Chapter Fifteen #2
Wilder found it impossible to stop thinking about her, no matter how many missions he accepted.
She was interfering with his work. To prove himself wrong, he watched her.
He made it his mission in life to find every flaw.
She had to have them. Everyone did. Slowly, through watching her, he became more self-aware, realizing he judged all women by his mother’s actions.
Women didn’t stay. They weren’t loyal. They didn’t protect their children.
They didn’t know what it was to be willing to sacrifice one’s life—one’s soul—for someone you loved.
Those were his expectations of women, and he hadn’t even realized he felt that way until he’d deliberately set out to find the lack of character in Harlow.
She seemed to be the complete opposite of his expectations.
She mesmerized him with her dedication to her patients, the way she treated the elderly, the unpaid time she put in with them and her consistency.
That care she gave was part of who she was.
Time and again he saw her volunteer to help her friends when he could see she was exhausted.
Occasionally, she had pulled extra shifts, but if a friend or someone older in the town called on her for help, she didn’t hesitate.
Wilder was fascinated with her. Captivated by her.
He began to study her in earnest, wanting to know everything about her in order to figure out exactly what she needed and whether he could provide those things for her.
He wanted to be the man to give her everything she needed or wanted.
That need had crept up on him, taken hold and become an obsession.
In the beginning, he’d misread her aloofness, the way she kept her distance from men, and he’d made his first big mistake.
He’d let her know he was interested and backed off, waiting for her to give him a sign she wanted the same thing he did, but that sign never came.
Not even close. She was attracted, but she shied away from him.
He wasn’t into game playing, and it seemed beneath her. Totally out of character.
He saw the way other men reacted to her but realized she didn’t see it, or she ignored it.
She didn’t flirt or lead men to believe they had a chance with her.
She was a sparkling light of joy, brightening a room wherever she went, but she didn’t ever deliberately try to attract a man.
He was thankful for that—he was gone quite often and didn’t want someone else to swoop in and take her while he was away at work.
Wilder went back to observing her, this time looking to see where he’d made his mistakes.
She was far too important to him to mess things up.
He made certain he looked at her through a clear lens—and he was shocked at what he found.
The beautiful woman traffic literally stopped for wasn’t confident in the least. Not in herself.
She was as a nurse. As a friend. As a person helping her community, but not as a woman.
She didn’t seem to have self-worth as a human being.
Wilder came to know her every expression.
Her various masks. Her body language. The slightest tell she had.
He was excellent at reading people. Since she was the most important person in his world, he made certain he would excel at reading her needs or wants.
He knew their relationship would never be a fifty-fifty split.
He wasn’t an easy man, and no matter how much he wanted to change his habits for her, he knew his personality traits were set so deep he wouldn’t be able to.
She had to accept him the way he was. That was a tall order he was asking of her.
He vowed he would do his best to give her everything he could in return.
He respected and admired her. He set out to learn as much as he could about art because she was so passionate about it.
He wanted to understand her interests and hobbies so he could support her in those things.
He didn’t mind household chores. Cooking or cleaning.
Just in the short time he’d lived in her home, he found he liked doing those things.
She was always surprised. She noticed. Her face lit up, and she looked at him as if he were the only man on earth.
Wilder had no trouble letting her know how he felt about her.
He didn’t have an ego that demanded she be the giver and worship the ground he walked on.
Or that she defer to him in all things. He knew exactly the times he would take over and insist on his way.
He wouldn’t argue; he wasn’t that kind of man.
He’d tell her, and then he’d make certain she was protected.
It would always be black and white to him when it came to watching over her and, eventually, their children.
In that, he would lead and she would follow.
He sauntered through the café as if he didn’t have a care in the world, mostly because he didn’t.
He already knew what the outcome of the confrontation with the senator would be.
The man wasn’t going to get near Harlow.
His reporters weren’t going to photograph or write about her.
Blom would see he was alive, which was a good thing.
They needed him worried and scrambling to try to get ahead of Wilder.
Anyone panicking makes mistakes. Blom would make them. And there was Paul Rafferty.
Wilder didn’t look at the man as he strode past Rafferty’s table, but he still saw him in great detail.
Rafferty sat at a small table alone just inside the door, clearly enjoying the meal Shabina had prepared, sitting back in his chair as if he were about to watch a movie.
There was a very satisfied, very smug smirk on his face. That wasn’t going to be there for long.
Wilder stepped into the wide doorway of the café, where Rainier was already in position waiting for the senator’s entourage to show up. Behind him, Sam and Zale stopped right beside Rafferty’s table. Wilder turned slightly so he could take in the sheriff’s responses.
“Rafferty,” Sam greeted. “It’s been a while. What have you been up to?”
Rafferty deliberately wiped his mouth with a napkin and stretched out even more in his chair to give the appearance of a man wholly relaxed and maybe a little bored that he had to acknowledge the people who had voted him into office.
“Sam. You don’t seem to get time off anymore.” He locked his fingers behind his neck, tilted his head up to look at Sam. He wore that same superior smirk he often did when he believed he held all the winning cards.
It occurred to Wilder that Rafferty didn’t bother to charm his male constituents, just the female. Maybe he believed most men thought the way he did, so he didn’t work at winning them over.
“That woman of yours certainly knows how to keep you busy.” The way Rafferty said it could have meant anything, but Wilder was aware the sheriff was being snide.
“Oh yeah,” he continued as he winked at Sam.
“I forgot she’s your boss. Guess you gotta do whatever the missus orders you to do.
” He laughed, a flat, abrasive sound that was clearly taunting.
“You might as well wear a skirt and wig, Sam.”
“I have a really pretty black wig, long hair, comes to my shoulders. When she wants to go howling at the moon, I wear it and howl with her.” Sam delivered his lines with a straight face and then nudged Zale.
“Howling at the moon can be cathartic. Sometimes, when you see injustice in the world and you’re trying very hard not to return to your old way of life when you could just right those scales so easily, howling helps.
Not all the time, Zale. Sometimes you’re just going to give in to the need to hunt down anyone who thinks they’re above the law.
When that happens, you just have to go through old channels and make certain it’s sanctioned.
Retirement is wonderful, but you do have to expect to come across people who believe they can get away with anything. Isn’t that right, Rafferty?”
The sheriff slowly dropped his hands from behind his head and sat up straighter. No one could say Sam had issued an actual threat, but anyone as guilty as Paul Rafferty would definitely feel the specter of the grim reaper creeping up behind him. His face flushed a dull red as he glared at Sam.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of innuendo?”
Sam didn’t change expression, but he raised an eyebrow. “I merely stated that you must come across people all the time who believe they can get away with anything. Isn’t that what you see in your capacity as the sheriff?”
Wilder exchanged a brief look with Rainier.
Neither were men given to laughter, but Sam had Rafferty very confused.
Sam was a master at it. He’d lived in Knightly much longer than the rest of their unit, and he knew the townspeople.
He was accepted and well-liked. He also had a reputation as a fair man, but one you left alone.
Rafferty definitely wished he hadn’t poked the bear. That was plain to see. Wilder had to give him credit; he didn’t get up and leave. Either he had courage or he wanted to see the senator put everyone in their place, Sam included.
“Yeah,” Rafferty managed. “I see it all the time. Killers walking around free when they should be behind bars.” He didn’t look at Sam or even Wilder.
He didn’t know Wilder or his reputation.
His gaze fell on Rainier. One didn’t have to know Rainier’s reputation.
He walked into a room, and it was obvious who he was—what he was.
“We’ve certainly had our fair share of killers in and around Knightly,” Sam agreed. “I wonder what attracts them to this area.”