The Love Shack

Chapter 15

Lawson woke forthe fourth day in a row with Berkley wrapped up in his arms. Any second now, her alarm would go off. His girl worked far too hard, for too many hours, but it was one of the things he loved about her.

Done doubting it, he’d admitted to himself that it was 100 percent love. He’d been around enough to know the difference. What he didn’t know for certain was how she felt. This was all new for her.

As he thought of how badly she’d been hurt, his arm automatically curled her closer and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Nose to his chest, warm breath stirring him, she mumbled lightly and resettled herself.

Now, today, and always, he wanted to take care of her. To lend a hand physically when her workload piled up, to defend her against creeps like Durkinson and applaud the loudest whenever the town heralded her.

The heralding was bound to happen again and again, because everyone here appreciated her. She thought he was the only one who really saw her, but they all did. Beautiful Berkley, inside and out.

So far, she’d resisted his efforts to help. You’re not a Love Shack employee. Who cared? He wouldn’t have to be at his shop for a couple of hours yet, and he’d rather stick around here than head home just to get a little more remodeling done.

Slanting his gaze toward the clock, he prepared himself for her screeching alarm.

Somehow wrapped around his head like a cat hat, Cheese stretched awake, then agilely leaped from the bed and padded out of the room, no doubt heading for her litter box.

Lawson flexed his toes. The way Hero used his right leg for a pillow left it numb. Grumbling, the dog threw a paw over his shin as if to stifle his movement, and then let out a huff. Berkley swore that the dog and cat rarely slept in the bed, but they’d crawled in and gotten comfortable each night that he’d stayed over.

“Mmmrrmm.” A small fist stretched up past his face, narrowly missing his nose, and her entire body arched as she slowly came awake.

“Good morning.”

Every morning, her eyes popped open as if shocked to find him there. Today was no different.

Vivid blue eyes met his, took a moment to focus, and then she softened all over.

Every. Single. Time. He’d never tire of it, and he’d never tire of her.

She snuggled in closer. “The alarm should be going off any—”

Before she could finish, it started blaring. Lawson fumbled, reaching for her phone on the nightstand, and silenced it. “Why do you put yourself through that when you always wake up before it?”

Using her hand to smother a jaw-breaking yawn, she stretched again, then sat up. The sheet fell to her lap.

“What if I didn’t wake up?”

Hero gave a woof in agreement, then lumbered off the bed and looked at her expectantly.

With the back of one finger, Lawson stroked her bare breast. “You are beautiful in the morning.”

“Like sleep-puffy eyes and tangled hair, do you?”

“I like you.” Words burned in his throat.

I love you.

But he figured one big step at a time was all she should have to handle. He wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d have more than enough time to show her before he told her.

Still a little shy about her nudity, she immediately pulled on a loose T-shirt when she left the bed, tugging the hem down below her bottom on her way out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

Her house was smaller than his, only two bedrooms and a single bath, but it was next door to the shelter. That meant she would never move.

Not a huge obstacle.

Sitting up, Lawson considered some of the options he could offer her. He’d thought of that, of being with her forever and how to make it all work, a lot over the last few days. Used to her daily routine, he quickly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, tucked his own phone into his pocket and stepped into his sneakers.

The second she returned for the rest of her clothes, he drew her up and kissed her. “Take your time. I’ll walk Hero out.”

Very used to her independence, to doing it all on her own, she fretted. “Are you sure? It’ll only take me a second to—”

He kissed her again. “Make some coffee if you want.” She drank it each morning anyway. “I’ll be right back.”

Sticking his head in the door with a reminder woof, Hero waited.

Lawson grinned. “I do love your dog.”

She gave him a big smile for that.

Taking only thirty seconds to dart into the bathroom, Lawson quickly had the dog headed through the house to the side door. He noticed that Berkley had laundry piling up. Probably because he’d taken up all her evenings.

Maybe tonight he could handle some of that for her.

At the very least, he could help her in the morning, and then later with getting dinner together.

Loosely holding Hero’s leash, he enjoyed the gray haze of dawn. All around, birds sang to greet the morning. He was lost in thought when his phone buzzed.

It was still so early, he couldn’t imagine anyone calling him, but the second he got his phone from his pocket, he saw that it was Oliver.

“What’s up?”

“Am I waking you?”

He answered with “Everything okay?”

“No one is hurt,” Oliver said, making that clear up front. “There’s an issue in front of your shop, though. Nothing critical, no damage to the building or anything like that.”

Well, hell. “What issue?”

“I was out jogging or I wouldn’t have seen it. Luckily, no one else is around this early, but... Someone vandalized Kathleen.”

“Vandalized?” Jaw locking, shoulders bunching, he turned to face away from Berkley’s home. The last he’d seen Kathleen, she’d been absurdly dressed like a cheerleader, pom-poms in her hands. “How bad is it?”

“I think it’s just red paint, but someone made it look like she’d been cut up.” A brief hesitation, and then, “Why would anyone do that?”

Good question. He’d already learned to trust Oliver. Would his thoughts mirror Lawson’s? Only one way to find out. “What are you thinking?”

“Kathleen’s a part of your place now. If she disappears, it’s never long before someone brings her back to the wishing well. Anyone who’s in this town for a few hours knows about Kathleen—and by association, about you.”

Through Kathleen, his name got mentioned a lot. The town enjoyed heckling him with her.

“Can you imagine anyone from around here doing this?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Most likely it was an outsider.”

An invisible fist tightened around his heart. Yes, his thoughts had immediately gone to Durkinson, but he’d wanted to convince himself he was wrong. “You think this is about Berkley?”

“You don’t?” Then he asked, “Or did you piss off someone and not tell me?”

“No.” He knew Chad, and if he was here looking for Berkley... Rather than ask more questions, Lawson said, “I’ll be on the road in less than ten minutes.”

“If I wasn’t on foot, I would have taken her to my place, but the best I could do was move her around back of your shop. I’ll wait here for you.” Another pause, and then, “Bring a tarp.”

Ending the call, Lawson thought of how Durkinson had reacted when Berkley told him to lose her number, and that the bastard had dared to call her again.

She’d blocked Chad’s number, but Lawson wasn’t convinced that would end it. If he was in town, that’d mean—Hero lightly butted his head against him.

Drawn from his thoughts, Lawson looked down to see the dog’s worried frown. “I’m okay, buddy, just annoyed—but not at you.” Lawson knelt down to reassure him. “You’re more than just a great pooch, aren’t you? Did someone train you as a therapy dog? You need someone to rescue?” Wouldn’t be Berkley. She’d rescued herself long before she and Lawson had met again.

She’d done enough, been through enough, and now he wanted to protect her.

“Hey.”

Looking up, he found Berkley standing there, her hair in a haphazard ponytail, fingers laced together in front of her, gaze watchful. Clearly, she’d heard his side of the call.

This was going to upset her. Hell, it wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. yet. No other helpers were around, and he’d have to take off. Frustration rode him hard.

Instead of asking about the phone call, she nodded at Hero. “He tried to rescue Erin the other day.”

The last thing Lawson wanted to do was alarm her, or further worry Hero. He could spare two minutes. “Yeah? What happened?”

“Erin’s scarf blew off and caught at the top of the fence. She couldn’t yank it down without tearing it, so she’d dragged over the bench and climbed up on it. She still had a difficult time, and was on tiptoes to reach over the fence and unsnag it. Hero didn’t like seeing her up there, precariously balanced.”

“Not sure I would have liked that, either.” He gave the dog a pat.

Wearing a slight smile, Berkley said, “He whined and danced around her, and even barked a few times. When that didn’t work, he pulled the same stunt on her that he’d used on you.”

“Ah, the old ‘grab the shorts’ move?”

“At first, Erin laughed—until he almost pulled her off her feet. I had the difficult job of explaining to him that she was fine.”

“How’d that go?”

“You know Hero. He’s a worrier. Luckily, Erin is wonderful, and she knows Hero well, so once she liberated her scarf, she gave him some affection, and all was forgiven.”

Abrupt silence swelled around them.

He should have explained the phone call right off, not left her to wonder about it. Drifting his fingertips over her jaw, he said, “That was Oliver on the phone.” He quickly explained about the mannequin. “I’ll get her cleaned up before anyone sees her.”

“Thank you. I know how you feel about her, but the town loves her.”

And he loved Berkley. “I don’t want you here alone.”

“I have Hero,” she said. “I’ll call you if anything happens, but the sun will be up soon and then the day will be in full swing.”

Left with few choices, Lawson said, “I’ll call once I get things in order, just to update you.”

A smile flickered over her face, there and gone. “Promise you’ll be careful, too.”

Oh, how he’d love for the chickenshit to try something with him. He wasn’t a helpless mannequin. That thought nearly had him rolling his eyes. Clearly, he was starting to like Kathleen. “I promise.”

“Go. I’m fine.” Taking the leash from Lawson, she stepped back.

In a rush, he jogged through the woods to his house, grabbed a clean shirt, ignored his bristled jaw and was on the road in under five minutes.

Since he always parked in back of the shop, that wouldn’t look different to anyone who might happen to see him pull up, and fortunately, it was only Oliver there, hands on his hips, head down as he paced a tight circle in running shoes, loose-legged shorts and nothing else.

He looked up when he heard Lawson’s truck and immediately approached. “I have her tucked behind the big garbage bin, just so she wouldn’t be seen.”

Two plastic feet, smeared with red, stuck out from behind the bin. Temper tightly leashed, Lawson nodded his thanks. He got the tarp from the back of his truck and handed it to Oliver. “I’ll get the door unlocked and turn off the alarm.”

He’d barely finished when Oliver crowded in behind him. “I’ve got her.”

“Damn.” With Kathleen wrapped in the tarp, only the top of her head and the tips of her toes visible, Oliver had his hands full. “It looks like we’re hiding a body.”

“We are,” Oliver said, his expression grim. “A plastic one.”

“You can set her on my worktable there.” The stainless-steel table, more like a workbench, was used when he sorted inventory, or to set aside freshly printed products. On the back wall, he had a utility sink and some heavy-duty cleaner.

When Oliver peeled back the tarp, Lawson cursed. Poor Kathleen. Someone had really done a number on her.

Oliver eyed the paint-marred mannequin. “Half the town would cry if they saw her like this.”

“I still remember how they pampered her when she got rained on.” That day at Saul’s restaurant had been a game changer for him and Berkley, and maybe for Oliver and Lark, too.

“Her wig is ruined.”

Yeah, the hair was a mess, but it might wash up. He tipped his head at Oliver. “Do you have to be somewhere?”

“No, I cut my run short, thinking you might need some help. I’m free for a few more hours.”

Mind-boggling. “You run for hours?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not usually. My routine is more of a run, then a jog, then a walk, home to shower and get ready for work. Lark, however, doesn’t have to be awake anytime soon, and if I’d stayed...”

“You’d have woken her up.” Lawson grinned. “Got it.” He went to the sink to fill a small bucket with mild cleaning solution. With any luck, the wig would survive, at least until he could replace it. “For me, it’s the opposite. Berkley is up before the birds. I had hoped to stick around and lend her a hand this morning.”

“Damn, man, I’m sorry. If I could have figured it out on my own—”

“I’m glad you called.” A glance at the clock told him they had about an hour before people would start showing up at the wishing well for souvenir photos. Handing Oliver the bucket and a cleaning rag, he said, “How about you start on her body while I get her hair off.” He’d try soaking the ends of the hair in the solution, and if that didn’t work... Well, they’d find her a hat.

Making a face, Oliver worked the ruined cheerleading skirt down Kathleen’s legs. “This is perverted.”

“Years from now, we’ll laugh.”

“Ha!” He wrestled her top off next.

Her arm came off, and Oliver looked so horrified that Lawson couldn’t help snorting. “Here.” He held open a large plastic lawn bag. “There’s no salvaging that outfit.”

With distaste, Oliver stuffed it into the bag, then manfully reattached her arm.

It took them over an hour to get the mannequin clean again. A slight tinge of pink remained in some spots, but hopefully no one else would notice. Since Oliver was the hero of the day, spotting Kathleen early, Lawson offered to re-dress her in clothes with the fitness center logo.

“I have a better idea.” He nodded at a new shirt for The Love Shack. “Let’s showcase that. It’s cute, the women will love it, and Berkley deserves it.”

Especially if this was Durkinson stirring up trouble. Neither of them said the words, but they were both thinking it, so Lawson agreed.

The shirt was pastel hues blended together, with The Love Shack in bold font across the front. In a smaller, more stylistic font, were the words Where love waits for you. Paw prints in different sizes framed the message.

The shirt had turned out really well. Locals would love it, especially since the design was created by a Cemetery artisan.

With Kathleen’s hair still wet, he and Oliver did their best to give her pigtails, but...yeah. Neither of them was great at braiding hair.

Stepping back and eyeing the mannequin critically, Oliver asked, “What do you think?”

“That Lark would have a heart attack.”

They both laughed.

“She’s crooked.” When Oliver tugged at one braid, the mannequin’s entire wig slid.

“Yeah—not better.”

He straightened her up again. “It’ll have to do.” Checking the time, Oliver said, “Lark could have fixed her hair in five minutes, but I hate to interrupt her now. She’s probably just getting ready for work.”

“Again, one day we’ll laugh.” Bright sunlight poured through the big front window. Lawson needed to get Kathleen out there. “I’m going to check in with Berkley, just to make sure everything is going okay.”

“Good idea.” Getting out his own phone, Oliver walked to a corner of the shop, presumably for privacy.

Lawson propped a hip against the front counter and hit Call. Four rings sounded in his ear, and he was about to straighten in alarm when she finally answered.

Breathless, she asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Got the paint cleaned off Kathleen, she’s re-dressed and ready to go. I just wanted to check in with you first.”

“So she’s not destroyed?”

“No,” he said gently, realizing that she had expected the worst. “I promise she’s fine. Don’t laugh, but Oliver and I had to give her a bath, re-dress her and even fix her hair.”

Of course, she laughed, just as he had intended. “Sounds like she’s having more fun than me.”

The ribald joke surprised a snort out of him. “I’m not sure I like you saying that.”

“Well, in my mind, Oliver was out of the picture.”

“Better.” Low, to ensure Oliver wouldn’t hear, he said, “Tonight, I promise to reenact it all on you.”

She drew in a dramatic breath. “Now, see, that makes my day better already.”

The teasing couldn’t hide her tiredness. “You sound beat.”

“I’m fine, just scrambling. Whitley called in sick. Poor girl has some kind of flu. Erin is coming in early, but not for another hour.”

Damn. He looked around his shop, seeing everything he hadn’t yet done, and still said, “How about I—”

“Nope.” She sent him a smooch through the phone. “Love that you want to help, but you have your own place to run. I’m used to stuff like this happening. I have everything under control.”

The amount of work she covered every day boggled his mind. “It’s going to be a scorcher. Don’t overdo. And remember, call me if anything happens.”

“I will.” In the background, he heard some happy barking as the dogs played, and assumed she’d stepped outside. “Lawson?”

“Hmm?”

“I like this. Us, I mean. Thank you for being in my life.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” It was where he hoped to stay—forever.