Chapter Four #2
Meredith understood his perspective. Wade Hendricks was a take-action type.
He couldn’t stand by and watch a disaster unfold.
He had to get involved, to save the day.
She predicted he would falter in his quest to rescue Wynona from herself, however.
The woman was too stubborn to respond to strong-arm tactics.
“What kind of officer are you?” Meredith asked.
“I’m a deputy sheriff.”
“That’s your title?”
“First Deputy of Investigations.”
She tried to keep her face impassive, but it felt unnaturally stiff. He wasn’t some entry-level cop, fresh from the academy. He was a high-ranking official with investigative powers. She racked her brain for a normal follow-up question and came up empty.
He seemed intrigued by her silence. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“What did you do for a living before you came here?”
“Odd jobs. Nothing special.”
“Name one.”
She moistened her lips, hesitant. “I worked at a funeral home once.”
“Doing what?”
“Hair and makeup.”
He examined her with narrowed eyes, as if taking her measure. “It didn’t bother you, working with dead people?”
She returned his gaze. “Does it bother you?”
His expression became somber. “Yes. It does.”
Meredith didn’t ask him to elaborate. Their conversation had become too interesting—and too intimate—to continue.
Sitting with him by candlelight, sharing confidences, felt dangerous.
She was about to clear the plates when he did it himself.
He washed his own dishes, like a man who was accustomed to living alone.
She doubted he did it to please her. She got the impression that he considered her an obstacle, even an interloper.
“Where are you going to sleep tonight?” she asked.
“In the guest room.”
“Wynona converted it to an office.”
He swore, shoving a hand through his hair.
“You can have my room,” Meredith offered.
“I’ll take the couch.”
“You won’t fit on the couch. You’re too tall.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, and stood abruptly. “I’m going to shower.”
Meredith watched him leave. He took the candle with him but returned it a moment later.
Wynona had mystic healing candles in every room, including the bathroom.
While he showered, she brought up the extra blankets from the basement.
She stacked several thick layers next to the couch to form a sleeping pad for Wade.
Then she added fresh sheets and a pillow.
That done, she tidied up the kitchen. She’d have to clear out the fridge tomorrow. Hopefully the power would come back on, or they could get the generator running. She’d seen one in the shed.
When Wade emerged from the shower, he smelled of Wynona’s all-natural soap.
Meredith was finished with the dishes, but she didn’t glance at him as he walked past. Covered with dirt and debris, he was an attractive man.
Freshly scrubbed, he would be dazzling. One look at him might turn her brain into mush.
She took her own shower next, noting that he’d left the bathroom tidy.
There was no hot water, so she didn’t linger.
She rinsed off quickly and donned her usual sleepwear, an oversized T-shirt.
She emerged and almost collided with Wynona, who was stumbling into her bedroom.
The older woman slammed the door with emphasis.
Meredith knew she wouldn’t eat until after she’d slept it off, so she brought Wynona a bottle of water and left her in peace.
Then she went to check on the dogs, which she’d forgotten to put away.
When she walked outside, she found King and Daisy in the dog run.
She squinted in the moonlight, but she didn’t see Chico.
She returned to the house to search for him.
“He’s over here,” Wade said.
She couldn’t avoid Wade now. She stepped closer to the couch, aware of her bare legs beneath the T-shirt.
Wade was stretched out on the sleeping pad with a pillow tucked beneath his head.
He was shirtless, as feared. He tugged down the sheet to reveal Chico.
The dog had curled up next to Wade’s taut midsection.
Meredith tried to ignore the visual appeal of Wade Hendricks’s torso.
She hadn’t brought the candle with her, and she was thankful for it, because the darkness obscured his male beauty.
It softened the well-defined planes and edges of his sculpted chest. Chico, of course, couldn’t be coaxed from this perfect burrow.
“He growled at me when I tried to move him,” Wade mumbled.
Meredith knelt on the floor to scoop Chico up. Her knuckles brushed Wade’s flat abdomen. She froze at the feel of heat, hard muscles, and body hair. The last detail threw her. He had a trail of hair on his stomach, and she’d touched it. Her skin tingled at the contact, and her pulse jumped.
Flustered by her reaction, she scooped Chico into her arms. The dog weighed only six pounds, but he wasn’t as easy to lift as expected.
Chico boomeranged straight back to Wade, as if attached by an invisible thread.
She didn’t have a free hand to stop her forward progress.
With a keening sound, she tumbled toward him.
Wade grunted in pain as she landed on top of man and dog. Chico snarled in protest and wiggled free. He snapped at Wade, quite unfairly, and fled the scene. His claws clicked on the wooden floor as he scampered away.
Meredith could feel every inch of Wade’s hard body, flush against hers.
She attempted to right herself by planting one hand underneath her.
Big mistake. Her palm landed in the worst possible location, right between his legs.
His male parts filled her hand, bulky and substantial. To her horror, she flexed her fingers.
The air rushed from his lungs in a startled gasp.
Meredith cringed with embarrassment. God, what was wrong with her?
Why had she groped him like that? It had been an involuntary action, an instinctive reflex.
She hadn’t meant to give him an exploratory squeeze.
She hadn’t meant to touch him at all. She’d been trying to get away, damn it!
In her frantic attempt to avoid skimming Wade’s belly, she’d fallen on top of him and made full-frontal contact.
“Sorry,” she choked out, and jerked her hand away. She didn’t get far, because she was caught up on something, like a tangled thread. She redoubled her efforts, desperate to escape. Her clumsy motions didn’t help.
“Stop yanking,” he said, his teeth clenched.
He grasped her wrist. Yanking? She searched for the source of the problem.
Her pinky finger had gotten wrapped up in the drawstring of his sweatpants.
The fabric was pulled high and taut. Judging by his tense face, he wasn’t enjoying the sensation.
As soon as she freed herself, he loosened the drawstring and adjusted himself with a strangled sound of relief.
Apparently, she’d given him a serious wedgie.
Meredith clapped a hand over her mouth. Her tension dissolved into nervous giggles, which she couldn’t control any more than she could have controlled her wild thrashing a moment ago.
She tried to smother her laughter, but it bubbled out of her, unbidden.
What the hell was wrong with her? How many times could she injure him, with her pets as accomplices?
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “That was an accident.”
“Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me? First you shoot at me, then you lead me down a set of broken stairs…”
He seemed amused, rather than angry. Her laughter faded and her heart rate slowed.
When she hazarded a glance at him, he was staring at her legs.
She was on the floor next to him, close enough to touch, and her T-shirt had ridden up to expose her plain white panties.
He didn’t appear to find them too boring to look at.
Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes rose to her face, molten gold in the moonlight.
Her chest tightened with a new kind of distress as she realized her predicament.
She was half-naked on the floor with a man she’d just met.
He was shirtless, his body radiated power, and his expression revealed sexual interest. She scrambled away from him as fast as her quivering legs would take her.
He made no move to detain her, and he didn’t speak. He just watched her intently. She stood at a safe distance. He settled onto his back with a low groan. She wasn’t sure how to interpret this response.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said finally.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t scare me.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
He didn’t call her on the lie. “I won’t touch you, okay? Trust me. I don’t want to start anything.”
Meredith wasn’t the only one lying. He was lying, too. Lying to her, or lying to himself. He’d wanted to start something a minute ago. Instead of letting the subject drop, she blurted out, “You’d turn me down if I propositioned you?”
His gaze wandered to her bare legs. “Are you going to do that?”
“No.”
“Then yes, I’d turn you down.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his wry tone.
He was charming man, handsome as sin and clearly aware of his own appeal.
He had an engaging smile and a quick wit.
His lightheartedness put her at ease, and she felt more confident now that she was out of his reach.
She made a mental note to stay that way.
Clever, attractive men were dangerous. They influenced everyone around them. Once you were in their orbit, basking in the glow of their attention, you were helpless. A prisoner to their cult of personality.
She couldn’t afford to be a prisoner again.
So, she said goodnight to Wade, very formally, and scooped up Chico, hugging him tight to her chest as she fled.