She Can Tell (26 page)

She rolled to her side, but a comfortable position evaded her. Ice. She’d try a fresh ice pack.

The muffled purr of an engine came through the closed window.

She eased out of bed and shuffled to the window. The sight of Mike’s SUV in the driveway opened a flood of yearning. Memories of his arms around her and that single searing kiss flashed, the one that had warmed her chilled soul.
Her head told her to wait, to think things through, not to make one more impulsive decision.

The sound of nails scrambling on hardwood spurred her into action. She hit the stairs just in time to grab an alerted Bandit by the collar. Downstairs, she snapped a leash on the dog and disengaged the alarm before stepping out the door. Her sweatpants, T-shirt, and bare feet were no match for the autumn night air. Shivering, she hugged her arms and hurried toward his vehicle. He was already getting out by the time she reached it.

“What are you doing? It’s cold out here.” Ignoring the dog pawing at his knee, he shrugged out of his zip-up hoodie, wrapped it around her, and steered her toward the house. “Your teeth are chattering.”

“I was j-just going to tell you to come in.”

“You could’ve waved.”

In the kitchen, she burrowed into his jacket. It smelled like his aftershave, like him, and carried the heat from his body.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Mike locked the door.

“No. I was awake.” Rachel went into the pantry to reset the alarm. While she was in there, she grabbed a chew and tossed it to Bandit. The dog caught it on the fly. Mike followed her and stood in the doorway. His bigger body crowded her, but she didn’t mind.

“Everything working?” He scanned the blinking control panel.

“Seems to be.” She turned to face him. The snug T-shirt outlined his heavy chest and shoulder muscles.

“You look tired. How’s the shoulder?”

“I was just going to ice it for a while. You aren’t exactly fresh as a daisy.”

“That isn’t an answer.” He frowned. He lifted her chin with a finger and turned her face to scrutinize her cheek.
“The plastic surgeon did a nice job. If you take care of that right, it’ll barely show.”

“I know. Quinn went over the instructions with me twice.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He leaned closer and muttered something that sounded like “just a taste” before his lips settled on hers. Warm and soft, his mouth tasted faintly of mint. There was none of the demand of their first kiss, but a gentleness that had her heart begging for more. His hand cupped her face, and his thumb stroked her jaw in a slow arc. Something that had been tightly clenched unfurled inside her, like a fist opening. She didn’t have the strength—or the desire—to fight it. She closed her eyes and let him in. A sense of oneness, completion, belonging, flooded into the empty space inside of her.

He lifted his head a few inches. Her eyelids fluttered open. Shock clouded the soft blue of his eyes. She imagined her own gaze was equally stunned.

“Why did you come?” she whispered against his jaw.

“I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep.” He said she looked tired, but purple half circles underscored his gorgeous eyes. He-Man had had a rough day. A surge of protectiveness rushed through her. She was filled with the desire to find out who was responsible and chew him out.

“Did you get fired?”

“Not yet.” But his tone suggested termination was imminent.

“Did you eat?”

He shook his head. Rachel reluctantly moved away from him and opened the refrigerator. “You’re in luck. Sarah cooks when she’s upset. There’s some leftover pasta and vegetables in some sort of white, cheesy sauce. It’s good.
Want some?” She reached in and pulled out a Tupperware container.

His hip bumped hers. “I can help myself. You get your icepack. Do you want anything?”

“Some milk would be great.” She slid her arms into his jacket. Something dropped out of the pocket. Her shoulder protested as she bent down and picked up the roll of antacids. Mint-flavored. Rachel settled in a kitchen chair with a cold pack over her shoulder. She set the antacids in the middle of the table. “Feeling all right?”

Mike sat down across from her with a bowl of cold leftovers and two glasses of milk. He slid a glass in front of her. “Fine.”

“Maybe we aren’t as different as I’d thought.”

Chewing, Mike shot her a wry grin as he forked down the pasta. She let him eat. A comfortable quiet settled over the kitchen. He finished, then rinsed his bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. “Thanks.”

Pain stabbed her as she shifted the ice pack, draping it over her shoulder. Numb wasn’t cutting it. With a heavy sigh, she went for a pill.

“Not a fan?” Mike sank back into his chair as she stared the medicine down.

“Not really. My mother was manic-depressive. She abused alcohol and prescription drugs.” She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t press. But those eyes of his… They knew. “But if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to be even crankier than usual.”

He didn’t react to the quip. His gaze reflected the pain of her confession. “It won’t happen to you.”

How did he do that? How did he know what was going on in her head?

“Here’s hoping.” She washed the pill down with the rest of her milk. “Let’s go in the den.”

“If you’re hitting on me,” Mike resisted, “drugged women in pain aren’t on my list of turn-ons.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, He-Man. You’re hot and everything, but sex is the last thing on my mind tonight.” She stopped in front of his chair. The thought of being alone again was a ball of unbearable emptiness behind her breastbone.

“You think I’m hot.” He grinned up at her.

Her face heated. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

She took his hand and tugged on it. He hesitated, so she used his own tactic against him. On her empty stomach, the medicine was taking effect quickly—and lowering her inhibitions. She should go to bed before she started blathering. “Please. You can sleep on the couch.”

“The couch?”

“Sorry. Kids upstairs.”

“Ah, kids.” He stood and removed his gun from its holster, then unloaded the weapon and shoved the clip into his pocket. He held up the empty gun. “Do you have something that locks?”

She led him into the den, grabbed the tiny key for her desk, and handed it to him. “Bottom drawer.”

She fetched a pillow and blanket from the closet while Mike closed the curtains. He tested the couch. The ice on her shoulder made her shiver, and she zipped up his jacket.

He patted the cushion next to him. “Come here.”

“Just for a minute.” She eased onto the sofa and leaned into him. His arm wrapped around her. Her face pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Her hand rested against
his stomach, the muscles rippled and tight. She’d known he was huge and fit, but the abs under her palm were ripped in a major league man-candy kind of way. What would it feel like to snuggle up against him naked?

Maybe sex wasn’t the absolute last thing on her mind.

“How are Sarah and the girls?” he asked.

“Good as can be expected. I’d feel better if they had somewhere else to stay.” Though the stalker seemed more interested in her, she hated the thought of her sister or nieces getting in his way or getting hurt because of her.

“No other family to help out?”

Hell no.
There was no way Sarah would ever take her children to their father’s house. Dad made Troy look like a teetotaler. “Families can be complicated.”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“No family?”

“None close.” He let his head fall back. “I’m an only child of two only children.”

“Parents?”

“They’re both gone.” His voice went hoarse.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t ask any more questions, and he didn’t offer any more explanation. The sadness in his tone was enough.

In the calm silence, Mike’s torso relaxed under her. She raised her head. His eyes were closed. His wide chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. Even in sleep, his face was tight with worry. He was that kind of guy. Sleep would be no excuse to relinquish his responsibilities.

She should go to bed. Break this connection that exhaustion and stress made them both unable to deny. But she couldn’t do it. She snuggled deeper, her muscles softening, the pain and her defenses sliding away. He made her
feel safe, and not just in a physical way. He accepted her for what she was.

Not many people did.

Predawn mist shrouded the forest. The woods smelled of earth, decaying leaves, and wood smoke. The chilly bite of autumn was cold enough to invigorate without being uncomfortable, which was a good thing. Once he got settled, he’d be sitting still for quite some time. Indian summer was a blessing. The day was forecast to be warm.

Hunting took patience, and just like everything else in life, discipline was the key to success.

The tree, scoped out in advance, was perfect. Medium-sized trunk. The lower section clear of branches. Enough foliage above for concealment. And best of all: a perfect line of sight for today’s observation. He had to see Rachel discover the gift he’d left her.

The Watcher raised his knees and drew the lower platform of his climbing stand upward. Pushing down with his feet, he set the platform against the trunk. The rear bar dug into the bark. Repeating the process, he worked his way up the tree foot by foot, like a vertical inchworm.

Twenty feet off the ground, he reached the lower branches and let the autumn foliage settle around him. The clerk at the outdoor store had been right. This camouflage print was perfect for fall hunts. From fifty feet away, he’d be practically invisible. No one could see him at a distance of two hundred yards.

He lifted his camera from his chest and adjusted the focus until he could see the individual stones in the old farmhouse. Rachel was going to have a big surprise, and he was going to catch every frame.

Hot dog breath wafted across Rachel’s face. She cracked an eyelid. Tail wagging, tongue lolling, Bandit stood on the bed, his masked muzzle inches from her nose.

Three things occurred to Rachel as she scratched the dog behind the ears. One, her bedroom was fully lit, meaning she’d overslept. Two, she was still wearing Mike’s jacket. She pressed the soft fabric against her face and inhaled his comforting scent. He must have carried her up to bed at some point during the night, and dammit, she’d missed it. And three, she didn’t hurt nearly as badly as she’d expected. Cotton-mouthed, she squinted at the bedside clock. No wonder. It was ten freaking o’clock. She’d slept for nine hours straight.

She lifted her clock and inspected it. Someone had switched off the alarm. Mike. Grrr. Words would be exchanged on that topic later. But for now, there was work that needed to be done. Cripes, the horses hadn’t been fed or watered.

She shuffled into the bathroom. Cold water on her face helped with the pain med hangover, but stiffness made
getting dressed a challenge. Something banged from downstairs. Bandit jumped off the bed and trotted off. Dog nails clattered down the wood treads and faded away. By the time her bare feet crossed the duct-taped seam of the kitchen floor, her shoulder had loosened to a tolerable dull ache. As long as she didn’t do anything too stupid today, it should continue to improve.

“Oh, you’re up. Good timing.” Sarah opened the oven. The aged metal door squeaked. Using a dish towel as an oven mitt, she removed a pan of muffins and set them on a stove top burner to cool. At her feet, Bandit stared up hopefully.

The scent made Rachel’s mouth water. “Blueberry?”

“Uh-huh.”

Snap!

Sarah pulled a mug from the cabinet. “Coffee? I’ve just made a fresh pot.”

Rachel shook her head. “No time. I have to get down to the barn.”

“Uhm.” Sarah picked at her cast. “No rush on that.”

“What do you mean, no rush?” Suspicion flared. “The horses haven’t been fed.”

“Yeah. Actually they have.”

“What?” Rachel shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers by the door. “Who? Mike?”

“Not exactly. He left really early. Was he here all night?” Sarah waggled her eyebrows comically.

“Oh, geez. Nothing happened. He was parked in the driveway around midnight. I thought that was dumb and let him sleep on the couch.” Rachel reached for the knob. “What do you mean, not exactly?”