Chapter 16
The red tip of the cigarette glowed across the street.
Erica stood at her living room window, keeping to the shadows. An old habit, hard learned. The ember brightened, dimmed, brightened again.
Yesterday, a car had been idling half a block down.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. She’d reached for her phone, but before she dialed, the car rolled away.
The day before that, a man paused in front of the Wilson house for too long.
Alarm had spiked her pulse until a dog trotted into view, and he bent to clean up after him.
It was all perfectly normal. She’d felt ridiculous and hated that normal now felt suspicious.
The ember suddenly arced through the air, hit the pavement, and died. The man moved into the glow of the streetlight—
Music exploded behind her. Sweet dreams are made of this…
She jumped, her hand smacking the wall. “Mercy,” she breathed then lunged for the phone on the side table, volume up way too high. With a little nervous fumbling, she silenced it before Annie Lennox could get philosophical.
Of all the ringtones in all the world—that one.
She had an appreciation for irony. Except when her heart was trying to escape her rib cage.
Peeking around the curtain, she looked outside. Mr. Brinkley, the Wilsons’ side neighbor, headed up his driveway and disappeared inside.
She pressed a hand to her chest. Good grief! Seeing shadows everywhere, she had to get a handle on this.
The call was silenced, but the screen still glowed.
Coop. Of course. Though she had him saved in her contacts now as Vince.
He’d already called once today, midafternoon, while she was at the gallery.
As she arranged a display of regional photographs, her phone buzzed on the counter.
“Where’s your spare key?” he asked, no greeting.
She blinked. “How do you know I have a spare key?”
“Fake rock or flowerpot?”
She pursed her lips. Either she was too obvious, or he was excellent at his job. Probably both.
“It’s under the geraniums,” she admitted.
Dead silence.
“Orange pot. Left corner.”
“Got it.”
She gripped the phone tighter. “What’s this about?”
“I’m upgrading your security system. Yours is crap.”
Tell me how you really feel, she thought. She said, “I don’t think I can afford—”
“You don’t have to. The owner is a friend and owes me a favor. The tech will meet you after work to go over everything.”
She didn’t ask if it was necessary. “Okay.”
“And your block’s on special attention for the next few days. If anything feels off, you hit the alarm first.”
“Okay,” she repeated, softer this time.
“I’ll call you at home tonight.”
She almost said okay again but stopped herself.
He noticed the silence. “Erica? You good?”
“I’m trying to be. Not doing such a good job of it.”
His voice dropped, becoming less business-focused and more reassuring. “Stay alert but live your life, darlin’. I got this.”
Now, in the dim quiet of her living room, she answered his second call of the day.
She took a breath before answering with a shaky, “Hey.”
The pause was long enough to register. “You sound jumpy.”
“You got that from ‘Hey’?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
She leaned against the wall, glancing once more at the now-empty street. “Paranoia is setting in.”
He didn’t answer, so she tried again.
“It’s nothing. Another false alarm.”
“Start from the beginning.”
She smiled faintly. He wanted every detail, like with the others. “I thought someone was watching the Wilson house.”
“And?”
“It was a neighbor smoking. I’m wound too tight.”
“You’re right to be alert.”
“Am I right to feel silly?”
“You’re not silly. But you are supposed to hit the alarm.”
They’d had this discussion before. She’d really feel silly to have a police response to the two-pack-a-day retiree out for a smoke.
She could hear paper rustling on his end. Keyboard clicks. “You’re at the station late,” she said.
“Yeah. I’m buried.”
His voice carried a worn-thin gruffness that made her picture him rubbing the tension from his neck. Longing pulled at her. What she wouldn’t give to ease it for him.
“I wish you were here.”
“I want to be.”
The honesty settled a lot of her edginess.
“Tomorrow,” he added. “I’ll bring lunch.”
“You’re busy.”
“Don’t care.” Then, deeper— “I need to see you, darlin’.”
Convinced, she smiled into the dimness. “Lunch sounds good.”
“Dead bolts on? Alarm set?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
He laughed softly. “I’ll be there around noon.”
When the line clicked off, the house felt quieter than before. But not as lonely.
***
He showed up before noon with a brown paper bag and two sweating iced teas.
“There are restaurants all around,” she said, flipping the sign to CLOSED and locking the gallery door. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t want to share you with a noisy lunch crowd.”
Erica might have gawked a little. If that was a line, it was romantic as hell and sent a warm swoop through her belly.
“I thought Rangers were supposed to be tough as nails, not a…” She searched for the right word. Her brain unhelpfully offered teddy bear, which he probably wouldn’t appreciate.
A slow, devastating smile tugged at his lips. “What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart,” he replied, as though he’d read her mind. “But don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my badass Ranger reputation.”
Heat curled through her again.
They walked the two blocks to the small, shaded park. A stone fountain burbled, the air carried the sweetness of summer flowers, and cicadas buzzed in the trees. A sprawling live oak shaded half the space. They found an empty bench tucked beneath it.
He spread a napkin between them and unpacked the bag. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so, there’s turkey and Swiss on rye, or ham and cheddar on Italian.”
“You choose. I like either.”
“Girlie turkey it is,” he teased.
She raised a brow but took the sandwich he offered, smiling as she unwrapped the deli paper. They sat shoulder to shoulder, eating, enjoying the day, the park, and each other’s company. Erica realized she wasn’t bracing.
She’d never had enough normalcy to know what it felt like to let her guard down with a man. And she liked it. She liked it a lot.
He asked about her painting class. She told him about her seventy-two-year-old student who showed real promise but painted every sunset purple. He laughed, actually listening.
When the conversation lagged, the silence stayed easy. She hated to, but brought up the case, something not so easy.
“Any sign of a leak?”
He didn’t sugarcoat it. “I’ve reviewed the report trail twice. If someone talked, they were careful.”
“If?” She folded her napkin neatly. “You still think it’s the reporter connecting dots?”
“Most likely.” He took a long sip of tea. “The article’s noise, but it can attract the wrong kind of attention.”
“That’s not reassuring.” Not much was, except Vince.
“It’s not,” he agreed. “Are you done?”
“Yes, thank you again for lunch.”
“I usually eat on the run or at my desk with O’Reilly as company. So believe me, it was my pleasure.” He gathered the trash, making a perfect three-point swish into the nearby trash can.
“Let’s walk for a bit.” He stood and offered her his hand.
She took it, her fingers fitting into his automatically. That was what surprised her. Not the touch but how effortless it was with him.
When they reached her block, he slowed.
“I’ll pick you up for the cookout at one,” he said. “Dress cool. McNabb’s yard has shade, but it’s July in Texas.”
She glanced up at him. “You still want me to come?”
He stopped, turning fully toward her. “You could use a distraction.”
“I think you may need it more than me.”
“You’re right, which is why I want you there.”
She searched his face. There was no pressure. No obligation. Just him wanting to be with her. She felt the same way.
“Okay,” she said.
His lips twitched, and he echoed, “Okay.”
He kissed her, deliberate and unhurried, with enough pressure and passion to promise more. She leaned into it, her fingers in his shirt, chasing the warmth of him.
She felt the loss of his mouth before she fully understood it.
He cleared his throat. “As much as I hate to, we should probably stop there.”
She looked past him at the passing traffic. “Yeah.”
They resumed walking, hand in hand.
At the gallery door, he looked like he might go in for seconds, but a customer walked up.
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
Erica watched him walk away, desire humming through her. And suddenly, she couldn’t wait for a backyard barbecue with a bunch of Rangers.