The Redemption of Remy St. Claire: A small town single-father fake-marriage romance

By Gabbi Powell

Remy St. Claire is engulfed in grief, overwhelmed with caring for her three-year-old sister Calleigh after the death of their parents. As an assistant crown prosecutor, she works to put monsters in jail. She can go toe-to-toe with the most hardened of criminals, but a distraught toddler might be her downfall.
Rusty Stevens has his hands full raising his three-year-old daughter Miracle on his own. Applying for the job to be Calleigh’s nanny solves two problems at once—more time with his child while still earning money, and a playmate for Miracle. He worries his new boss works too hard, but he’s proud to be able to provide a stable home for all of them.
Then Rusty’s wife appears, and secrets from both Rusty’s and Remy’s pasts threaten the fragile relationship that has developed between them. When all the secrets are laid bare, will their trust survive, or will the truth drive them apart forever?
The Redemption of Remy St. Claire is a single-father, fake marriage romance with a touch of angst and two adorable three-year-old girls. There is mention of a previous sexual assault. The book is the third in the Love in Cedar Valley series set in a small town in British Columbia, Canada.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781778151453

Book preview

Chapter One

The screech of tires on asphalt, the blaring of a horn, and a man shouting all assailed Remy at once.

What the hell?

Okay, she was in her car. She’d dropped Calleigh off at preschool. Now for the long list of things she needed to accomplish today while her sister was in someone else’s care. She needed to focus on that and stop thinking about the horrific crash that stole her parents two weeks ago. But she couldn’t.

If she opened her window, she could probably reach out and touch the grill of the semi-truck that was mere inches from her door. How had he not hit her? How had she not seen it?

A man slapped the hood of her car and the sound reverberated through the vehicle. She jumped.

Lady!

The scowl was enough alone to cow any person, and the normally feisty Remy pulled into herself. No way was she getting out of her car to confront that man. He could undoubtedly snap her scrawny neck with little effort. When he pounded on her hood again, she startled again. And terror turned to anger. He might dent her car.

Yes, she was probably at fault. Yes, she should probably be roadkill under the guy’s massive truck—but she wasn’t—and all that didn’t give him the right to dent her beautiful car. The car her parents bought her when she graduated from law school. The tangible reminder left in a world where her parents no longer lived.

Although she’d love to jump out of the car, the proximity of the grill meant she had to sidle out to avoid scraping the door against the menacing steel. She managed to twist out and left the door open in case she needed to make a quick escape. The constant bing to remind her she’d left her keys in the ignition was irritating, but the man’s face twisted in rage was a far bigger problem.

She held up her hands in the universal I mean no harm gesture.

He didn’t look appeased.

I coulda hit you, you stupid bitch. I coulda smashed your car into little pieces and you woulda been strewn across the pavement. Why the hell did you run that stop sign? You’re lucky I was slowing down because I saw this red thing headed right toward the intersection, and it was clear you wasn’t going to stop.

His anger didn’t appear to be dissipating.

Should she argue? Apologize? She was out of her depth. Ten years with a driver’s license and she’d never had so much as a speeding ticket or a close call. She drove with great care. Even more so now.

Thank God Calleigh wasn’t in the car.

Small consolation. If she’d wound up as roadkill, her little sister would be truly alone.

Damn, there wasn’t a provision in Remy’s will. Calleigh’d become a ward of the province with no one to care for her. Shit. Another thing she had to worry about.

Lady!

Her attention snapped back to him.

You drunk or something? Or high? You smoke something before you get in that stupid little sports car of yours? That’s illegal, you know. Pot might be legal, but toking and driving ain’t.

I… She cleared her throat. I didn’t drink anything, and I’ve never smoked marijuana in my life.

At his snicker, she bristled. I’m not lying.

Whatever. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket. I’m calling the cops. You ain’t fit to drive.

And his language was appalling, but that didn’t mean she wanted the cops descending.

She stepped closer to the man, cringing at his cologne. Who drove a truck and wore cologne?

Focus.

I take responsibility for running the stop sign. I wasn’t paying attention, and for that I truly apologize. I’m not sure why the police need to become involved. There’s no damage as far as I can see. Oh crap. You are okay, aren’t you? You’re not injured?

He rubbed his sternum. Seat belt caught me hard, but yeah, I’m okay. I mean aside from the fact you scared the shit outta me. Took, like, ten years off my life. If I ever caught my kid driving like that, I’d take away his license myself.

She doubted her parents would ever have done something so drastic, but now she’d never know. Look, I’m heading home now. I promise to drive slowly and carefully. And will do so from now on, she hastened to add.

He yanked off his sunglasses and used a bandana to mop his face.

Are you certain you’re okay? Do you need to see a doctor?

He was awfully flushed.

I’m fine, lady. Just a little riled up. I coulda killed you, and yeah, it woulda been your fault, but I woulda had to live with that, and I don’t need that shit on my conscience. He mopped his brow again. The autumn day was cool, so he shouldn’t have been sweating so much.

Slowly backing up, Remy then reached into the passenger seat and snagged her wallet. Stepping forward, she withdrew a business card and held it out gingerly to the man. He snatched it from her hand, and she stepped back involuntarily. She didn’t want to appear weak, but she was still terrified of the large man.

He squinted at the card. You shittin’ me?

Uh, no, sir.

He shoved the card into his front shirt pocket. He pointed to the car. You drive safe home and never toke and drive again.

Part of her wanted to argue, but the rational part appreciated he was no longer demanding the police be called. A honking horn pulled her from her relief. Glancing over, three cars waited behind her. Since she was blocking the intersection, there was no way for them to get around.

Still flustered, Remy nodded to the truck driver and maneuvered herself back into her car. She turned the ignition and nothing happened. She tried again and nothing happened. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she tried to reason this out.

A tap on the window.

She rolled it down.

Clutch, lady. The driver didn’t wait for a response but headed back to the driver’s door of his cab.

Of course. She’d been driving stick since getting her license and had never once forgotten about the clutch. Depressing both the brake and the clutch, she twisted the ignition and the car purred to life. Taking a deep breath, she eased the car around the truck and continued on her way home.

Maybe her day would get better from here. God knew, it couldn’t get worse.

Three hours later and she decided she’d been wrong on that count.

Remy cringed. The end of a very long morning wasn’t the best time to make a decision.

It was only mid-autumn, but winter’d come early to coastal British Columbia. The rain started soon after she’d arrived home and continued to come down, steady and strong.

Inside, the walls of her mother’s kitchen were pristine white with pale-yellow accents. The normally bright room felt sterile, devoid of the warmth she always associated with her mother. There was no residual scent of baking cookies—no aroma of eggplant parmesan, spices, or marinara sauce.

Cold.

Adjusting the thermostat several times hadn’t provided the true warmth she associated with her childhood home. Bringing happiness back to the house was her responsibility. How do I do that? She could stare down the most hardened of criminals, but selecting a caretaker for her younger sister was proving to be the biggest challenge she’d faced in a long time.

As she sorted through the applications her spirits sagged.

One elderly woman moved so slowly, Calleigh’d run circles around her. The woman looked barely able to care for herself, let alone an active three-year-old.

The next applicant was a girl, really. She’d checked her cellphone three times during the interview and cared more about the time she would have off than the actual hours she’d have to work. It was tough to look past the lip piercing. How did the girl eat? Being young-at-heart was one thing, but a twenty-year-old too obsessed with likes and social media posts made Remy nervous.

The long hours she worked would allow her to pay a premium for a reliable, live-in sitter—someone she could count on. Someone who could bring joy back to her little sister whose sorrow came off in waves, engulfing both of them in palpable pain.

The most promising candidate had been a woman with more than twenty years’ experience. She’d raised the children of one family from birth to young adulthood. Great qualifications, right? Hah.

The woman must’ve been a drill sergeant in another life. She’d come prepared with a schedule including what and when to eat, precise nap times, as well as learning objectives for each stage of development.

Where were things like fun, play, and encouraging a level of self-determination? Their parents had nurtured Calleigh’s creativity, and the child thrived during playtime. Sure, some structure was good, but what child needed such a rigid schedule?

Pressing her fingers to her temples, Remy tried to relieve the perpetual ache. Surely more options existed. Her parents would want her to find someone kind and nurturing. Someone like themselves.

The pang of loss she was becoming accustomed to shot through her body like an unwanted shot of electricity.

Only two weeks since the head-on collision with a drunk driver killed all parties involved.

This morning’s near-miss was another reminder of how the world could change in an instant.

Being left guardian and sole caretaker of her little sister hadn’t been a surprise. The jolt was just how truly unprepared she was. Her twenty-seven years of life still left her ill-equipped for the responsibilities now on her shoulders.

For the first few days, Calleigh’d been inconsolable. All she wanted was Mommy and Daddy. So did Remy. Their parents had always been there for her, and she’d never felt a moment’s doubt of their love and devotion to her.

Twelve-fifteen. Just over an hour before she had to pick Calleigh up from preschool, where she was enrolled in a program two mornings a week to provide socialization. Remy tried to fit as much as she could into these small respites. The rest of her time, she comforted her sister. And sought comfort herself.

Looked like she’d have to run another ad and take another week off work. Neither thought appealed. She craved a return to her routine, although that was impossible. Her single-minded focus on her work was going to have to be adjusted to include her little sister.

Ring.

She glanced at her list. Who could be at the door? No remaining interviews. She creakily rose from the kitchen table, made her way to the front door, and opened it.

Who the heck was this? May I help you?

I’m here to apply for the nanny position.

Remy fought to school her features into the poker face she was known for.

A good-looking guy, but not classically handsome. His brown eyes looked kind, and his brown hair was fairly long—nothing like the close trims on the men she worked with.

I’m not sure you’d be a good fit. She’d never thought of considering a man.

Please, at least give me an interview. Let me prove to you I’m the best choice you can make.

Intrigued, she extended her hand. Remy St. Claire.

Russell Stevens. You can call me Rusty. His smile was tentative, and he blinked rapidly as he shook her hand. The handshake was firm, and his eyes bright and clear. Thank you for giving me a chance.

Well, I have to pick up Calleigh in one hour. You’ve got thirty minutes.

His grin was quick. I have to pick up Mira in one hour as well. They go to the same preschool.

You have a daughter. Okay, point in his favor.

I do. His face lit.

In other circumstances, she would’ve called his expression beatific. Clearly his daughter was the light of his life. How old is she?

The same age as Calleigh—three. They’re in the same play group. He paused, shifting in his seat, looking away for a moment, then meeting her gaze. I’m so sorry about your parents. I didn’t know your father, but I knew your mother. We talked every Tuesday and Thursday for the past year—since play group began last September. Mira and Calleigh get along well. He blinked twice. Deanne was a great woman, Remy, although I’m sure you know that. She was so proud of you and Calleigh—

Her body trembled for an instant before she could control it. She pressed her fingers to her lips.

I’m sorry. He stepped forward, caught her eye, and eased back.

Get a grip.

I— She cleared her throat. —I didn’t realize she spoke of me. I mean, I’m much older than Calleigh and moved out of the house ten years ago…

You never stopped being her child. Mira’s the light of my life, and even when she’s a mother herself— His Adam’s apple bobbed. —she’ll always be my little girl.

An image of Calleigh as a mother stole Remy’s breath. Twenty years? She hadn’t even made it twenty days.

The newest applicant tilted his head. May I come in?

Despite herself, she smiled. Yes, let’s talk in the kitchen. They walked through the living room and to the kitchen that was a little less sterile now she had someone to share the space with. She indicated one of the chairs.

Ladies first.

Quirking an eyebrow, she sat. These days, she was unaccustomed to chivalrous behavior. She’d taken her boss to task over that. She wanted to be treated as one of the guys. No special treatment. Zach bristled for a while but had come around in time.

Rusty’s courteousness caught her off-guard. Since he wanted her to treat him like the other applicants, she scanned the prepared list of questions. What experience do you have?

Raising a three-year-old. I’ve been the primary caregiver to my daughter since she was born. Although I don’t have any formal education, I have plenty of practical experience. My first-aid and CPR are up-to-date.

His index finger lightly tapped the table, even as he held her gaze.

Is he nervous?

I also study, informally, child development. I’ve read dozens of books, but to be honest, they’re only guidelines. Children don’t come with instruction manuals—that’s for sure. He paused, his brown eyes growing even darker, if that was possible. I love Mira, but I know I can be fair dealing with both girls. I’ll never take sides.

He wasn’t lying. Earnestness radiated from him and his calm was unwavering. He honestly believed he could treat her sister the same way as his daughter.

That’s quite a promise. Could she do the same thing? Not ally herself with Calleigh if push came to shove?

He entwined his fingers. It is, but this is important. I’ve been trying to raise Mira the best I can, but the truth is, she’s lonely. She needs more socialization. Calleigh can be the sister Mira never had.

There are lots of only children in the world. There’s nothing wrong with that. I was raised as an only child. Was her voice betraying her indignity? Or her pain?

I wasn’t. He offered a quick grin. I have three younger sisters. I grew up in a loud household with lots of love.

I don’t think Calleigh needs noise right now. She needs nurturing. She needs understanding. She needs love. Remy needed those things also, but her needs would come second. They always had and always would.

And I can give her all of those things. I can help her deal with her grief just as I can help you deal with your grief.

What the hell? That’s very presumptuous of you. I’ll have you know I’m dealing with my grief just fine. Great, another man explaining to her how she should be coping. This is becoming tiresome.

He smiled, a touch of sadness tainting his expression. There are five stages of grief, Remy. I don’t think you’ve made it through all five.

She tried to keep her anger in check, but he hit home. She couldn’t let herself go down the rabbit hole of self-pity. Who the hell was he to tell her whether she was handling her parents’ deaths? She glanced down at her sheet.

Are you aware this is a live-in position? I work a lot of hours, and you will be compensated accordingly. She closed her eyes. Well, that was a stupid question. She wasn’t going to let a man move into her house. When she opened her eyes, soft brown ones gazed back at her.

I understand your apprehension. I’m a strange guy you’ve never met. I can provide references.

Most rapists and child molesters can provide references.

She flinched at his sharp intake of breath.

Oh, damn. Had she miscalculated? She was alone, in her home, with an unfamiliar man. What had she been thinking? She needed to have her head examined.

Yet, he didn’t scare her. Something in his demeanor engendered trust. Fear was the least prominent emotion she felt. Curiosity, the strongest. Why would a man want to become a nanny? Sure, men stayed home with children, but not many.

You can trust me. I’d never do anything to hurt you or Calleigh. He leaned forward. I’d give my life for Mira. That’s how I’m built. I want to do what’s best for my daughter. This solves both our problems.

He was right. Her sister needed a nanny and both girls would benefit from having a companion.

I still have several more interviews to conduct. I’ll get back to you.

His eyes widened in surprise. That’s it? His bright eyes dimmed. You’ve already decided.

In that moment, she opened her mind to the possibility. The large rancher house didn’t have a nanny suite, but the master bedroom was on one side while the three bedrooms were on the other. She had a baby monitor set up. She could install nanny cameras around the house. It might be a good idea anyway—no such thing as too much safety.

Her condo building had on-site security at all times, and she had an alarm in her suite. Of course, she’d be giving up her studio apartment. Even if she had room for Calleigh, she wouldn’t move her. The little girl needed security and stability. Staying in her childhood home was the best way for her sister to cope.

At least that was what the doctor told her.

Saturday morning, a moving crew was coming to her condo to pack her few personal items as well as her clothes, and move them here. She’d donated her furniture to a local charity thrift store. The furniture was nice, but she had no sentimental attachment to it. She didn’t have sentimental attachments to anything.

Except Calleigh.

She eyed him. I need a babysitter Saturday morning while I move. Let’s consider it a trial run.

I appreciate you keeping an open mind.

His face shone with gratitude. He wasn’t like the people she normally dealt with. The people she dealt with were liars. They’d lie to her face without a moment’s hesitation and without an ounce of regret.

She and her coworkers had to have poker faces. Shows of emotion could get them in serious trouble.

Rusty Stevens didn’t fit into those categories. During the entire interview, he’d had an open countenance. His horror at being accused of being a child molester or rapist had been palpable. When he talked about Mira, there’d been boundless love.

She both respected his honesty and envied his transparent emotions. But her feelings had to stay bottled up. Otherwise they might burst out and never stop.

Okay, deep breath. Trust your instincts.

Let’s give it a one-month trial-run.

His brows shot up. What changed your mind?

I need someone right away. She shrugged, attempting for nonchalance. I’m checking your references today. Obviously, if things are in doubt, then I’ll rescind the offer.

Of course. You should be cautious. He indicated her pad of paper. I’ll write them down.

That’s fine. I’ll need to see them in person.

As he wrote out the information. she glanced over the list. Two women from the daycare, two librarians, and Doctor Marco Raymond. He was also Calleigh’s doctor and had been helpful over the past couple of weeks. She could probably catch him this afternoon.

She was rising when her phone rang. About to send the call to voicemail, she hesitated. No ignoring the office. I have to take this.

Of course. Would you like me to…? He pointed to the door.

She waved at him to stay where he was. This would only take a minute, and she still had a few arrangements to make.

Chapter Two

Rusty glanced at his watch. Still plenty of time before he needed to pick up Mira.

He glanced at his new employer. Interesting, she looked nothing like her blonde-haired, blue-eyed sister. Her straight, dark-brown, shoulder-length hair was almost black, and her eyes were a deep chocolate brown. The petite woman was probably eight or nine inches shorter than his own six-foot frame. He worried his size might intimidate her, but it didn’t seem to.

Everything today had been a surprise. When he’d dropped Mira off at preschool this morning, he’d had no thought of applying for a job. The truth was, he and Mira had a good life. They had enough money to live on and a cozy apartment.

But something was missing.

Mira was lonely.

He was lonely.

Waverly from the daycare center had mentioned this job, and Rusty figured working as a nanny was a way to solve those problems. A way to find companionship for Mira without romantic entanglements for himself.

If things worked out, then maybe this could become a long-term arrangement.

Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.

Remy’s initial reticence and then complete one-eighty was a little dizzying. In one breath she suggested he might be a rapist, while in the next, she offered him a chance at the job.

He could make this work. He had to make this work because Mira wasn’t just deprived of a sibling’s love—she was deprived of a mother’s love. She needed a female influence in her life. Not that he didn’t believe he was doing a good job. He was coping the best he could, but he could be doing better.

Something in her tone caught his attention. Lost in his own thoughts, he’d given her some privacy. Judging by the expression on her face, things were not going well.

She sighed. I’m coming in, Evander. This isn’t up for debate. She glanced at her watch. I can be there in a half hour. She disconnected.

Do you need help?

The relief on her face meant he’d asked the right question.

There’s an emergency at work. This is something only I can do. Otherwise, it might take them hours to figure it out and there isn’t that kind of time.

Let’s make it simple. We transfer Calleigh’s car seat to my SUV. You call the daycare and let them know I’m picking her up. Mira and I are headed to the library for story time. Calleigh loves it.

Her relief turned to wariness in an instant. How do I know Calleigh isn’t going to panic? She’s expecting me.

Tread carefully. I volunteer at the center. Calleigh knows me. If Mira’s going, then Calleigh will want to tag along. They get along well.

You make it sound so easy.

You’ve been having a rough time? Stupid question.

Remy blinked rapidly. Within moments, whatever had been there passed.

She’s been inconsolable. Nighttime is the worst. I don’t know what to do.

Let me help you.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears. You make it sound so reasonable. I…she’s just three. I’m so worried. I’m afraid if I don’t get this right, I’ll damage her forever. On top of that, I’m needed back at work.

Doesn’t sound like you work for very understanding people. You need time to grieve.

Her dark eyes flashed. I work for great people. They told me to take as long as I need.

Touchy subject. I take it back.

She unclenched her fists. I secured high bail for an accused wife-beater. His lawyer got a second hearing, and it’s in two hours.

What do you do?

I’m a Crown Prosecutor.

Crap. If she ran a background check on him, then this’d all be over. He didn’t have a criminal record, but his name would flag.

It sounds like you have an important job. He held his hands out, low and pleading. Let me take care of Calleigh. You go keep that wife-beater in jail.

And just like that, he’d turned the situation around. He was back in her good graces.

She called and verified that they knew him at the daycare center, then gave permission for him to pick up her sister. Good, they were very familiar with him and his daughter. Heaving a sigh, she retrieved her purse and briefcase.

He exited the front door and waited while she set the alarm and locked the door.

They met at her car in the garage and although he raised an eyebrow, he held his tongue.

With ease, he removed the child seat. After he installed it in his vehicle, he jotted down his address on a sheet of paper. Calleigh will be fine.

I’m trusting you. Her smile was tight but was there. Without another word, she hopped in her car, waved, and drove off.

As he got into his very practical SUV, he chuckled. Somehow he hadn’t pictured Remy St. Claire driving a Mini Cooper in candy-apple red.

The woman was full of surprises.

Two hours later, Rusty stood off to the side while Marnie, the assistant librarian, read a third book to the children. The Toddlers and Books program was a very popular event at the Mission City Public Library. The toddlers all sat quietly, completely entranced. The librarians had the magic touch.

You look happy today.

He raised an eyebrow. I don’t usually look happy?

Loriana, the head librarian, shrugged. Okay, let me rephrase. You look extra happy today.

I am. His smile broadened. "You’ll probably get a call asking for a reference.