Someone to Watch Over Me (3 page)

There was sunshine on her face and her bare arms, heat when for so long she’d been so cold, light when for so long
she’d hidden in darkness, air when at times she’d found it hard to even breathe.

As she munched on her sandwich, she eyed a bench closer to the playground. Maybe next week or next month, when the sun was even hotter and more pleasant, she’d lunch there and not be afraid.

Finishing her lunch, she crumpled up her napkin, put it in her little brown bag and tossed the whole thing into a nearby garbage can, then set off around the far western perimeter of the park, toward the flower shop where she’d worked for the past three months.

There were towering trees, oaks, pines, a willow here and there, in addition to the magnolias, walking paths, playing fields, a playground, an amphitheater and just about anything else anyone had been able to think of. The park hosted outdoor arts festivals, music festivals, kids’ festivals, garden shows, town celebrations, all sorts of things. It seemed any excuse to fill the park with people was welcomed.

Gwen was going to attend one of those festivals one day. For now, she watched a baby in a stroller throw a fit and fling her rattle onto the sidewalk, then cry and pout when she didn’t get the toy back after the mother picked it up.

Pretty, yellow tulips edged the sidewalk that must have just burst into bloom, and there were leaves in that brand-new green of spring slowly unfurling on the trees. Tiny baby squirrels chattered and scampered about. Birds were raising a ruckus in the trees.

Two kids squabbled loudly and vehemently over a ball, a disagreement that quickly led to shoving and parental intervention. Gwen actually grinned at that.

Fight back. Don’t let anyone walk all over you like that.

The parents would be horrified. Her parents certainly would have been. She’d been raised never to lift her hand to anyone, never to raise a fuss. It certainly wasn’t the reason for what had happened to her, but still, she had to wonder what would have happened if she’d screamed long and loud. If she’d struck out with her fists or her knee.

Not that it really mattered. She hadn’t.

People said attackers could pick out someone born to be a victim just by the way she walked, that attitude alone could dissuade a criminal from going after one woman and targeting another one instead.

She didn’t want to be a victim anymore.

Feeling bolder by the minute, Gwen, born a follower of all rules great and small, stepped off the sidewalk that skirted the park and trudged toward the creek, walked along its banks and then crossed it on one of the pretty, arching, stone-and-wood footbridges that crossed it at various points throughout the town.

Looking around, she saw there were power walkers, arms pumping energetically, making a trek around the fringes of the park, a vendor selling ice cream from a cart, little boys shrieking and trampling some of the new spring flowers as they played a wild game of chase. No victims there.

Walking on, she lifted her head high, threw her shoulders back and tried to strut confidently, not at all sure if she was succeeding or not. The motion felt awkward at best. She hoped no one was laughing or even paying her the least bit of attention.

Now that she looked about, she realized no one was.

In fact…How odd. It seemed nearly every eye was on something or someone else at the opposite end of the park.
At least, every female eye. She turned, thinking something might be wrong, and that’s when she saw them.

“Oh, my,” Gwen said, stopping altogether and staring.

Runners, a man and a dog, both impossibly masculine, with dark blond hair, broad through the shoulder, narrow at the waist, and just so pretty it was impossible not to look. Sunlight caught in their hair and haloed around them. They were moving quickly, at a grueling pace that would have defeated her within a half mile. But they looked like they’d been at it forever.

The allover tan of the man, the leanness of his muscles and the rhythm in which he moved said he did this often. The look on his face said he was completely oblivious to the attention he was receiving.

Women were all but falling at his feet. If he stopped running long enough, surely they would.

The dog pranced. There was simply no other word. Nose stuck high in the air, as if he were king of all he surveyed, tail twitching proudly. He wasn’t even looking where he was going. He was too busy soaking up the attention of all the women.

“It has been too long since that man graced us with his presence,” a woman Gwen passed said to her friend. “He certainly brightens up the atmosphere in the park, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah. We could sell tickets for his run,” her friend said. “People would pay just to watch.”

Gwen’s mouth started to twitch into something that might have been an honest-to-goodness smile. What a pair. The gorgeous man and the equally gorgeous dog. No reason a woman couldn’t appreciate the sight. There were all sorts of nice things to look at here in the park in the soft, spring sunshine today.

She decided to circle back to the ice-cream vendor and have a scoop of chocolate. Why not? She could use it.

She was still savoring the last bite when she came across the man and the dog again at the edge of the park. He was swiping at the sweat on his forehead, still breathing hard, power positively radiating from him.

Gwen had never been that comfortable with men like him. Very pretty men. Confident ones. Powerful ones. He was probably pushy, probably expected all sorts of things from a woman, just because he bought her a nice dinner. She wasn’t that kind of girl.

Not that he’d ever pay attention to a mouse like Gwen.

At the moment, three little boys were clustered around the dog, who was breathing hard, tongue lolling out. He seemed to be grinning, if that were possible, in between showing his appreciation for their attention and lapping at a cup filled with water, provided by the man standing at his side.

“Come on,” said the first kid, on his knees in the dirt beside the dog. “What’s his name?”

“Killer,” the man claimed with a straight face.

The dog looked at the man and gave a low growl, then whined sympathetically to the kid, as if to say he was completely misunderstood and unappreciated.

The kids giggled, and the next one took up the cause. “No it’s not. Tell us his name.”

“Butch,” the man said, glancing for the first time at Gwen, who quickly looked away.

The dog whined once more, laid himself flat on the ground, his tail wagging enthusiastically, as if begging the kids to play with him.

“Is not,” the biggest kid said.

“No, it’s not. But you can just call her Sweetpea. She loves that.”

The dog gave the man a look of pure disgust, and then turned puppy-dog eyes onto the boys, begging them to save him from such humiliating treatment.

Gwen couldn’t help it. She grinned.

“Mister, I don’t think your dog likes you very much,” one of the boys said.

“She’s just a little upset because she lost her pink bow on our run.”

“Uh-uh,” the littlest kid said. “She’s a boy dog.”

“Oh, I guess so. How about that. He just acts like a girl.”

Gwen had a feeling the dog might just turn around and take a hunk out of the man who’d insulted him so, but instead, the dog caught sight of her and forgot the little boys completely.

He made a little purring sound. Beautiful, blue eyes gazed up at her with a kind of interest she seldom inspired in males, and yes, he could do something with his expression that looked distinctly like a smile.

He swished his bushy tail back and forth for a moment, and then walked over to her, nuzzled his snout against her shins for a moment, then dropped to the ground and rolled over onto his back, presenting her with his soft, furry belly for her to rub.

“That’s it, boys,” the man said. “That dog won’t even remember you’re alive when there’s a woman nearby to impress.”

The boys grumbled, tried to get the dog’s attention again, but to no avail. The dog didn’t so much as look at them. They finally gave up and walked off in a sulk, and the gorgeous man came closer.

“Romeo, believe it or not, not everyone falls in love with you at first sight,” the man said, shaking his head, looking both mussed and disreputable.

Gwen tried very hard not to look at him anymore. The dog grinned some more at her, waiting, as if he definitely believed he was irresistible and was sure she would, too.

It wasn’t so bad, being the focus of his admiration, Gwen decided.

She grinned back at the dog, thinking he probably made friends so much more easily than she did. Just walk up and grin at someone and fall onto his back in the grass, inviting her to pet him.

“What a sweet thing you are,” she said, forgetting all about the dirt or the dampness of the grass and her favorite, mousy-colored skirt as she got down on her knees and rubbed a hand through the luxuriously soft fur of the dog’s belly.

He whimpered. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and then he started licking her knee, a wet, silly touch that nearly had her laughing out loud. Her entire day had brightened.

“Romeo, you are such a dog,” the man said.

“Romeo?” Gwen said, daring a quick look up at the man whose hair sparkled like gold in the sun.

“Yes.”

“That’s really his name?”

The man nodded. “Believe me, he earns it every day.”

She let her hand linger on the dog, thinking it had been a long time since’d she touched any living thing, surprised at how pleasurable something as simple as rubbing the dog’s fur could be.

The detective who’d handled her case had wanted her to get a dog. For protection and for company. She’d never really considered it, but maybe that was a mistake. Maybe she should. If she could find one as sweet as this one.

“You’re so pretty,” she told him.

Romeo licked her knee one more time, and then gave the man a smug-looking smile, as if to say,
So there.

And then Gwen started to worry about the dog. “You really do like him, don’t you?” Gwen asked the man.

“I tolerate him. That’s it.”

“Oh.” Gwen puzzled over that, then thought she’d figured out what was going on. “So, he’s not your dog?”

“No,” the man said, all the light, all the gold and sunshine, fading away in an instant.

What had she said? The dog was such a sore spot?

“But you know him?” Gwen tried. “I mean…he has a home? Because if he doesn’t…He seems so sweet, and I was supposed to get a dog.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, I’d love to give him to you, but I’m stuck with him for the moment.”

“Oh.”

So…maybe it was his wife’s dog? His girlfriend’s? His son or daughter’s? A man like this wouldn’t be all alone in the world.

“Come on, Romeo. Let’s go home,” he said, nodding tightly in her direction, and then turned around, leaving.

The dog was more polite, rolling to his feet and nuzzling his wet, cold nose against her hand before trotting off behind the man, who didn’t give Gwen so much as a backward glance.

J
ax broke into a light jog, then a flat-out run, wanting to leave everything behind. How far would he have to go to do that?

He wore himself out before he got past the falls. Giving up, he collapsed onto his back in the soft, spring grass, close enough that the swish of the water sliding over the falls was just about the only sound he could hear.

Romeo caught up with him and gave a little, confused whine by Jax’s right ear, and when Jax didn’t answer, Romeo licked the side of his face.

“Get back.” Jax shoved him, and stayed where he was, flat on the grass.

Romeo snarled at first, then whined pitifully.

“Give me a break, Romeo.”

Gazing up into the branches of the tree, Jax recognized where he was. Beneath the oldest tree in the park. His mother had picnicked here as a girl. His father had fallen out of this tree and broken his arm in two places, and twelve years later, Billy Cassidy had proposed to Ellen Jackson, right under this tree. They’d sneaked off one night after she was supposed to be home safe in her bed, to come
here. As his father told the story, he’d barely gotten the proposal out when Grandpa Jackson had come along looking for his little girl, and he hadn’t been happy at all with their engagement. Billy Cassidy had a reputation with the ladies, after all, and Ellen had only been eighteen at the time, to Billy’s twenty-two.

But nothing Grandpa Jackson said had swayed Jax’s mother from her decision that Billy Cassidy was the man for her. Eventually her father had given in and walked her down the aisle of a little church two blocks away.

From everything Jax had ever seen or heard of their marriage, neither one of them had ever regretted it, until the day his father died.

Restless and angry and lost, Jax sat up and watched the water come over the falls and swirl and churn into the wide pool waiting below. No matter what, the water just kept moving, just the way the world insisted that it had to keep turning and changing.

He’d seen children playing and arguing this morning on his run, mothers pushing baby strollers, the team from the Elm Street firehouse playing a fierce game of softball against a bunch of city policemen, many of whom he knew.

He’d stared at them, wondering how things could go on in such a completely normal way, just like the water coming over the falls.

Didn’t they know? His mother had died last night. She was gone. Everything had changed.

One minute, she’d been talking to him about the husband who’d proposed to her under this tree, and the next, she’d been gone.

How could someone be here one minute and just gone the next?

How did that work?

It seemed like too great a change to happen so imperceptibly.

Here and gone.

Gone.

Shouldn’t the world stop for something like that? Shouldn’t everyone take note of the fact that a wonderful woman like his mother was no longer a part of this earth? He fought the urge to go stop the softball game and tell them all what had happened. He’d stop cars in the street, shout the news from the rooftops.

And they’d all think he was crazy.

Glancing up, he saw that the sky was still blue. The sun was shining. Water was flowing. Cops were playing softball. Kids were arguing. Babies crying. The whole world was moving, and he was left standing still, still trying to figure out what had actually happened.

He still couldn’t quite believe it.

She was gone.

Working at the flower shop, Gwen heard all the town news, both good and bad. That afternoon, she heard that the nice lady who lived around the corner from her had finally died following a long, hard battle with cancer.

Gwen hadn’t actually met Ellen Cassidy, but Gwen’s aunt considered her a good friend, and judging by the number of flowers and plants sent to Mrs. Cassidy from the shop where Gwen worked, so did many people in town.

As she drove herself home that night, Gwen saw that Mrs. Cassidy’s house was overrun with visitors. Which meant people might like something to eat and drink, which meant Gwen had been right when she’d walked three doors down from the flower shop after work and purchased a quiche to take to Mrs. Cassidy’s family.

The closest parking space she could find was nearly a block away. She’d probably have been closer parked in her own driveway. But this street was well lit, with lots of people coming and going. She felt safer here.

She walked briskly to the front door, stood up straight and tall, and rang the bell. When the door opened, she found herself face-to-face with the gorgeous man from the park.

“Hi,” he said, looking somber yet still very pretty all in black, his blond hair slicked back and still kind of wet.

“Hi.” Gwen’s mouth was hanging open, as if she were incapable of even talking to such an attractive man. Funny, she hadn’t had any trouble earlier in the park. Of course, they’d had the dog between them then. The man just looked at her, waiting, and finally she remembered why she’d come and held up the dish. “I brought a quiche.”

“Thank you.” He stepped back to give her room. “Come in, please.”

“Oh, I don’t need to do that. I didn’t even know your…Mrs. Cassidy. Was she your mother?”

He nodded, looking like he had when she’d asked about the dog.

“I didn’t really know her,” Gwen said. “I just heard about her from so many people. I work at the flower shop on the edge of the park—”

“Joanie Graham’s place?”

“Yes. So many people came by to send things to her. And my aunt spoke highly of her. She must have been a very special woman.”

“She was,” he said. “Please. Come in.”

“All right. Just for a moment.” She stepped across the threshold, saw the house was packed with people.

“This way.” He closed the door and then fell into step beside her, guiding her through the crush of friends and neighbors with a polite hand at her back, down the hall.

She felt a little tremble shoot down her spine, a little spooked at his touch, a little…well,
pleased
was the only word that seemed to fit. Honestly, she wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger. She wasn’t scared of him. Not here in the middle of a house full of people. No one was going to hurt her here. But the thought of finding it pleasant to have him touch her was just as unsettling.

She’d thought for a while after the attack that she would be happy if no one ever touched her again, but her therapist had warned her that touch was something the human body craved, much in the same way it needed food to eat and air to breathe. Not necessarily a romantic touch, but any kind of touch. A hug. A hand in hers. A friendly shoulder to cry on. Anything.

No one touched her anymore.

It was one of the saddest realizations she’d had in months.

What in the world was she going to do about that?

Gwen glanced guiltily up at the good-looking man at her side. He would not be helping her with that particular problem.

She started babbling, as she tended to do when she was nervous.

“I saw the cars on my way home…. I live just around the block. My aunt was Charlotte, and when she moved to Florida a few months ago, she offered me the use of her house.” Aunt Charlotte had admitted to being in a terrible rut after her husband died and very, very lonely. Her two sons, their wives and children had settled in Florida four years ago, and she missed them terribly. Now that her husband was gone, there was nothing keeping her here. She’d leased a furnished condo, left all her things behind and gone to Florida to try out living there. If she liked it, she was moving permanently. “She spoke very highly of your mother,” Gwen said. “And…well, when I saw that you
had a crowd of people dropping by, I thought someone might be hungry….”

Her voice trailed off at the end. They’d gotten to the kitchen where the counters were already overflowing with culinary offerings.

“I guess everyone else had the same idea,” she said, feeling both foolish and intrusive now.

“No, it’s good.” He took the quiche from her and found a place for it on the counter. “My sisters were in a panic this afternoon, claiming the house would be full and that we didn’t have anything to offer anyone. They were about to call the deli on the corner and beg them for an emergency delivery of some trays of food, when friends and neighbors started arriving, bringing things. People have been very kind.”

Gwen nodded, seeing clearly that no matter how kind anyone had been, this man was still sad and tired. And she’d been having entirely inappropriate thoughts about him at a time like this.

He’d probably been exhausted before he’d set out to run today, maybe intent on exhausting himself even more to forget for a little while what had happened.

“I’m sorry you lost her,” she said. “I know how hard that is.”

He nodded. “Thanks…. Uh. Sorry. I didn’t even ask your name.”

“Gwen,” she said. “Gwen Moss.”

He held out his hand, gripped hers for a moment and said, “Jackson Cassidy. Most people call me Jax.”

“If there’s anything I can do…” she said.

He nodded. “I guess we’ll need flowers. I forgot. I want her to have lots of them. Pretty, colorful ones. Not funeralish stuff. She liked big, bold colors.”

“Whatever you want,” Gwen promised, although she hated doing funeral arrangements.

“I’ll come in. Soon. My sisters and I have about a million things to do, and I think flowers ended up on my list of things to take care of.”

She wanted to tell him they’d make it as quick and painless as possible for him, but doubted anything about this would be painless. Life was so difficult at times.

She’d been completely unprepared for that. Somehow, she’d gotten the idea that life was supposed to be a breeze, that bad things would somehow simply not touch her.

Was that the way it was supposed to be? Or had she just gotten unlucky, been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

That’s what the detective had said to her. Wrong place, wrong time. While she’d sat shivering on a darkened curb near an even darker alley, on a cold, dreary night that still had the power to send her shooting out of bed screaming.

Gwen looked up to find Jack Cassidy staring down at her. She wondered exactly how his mother had died. In a warm, safe bed surrounded by the people who loved her and not feeling any pain? The kind of death a person saw coming from miles away, which gave her all the time she needed to say her goodbyes and tell the people she loved how important they were to her?

Gwen hoped Mrs. Cassidy went just like that, then wondered if it really mattered at all. If anything could lessen the pain of losing someone you loved. The woman was still gone, after all.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Gwen nodded. “I just…It’s been a tough year. I should go.”

She turned to do just that, and then saw the dog. Romeo, if possible, looked even more solemn than Jackson Cassidy had. His head hung low as he moped into the kitchen and whined pitifully.

“Oh, you poor baby,” Gwen said.

He looked up at her with sad, puppy-dog eyes, and she bent down and fussed over him, taking his snout between her two hands and touching her nose to his wet one. She kissed his face, then released him and stood back up.

Romeo brushed up against her, leaning into her side, and she rubbed the soft fur on his equally soft head.

“He was your mother’s dog?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I remember my aunt talking about what a gorgeous dog your mother had, but I hadn’t seen him since I came to the neighborhood.”

“My mother hadn’t been out much in the last few months, and Romeo didn’t want to leave her side.”

“Oh.” It made her even sadder for the dog. He was sitting at her feet, and she leaned down and hugged him. He gave a little whine and stuck out his bottom lip, as if to show the depths of his misery.

One of these sad, lost males was going to make her cry tonight if she didn’t watch out.

She stood up one more time, determined to go. “I’d be happy to help with the dog. Or with anything. Honestly. Just give me a call. I’m at—”

“I know the house,” he said. “I grew up here, and Mrs. Moss has been there ever since I can remember. I’ll come see you about the flowers tomorrow…. Wait. That’s Sunday, isn’t it? I guess Monday morning.”

“We can do them tomorrow afternoon, if you’re having visitation on Monday.”

“We will. I guess.” He frowned. “Sorry, it’s just—”

“I know. All a jumble.”

“I hate to ask someone to come in on a Sunday,” he began.

“We deal with this sort of thing all the time at the shop.” People just kept dying. She hadn’t expected to be in the middle of it, in a flower shop, although she supposed she would have known, if she’d just given it some thought. Flowers didn’t only mark happy times. “It’s no problem.”

Gwen would go to Sunday-morning services at church and to the shop afterward.

“Thanks,” Jax said.

She nodded. “I should go now. The front door is this way?”

“Yes, but your house is just three houses down, if you use the back alley.” His hand was back, resting in the small of her back. He must be used to leading women around, because he did it with a certain amount of grace and effortlessness she couldn’t help but admire.

He probably did everything that way. Some people were just born with an incredible sense of confidence.

“I think Romeo needs to go out, anyway,” he said. “We’ll walk you.”

“Oh, no.” She panicked a little, in spite of herself, trying to save herself by adding in a much friendlier tone, “You don’t have to do that.”

He stopped right there in the middle of the kitchen, his gaze narrowing on her face. She wondered exactly what he saw in her expression. For the most part, she thought she managed to keep the worst of it fairly well hidden. She’d just been surprised, and it was dark out and she really didn’t know him. She didn’t want to be in a dark alley with anyone, let alone a big, powerful man she really didn’t know.

“It’s all right,” he said, still watching her more closely than she would have liked. “You’re in good hands. I’m a cop and Romeo’s a K-9-school dropout. Between the two of us, I think we can handle any trouble that could possibly come along in the alley. Although, I have to tell you, I’ve been traveling it since I was five, and the only trouble I’ve ever met with there was skinned knees from bicycle wrecks and a bloody lip here and there, if we really crashed or another kid threw a punch at me.”