Book 3: The Trooper's Treasure (Fuller Family in Brush Creek Romance)

Dawn Fuller couldn’t stop her foot from bouncing. Her knee went up-down, up-down, up-down over and over, increasing in rate and intensity with every passing second. She kept her eyes on the ground so her hair would fall over her shoulders and hide her face.

The horrible scent of rubbing alcohol and the stringency of other medical products assaulted her, and she couldn’t wait to get out of the women’s clinic. Her stomach roiled, and she hoped it was all from nerves, that the test she’d just taken would be negative.

Though she was definitely living up to her label as the “wild child” of the Fuller family, she couldn’t imagine walking into her conservative parent’s home and telling them she was pregnant.

Only twenty-six and without a husband—or even a boyfriend anymore—Dawn simply couldn’t fathom bringing a child into the world and attempting to raise it.

Please, she prayed, though she felt like a complete loser for lifting her voice to the Lord. Please let it be negative. She wasn’t sure what God could do now. He was all-powerful, but he couldn’t un-make a baby that would’ve been conceived seven weeks ago.

Dawn pressed her eyes closed, her desperation surging up her throat and making her gag. How long did it take to read a pregnancy test? She’d been waiting for at least ten minutes, or so she thought. Since she’d suspected she was pregnant, every minute felt like a lifetime.

“Dawn Fuller?”

Her eyes snapped open and she stood like she’d been shot out of a cannon. “Here.” She cursed herself for practically yelling like she was in school and needed to be marked present. She approached the curly-haired woman wearing pink scrubs, her feet like lead and her heart thundering in her chest.

“Here you go, sweetie.” She handed her a sealed envelope and looked past Dawn like the slip of paper inside wouldn’t be life-changing. Yes or no, whatever the test said, Dawn’s whole life would change.

“Tara?” the nurse called, and Dawn slipped out of the women’s center and back to her car. It took all her courage to slide her fingers under the flap of the envelope and rip it open. She pulled out a single third-sheet of paper that had a bunch of letters on it Dawn didn’t understand.

She did, however, understand what NEGATIVE meant.

Sobs shook her shoulders, her body, and she crumpled over the steering wheel with gratitude and relief shattering through her. After the storm had blown itself out, she straightened, pushed her hair off her face, and looked out the windshield.

Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to settle herself. She needed to make the one-hour drive back to Brush Creek before she was missed.

She scoffed at herself. “No one even knows you’re gone.” She started the car to get the air conditioning going, and set herself north and west along the two-lane highway. She’d gone a couple of miles when her tears hit her again.

Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone out here in the middle of the day, and if her car went over the center line a couple of times, it was fine. She loved driving fast in the middle of nowhere, and the soft roar of the wind as her two-seater cut through the atmosphere helped to calm her.

She glanced down at her speedometer and realized she was driving just a bit too fast, even for her. Easing up on the accelerator, she focused back out the windshield again. Movement caught her eye, and she slammed on the brakes as a deer bounded in front of her car.

Dawn screamed, yanked the wheel to the right as the deer went left, and watched in slow motion as her car left the road and soared into the ditch.

She braced for impact, her fingers so tight against the steering wheel. The deafening sound of bending metal on scrunching metal tore through her ears. The car came to a stop and steam rose from the hood, obscuring her view.

Dawn breathed, her adrenaline so high she could barely do much more than basic bodily functions. Pain cascaded through her body, stemming from her leg. Glancing down, she found her calf stuck between the crumpled metal and the seat. Blood stained her shorts and dripped down to her shoeless foot.

Her stomach lurched. She’d never been able to stand the sight of her own blood and a whiteness covered her vision.

She tried to pull her leg out, but it was stuck. She tried to open the door, but that was stuck too. The air conditioning blew hot air now, making it hard to inhale. Panic built inside her, and she needed to get out of this car. Now.

Her fingers scrabbled for something. Something to let her out.

A moan came from her mouth, building into a scream. She pounded against the window, her gaze falling to her leg. The air left her body. She couldn’t pass out here. No one knew where she was.

“Phone,” she moaned, but she had no idea where her purse was. She tried the door again, to no avail.

The mania inside her faded to nothing, and she slumped against the headrest. She touched her leg, and her fingers came away sticky. Her stomach swooped, and she welcomed the unconsciousness as it swept toward her.

“Hold on!” someone yelled through the glass, and Dawn had enough energy to open her eyes and look out the window. But the gorgeous, mature face of McDermott Boyd was the last man she wanted to see.

She moaned again as the handsome State Trooper hurried around the back of the car to the passenger door. He ripped it open and peered inside. “Are you—?” He blinked, his dark eyes registering his surprise and delight. “Dawn?”

Dawn let her head flop to the opposite side. She didn’t want McDermott to see her like this. Didn’t want to explain anything to him. She’d grown up with the Boyd family, and though McDermott was a Brush Creek native too, it was his little brothers that were Dawn’s age.

No matter what, he knew what kind of woman she was. What kind of woman you used to be, she told herself as he pulled her across the seat.

She screamed as white hot pain shot through her, and she looked into McDermott’s panicked and concerned face before she blacked out completely.

* * *

The next time she woke, the smell of toast met her nose. Whoever had put bread in the toaster and slathered it with butter really knew her. “Mom?” She tried to push herself up and found her left leg achy, but bandaged.

“Leave her be,” a man said in a soft, pleasant voice, and Dawn’s eyes flew to the sliver of light coming from the doorway. “Go on, now. Go see what Nana Reba wants you to do for dinner.”

The pitter of little feet sounded, and then McDermott opened the door holding a plate of toast and a glass of something she hoped was orange juice.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He set the food on the bedside table and switched on the lamp there. “We’re at my house.” He chuckled and jostled his powerful shoulders in a squirmy sort of shrug. “Well, it’s my Nana Reba’s house, but we live here.” He sat in an armchair in the corner, near the foot of the bed. “Me and my daughter. We live here with her.” He seemed to realize that he’d started rambling a bit, and he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“What happened?” Her head ached and she touched her forehead. There were no memories there. How in the world had she gotten to McDermott Boyd’s house? Why had he brought her toast? Why was her leg injured?

“You don’t remember?”

She sifted through the soft thoughts in her head. “I…don’t remember.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?” He still wore his trooper uniform, but had discarded the hat so she could see his dark hair that he kept cropped close to his scalp.

“I, uh….” Dawn leaned back against the headboard. “I was in Vernal.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. The light was too dim to read too much into his expression, but Dawn didn’t like the appraising way he watched her. She felt like he was more cop in the moment than an old friend.

She didn’t want to be friends with him anyway. He was a perfect gentleman, a great dad, and a widower who’d lost his wife in the worst way possible. She was a complete wreck of a human being, and she could barely look at him without a river of shame tumbling through her.

Dawn closed her eyes to block out his handsome features. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

“You don’t know what you were doing in Vernal?” He must be able to get people to tell him anything with a honeyed voice like that.

“I can’t remember.”

“Well.” He sighed and she imagined him stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You were driving back from something in Vernal, and a deer ran across the road. You braked to miss it, swerved, and went into the ditch.”

Dawn’s eyes popped open. “And you saw that?”

“I sure did. I was about a half a mile behind you and I saw you go off the road.” His right eyebrow quirked. “You were driving pretty fast.”

Dawn didn’t remember that, but she did like to speed in general, so she didn’t contradict him. “You brought me back to your house?”

“You asked me to.”

It was her turn to quirk her eyebrows, and she even added a scoff. “I don’t think—”

“I pulled you out of the car, and you passed in and out of consciousness. I asked you if you needed to go to the hospital, and you begged me not to take you.” He looked over to the door as it opened. “C’mon, baby. You can come in.”

A blonde angel skipped into the room and went over to her father. She leaned into him, shy and forward at the same time.

McDermott looked at Dawn but didn’t introduce his daughter. “She wanted to make you toast. So we’ll leave you to rest and eat. I had your car towed to Mick’s, so I’ll drive you home whenever you want.” He took his daughter’s hand and led her out of the room, the doe-eyed child still silent as she went with her dad.

As soon as the door snicked closed, Dawn swung her legs over the side of the bed. The toast, once appetizing, was cold now, and she needed to get out of this room, this house, before she allowed that beautiful man to care for her.

“He already has,” she muttered to herself. The thought that he’d be interested in her beyond making sure she got home safe was laughable. In any case, Dawn wasn’t interested. Not anymore. She needed to get her life together before she could even think about bringing someone else into it.

But if you were ready, she thought as she stood and tested her weight on her injured leg. Maybe you should take a closer look at McDermott.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Dawn and McDermott each come together with their own baggage. She is the female modern version of a reformed rake. He's a widower with a child. Me. Isaacson spins an engaging story with word art that imprints a visual imagery in the reader's mind. I highly recommend this book.’ ~Janet H.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "What an amazing story! I loved getting to know McDermott and Dawn, and enjoying their journey!! Liz gives us just enough time to worry about their future together, and tops it all off with just enough conflict balanced with happiness. . . Just like in the real world!” ~Nancy S.