by Elle James
The child slipped back beneath the bed. Andrew couldn’t take care of her until he subdued the animal Jeannette had become.
He grabbed her around the middle and held on.
She freed one of her hands and raked her nails down the side of his face.
Pain seared through him, but he didn’t let go. He carried her to the apartment door and shoved her out into the hallway, peeling her claws off of his arms. She had been like an octopus, clinging to him, refusing to let him return to rescue the girl.
Finally, he freed himself, slammed the door in her face and ran back into the thick smoke. He staggered into the bedroom, his eyes burning so badly he could barely see.
Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled under the bed, grabbed the girl by her leg and dragged her out.
She cried, coughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shirt. “Help me!”
When he turned toward the exit, the flames leaped. By then the blaze was so hot, Andrew felt as if he and the child would be cooked alive if he took a step back into the living room. He closed the bedroom door, grabbed a chair and flung it through a window. Smoke poured out into the night. He kicked the jagged shards out of the way and leaned out, hoping for a breath of fresh air.
Several emergency vehicles were parked on the street below, lights flashing, and the first responders were unloading equipment. Some ran toward the burning building.
People huddled in small groups, pointing upward to the window through which Andrew leaned. He wished he and the girl could be counted among them. Instead of hanging out a window, uncertain of their fate.
An explosion behind him nearly knocked him and the child over the ledge.
Two firefighters leaned an extension ladder against the wall of the building and one man started up. When he neared the top, he reached for the child.
The little girl refused to let go. Andrew finally peeled her arms from around his neck and handed her to the firefighter. Step by step, he eased back down the ladder, careful not to drop the girl.
The door exploded behind him and Jeannette ran in, carrying a flaming blanket. She tried to throw it at Andrew, but it tangled in her arms and caught her hair on fire.
Screaming, she ran around in circles, trying to pat the fire out with the blazing blanket.
Andrew tackled her, slapping at the flames with his bare hands. Pain seared through his skin. Jeannette pushed him off, ran for the window, hiked herself up over the sill and flung herself out.
Numb from pain and the smoke filling his lungs, Andrew dragged himself back to the window and over the ledge. One hand had been burned so badly he couldn’t use it to hold on to the metal ladder. One rung at a time, he eased himself downward. Ten feet from the ground, his body and lungs gave up the fight. He fell the rest of the way, landing beside the limp body of the woman who’d condemned her daughter to death. Then he passed out.
* * *
A sound woke Andrew from the nightmare. He sat up, drenched in sweat, and pushed his hand through his hair. Why couldn’t time heal his mind? Surely a year was enough to push the horrible event from his memories.
Another noise penetrated the lingering haze of his dream and he tilted his head, straining to pinpoint the direction. It was coming from Leigha’s bedroom.
He flung back the covers, leaped from the bed and ran through the connecting door, skidding to a halt at the foot of her bed.
Leigha lay sleeping peacefully, her body curled into the side of Dix’s.
Dix’s eyes were open and she had a finger pressed to her lips. “She’s fine, just wanted someone to hold her,” she whispered.
Andrew let go of the breath he’d been holding and relaxed. Seeing the two of them lying there so close made him realize just how similar they were. Leigha had golden-blond hair. So did Dix. Leigha had blue eyes like him, that clear ice blue. Though Dix had moss green eyes, on first impression, she could pass as Leigha’s mother.
Andrew’s chest tightened and he squeezed his fists, the pull on his scars a painful reminder he wasn’t the man he used to be. Scarred and besieged by horrific nightmares, he wasn’t fit to be anything to anybody. Leigha was his only concern. Making her life better, giving her the happiness she deserved after what she’d been through, was his number one priority. Andrew was surprised the child didn’t have more nightmares than she did.
Andrew backed up a step, determined to return to his room and forget how different he’d pictured his life. Then he remembered why he’d come into the room in the first place. “I heard a noise. Did you?”
Dix’s cheeks flushed with color and her gaze darted to a corner. “Sorry. I was having a bad dream. I might have called out.”
With a nod, Andrew took another step backward. “I know how it feels,” he muttered. A little louder he said, “Sleep well.” And he left the room, almost running back to his own.
For a long time, he lay in the bed, unwilling to go back to sleep, knowing the nightmare would return. Instead he filled his mind with the image of Leigha and Dix holding each other. It warmed his heart and eventually allowed him to drift into a deep, dreamless sleep. Deep down, he knew it was a mistake to frame that image in his mind. Dix was a temporary solution, not to be confused with a permanent relationship. That could never happen.
Chapter 6
“Dix?” a tiny voice whispered in her ear.
Dix tried to brush the sound away with her hand.
Little fingers caught her hand and held on. “Dix, are you awake?”
“No,” Dix answered, trying to pull her hand free. She opened her eyes and closed them immediately as sunlight assaulted them with cheerful brightness. “Please tell me it’s not morning.”
A little giggle sounded beside her and a warm, soft body squirmed against her side. “Okay, I won’t tell you. But you have to get up soon. My tummy is rumbling and I smell bacon.”
Dix inhaled the mouthwatering scent and the rest of her body came alive. “Wow, that does smell like bacon.” She rolled over to face Leigha. “What are we waiting for?”
“Last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg.” Leigha leaped out of bed and ran for the door.
“Last one dressed and down to the kitchen is a rotten egg.” Dix rolled out of the bed, onto her feet, and raced for the bedroom door. She ran out into the hall and smacked into a wall of muscles.
She staggered back but a hand on her arm kept her from falling. She glanced up into the twinkling blue eyes of Andrew Stratford. For a moment he looked familiar. Then she remembered the more rakish image of a man with similar hair color and those sparkling blue eyes. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and looked again. No, it was her client, Mr. Stratford. Perhaps her mind had played tricks on her with the ghostly image of a mobster Andrew Stratford.
“Are you all right, Miss Reeves?” His hands on her arms tightened.
“I am. And I can stand on my own.”
Immediately he released her and dropped his arms to his sides. Then his brows rose into the tuft of hair that fell over his forehead. “Do you always run around half dressed?”
Heat burned in her cheeks as Dix remembered she’d gone to bed in an oversize T-shirt and not much more. The hem more than covered all of the important parts, but it only came down to just below her bottom, with a long expanse of legs left bare. “I was just headed to my room to dress.”
A whirl of pink flashed by her, long curls flying out behind as Leigha darted between them and ran for the staircase. “I’m not going to be a rotten egg!” Her little feet moved in double time as she descended the staircase.
“Slow down!” Stratford yelled.
“Can’t,” Leigha responded. “You wouldn’t want me to be a rotten egg, would you?”
Dix chuckled.
Her client frowned. “What is she talking about?”
“I told her the last one dressed and down to the kitchen would be a rotten egg.” Dix shrugged. “I guess that will be me. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll put on something more presentable.”
His frown deepened. “Do that.”
Dix turned and started for the door down the hall, but something made her turn back to her client. “You know, you look a lot more approachable when you smile.” She held up her hand to stop him from saying anything. “Just saying.” Then she ducked through the door and closed it behind her. She didn’t require a response, and she knew it wasn’t her place to tell the client he had a grumpy face. But, boy, it transformed when he smiled. That smile practically made her heart flutter and her knees grow weak.
Hmm. Maybe it was better if he continued to frown. She didn’t need the distraction of his smile muddying her perspective.
She threw on a clean, if wrinkled, T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, slipped into her brogan boots and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Satisfied she was ready to work, she eased open the door to the hallway. Thankfully, Stratford wasn’t there for her to crash into again. She found standing so close to him to be very unnerving. The breadth of his shoulders and the incredible blue of his eyes made her feel a little off balance, not quite on her game.
Dix followed the smell of bacon to the kitchen.
Mrs. Purdy stood at the stove, ladling a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Oh, there you are. Miss Leigha has been talking nonstop about you.”
Dix drew in a long, deep sniff. “Is that bacon I smell?”
“No, it’s rotten eggs,” Leigha piped in and giggled. “I beat you down.”
“And so you did.” Dix rubbed her hand over the little girl’s hair. “I’ll be smelling like rotten eggs for a week.”
“Don’t be silly. That’s only pretend.” She smiled up at her. “Are you staying here forever?” Leigha’s gaze shone up at Dix, her brows high and her expression hopeful.
“I don’t know about that, but I’m here now and I’m going to be with you all day.” Dix patted the child’s cheek. “How does that sound?”
“Great!” Leigha said, bouncing in her seat.
Dix turned toward the housekeeper. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, ma’am. You just sit there and keep Leigha company while I serve up your breakfast.” Mrs. Purdy leaned toward Dix. “I’m just glad the little sweetheart is feeling better this morning.”
Dix snorted. “You’d never know she’d been sick last night.”
Mrs. Purdy sighed. “Oh, to be so young and resilient again.” She handed Dix a plate piled with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits. “Enjoy.”
“This isn’t all for me, is it?”
“Honey, you’ll need all the energy you can get to keep up with that one.” Mrs. Purdy tipped her head toward Leigha.
“Surely one little girl won’t be that much trouble.”
“Not at all, but she’s constant motion. If you try to keep up with her, you’ll be going from the time she leaves that table until the time her head hits the pillow.” Mrs. Purdy turned back to the skillet. “Trust me. I speak from experience.”
Dix sat across the table from Leigha. “Is she right? Are you constantly on the go?”
Leigha looked up, wide-eyed. “Who, me?”
“Are there any other little girls in this room?” Dix asked.
Leigha glanced around and shrugged. “No.”
“Then that would mean you.”
Her brows dipped and she puffed out her chest. “I don’t get into trouble.”
“But I imagine sometimes you disappear?” Dix queried.
Leigha’s frown deepened. “No, I don’t.” She held up her arm. “I can see me.” She stared up at Dix. “Can’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
The little girl didn’t wait for Dix to explain. She looked past Dix and asked, “Can you see me, Mr. Stratford?”
“I certainly can.”
The deep voice behind Dix made her jump.
Footsteps brought the man around the table to ruffle his daughter’s hair.
Dix tensed with a forkful of eggs remaining poised halfway to her mouth. The air around her seemed to sizzle with Stratford’s presence.
“I see Mrs. Purdy has been busy this morning. She’s the best cook on the entire Oregon coast.”
Mrs. Purdy laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. I can stir a pan of eggs and make a mean lasagna, but I’m not quite as good as Nora Taggert.”
“Mrs. Taggert’s got nothing on you,” Stratford insisted.
“You know best.” Mrs. Purdy shifted her spatula in the pan full of eggs. “Speaking of which... You remember I’m leaving at noon today. I’m taking my husband in to Portland for a doctor’s appointment. I won’t be back until tomorrow. You’ll have to fend for yourself for dinner tonight.”
“No worries, Mrs. P.,” Stratford said. “I can open a can of beans.”
“I can burn toast on a good day,” Dix offered. She really was terrible in the kitchen. “I can make a decent salad. Basically, I’m hopeless at anything that requires an oven or stove.”
Mrs. Purdy turned to face Dix. “You three should go out to the Seaside Café and sample some of Nora’s fine cooking. Then you can judge for yourself who’s the better cook.”
Dix noted the frown descending on Stratford’s face. Already he was shaking his head.
Leigha bounced in her chair. “Mrs. Taggert has ice-cream cones. Please, Mr. Stratford. Please can we go?”
“I don’t know,” Stratford said.
“It’s been months since you got out of this old monstrosity of a house,” Mrs. Purdy pointed out. “It would do you good.” She turned to Dix. “And you need to show Miss Reeves around town. If she’s staying for a while, she needs to know where to find things.”
Dix glanced up at Stratford and almost grinned at his discomfort. She found the fact interesting that a man as strong and handsome as he was didn’t like leaving the house.
He lifted a hand to his scarred cheek, his lips pressing into a line. “Miss Reeves can take Leigha. I’ll stay home. I have work to do.”
“Oh, pooh. That’s your code for ‘I don’t want to.’ Your friend needs someone to show her around the town. As her host, you have a responsibility to do that. No, you should have the decency to give her a tour of Cape Churn. Show her where to find groceries, the drugstore, library, sheriff’s office and anywhere else she might need at a moment’s notice.”
The more Mrs. Purdy pushed, the deeper Stratford’s frown grew.
“If she ends up watching out for Leigha, she needs to know these things.” Mrs. Purdy crossed her arms over her chest.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” He pointed at the stove. “You’re burning my eggs.”
Mrs. Purdy threw her hands in the air and spun back to the stove to rescue the eggs, muttering, “Wouldn’t have burned them if my boss wasn’t so darned stubborn.”
“I heard that,” Stratford said. “I’m in the same room.”
The housekeeper scraped the eggs onto a plate loaded with bacon and carried it to the table. “Good. I wanted you to hear it. You’re a stubborn man, Andrew Stratford. As stubborn as your grandfather.”
“And my father,” he added, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I’d rather be stubborn than a pushover.”
Mrs. Purdy snorted. “You only need to be smart enough to know when to use that quality and when to let it go.”
Dix fought the chuckle threatening to rise up her throat. Watching the big, strong Andrew Stratford battle it out with a five-foot-nothing housekeeper and lose was highly entertaining.
“I’m done eating. Are you?” Leigha glanced across the table at Dix.
“Almost.” Dix really didn’t want to
leave the table while Stratford and Mrs. Purdy were going at it, but she had a job to do, and her name was Leigha.
Shoving the last bite of eggs into her mouth, she carried her plate to the sink, grabbed the two pieces of bacon from it and hurried after Leigha. To stir the pot, she paused on her way past Stratford. “I’ll have Leigha dressed and ready by five thirty this afternoon.”
Stratford had just lifted his fork when he glanced up. “Ready?”
“Seaside Café? Dinner?” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t disappoint your daughter, would you?” Dix didn’t wait for his answer. The fact that his brows met in the middle was what she had hoped for.
Mrs. Purdy smothered a chuckle by the sink.
Brewer trotted after Leigha, leaving the temptation of bacon in the kitchen. If Dix wasn’t mistaken, the dog stayed with Leigha to protect her as much as Dix would. Which reminded her... She needed to talk to Stratford about the expected threats before they ventured too far out of the house. She needed to know what to be on the lookout for. Otherwise, she’d be more or less walking into the Devil’s Shroud blindfolded.
* * *
Andrew’s gaze followed Dix out of the kitchen. The woman might be tomboyish, but the sway of her hips was purely feminine.
“I like her,” Mrs. Purdy said. “I think it will be good for Leigha to have another woman around her.”
He pushed back from the table. “Don’t say it.”
“What? That the girl needs a mother?” Mrs. Purdy smiled. “Okay. I won’t. But it’s true.”
“She has me.”
Mrs. Purdy’s brows rose. “A girl needs a mother to show her the ropes of being female.”
“Not the mother she had.”
“Agreed. But someone who’s strong and independent and can show compassion.” Mrs. Purdy nodded. “Sounds like Dix, doesn’t it?”
“You just met her,” he said, carrying his plate to the sink.
“I have a good sense of who people are. Dix is the real deal. She seems honest, open and a good influence for Leigha.”
“As long as she keeps a close eye on her. I don’t want her getting lost in the woods again.”
