Undercover Love (The Women of Manatee Bay, Book 2) (6 page)

She looked to be in the throes of a nervous breakdown. She’d done a horrible thing and it showed. Rachel shook her head and stood. She didn’t need a mentally unstable person staying with her. Especially her back-stabbing sister.

It was one thing to avenge her, another to take care of her.

Rachel grabbed her purse off the only clean spot on her mother’s chipped counter. The spot she’d wiped down earlier. “Thanks for the cut. I’ve got to go. See you in a few months.” She spun around and left her mom standing in the kitchen, mouth hanging open like one of those gaping fish she watched on Discovery last night.

Rachel marched out of the kitchen, picked her way through the mess in the living room, and reached for the door. Turning the handle, she flung it open and then let out a groan. Grant stood there, fist poised to knock. What was he doing here?

Sunlight dappled his tan skin and illuminated the blond in his hair. He flashed her a white-toothed smile. No doubt the smile he used on all available females.

Except for her, his smile was mocking.

Rachel stepped forward. “Excuse me.”

He blocked the narrow stairway that led from the rusted door to the grassless patch of land her mom’s trailer sat on. He’d raised up some dust with his patrol car, she guessed. It swirled through the air, burned her eyes and made her want to sneeze.

Which only worsened her mood. “Stop grinning like that.” She pinned him with her best glare. “Move it.”

He didn’t budge. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“Why are you here?” she countered.

“Charlie asked me to stop by since my shift is over and my place is down the road.”

“Mom’s inside.” She parted from the doorway and beckoned him in. As soon as he entered, she’d slide past him. 

“I’m here to see you,” he said without  moving.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grant stepped into the dingy little living room and his head practically hit the ceiling. He looked out of place, all decked up in his black uniform. It fit him well, stretching across his broad shoulders and emphasizing the trimness of his physique. The black fabric contrasted nicely with his gorgeous smile.

Rachel lifted her chin. She was being ridiculous, ogling him and practically drooling.

“Just call me later." She popped out the front door, down the rickety steps, and angled through the dirt to her SUV.

Her hair was definitely going to need a wash. She slid her fingers to where her freshly cut strands curved softly beneath her chin. Coming out here had been worth it. She didn’t need a mirror to know Mom had done a great job.

Stairs creaked and she spun around. Grant strode towards her, the smile wiped off his face. Quickly she opened the door to the car and slipped in. He caught the door before she could shut it.

“Quit being difficult. I wanted to let you know we’ve got a lead on the shooter,” he said, bending down so they were eye to eye.

“But. . . How?”

“Shell casings, a witness.”

“Already? That’s great.” Relief softened her muscles, helped her release a deep sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.

“You were worried?”

“Not worried, but interested in justice. What's the motive?”

“We’re working on that. Do you have any ideas?”

“I was probably the target. Didn’t you look at that flash drive?”

“Yup.”

“The mayor had to know his adultery spells the end of his career. He’s going down.”

Grant’s brow lifted.

“Oh, come on. He wanted to stop me from ruining his life.”

He shook his head. “Let the police figure things out. In the meantime, get off Mayor Owens’ case. I doubt he’d kill over proof of some straying.”

Rachel’s teeth crunched.
Some straying
? “People kill over that all the time. Someone shot me and if you
cops
,” she emphasized the slang just to annoy him, “don’t find the perp, then I will. I could have died.” The last word wobbled a little, to her mortification.

His forehead crinkled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Gulping, she looked down. She hated to show weakness. While she was trying to figure out an answer that wouldn’t be a lie she heard him stir. Then he touched the bandage on her neck. It crackled beneath the gentle pressure of his finger. 

She ventured a look into his eyes. A mistake. They were filled with concern and softened any lingering temper from dealing with her family. A hesitant smile curved her mouth. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She cleared her throat. “How’s everything with you? Did you find your cat?”

“No.” His hand dropped and he stood.

Her lips pressed together. It figured Mr. Smooth didn’t like to edge into personal territory. Well, neither did she.

Sparing Grant a smile as she shut the door, she started the car and backed out of her mom’s yard. But guilt followed her down the dirt road that led out of the neighborhood. The image of Grant standing in Mom’s yard faded, replaced by Maggie, eyes empty, head down.

Rachel sighed in surrender and stomped the brakes. She turned around and let the car crawl back to her mom’s. She felt God’s hand nudging her and despite the pain, regardless of how the memories spiked her blood pressure when she was near Maggie, she’d go.

She pulled into the dusty driveway. Grant was still there, petting Silky, mom’s ancient cat.

***

Grant straightened when he saw Rachel’s car easing back onto her mother’s property. She drove slowly, as if unwilling to come closer than she had to.

She killed the engine. Sat in her car looking at him. What was she thinking? He ran his fingers through his hair, then thumbed his duty belt.

Rachel McCormick wasn’t the woman he’d thought her to be. It galled, knowing he still owed her an apology for the way he’d treated her that night at the Owens. He’d just read Colossians this morning and discovered he was supposed to forgive people the way God forgave him. A funny thing, Christianity. All the Christians he’d ever known, with a few exceptions, had been hypocrites. They knew the rules but didn't follow them.

He squinted. Take Rachel. She wouldn’t know a rule if it hit her in the head. He’d always thought she was cold and selfish but now he was beginning to realize how off the mark he was. At least on the cold part.

Her car door opened and she stepped out. Grant fought the urge to stare at the way her hair sliced under her chin, emphasizing sharp cheekbones and slanted eyes. After he swallowed his pride and apologized, he’d work on avoiding her.

Even if she was more human than he’d originally thought, she still rubbed him wrong. Eyes averted, she walked toward him, her face set in its typical uppity look. Her chin tilted upward as she passed.

He reached out and grabbed her arm before he could stop himself. “No hello, Princess?”

She jerked to a stop and he watched, mesmerized, as pink raced up her slender neck and suffused her face.

“Excuse me?”

Grant fought back his grin. Boy, she sounded mad. Ironically, he found her fascinating. Compelling. What made her tick?

He released her arm. “Just thought you’d say hello. Seems kind of rude to pass me by like that.”

The color on her cheeks deepened. “Is that so?”

“Don’t get prissy.”

“I’m not.” She sounded remarkably close to hissing. Kind of like Helga did when he didn’t pet her just right. He sure missed that cat.

Grant changed his stance. He’d better back down before Rachel had an aneurysm.

“Look,” he said, holding up his hand in a gesture of surrender. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“More news?” Her eyebrows, two arcs of color on milky skin, lifted.

Grant swallowed. This was more difficult than he’d figured. The words seem to stick somewhere in his ribcage, like he had a rock on his chest holding them down. He cleared his throat.

She crossed her arms. Her eyes, emerald in the sun, seemed to wink at him. “Having trouble spitting it out?”

Grant cleared his throat again, hoping the words would come easier. “I just . . . Um, well.” Here it went. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. He could practically see the disbelief.

“Just thought you should know that.”

Rachel rocked back on her heels. “Okay. Sorry for what?”

“The night at the Owens’ house.” Was his skin as red as it felt?

“You were doing your job.”

“I got personal, and I had no call treating you that way.”

She bit her lower lip and for a moment Grant thought she looked as vulnerable as a little child who had just realized she was lost in a store. Then the look flickered away, replaced with wintry boredom. “No problem. Listen, I’ve got to talk to my mom. I’ll see you around.”

Grant nodded, admiring the way she stalked up to the house. A woman on a mission. He meandered to his truck, mulling over his unexpected response to her.

Sure, he’d had a crush on her in high school. Every boy he’d known did. And she’d eaten it up. Not anymore, though. Rachel was all business now. Sometimes he wondered if it was a shield she wore to cover her feelings.

His lips twisted as he opened the truck door and climbed in. Hadn’t some guy dumped her a few years ago? He vaguely remembered Rachel coming home with a city boy on her arm. A slick-faced preacher kid.

He gunned his engine and drove off, refusing the impulse to check his rearview mirror, just to see if Rachel still stood on her mother’s lawn. He pressed down the need to see her again. There was no reason he could think of, only a gut-wrenching desire to see her smile. Something about her smile cut him to the bone, made him remember longings he’d put away while still a boy.

And that was the silliest thing he'd ever felt, but the emotion persisted all the way home.   

***

“This is only temporary.” Rachel set her sister’s suitcase on the floor of the spare bedroom later that afternoon.

Maggie nodded, auburn hair falling past her face in a soft wave. She stood in the doorway of the room like a pale shadow, so different from the vibrant cheerleader Rachel remembered.

She patted the suitcase and tried to refocus on the woman her sister was now. “You can help yourself to whatever food you want. I’ve got plenty of Little Debbies and I’m gone every day at work.” She hesitated before plunging on. “No smoking, alcohol or parties.” She expected a dirty look from her sister, some smart-aleck remark.

But Maggie just went and sat on the double bed that served as the main furniture in the room. Though simple in structure, the price tag had been steep. No one had used the mattress thus far. Maggie would be the first.

Rachel sighed deeply, ignoring the dismay that tensed her shoulders. Maggie was in a dark, emotional pit. The furniture would be fine. She wished she would have stayed in contact with her sister now. Felt remorse burning a hole in her heart. Her shoulders straightened. There was no need to feel regret, to feel sorry for distancing herself from Maggie. After Scott . . .

She waited for the familiar bitterness to clog her throat. It didn’t disappoint, but rose up sour and thick. Five years and she hadn’t gotten over things. That was scarier than having Maggie in her house and so she escaped the bedroom, the door clicking behind her.

She grabbed her purse and headed out. She was supposed to meet Katrina today at the animal shelter. The drive took an hour. She spent the entire time trying to figure out why memories of Scott still hurt so much. Thinking about love switched her brain onto a new track. Grant Harkness. It was his smile, the kindness in his eyes when he’d apologized. By the time Rachel got to the shelter, she felt frazzled and unsure.

Her iPhone read a quarter past four. Late. Already Maggie was messing with her schedule.

She checked herself in the rearview mirror, added lipstick for good measure and hurried into the small brick building. She banished Grant to the back of her mind, the same place he’d been for the last few months before he’d started turning nice.

In the waiting room, two orange plastic chairs sat against a gray wall, on which hung at least a dozen pictures. A rectangular glass table stood in front of a line of more chairs. The table was topped with magazines. A lone plant sat sentry in a corner. The room was empty.

Disappointment lodged deep in her gut. She couldn’t expect Katrina to wait for her. She and Alec were here on business.

Rachel walked to the wall and studied the pictures.

Cats and dogs, everywhere. Someone had pasted a label beneath each picture with the animal’s name and age. Poor things. It wouldn’t be so bad to pick one up. Hair could be vacuumed off the carpet. And if she regularly bathed the animal, there’d be no stink. She mulled the idea over, chewing her bottom lip.

It would be nice to have a pet to cuddle with.

“Rachel?” Katrina’s voice intruded on her thoughts.

“Hey.” Warmth blossomed in her chest. “Are you and Alec finished?”

Katrina smiled. “He’s in there wheeling and dealing. I thought I’d wait for you to look around.”

“You are the best person in the world.” Rachel hooked her arm through Katrina’s and steered her toward the reception desk. “I’m thinking of getting a kitten.”

The elderly woman behind the desk looked up and smiled at them. “Cats make wonderful pets. Follow me.” She stood and led them to a hallway. “When you’re done looking, go through that door and it’ll lead back to the reception area.” She smiled again and backed through the door.

Concrete stretched before them. Dim lights illuminated the rooms on either side of the narrow walkway. Cats meowed plaintively in their cages and Rachel’s heart did a little jump. The poor things. There was the smell of cat, too. A heavy, musty scent that wasn’t as disgusting as she’d thought it would be.

The smell reminded her of childhood. Of an innocence that had faded long ago.

“What kind do you want?” Katrina peered to the left.

“A non-hairy one.” Rachel walked to the right and skimmed the cages. “And preferably a kitten.”

Katrina pulled Rachel’s sleeve and beckoned to a cage. Inside sat a monstrously fat feline with long hair and slitted eyes.

“Ugh.” Rachel pulled away. “Not on my list.”

“But look at the date. They’re putting her to sleep tonight.”

“You don’t know that.” Rachel found a cage filled with three kittens. That was more like it. They fell over each other, nipping each other’s ears and letting out little growls.

“After eight days, all unclaimed adult animals are put to sleep.”

“Then you adopt her.” She glanced at the obese ball of fur. “She looks evil.”

Katrina made a face. “Don’t be weird. It’s a cat. I just feel bad she’ll die. I wish there was something I could do.”

Rachel watched the kittens but couldn’t shake the pity. “Why don’t you tell Alec to suggest to the shelter that they become a no-kill facility?”