.
“You’re worried about this one more than the others, aren’t you?” Jim glanced her way, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
Rachel nodded, not looking up from her notes. “When mental health and the system fail these kids, it’s usually the families who bear the brunt. And sometimes…”
“Sometimes it gets dangerous,” Jim finished for her, his gaze narrowed, focused on the road ahead, but the tightness in his jaw reflected his intensity and had nothing to do with the road and everything to do with her and this troubled family.
“Yeah.” She closed the folder with a sigh. “Michael’s a good kid underneath it all. He just can’t seem to stay on his medication, and without it, the voices take over. His mom called yesterday saying he’s been arguing with himself more and more and staying out of the house longer and longer. She knows it won’t take much to make him snap and is terrified anything she does or says might be the catalyst.”
“I had no idea the system was so broken.” Jim reached across the console, his hand covering hers briefly. “You’re doing everything you can.”
“I hope it’s enough,” she murmured.
The county building came into view, a squat, utilitarian structure of brick and narrow windows. Jim found a parking spot easily—one of the few perks of arriving early.
As they walked toward the entrance, Rachel mentally rehearsed her argument for expedited services for the Benson family. She needed a miracle to bump Michael to the top of the list for immediate services.
Inside, they maneuvered down the corridor. Rachel gripped the handle to her bag so tightly her nails dug into her palm. She had to find the right words, how to explain to the people with the power that Michael needed help—real help—before something terrible happened.
Just as she reached the correct door, her phone rang. Handing her bag with all her files to Jim, she dug it out of her purse, checking the screen. “It’s Kathy Benson. She never calls this early,” she muttered to herself, anxiety immediately spiking. This couldn’t be good.
Jim watched as Rachel’s expression shifted from professional calm to urgent focus in a heartbeat.
“Kathy, slow down. Take a deep breath.” Her voice remained steady despite the tension in her posture. “Where’s Michael now?…. And Lily? She’s with you?… Okay. Stay put.” Phone to her ear, she turned, moving quickly down the hall. “I’m on my way. Just hang on.” Ending the call, she turned to Jim. “We have to go. Now.”
