Chapter 4
Heather’s cell phone alarm sounded off way too early for a day off. Her body recognized this fact without her brain doing much beyond reaching for the alarm.
She rolled over and flung her hand toward her night stand, but found only air.
It came back to her in a rush. Not her bed. She’d insisted on taking the recliner. She wouldn’t see her bed for the rest of the weekend. She wasn’t due at the Rooster for the breakfast shift. She was on a mission. With Dale. Last night she’d tried to count this whole misadventure as a blessing, an unexpected weekend off. A lark.
She couldn’t maintain the same opinion in the predawn hours.
“What is that?” Dale called from the bedroom.
The bed springs squeaked as his deep voice rumbled across her senses. The big house suddenly felt far too quiet.
Another piece clicked into place. She’d insisted he sleep in his own bed when she’d seen him favoring his leg. It was a silent testament to either her stubbornness or his pain level that he’d finally agreed.
“Must have forgotten to change an alarm.” She slapped at the display to shut off the chime, realizing too late it had been a phone call. From her brother.
Thank goodness she’d declined the call. The last thing she needed at—she checked the display—a quarter past four in the morning—was a brotherly lecture on reckless behavior.
He’d probably driven by her place on his way out to hunt this morning. When would anyone in her family realize she was an adult perfectly capable of taking care of herself?
Aggravated with J.C.’s attempted interference, her body too accustomed to early days, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. As quietly as the recliner allowed, she sat up and tiptoed to the kitchen to check out the potential for breakfast.
She opened the fridge and peered inside. Eggs, bread, beer. She reached for a drawer and gave a start, smacking her head against the top of the refrigerator door frame, when her phone sounded again.
Rubbing at the ache, she saw this call was from the animal shelter’s office. She picked it up immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Where are you?” J.C.’s voice slammed into her ear.
She’d expected to hear her friend Terry Watson’s voice. “J.C.? Why are you calling from the shelter?”
“Because you didn’t answer when I called you from my phone.”
Great. This was not the time for a brotherly interrogation. “Answer my question,” she snapped.
“There’s a situation and you’re needed out here. Now.” The irritation in his voice matched hers. “I went by your house to pick you up. Where did you spend the night?”
“Whatever it is can’t be too serious if you’re so concerned about my personal life.”
She could almost hear her brother grinding his teeth in frustration. She sympathized completely, but she went back to foraging for breakfast ingredients, unwilling to let him off the hook.
“Heather.” He paused to clear his throat. “Someone broke in and vandalized the shelter last night.”
“I beg your pardon.” She closed the refrigerator door and leaned back against the edge of the cold, granite countertop of the island. “What happened? There’s a security system.” Guilt racked her. “How is Terry?” She’d swapped with him in order to have dinner with Dale.
“No idea. We responded to an automated call from the security system, but…”
“But…” she echoed.
“Terry wasn’t here. Isn’t here. Best guess is he was in on it—”
“Not possible.”
“—or,” J.C. continued, “the perps tampered with the security system and set it off accidentally on their way out.”
It should have been her. Would have been her if Dale hadn’t swept her off to Columbia for a fake date and an even more fake engagement. She would have been there already, if she hadn’t agreed to his stupid scheme.
He’d wanted to see what would happen if they were seen together. Dear God. She rubbed at the ache in her temples. Now they knew.
“You need to get out here,” J.C. continued. “I think the crew needs your help.”
“I’ll be there.” Her mind was working out logistics when J.C. dropped more bad news.
“The animals are terrified. Looks like the warm up fights went down right here.”
“Warm up fights?” Her stomach rolled. “You said vandalism.” Her voice cracked on the word. “I’m on my way.” She needed to see it for herself, to help reassure those animals nothing similar would happen again. “My phone’s on. Keep me updated.”
Clutching her phone, she weighed how best to tell Dale. He’d seemed so detached about the plight of the dogs in the hands of the sick bastards who profited from the damned fights. There had to be a way to make him realize a change to his precious plan was necessary.
But her mind was blank. He’d shown nothing but logic and frustration with her ideas and dedication to the animals at risk. She couldn’t just take his car, he’d likely report it stolen just to keep her under his thumb. Her heart breaking, she decided to wing it, trusting she’d find a way to convince him once she started the conversation.
Turning, she came to an abrupt stop. Dale filled the kitchen doorway. A pair of black and gray plaid flannel lounge pants slung low across his hips. The man was bare everywhere else. So he didn’t sleep in a suit.
Good to know.
Her breath stalled in her lungs and she wished she had more time to appreciate the sexy view. The wide expanse of muscled chest dusted with dark hair tempted her to come closer. Her fingers tingled with anticipation. But a new, more ominous awareness chased the pure, feminine curiosity. His presence tempted her to lean in and seek comfort he wasn’t offering.
“Whatever it is, you can’t go back to Haleswood today.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“Don’t have to. We made a deal and—”
“They broke into the shelter.”
His furrowed brow shading his eyes was the only indication he’d even heard her. “That’s not what—”
“I don’t care what you planned. J.C. said the warm up fights happened right there at the shelter. That makes our previous discussion irrelevant. I am going back to help.”
“Will you ever stop interrupting me?”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Waiting. He didn’t look all that convinced, but she’d learned the value of patience when necessary. Mainly she was patient while out hunting, but what was this situation if not a glorified hunting party? The quarry wasn’t deer or turkey, it was a group of nasty, corrupt criminals and—
“Don’t do it,” he said, his voice low.
She made a show of pressing her lips together. If he would actually say something helpful, she wouldn’t feel the need to lay out the facts all over again.
He walked—his limp more pronounced than the night before—to the coffee pot and, with sparse motions, started the system brewing. As the aroma filled the kitchen, he inhaled and looked at her.
She felt every tick of time wasted like a pin-prick between her shoulder blades, but she held her tongue.
“What I was trying to say was an attack at the shelter is not what I expected.” He didn’t look any happier about the development than she felt. Although he was so consistently grim it was hard to tell for sure.
His statement raised several new questions but she didn’t voice any of them. If he thought she lacked control, he would soon learn the opposite was true. Provided he approached this situation with an open mind. Being passionate with a purpose—especially a worthy purpose like putting an end to corruption and animal abuse—should be a point of common ground.
On some level that defied understanding, she wanted him to see they had common ground. That she could do more than wear an expensive, oversized ring while he solved the case singlehandedly.
Her thumb rubbed at the platinum band of the heavy ring. There had been no reason to wear it all night and yet she’d left it on.
“Is it bothering you?”
She followed his hard gaze to the nearly imperceptible movement of her left hand. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you fiddling with it?”
Christ! They had more important things to discuss. “Do you have any female relatives close to your age?”
He shot her a baffled look. “No.”
“Friends?”
“Not really.”
No surprise. “Any co-workers recently engaged?” Now who’s off topic? she thought, pressing on.
He shook his head.
She sighed. “When a woman gets engaged, the ring is a new experience. Not just a new purchase, but a new feeling.” Heather extended her hand and admired the view much as her oldest sister had done. She did her best impersonation of the dorky, enamored smile as she turned the ring to and fro to catch the light. “You’ll see a newly engaged woman drive with her left hand at 12 o’clock on the steering wheel, just to see the thing sparkle. What I’m doing is staying in character.” She said it rationally, effectively putting an end to any speculation about her discomfort playing this role.
He didn’t reply, just studied her as if she were an unexpected specimen under a microscope. Behind him the coffee pot gurgled once, then again, as the last of the brew dripped into the pot. He turned, giving her an excellent view of his back as he opened a cabinet for mugs. “Coffee?” He raised one toward her.
“No thanks. I prefer tea.”
“But you work at the Rooster.”
“Ruth is an equal opportunity employer.” Who would flip out the minute she learned Heather was engaged to this too-serious, workaholic, virtual stranger. Going back to Haleswood wasn’t her idea of the best option here either, but she wanted to see the situation first hand. “What are we going to do about the attack on the shelter?”
“You aren’t smiling.”
Her patience snapped. “Why the hell would I be smiling?” She turned away from him, giving up. “I’m going to Haleswood, with or without your support.”
“How?”
“I’ll borrow your Camaro.”
“Borrowing a car without permission is typically grand theft auto.”
“Call a cop. J.C. can haul me in just as soon as I help restore order at the shelter. They’ll need me.” She stopped, shot him a look over her shoulder. “But you should know I expect my devoted fiancé to post bail.”
“Heather.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if I’d gotten engaged to a man who understood how much people and animals mattered to me? You’ll make this engagement a really tough sell if—”
“Enough.” The single word, delivered with quiet, cold fury, silenced her. “You are impossible.”
She didn’t bother to correct him or tell him the sentiment was mutual. He didn’t know her and clearly didn’t want to. “I’m going to Haleswood.”
“We are going to Haleswood. I just needed a minute, and some caffeine to process the problem.”
Had he just caved? “We are going to catch hell for this small mountain on my finger.” She stared at her hand, distracted once more by the artistry of the ring. Someone had good taste, even if it was too, too much for her.
He scowled at her hand. “One problem at a time.” He raised the coffee to his lips and took a big gulp. She watched his throat work as he swallowed the hot brew. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t want his apologies, she wanted action. Mistakes happened, circumstances were part of life. “Accepted.” She took another step away. “Let’s just get going.”
“No.” His hard gaze kept her rooted in place. “I want you to understand me.” He downed more coffee. “I’m sorry they attacked the shelter.”
The words made her uncomfortable and a tiny itch started up between her shoulder blades, out of reach and impossible to ignore. “You can apologize and process while we’re on the road, can’t you?” She waved him toward the bedroom. “Come on. Get dressed and let’s get moving.”
“Right behind you.”
Finally. But she stopped short at the doorway, suddenly worried. She looked him over from head to toe.
“What?”
“Sorry.” Staring had been rude. “You do have something other than a suit, right?” She nearly laughed at his annoyed expression, but thought better of it. “Hey, it’s all you’ve ever worn around me.”
“That’s not true.”
It was true. She had a vivid memory of each time he’d strayed from the polish of the city into her small town and the one time she’d gone to Columbia to see him. He’d worn a suit every time she’d seen him and only once had he left off a tie. That had been Christmas Eve and the first time she’d seen his eyes up close, the first time she’d seen him smile. If that subtle curve of lips officially qualified.
She opened her mouth to defend herself and decided it would just be pathetic and undermine any respect she might have gained in his eyes. It wasn’t any of his business if she fantasized about him and the way he dressed.
Suddenly another thought hit her. “You did pack something normal for me to wear, right? And shoes?”
“Define normal,” he said scooting past her and heading for the bedroom at last.
“Dale.”
“Yes.” He opened his closet door and pulled out the suitcase he’d shown her last night. It still made her twitchy that he’d gone shopping on her behalf. “Knock yourself out. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. A duplicate of your running shoes are right there.”
He’d pointed to the floor of his closet before heading for the bathroom. She stared at the pair of new cross-trainers with a lime green swoosh squared up precisely next to a pair of his brown dress shoes.
She stepped back, took in the whole picture and realized how he’d carved out just enough space to make it look like she stayed with him occasionally. Trying to ignore the strange, warm sensation resulting from that daydream, she grabbed the shoes along with jeans, underwear, and a long-sleeved T-shirt and hurried upstairs to the guest bathroom.