Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Sore muscles and aches and pains from the crash kept Darby from getting the rest she desperately needed.
She tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up on sleep early in the morning and pulling her Bible to her.
The verses brought her comfort as the shock of yesterday’s attacks settled in.
Three in as many days. She couldn’t deny it any longer. Danger was everywhere.
She ran a hot bath and soaked in it until her muscles gave way. A few over-the-counter pain relievers helped ease her discomfort even more.
Her body started to settle, but her mind still raced.
Tiptoeing past Clay, who still slept on the couch, she headed to the kitchen to start breakfast. She heard him moving around minutes later and felt his presence before she turned to look at him.
He stood barefoot in the kitchen doorway, leaning one shoulder casually against the frame.
His jeans hung low on his hips, worn soft and faded in all the right places.
The gray tee shirt he wore clung just enough to show the muscles beneath, but the way it hugged his biceps made her stomach flutter.
Sleep-creased marks showed on his face, and his hair was tousled as if he’d run a hand through it instead of brushing it.
His eyes—still hazy with sleep—locked on her with a lazy, quiet intensity.
“Smells good,” he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel warmed by sunlight.
She tried not to stare, but he looked too perfect in that moment—disheveled in a way that was completely unintentional, and completely endearing.
“You’re just saying that because you didn’t have to cook,” she said, turning back to the stove with a smile tugging at her lips.
He chuckled softly, and the sound wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “You caught me.”
She glanced at him again and saw it—the curve of his lips, that rare, unguarded expression softening his features. It wasn’t the look of a man bracing for danger. It was the look of a man standing in quiet awe of something—or someone—he didn’t quite know what to do with.
He crossed the kitchen and slid a hand around her waist before stealing a piece of bacon with the other then smiled as he walked to the table. At that moment, she realized something undeniable.
He was adorable and charming.
The toast popped up, breaking the light-hearted mood. She set the slices on a plate then placed it on the table. Clay grabbed a piece and spread grape jelly over it.
“Any plans for the day?” he asked as he bit into a piece.
“Just making sure I’ve covered all my clients’ homes. It’s getting close to the holiday, and I can’t afford to lose any other jobs. I should also make those calls to get the dogs back to their owners.”
“Sheriff Malone phoned me last night. They picked up Brent and questioned him for over three hours. He wouldn’t admit to anything. They had to let him go.”
She dropped her toast, her appetite suddenly waning. “That’s disappointing.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his, the warmth of his touch sending chills through her. “We will figure out who’s behind this,” he promised.
He finished his toast and bacon then stood. “I should go shower and change before I call Malone to see what our next steps are.”
Before he left the kitchen, she brought the dogs inside then got to work on the breakfast dishes before moving on to tidying the living room.
The dogs cheered her, following along behind her as she worked, their tails wagging as they watched.
She found some toys and took turns tossing the ball to each of them.
It made her feel better yet it took a toll on her already-aching arms and back.
The house was a mess after having the dogs inside for multiple days now. Cleaning always relaxed her, which was why she’d been drawn to starting her own cleaning business. She enjoyed the fresh scent of a freshly mopped floor and fresh sheets right out of the dryer.
The blanket and pillow Clay used were still on the couch, so she folded them neatly to make the living room appear a little more organized. The lights on the tree blinked steadily, reminding her that Christmas was near. Surely, they’d have this mess behind them by then.
The bathroom door opened and hot steam flowed out.
Clay stepped out, clean and fresh shaven.
Her heart fluttered as the scent of his cologne wafted toward her.
The dogs hurried over to him, and he crouched to give each one a gentle rub.
The dogs trusted him completely. She realized she did too.
No one had gotten so close to her as Clay had in a long time.
She pushed away those feelings, ashamed to find herself attracted to someone else so soon after her divorce. She hadn’t wanted her marriage to end, but Brent had left her no choice.
He’d also given her Biblical grounds for the divorce. He was the one who’d cheated. Why was she the one who felt bad about it, as if she’d betrayed him?
Besides, she was nothing more than an assignment to Clay Walker. Once this was over, he would be gone. She certainly wasn’t ready to get her heart broken again.
He glanced around at the made-up couch, the spotless table, and the window cleaner and rag in her hand. “How long was I in the shower?”
His teasing tone made her blush. “I can’t help it. I’m a nervous cleaner. Always have been. Brent said it was my least attractive trait.”
“Then he’s crazy.”
She appreciated the sentiment but Clay hadn’t yet seen the depth of her obsessiveness.
“You haven’t seen how neurotic I can get.
Once, I threw out all of his sales reports for the year while organizing the study.
At least, that’s what he told me they were.
Now, I question so many things about what we went through.
” She grimaced at even mentioning that, hating how she always focused on the negatives in their marriage.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking so much about Brent.
It’s just that seeing him again yesterday brought up some feelings. ”
“I’m sure it did. I’m sorry we ever went there.”
“No, it’s good that we did. We now know that Suzanne and Chief Dean were there. They could have placed that call. He could have been the one who ran me off the road.”
Only that seemed to complicate matters. She’d been so certain that Brent had been behind these attacks and convinced she would see the guilt on his face. What she’d seen instead was genuine surprise that she’d been in danger and a true desire to reconcile with her.
But Clay’s face remained tense, his jaw tight and his face flushed, worrying her. “Is there something else going on that I should know about?” He seemed to be holding something back from her.
“No.” The speed of his response gave her pause. He hopped to his feet and glanced around, anything to keep from looking at her.
She touched his arm. “Clay, what’s got you so riled up?”
He gave a halfhearted shrug then seemed to reconsider. “It’s just…” His eyes probed hers then he turned away. “Never mind. It’s dumb.”
Only, she couldn’t let it go. Not when everything had seemed fine—even better than fine—between them. “Tell me.”
He hung his head, silent for a moment before he spoke. “It’s just that I didn’t like seeing how you were with him, Darby. I didn’t like seeing him try to reconcile with you right in front of me.” He looked at her and sighed. “And, if I’m honest, I didn’t like how you seemed to respond to the idea.”
His words—his vulnerability—caught her off guard.
She started to snap that it wasn’t his business how she’d reacted, but bit her tongue because his thoughts did matter to her.
She hadn’t wanted to be drawn in by Brent’s emotional manipulation any more than Clay wanted to see it.
And her face flushed with embarrassment that he’d had to watch her so weak in the knees and easily manipulated.
A lump formed in her throat as he waited for her response.
She set down her cleaning supplies and wiped her hands on a dish towel as she struggled to find the words to explain.
“I can’t deny those old feelings, Clay. I used to love him very much.
But that’s all it is. Echoes of the past. Why does it matter so much to you? ”
He shrugged again but still seemed edgy. “I don’t know, but it does. Maybe I just don’t want to see you hurt again, Darby.” He hesitated again then gave a resigned sigh. “I don’t like watching someone try to win you back when I was starting to hope you might look at me that way someday.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at his raw honesty. She couldn’t deny the attraction between them and she didn’t want to. .
“Brent is my past. That’s all he’ll ever be.” She reached for his hand and held it, the truth of her feelings for him becoming clear. “You…you make me hopeful that I might still have a future.”
A smile played on his lips. “Yeah?”
She laughed too at this big strong man who’d protected her from danger yet hesitant to admit his own feelings. “Yeah. I like you, Clay, and, maybe when this is over and I’m still alive, we can see if there’s anything between us.”
He nodded then pulled her to him for a hug, and she clung to him, soaking in the scent of his aftershave and noticing how well she fit in his arms. Protective arms that would do everything they could to keep her safe.
Maybe it was time she opened her heart just enough to let him in.
His phone rang, interrupting the moment. He released her then pulled out the phone and glanced at it. “It’s Cooper. Maybe he found something.” He answered the call, stepping into the other room.
Actually, she was glad for the call. Things between her and Clay had gotten a little too tense. Yes, she liked him. Yes, she was even attracted to him, but she had to focus on uncovering the person behind these attacks on her before she could allow herself even to think about another man that way.
She heard something at the front door and glanced out the window to see the mail truck pulling away from her curb. She hadn’t heard a knock and wasn’t expecting a package but he must have left something. She moved toward the front door.
The dogs were already there, tails stiff, ears upright. Scout gave a low growl.
“What is it, buddy?” she asked, reaching to rub his head. “It’s just a package.”
The box sat neatly on her doorstep, plain brown, no markings beyond her name and address—handwritten in black ink. Odd. Most deliveries were postmarked. Still, she bent down and picked it up. It was light, almost too light.
The moment she crossed the threshold on her way back inside, the dogs began barking—all of them, frantic now, circling her, blocking her path.
“Okay, okay, what’s going on?” Darby set the box on the table. Scout whined, then lunged forward, pawing at her leg.
She pulled the tape from the box and immediately knew. Something was wrong. Chills ran up her spine as she heard a click from inside the box.
Clay entered through the kitchen, saw the box on the table and the tape half off. His breath hitched as he yelled out, “No,” before running and pulling her away. He kicked the dining table over and shoved Darby behind it just as the world erupted.
A deafening boom tore through the room, hurling debris and fire in every direction. The shockwave slammed her into the floor, pain exploding through her side as smoke and heat swallowed her senses.
The dogs—she heard them yelping, paws scrambling on the hardwood to take cover.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The fire was spreading fast—flames licking the ceiling, devouring curtains and furniture in a frenzy. Clay lay a few feet away, unmoving, as darkness took her.