Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
A rap on the door startled Davin from staring up at the closed door separating him from Chloe.
He turned with rounded shoulders to deal with whoever was there, praying that it wasn’t Robinette again. It had taken a lot of fast talk to get her to leave, something he wasn’t an expert at.
She begged him to go on a walk on the beach.
She kept claiming she ‘needed’ to spend time with him and wanted to know if he was dating Chloe.
He didn’t know if she’d seen that Chloe was at his house so he skirted that subject.
He couldn’t explain why he couldn’t leave his own house, not without Chloe and a police escort.
Finally, he got her to leave with the promise that they’d go look at the house that had just come for sale and go to dinner after he met his deadline.
He was amazed that there always seemed to be one new house a week becoming available.
Even from the start of his house search, there had never been more than one or two available.
Unless Robinette was stretching out their time together.
He should check the MLS himself and find an agent from Eureka to set up multiple appointments and spend an afternoon finding the right house.
He didn’t like lying, but how could he get rid of such a clingy and intense woman without stretching the truth?
He didn’t want to make an enemy of anyone on the island, but the fact he didn’t know how to extract himself from Robinette was just another manifestation of how horrible he was at interacting with the female gender.
Looking through the glass door, he realized that all this glass was abysmal from a security perspective.
There weren’t blinds on any windows except the south facing ones on the main level and in the bedrooms upstairs.
The neighbors were far enough away that window coverings weren’t really a necessity for privacy.
Should he ask the owners if he could install some?
As he approached the door, he could see in the porch light that Sheriff Bradley waited on the other side, looking concerned and irritated. At least it wasn’t Robinette.
Davin hurried over, turned the deadbolt, and swung the door open, easing back.
“Hey,” Jaxon said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Mrs. Harrison said Robinette showed up and Chloe called, initially thinking she was an intruder.”
He exhaled and nodded. “Robinette came to talk to me, but the bright light flipping on surprised her and she almost ran off. When I walked outside, she came on to me.” He rubbed at his neck.
It was so awkward how Robinette crossed professional lines.
Just like Agent Lemmon with Agent Dresden. He almost smiled at that thought.
“Could Robinette be the person who drugged and knocked out Chloe?” Jaxon asked.
“She was with me at lunch yesterday,” Davin reminded him.
“That’s right.” Jaxon rubbed at his jaw.
“Did she leave for any extended period of time?” He pushed out a heavy breath.
“That type of crime is so rare on Shadow Cove, and I’ve got nothing.
The scene was clean, besides Chloe’s blood.
I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed. ” He gave a self-deprecating smile.
“Let me think.” Davin tried to remember. “She did excuse herself to use the restroom shortly after we placed our orders, but I don’t believe she was gone more than a minute or two.”
He tried to remember. He’d opened a favorite Clive Cussler novel, The Mediterranean Caper, on his phone while she was gone and quickly become invested, as one did.
It had taken him by surprise when Robinette wrapped her hand around his shoulder and interrupted Dirk Pitt and Al Giordino’s original adventure on the Aegean Islands and in the Mediterranean Sea.
“Okay.” The sheriff’s eyes reflected his frustration and longing to find the assailant. Davin completely understood and agreed.
“What did she want tonight?” Jaxon asked.
“She wanted to talk to me, see if I wanted to go on a walk on the beach.” He rolled his eyes, not prepared to share all that Robinette had said.
It made him uncomfortable simply thinking about relaying the entirety of the conversation to the competent sheriff.
“I didn’t tell her Chloe was here, but she may have caught a glimpse of her through the windows.
Robinette wanted to know if I was dating Chloe. I told her the truth.”
“Which is?” Jaxon arched his brows, his blue gaze piercing.
“We’re not.” He studied the sheriff and Chloe’s friend. Did the man want to be dating Chloe himself? No one would blame him. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “She didn’t say anything that could help us find the attacker.”
“All right.” Jaxon pushed out a heavy breath. “Let me know your plans for tomorrow and I’ll find somebody to escort you.”
“Thanks.” Davin walked him to the door, said goodnight, and deadbolted it behind him. Then he treaded heavily up to his room and got ready for bed, taking a shower to scrub himself clean of the lingering essence of Robinette’s too-sweet, floral perfume.
Though he tried to lie down, he couldn’t sleep.
A text came in from Agent Florence to him and Jaxon.
Garcia was positively identified at a Chik-fil-A in San Diego. The young man at the register saw an internet story about him escaping from Guatamela and never being recaptured. The restaurant cameras picked up his face, and we’ve confirmed it was him.
Davin got out of bed, said another prayer, and read some verses of scripture in Joshua, drawing strength from the words, “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”
He appreciated and needed those words. They needed the Lord to help them find the attacker and protect them from Garcia. It seemed the man was coming closer, and he was a terrifying threat.
Right now, Davin applied the words in a different way. He felt like he was brave in every area of his life, with the exception of relationships with women, in particular Chloe. How could he remedy that?
Slipping out of his room, he treaded down the stairs and into the kitchen.
He got a drink of water from the fridge and then opened the Tupperware container on the counter and took out a chocolate chip cookie.
He took a bite, savoring the burst of butter, brown sugar, and the mix of semi-sweet and milk chocolate chips.
The cookie was delicious but different than the varieties Chloe sold at her bookstore.
He should know; he’d tried all the cookies, brownies, coffees, cappuccinos, hot chocolates, and lemonades, utilizing the excuse to spend time with Chloe and get to know her.
A door opened upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps. Davin paused with the cookie in hand, waiting and praying that Chloe would descend the stairs.
Thankfully she did. Three steps into the living area, she stopped and stared, focusing on him in the kitchen. He’d left the stair light on, and she was better illuminated than he was.
“Oh.” She stopped.
He held up his hand. “Cookie?”
She walked toward him. “Do you like my delectable creation?”
“You made these?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Like them? I love them.” He took another bite to prove it. They were even more ‘delectable’ knowing she’d baked them. What couldn’t she do? Yet with Chloe in the same room as him, focused on him and him alone, he couldn’t concentrate on the sweet treat. She captivated his attention.
“Thank you,” she said.
He extended the cookie and said in a weirdly deep tone, “I’d be happy to share.”
Her smile beamed bright. She stepped in and he lifted the cookie to her mouth. Only about a quarter of the cookie was left, so he placed it all in her mouth. The inside of her lower lip and then the fulness of it brushed his fingers as he withdrew them.
He wanted something much sweeter than even Chloe’s delicious cookie on his lips.
She chewed and swallowed, then backed away at the same moment Davin stepped closer. Her eyes widened and she murmured, “Oh. Forgive me.”
Instead of rectifying the travesty of her stepping away and wrapping her arms around his neck as he was longing for her to do, she turned.
Davin swallowed down disappointment as she grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filled it with ice and water, and took a sip.
He studied her lips as she drank. He wanted them locked with his, in the worst way.
What to say? What to do?
“Thanks for sharing your cookie.” She smiled. “‘Cookies for sale!””
“I’m not sure what that’s from.”
“Despicable Me. Ah, you missed that one?”
“I don’t watch many cartoons.”
“Your loss.”
Not getting another kiss with her was ‘his loss’.
An awkward silence fell.
“Goodnight.” She lifted her cup as if in salute then turned and hurried away.
Davin listened to the door close and blew out a breath. He’d failed with Chloe. Again.
Grabbing a few more cookies, he placed them on a napkin, filled a glass with milk, and sat at the counter to drown his sorrows with the classic dessert combo.
The cookies were delectable, and the cold milk the perfect complement, but the treat was a dismal replacement for Chloe’s lips.