Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4)
Read Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4) Online
Authors: Freya Barker
Copyright © 2015 Margreet Asselbergs as Freya Barker
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or by other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in used critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses as permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, mentioning in the subject line:
"Reproduction Request” at the address below:
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, any event, occurrence, or incident is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created and thought up from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN: 978-0-9938883-5-9
Cover Design:
Editing:
RE&D
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Vanessa Leret Bridges - PREMA
Clean Lines (A Cedar Tree Novel, #4)
DEDICATION
To Mariette, who for many years has given tirelessly of herself in her care for my parents. Because she was there, looking after their every day needs, I was able to move to a different continent and build a new life, within the comfort of knowing Papa and Mama were always looked after.
The women in my books are all strong, capable women, but none of them hold a candle to your abilities, you strength and your compassion.
You will always be my sister and I love you.
I
want to thank a group of women, brought together by a love of reading—of books, a lot of whom I have not a chance to meet face to face yet. These women whole-heartedly support everything I do. I only have to ask, and sometimes that isn’t even necessary. My girls from Freya’s Barks&Bites—you know who you are—I love you buckets!
Thank you also to my beta-readers. I ask you to be brutally honest with me and without exception you do more than I expect from you. Time after time after time. The quality of my books is in large part due to your relentless eye for detail, and I can’t thank you enough! Love each and every one of you!
A big hug and thank you to my partner in crime at Rebel Edit&Design, Dana Hook, who is my go-to-person in the industry and who knows how to keep me grounded, motivated and ‘real’. There are no words to express what you mean to me.
Thank you to Vanessa Leret, who came on board as an independent editor for RE&D and who took on the task of editing Clean Lines and has exceeded expectations by miles! A wonderful, warm, intelligent and very, very welcome addition to my team. Already I adore you, Vanessa!
Thank you to Pam Buchanan, who provided the best assistance a girl could want at the Detroit Mashup Author Signing. I had a fantastic time with you Pam, and am down for a repeat or two!
Pam, you’ve become a trusted friend who is not afraid to speak her mind and give it to me straight between the eyes. There is a special place in my heart for you!
Thank you also to DM Earl, who was my table partner at the first ever signing for both of us, and she made it an experience never to forget. Love you girl, and make sure you hang on that ‘DUKE’ of yours, he’s priceless!
To Ava Manello, who together with Colette Goodchild managed to pull of the event to end all events! Tattooed Bad Boys in York, United Kingdom was an experience I can’t wait to repeat. Ava, I adore you and can’t wait for you to visit me in Canada, if only so I can stand by the gate with a welcome sign in my hands and grin on my face.
The amazing British fans who welcomed me (some with tears—xox Vickie) and even brought me food, gifts and left wonderful notes in my book. I could feel your love and appreciation in my soul!
My PA, Leanne Hawkes, who despite impressive work obligations and persistent sickness, managed to keep up her tireless attempts to bring my books to a bigger audience. Love your face!
And finally all you amazing readers – the ones who have been there from the very first book, to the newly introduced; you make writing so meaningful. Whether I read your words of appreciation or have a chance to meet you in person, you always manage to motivate me to do more—do better. And I thank you from the bottom of my humble heart.
"I
s that gonna hurt?"
"Remember those pokes I had to give you a few minutes ago?"
The poor little guy nods his head furiously, tear tracks still staining his cheeks from his earlier encounter with my needle.
"Well, those pokes were to make your skin go to sleep. Wanna see?" I watch him look at me from under his thick lashes as he nods again, this time with a little less enthusiasm as I pick up a spare needle. "I'll do it softly first, and then a little harder and I promise I'll stop if it hurts, okay?"
"Okay," comes his timid little voice.
Five-year-old Matthew came into the emergency room with his mom after a spill off the swings, right into a broken beer bottle some idiots had discarded in the park's playground. Two good-sized lacerations; one below the other on his lower leg, with the bottom one deep enough to expose the bone. It was going to need a good cleaning and a fair number of stitches to close, but first I needed to freeze the area and that was not fun for the little squirt, who had already screamed bloody murder. I'm not about to traumatize him even further and am trying for his cooperation, which will be the faster way to go, if I can get it.
A few gentle pricks with the needle bring out a big smile on Matthew's face, and when I poke a little harder he even giggles.
"You are one tough little super kid, aren't you?" I smile at him.
"I didn't feel it!"
"Told ya. Now I have to squirt into the cut with that bottle to clean it up really well before I put some stitches in, but you know you can't feel anything, right? Are you gonna be able to help me out?"
I hand him a stack of dressings., "Here, hold on to these, and every now and then can you wipe my forehead? This is hard work, you know." A quick reassuring wink at his mom, who is observing from the side of the bed, and I snap on a clean pair of gloves. "Ready, Matthew?"
"Ready," he says proudly sticking out the dressings.
It takes me only twenty minutes or so to clean out and neatly stitch both lacerations and the only time the little guy complains is when I put a loose dressing over the stitches to protect them, because he can't show them off to his friends.
I have a smile on my face listening to his little boy chatter as he walks out the room with his mother, while I make quick work of cleaning up the discarded needles and gauze.
"You were really good with him."
The familiar deep raspy voice coming from the doorway startles me and I turn around to face its owner. Chief Deputy Sheriff Joe Morris is leaning his impressive frame against the doorpost, a small smile playing on his lips.
Damn
. That man does interesting things to my insides every time he focuses those baby blues on me. Tall, at least a good foot taller than I am, dirty blond hair sprinkled with the odd hint of grey and always a tad on the long side, making it curl at the ends; perpetual scruff on his chin and those long limbs he manages to move gracefully. He is a sight for sore eyes. He is also a persistent flirt.
"What are you doing here?"
"Some numb nuts thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel after pouring a bottle of Wild Turkey down his gullet. He ended up in the ditch with a cut on his head when I tried pulling him over. He's next door getting a few stitches and I decided to look for you."
His smile widens. "And here you are, working your charms on the little guy."
I choose to ignore the fact that he came looking for me. Don't think he needs any encouragement.
"Thanks. I like little kids. They're so direct and straightforward. Don't give or take any bullshit. It's refreshing."
One eyebrow shoots up and his demeanor changes as he regards me with intense eyes. "Huh. Straightforward you say?" He pushes his body off the doorframe and slowly stalks in my direction, freezing me like a deer caught in headlights. "I think I remember how to do straightforward, if that's how you prefer it."
Busted.
Walking right up to me I can almost feel the body heat radiating off him and I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
"Have dinner with me tonight." He holds up his hand to stop me when I open my mouth to turn him down, again. "Don't. Hear me out. We've done this dance for weeks now; the flirting, the playful banter. Me trying to get you to agree to a date and you turning me down. It's been a fun game but I'm serious now. Have dinner with me tonight. I'm interested in you and unless I'm way off base, I think you might be interested too."
I'm struck dumb. Literally. Normally quick with the comebacks, he has taken all the wind out of my sails with this display of honesty. He's right. For weeks he has been coming in on occasion on official business, or I've bumped into him in town and we've flirted innocently. Or so I thought. I have turned down every semi-serious invitation he has issued, thinking I either wasn't ready to get on that ride again or that he wasn't serious. Maybe a combination of both. But this sounds genuine and truth be told, I am tempted. Do I dare? The man is one walking temptation and the simple fact he is asking plain little ole me should make me giddy, but instead it makes me apprehensive.
"Thinking hard there, sunshine," he says, lifting a wayward curl away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. Oh geesh...
"Okay then," I croak out, a big frog having taken residence in my esophagus. Clearing my throat I try again, "I'll go to dinner with you."
The full force of his white smile hits me in the gut and I suck in a quick breath at the impact. Handing over his phone, he tells me to enter my number and address. I only have a second's hesitation, figuring that being who he is, he could probably look me up if he put his mind to it, so I throw caution to the wind and do as instructed.
"I'll send you a text so you'll have mine," he says. "Pick you up at seven tonight?"
The few functioning brain cells I have jump into action, causing me to nix that plan. "Actually, why don't you tell me where I can meet you at seven?"
Joe tilts his head and regards me through his thick eyelashes.
"Okay, I'll give you that play this first time, Naomi, even if it is against everything I've ever been taught."
I attempt to hide my smile at his implication there will be more dates. We’ll see. At least I'll be able to control when I leave if things don't go well.
