The Detective's Undoing

Jacob was living like a king.

How could she compare?

That was simple enough—she couldn’t. With a sinking feeling, she stared at the house they’d pulled up in front of. Three stories of brick and windows shaped into the most charming Tudor-style home she’d ever seen. The circular drive was surrounded with meticulous gardens, and a BMW sat in the drive, beneath a colorful flag waving the words Welcome, Friends.

She felt every bit the misplaced unwanted city girl. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t compete, and all her buried feelings of worthlessness worked to the surface.

At the touch on her arm, she looked into Cade’s unsmiling face. Yet she had no trouble detecting the warmth and compassion that made her want to crawl into a hole.

Where was her own inner strength?

“Delia.”

Instead of hugging her, as she knew he would have Zoe or Maddie, he reached over and gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t you give up. You’re better than that.”

“In case you missed it, that little flag over there is worth more than I am.”

“I’m not talking about your checkbook,” he said, his disappointment in her clear. “I’m talking heart. Soul. Now get out and go show them what you’re made of.”

Delia stared at him as panic raced through her veins like wildfire.

“Go,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll wait right here.”

What had she expected—him to hold her hand? She didn’t need that, or him. She could do this. Drawing upon years of experience, she took a deep supposedly calming breath and got out of the car.