Falling for the Hero (Baytown Heroes #13)

Chapter 1

Terry Bunswick rubbed his eyes and pushed back from his desk, the afternoon sun streaming through the blinds of his Eastern Shore Drug Task Force office.

The stack of case files seemed to multiply when he wasn't looking, but after twelve years in law enforcement, he'd learned to pace himself through the endless paperwork.

His phone rang, interrupting his review of a trafficking case from the Virginia Beach corridor. "Captain Bunswick."

"Captain, this is Sandra O'Neill from Chesapeake Legal Aid." The voice was professional but warm, with a slight huskiness that immediately caught his attention. "I'm calling about the Johnson family eviction case. I believe you arrested someone at their apartment complex last month?"

Terry leaned back in his chair, trying to place the name. Legal Aid attorneys’ civil cases occasionally crossed paths with his drug cases, but he couldn’t recall the specifics. "Refresh my memory."

"A man named Derek Masterson was caught dealing drugs. He listed his residence as the Johnsons’ apartment.

He occasionally slept there since he was a distant cousin of Mr. Johnson, who was always trying to help him.

Now, the landlord is trying to evict the Johnsons even though they had no knowledge of his activities and immediately cooperated with your investigation.

Plus, no drugs were ever in their residence. ”

"Right, I remember now." Terry pulled up the file on his computer and scanned the details. The Johnsons had been genuinely shocked to discover their relative was dealing. "Elderly couple, been living there for fifteen years. Cooperated completely when we interviewed them."

"Exactly. They're good people caught in a bad situation." Sandra's voice carried the kind of passionate advocacy Terry recognized in attorneys who actually cared about their clients. "I'm hoping you might be willing to provide testimony about their cooperation and lack of involvement."

Terry found himself nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Absolutely. They were forthcoming during our investigation. Made our job easier, actually."

"Oh, thank God." The relief in her voice was palpable, and Terry heard her release a long breath. "I wasn't sure if you'd be able to help, but this could make all the difference for them."

"Would you like me to come to your office, or would you prefer to meet here?"

"I'd be happy to come to you if that's more convenient."

Terry glanced at his watch. Three thirty, and his day was winding down. "I could come your way, actually. Legal Aid is over by Bess's Bakery, right? I need to stop there anyway."

"You don't have to make a special trip—"

"It's not special. I promised my kids I'd bring home something sweet today, and Bess makes the best chocolate chip cookies on the Shore." He found himself smiling at the thought of Emma’s and Toby's faces when he walked in with the familiar bakery box.

"Well, in that case, I'd appreciate it. I'm free for the next hour."

"See you in twenty minutes."

Terry gathered his keys and shut down his computer, his mind already shifting to the Johnson case. He'd worked enough eviction-related drug cases to know that innocent families often got punished for crimes they didn't commit. If he could help prevent that, it was time well spent.

The drive to the Legal Aid office took him through the heart of the Eastern Shore's small-town landscape, past weathered farmhouses, fields of early spring corn, and the occasional roadside stand selling fresh produce.

The radio murmured with routine dispatch calls, the kind of ordinary law enforcement chatter that had become the soundtrack to his daily life.

Chesapeake Legal Aid occupied a modest storefront in a strip mall that had seen better days.

Besides Bess’s Bakery, there was an insurance company and a hair salon.

The proximity to the bakery meant the entire area smelled like fresh bread and cinnamon, a pleasant contrast to the sterile sheriff’s office where Terry usually conducted business.

He pushed through the glass door marked with simple black lettering and found himself in a small reception area with worn carpet and mismatched furniture that spoke of tight budgets and practical priorities. A middle-aged woman behind the reception desk looked up with a welcoming smile.

"You must be Captain Bunswick. I'm Portia Washington. Sandra's expecting you."

Before Terry could respond, a woman walked from the hall behind the reception area. Terry felt his breath catch as he took in Sandra O'Neill for the first time.

She was beautiful in a way that hit him like a physical blow. She smiled, and the warmth reached her entire face, making her brown eyes sparkle. She wore a simple blue blouse and black slacks, professional but not stuffy, and moved with the confident grace of someone comfortable in her own skin.

"Captain Bunswick, thank you so much for coming." She extended her hand, and when he shook it, her grip was firm and sure. "I really appreciate you taking the time."

"Terry, please." He found his voice, though it came out slightly rougher than usual. "And it's no problem at all."

He followed her into a small office that was organized chaos with legal files stacked neatly on every surface, a computer monitor surrounded by sticky notes, and a coffee mug that proclaimed "World's Okayest Lawyer" in faded letters.

The single window overlooked the parking lot, where weeds grew between cracks in the asphalt along the side of the building, but Sandra had placed a small plant on the sill, adding a touch of life to the utilitarian space.

"Coffee? Water?" she offered, gesturing to a chair across from her desk.

"I'm good, thanks." Terry settled into the seat, trying to ignore how the afternoon light from the window accentuated the auburn highlights in her hair.

"Tell me how I can help you." He realized he should have asked how to help the Johnson family, but staring at her, he’d simply blurted out helping her instead.

If Sandra thought his wording was unusual, she didn’t seem to mind.

She opened a file folder and pulled out several documents, her movements efficient and purposeful.

"The landlord, Marcus Webb, is claiming that they probably knew of Derek’s illegal activities and that they should be evicted for the safety of the community. "

"That's bullshit," Terry said bluntly, then caught himself. "Sorry, I mean—"

"No, you're absolutely right. It is bullshit." Sandra's laugh was genuine and infectious. "Webb's been looking for an excuse to clear out his low-income tenants so he can renovate and charge higher rent. The drug bust just gave him what he hoped would be a good excuse."

Terry leaned forward, his professional instincts engaging. "What do you need from me?"

"A statement confirming that the Johnsons cooperated fully with your investigation, and that there was no evidence of their involvement or knowledge of Derek Masterson’s activities."

"That's easy enough. They were model citizens throughout the entire process." Terry watched Sandra make notes, admiring the focused intensity she brought to her client's case. "Mrs. Johnson made coffee for the officers during the search and kept apologizing for the inconvenience."

"Really?" Sandra looked up, her eyes bright with hope. "That's perfect. It shows their attitude toward law enforcement cooperation."

"I can provide a written statement and testify at the hearing if needed." Terry found himself wanting to do more, to find additional ways to help that would give him reasons to work with her again. "Is there anything else that might strengthen their case?"

Sandra's radiant smile left Terry with a warm shift in his chest that had nothing to do with professional satisfaction.

"You have no idea how much this helps. The Johnsons are in their seventies, and this apartment is all they can afford. Losing it would be devastating."

"I'm glad I can help." Terry meant it, but he realized his motivation had shifted somewhere during their conversation. He wanted protection for the Johnson family, but he also wanted to see Sandra smile like that again. "Is there anything else you need?"

They spent another twenty minutes going over the details of the case, and Terry found himself paying as much attention to Sandra's animated expressions as he did to the legal strategy.

She was passionate about her work in a way that reminded him of why he'd chosen law enforcement in the first place—to protect people who couldn't defend themselves.

"I think that covers everything," Sandra said finally, closing the file with satisfaction. "Captain… um… Terry, I can't thank you enough. This testimony could make all the difference."

"It's my job," Terry said, though he knew that wasn't entirely true. He'd gone above and beyond what was required, and they both knew it.

He stood to leave, reluctant to end their meeting despite having covered all the necessary ground. "Well, I should let you get back to work. And I promised those cookies to my kids."

Sandra's eyes lit up with understanding. "Bess’s chocolate chip cookies are dangerous. I swear the smell alone has convinced me to stop there more times than I can count."

"Guilty as charged." Terry grinned, enjoying the easy rapport between them. "My kids would revolt if I came home empty-handed after promising treats."

"How old are they?" The spontaneous question seemed genuine rather than just polite small talk.

"Emma's twelve and Toby's eleven.” Then he added, “Single dad.” He wasn’t sure why he included that distinction, but it slipped out before he gave it much thought.

Instead, Sandra's smile softened. "That must keep you busy."

"Every day," Terry admitted. "But I can't imagine it any other way."

Something passed between them at that moment. Terry felt the pull of attraction, stronger than anything he'd experienced in years, but also the familiar weight of responsibility. Dating was complicated when you had kids to consider.

"Well…" Sandra stood. "Your kids are lucky to have a dad who keeps his promises about cookies."

Terry headed toward the reception area, intensely aware of Sandra walking beside him. At the door, he turned back, his hand already on the handle.

"If you need anything else for the Johnson case, don't hesitate to call."

"I will. Thank you again, Terry. Really."

He stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine, the spring air carrying the competing scents of fresh bread from the bakery and exhaust from the main road.

As he walked toward the bakery, Terry found himself hoping the Johnson case would require more meetings, more phone calls, more reasons to see Sandra O'Neill again.

Behind him, he heard the Legal Aid office door close, but he could feel Sandra's presence through the window. When he glanced back, she was watching him leave, and their eyes met for a moment before she raised her hand in a small wave.

Terry entered the bakery with Sandra's smile fixed in his memory and the uncomfortable realization that his carefully ordered life had just become a lot more complicated.

He hadn't felt this kind of immediate attraction to a woman since.

.. well, maybe ever. But between his job, his kids, and the complex logistics of single parenthood, pursuing anything beyond professional cooperation seemed impossible.

Still, as he selected a dozen chocolate chip cookies and watched Bess wrap them in the familiar white box, Terry couldn't stop thinking about Sandra's laughter, the passion in her voice when she talked about her clients, and the way she'd looked genuinely interested when he mentioned his children.

Maybe "impossible" wasn't the same as "inadvisable." Perhaps, for the first time in years, it was worth finding out.