In Safe Hands (9 page)

“Then I'd turn it back on?”

She was pretty sure that was a growl she heard. “What if I needed to reach you urgently?”

“Okay, Chris. I promise I won't turn it off because I'm in a snit.”

“Thank you.” He paused for a few seconds. “You okay?”

Daisy felt a small surge of irritation. It felt like he was always asking her that. “Yes. I assaulted Max and took a shower, so I feel much better.”

“Good.” There was another un-Chris-like hesitation. “Can I do anything for the training tomorrow? Maybe pick up some things on my way to your house?”

“Since you're the one doing the training, I think your contribution is big enough without supplying snacks.”

“Okay.” This time, the silence stretched until she checked to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. “Do you need anything?”

“Some strong sedatives, if you don't stop treating me like your invalid aunt.” She immediately felt bad about her sharpness. “No, Chris. I'm stocked like a good prepper. Dad could stay away for another six months, and I'd still have enough to eat.” She'd be out of chocolate long before then, though, and that could lead to severe crankiness.

“I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Bye.” The word was more of a sigh. This Chris was nowhere near as fun to talk to as her friend used to be before some alien performed a personality transplant on him.

* * *

“Gabe,” Rob called over the construction noise. “Got a minute?”

Gabe Little scowled. “No. Not after your deputy wasted my entire morning.”

Raising his eyebrows, Rob waited.

“Chris Jennings called me and told me Daisy needed me at home.” His frown deepened with each word. “Thought she was in trouble or something. When I drove all the way home, she was fine. Said she had no idea why Jennings dragged me to Simpson. I ended up turning around and driving right back to Connor Springs. What a waste of time.”

“Hmm…” Rob was beginning to realize just how attached Chris was. He should've known something was up when Jennings bought a new grappling dummy for the department, when their “old” one had barely been used a year. “Sorry you were inconvenienced, but I have to admit that I'm concerned about Daisy, as well.”

“What?” His surly expression faded, and concern seeped into his tone. “Why? What's wrong?”

“Has she shown any signs of improvement since her mother…passed? Any attempts at leaving the house?”

The final traces of annoyance disappeared as Gabe deflated, sitting heavily on a concrete block. “Not really. She had a therapist for a while, but that didn't…well, it didn't pan out.”

“Why not?”

Guilt flashed over Gabe's expression, and the defensive scowl returned. “What's this all about, Sheriff?”

“Like I told you,” Rob said evenly, allowing sympathy to color his voice, “I'm concerned. What would happen if there was a structure fire? Or if she was injured or ill, and no one could get to her?”

Holding his hands palms-up in a gesture of helpless anger, Gabe demanded, “You think I don't ask myself those questions every day? You think I don't worry about her in that house?”

“I know you do,” Rob said soothingly. “I'm a father, too. I understand about worrying all the time. I'm not here to add to your problems. I'm here to offer to help—as much as I'm able, at least.”

Gabe slumped, and Rob knew he had him. “Thanks, Sheriff. Sorry. It's just…hard.”

“I know.” Reaching out, Rob clasped the other man's curled shoulder. “If something were to happen, is there any way I could reach her? Is there a key?”

“No.” Gabe didn't raise his gaze. “There are too many locks on that inside door. My key chain would look like a janitor's.”

Holding back a frustrated scowl, Rob asked, “Is there any other way into the house, any way to get to Daisy if she needed help?”

Gabe started to shake his head but then stopped, his expression brightening. “Yeah, there is. I'd almost forgotten about that.”

Rob listened intently, not allowing his satisfaction to show.

* * *

Her shaky hands had returned for the stupidest reason.

“Yes?” she said into the intercom mic, glad she could at least keep her voice steady.

“It's me.”

“Oh, thank God! I mean, come on in, Chris.” She unlocked the outer door.

Once he was in the kitchen, she realized he hadn't been wearing a coat. “Is spring finally here?”

“For now.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, watching as she dropped spoonfuls of dough on a cookie sheet. “Are you making those cheese-and-sausage biscuits?”

“Yes. I forgot to ask if anyone's a vegetarian, so I tried to cover all my bases. There's artichoke dip with chips, hummus with pita squares, these biscuits—even if they are greasy heart attacks waiting to happen—and I wanted to have a vegetable tray, but I only have frozen veggies, and those would be limp and soggy and gross, so I'm thinking about mini-pizzas, but there's only water and coffee to drink, and I—”

“Daisy.” He crossed the kitchen and put his hands on her shoulders, the unexpected contact cutting off her flow of words. “Breathe.”

“I know.” She knew it would make him squirrelly again, but she couldn't help it. Her head dropped forward to rest against his chest. “I'm being an idiot, but this is my first…thing. I haven't even been to a party, or a get-together, or any kind of social gathering in years. I don't know what I'm doing!” The last came out as a wail.

“Dais.” He sounded amused. Scowling, she raised her head to check.

“Are you laughing at me?” she demanded.

“No. At least, I'm trying really hard not to.”

She smacked him on the upper arm. “I'm having a nervous breakdown, and you think it's hilarious.”

“It'll be fine, Dais.” He gave her shoulders a pat and then dropped his hands. Daisy tried not to miss the contact. “They're coming to train. They won't be expecting any of this”—he gestured at the array of ingredients she had strewn across the counters—“so they'll appreciate whatever you offer them. Okay?”

Daisy took a deep breath and then let it out. “Okay.” She turned back to her biscuit-making. “Why are you here so early anyway? You just about gave me a heart attack, thinking everyone was arriving already when the kitchen looked like this.” She gestured at the chaos with her spoon.

He grinned. “Figured you might be freaking out, so I thought I'd get here early and see if you needed help with anything.”

“Thanks.” She put the cookie sheet in the fridge, along with the remaining dough. “I think I'm good, though. I just need to clean up and calm down.”

Chris moved to help. “I saw Lou yesterday when I stopped at the Coffee Spot. She's beyond excited about this.”

Daisy laughed as she loaded the dishwasher. Just chatting with Chris was relaxing her. She could almost feel her blood pressure dropping as they worked side by side in easy harmony, as if the argument and subsequent awkwardness of the day before hadn't happened. “I know. She left me a message yesterday.”

“Makes me a little nervous,” he said, and she looked at him skeptically. Daisy doubted he'd ever been nervous in his life. “They're expecting a lot from this training. Hope I can live up to that.”

“Please,” she scoffed, smacking him on the rear with the rubber spatula she'd just rinsed. “Don't even pretend to be humble. You just want some ego stroking.”

Mouth open, he stared at her. “Did you just
spank
me with that thing?”

She shrugged. “It was handy.”

“You know what else is handy?” He grabbed a wooden spoon off the counter and swung it toward her posterior. Twisting around, she parried with the spatula. They dodged and danced around the kitchen in a kitchen-utensil swordfight. Taking advantage of his superior weapon and Daisy's ill-timed attack of the giggles, Chris drove her back toward the sink. As she tried to hold him off with the spatula in her right hand, she turned the water on with her left and grabbed the spray nozzle.

“Ahh!” Chris yelled, holding up his free hand to ward off the jets of water. “Twenty penalty points for using unauthorized weapons!”

“All kitchen contents and appliances are weapon-use approved. That's the official Swordfight Code Section 136.8.” Daisy released the sprayer anyway, since she was laughing too hard to stand up straight.

“Who brings a water sprayer to a spoon fight, anyway?” he teased, pulling at his wet T-shirt. It clung to his sculpted chest in a way that made Daisy glad she'd decided to turn their battle into a water fight.

She pretended to ponder the question. “Um…the winner?”

With a snort, Chris swung the spoon he still held toward her rear, but she dodged easily and pretended to reach for the sprayer again.

“Truce?” Chris wiped a droplet of water from his cheek.

“Truce.” Even as she pretended nonchalance, Daisy decided that soaking wet was a good look for Chris…a very good look. As they finished tidying the kitchen, she kept a wary eye out for possible retaliation, but he behaved himself.

As Daisy started the dishwasher, Chris said in a too-casual voice, “Lou also mentioned wanting to talk more about the Willard Gray case with you.”

“Okay?” She didn't understand why that merited his odd delivery.

“If you don't want to discuss it with her, she'll understand.”

Now Daisy was really confused. “Why wouldn't I want to talk to her about that? It's fun—okay, that sounded weird, since we're talking about some poor murdered guy, but it's interesting. A real-life mystery.”

“She could use someone new to bounce ideas off of. I can't talk to her about it, and I think she and Callum are both at the point where they're running around in circles.”

She frowned at Chris. “Why are you trying to talk me into this when I already said I'd do it? The cows are in the corral already, cowboy. You can stop the round-up.”

He gave an amused snort. “Did you just refer to yourself as a cow?”

Waving that off, she said, “I want to talk to Lou about the Gray case. Why are you being weird?”

“I just didn't want it to, I don't know, stress you out or anything.”

“Chris Jennings.” Her hands planted on her hips. “Quit treating me like I'm fragile. Don't make me get the spatula.”

“Just try it.” He smirked. “I'm prepared for your assault now.”

A knock at the door made her fly toward the stairs. “Can you let them in?” she asked over her shoulder. “I have to change.”

“Why change?” His gaze ran over her current outfit of yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt. “What you're wearing is fine.”

It would take too long to explain the rules of fitness fashion to him, especially since she was fairly fuzzy on them, herself. All she knew was that her clothes were shapeless, smeared with various food items, and smelled like sausage. “Door?”

Although he rolled his eyes, he turned toward the entrance.

“Thank you!” she yelled as she dashed up the stairs.

After a quick change, Daisy hurried out of her bedroom. An attack of nerves hit at the top of the stairs, and she came to a screeching halt. Despite no longer smelling like pork products, Daisy regretted not being the one to answer the door. She hovered for a moment before forcing herself to descend to the first level. From the sound of the voices, Chris had already escorted them to the training room, so at least she didn't have to worry about everyone watching her come down the stairs, debutante-style.

The mental image made her giggle, but she cut off her laughter as soon as she heard how nervous she sounded. Not allowing herself to hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, she marched through the open gym door.

The room went quiet as soon as she entered, and Daisy hid her cringe, forcing a smile instead. There were a lot of people, and they were all staring at her.

“Daisy!” Of course Lou was the one to speak. Just in the short time she'd known Lou, Daisy had already realized that silence was the other woman's nemesis. “I know I've already seen this place, but I'd forgotten exactly how awesome it really is. Thanks for letting us do this.”

“No problem.” Her voice cracked in the middle and squeaked at the end, so she cleared her throat, hoping her next attempt wouldn't make her sound like a pubescent boy. “It'll be fun to have new sparring partners.” Even as she said it, though, doubt filled her as her eyes settled on a bearded giant. Despite her years of training with Chris, there was no way she could take on that one. She'd have to go with flight, rather than fight, if he got hostile.

“The big guy you're really hoping not to go up against is George Holloway.” Lou's mind-reading made Daisy blush as she nodded to the oversized man. “Next to him is his girlfriend, Ellie. You probably know Ian and Rory, since they're your neighbors.” Daisy did kind of know them, although they looked different close up. “And you've already met me and Callum, so I think the introductions are done, and we're ready to be turned into human weapons.”

Ellie laughed at that, and a few of the others smiled. When Chris stepped forward, drawing everyone's attention, Daisy gave a silent sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Lou. No human-weapon creation today. I need to get a sense of what each person's conditioning and skill levels are, so we're going to do some circuit training. Ellie, I know you're still recovering, so just do what you can. If something hurts, stop.” She nodded, her hand raising to hover above her breastbone.

As he explained each station, Daisy listened with half an ear, sneaking glances at the visitors. Ellie and George were a mismatched pair—her so slight and elegant and him such a typical mountain man. Although the two weren't touching, they stood close. One of George's hands held the pull-up bar above their heads, tilting his body forward slightly and giving the impression that he was hovering over his girlfriend.