Chapter Twelve
A stop at a Dairy Queen after leaving the hospital improved Jacob’s mood, and even Seth’s, Robin thought. Maybe hers, too. French fries and ice cream fixed everything.
It was astonishing how quickly Michael’s house had started to feel like home. Robin sighed with relief walking in—until she saw the torn wall in the hall just beyond the kitchen. These weren’t just bullet holes, Seth explained, because a crime scene investigator had dug the bullets out of the wall. More blasé about it than she could be, he experimentally poked his fingers in one hole. His father had fired fewer shots, and had been more accurate, so presumably a couple were embedded in the intruder’s Kevlar vest, while only one shot had nicked a corner of the kitchen island.
She stood looking around. “A shoot-out here.” If she hadn’t lived through it, she’d have thought it inconceivable—but then, she’d never expected to find a dead body in any place she lived, either.
Seth glanced at her. “It can happen anywhere.”
“Apparently. When I moved here, Lookout seemed so peaceful.”
“Relatively speaking, it is. That’s why the department needs only one detective. But we have burglaries, domestic abuse, assaults, drunkenness and ugly traffic accidents just like anyplace else.”
And the occasional murder.
Seth had mentioned buying some Play-Doh, and now he said, “I need to cover that broken glass. Once I’ve done that, let’s be artists.”
Jacob liked watching Seth tack a piece of plywood he’d found in the barn over the upper half of the door. Robin tried to let Seth off the hook on the artist part—him buying the stuff in the first place was contribution enough—but he shook his head. “I need an excuse to play.”
Lacking any artistic ability, Robin was intrigued to see how deftly he created a variety of animals before squishing them out of existence to form the next. Jacob concentrated hard and made a creature he called a “doggie” that was semirecognizable and not a whole lot cruder than her own efforts, which Seth eyed with amusement.
Jacob settled down then with his Tobbles, a toy that he seemed to find endlessly fascinating. He could make towers, nest the individual pieces, spin them and laugh uproariously when he knocked the whole thing down.
Seth made coffee for himself and Robin, calling to check on his father while it brewed.
“Asleep,” he reported.
“During his whole career, he was never shot?” she asked, her guilt stirred again.
Seth shook his head, smiling. “Most cops aren’t. A lot never fire their own gun, either. Some of it has to do with where you work, some with how good you are at de-escalating tense situations, but luck plays a big part, too.”
“You wear one of those vests.”
“I do, in part because I have been shot. Didn’t feel good,” he added.
Robin hated the image of a bullet penetrating his flesh, him falling back, bloody and stunned like his father had been. Still, she was curious. “Were you, I don’t know, more nervous about doing your job afterward?”
He hesitated. “Nervous? No. More cautious? Yeah. It was a burglary in progress, and I’d left myself more exposed than I should have.” He shrugged. “Live and learn.”
Here she’d spent years with fear an ever-present companion, and Seth, who did a dangerous job, seemed blithe about the risks. Go figure.
He asked about her childhood, and she found herself sharing good times and bad. He opened up a little about losing his mother, probably because she’d just talked about her father’s death and how hard it had been to accept.
“When she was first diagnosed, I was still at an age to have some swagger,” Seth admitted. “On the job, I thought I could change the world. And why not? I’d never had big worries at home. Mom and Dad had a solid marriage, there were never any serious financial problems. I won’t say Grace and I were spoiled, but maybe close. As a kid, I thought my dad was a real hero, invincible.”
And he was, until she had come along, Robin couldn’t help thinking.
She said quietly, “Today he really was a hero. I’ll always see him that way.”
“Yeah.” Seth cleared his throat. “Yeah.” After a minute, he said, “Seeing him break down after Mom’s diagnosis, that really shook me. Of course she’d get better! My family was golden, right? Why wouldn’t he have faith?”
“He knew more than you did.”
His rueful gaze met hers. “Probably. To Grace and me, my parents tried to sound upbeat. Mom’s chemotherapy was going great. Sure, she lost her hair, but that summer was hot, and she bragged about how cool it was. Not having to wash, dry, style hair was a bonus. Maybe she’d stick to wigs and not bother growing her hair out again. She admitted to occasional nausea, but nowhere near as bad as she’d expected.” Seth gazed at the front window, seeing the past instead of the present, Robin guessed. “I was still living in Portland,” he continued. “Never occurred to me to wonder if I was getting the whole story. Until wham. Dad told me he was taking retirement. Mom had decided to refuse any more treatments. They weren’t working, and all they did was make her miserable.”
Robin reached across the sofa cushion separating them and took his hand. He grabbed on hard, sinews standing out on his forearm.
“I hadn’t been home in weeks.” His mouth twisted. “Too busy, you know.”
“Because your parents didn’t want you to feel that they needed you,” she pointed out.
“God forbid they be a burden on me.”
“Seth.” She waited until he was looking at her. “It’s also possible they needed that time with just the two of them. If you’d insisted on coming home to help sooner, you might have robbed them of a chance to appreciate each other and...say goodbye.”
He stared at her, unblinking. Finally, his shoulders loosened and he let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe.”
“And you came when they did need you,” she said gently.
“Yeah.” One corner of his mouth curled. “Thank you.” And he lifted her hand to his mouth.
The lingering kiss on her knuckles sent tingles up her arm. She hadn’t known how sensitive the skin there was.
Or maybe Seth made her whole body sensitive.
Jacob came over for a cuddle and wanted a snack. Robin peeled and cut up carrots and celery, setting out peanut butter and cream cheese for dips. She discovered that Seth liked peanut butter as much as her two-year-old did, but at least he didn’t smear it all over his face.
He had to take several phone calls that she gathered had to do with other investigations. Robin decided the late-afternoon DQ meal wouldn’t hold them until bedtime, and put potatoes and eggs on to boil for a potato salad.
Jacob was getting whiny and tired by the time the salad was ready to eat. She plopped him into the high chair with a toddler-size serving while she also made a fruit salad.
Seth had gone outside to talk, and she heard his phone ring one more time before he came in.
“That was Hammond. Your ex is definitely home. He claims to have flown to Spokane today. Of course he refused to name the client he supposedly met with. Attorney-client privilege.” He shook his head. “I’ll bet he has some whopping bruises on his chest.”
She stopped halfway between the refrigerator and the table. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Bullets don’t penetrate the vest, but that doesn’t mean the impact isn’t tremendous. You can end up with broken ribs or collarbone, too.”
“I can only hope,” Robin said acidly.
He smiled faintly. “I was thinking the same thing.”
After cleaning up Jacob’s face, she gave him a piece of cantaloupe to gnaw on and squish. She and Seth sat down to eat. Jacob started squirming long before Robin finished her meal, so she washed his hands and face again and set him down. Seth put on a video of cartoons for him and came back to the table.
�
�He’s winding down.”
“Yes. I’m glad he didn’t see more today, and didn’t understand what was happening.”
“Me, too. How are you holding up?”
* * *
OF COURSE SHE was fine.
Seth snorted. “I don’t buy that. I’m not fine. I came home to find my father bleeding on the floor. I saw that bullet hole above the stairs. How close did that come to you?”
She swallowed. “Too close. If not for your father—” The knuckles of her hand holding the fork gleamed white.
“Then quit pretending with me, okay?” He shouldn’t snap at her, but he’d been all over the emotional map today. The least she could give him was honesty.
Her temper sparked. “That’s not really fair. I’m a single mother. For Jacob, I can’t let myself surrender to emotion or the flu or anything else. I’m not in the habit of whining, anyway.”
Had she stayed with a vicious man longer than she had to because she couldn’t bring herself to ask for help? Seth was smart enough not to say that out loud. She was right, anyway; he wasn’t being fair. He thought his problem was that he wanted to know she trusted him. Did he want her to throw herself in his arms so he could feel manly?
Probably, although he might not respect her as much if she weren’t a woman who pulled herself up after every near-disaster and did what she had to do. Even if that was, occasionally, trying to take off in the middle of the night to go it alone.
“You’re right,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry.”
“Why do you suppose Richard called me?” she asked abruptly. “He couldn’t have really believed I’d just hand over Jacob.”
Seth forced himself to shift gears, to consider her question logically. “You so sure about that? He may be incapable of understanding maternal love. Or any love, for that matter.”
“I suppose that’s true.” She pushed back from the table. “I need to put Jacob to bed. If you’re not done eating—”
“I’ll put the leftovers away.” Would she come back down, or go to bed herself, however ridiculously early the hour? He didn’t ask. It might be best if he didn’t see her again this evening. His control felt shaky.
She nodded and left the kitchen. He heard her soft voice and then footsteps on the stairs.
Seth had another helping of potato salad, called to check on his father again and started clearing the table. The whole time, he pictured Robin upstairs. Kissing her son good-night. Brushing her teeth, washing her face...getting ready to take a shower?
He listened, but didn’t hear water running. Changing into pajamas, then.
He closed the dishwasher door and stiffened at the sound of footsteps on the stairs again. She appeared in the doorway.
“I don’t know if I can actually sleep yet. I keep thinking...you know.”
Seth knew.
“I thought I might watch TV or find a book.”
“You don’t have to ask permission.” He dried his hands. “Why don’t you pick out a download of a show if you see anything that appeals to you? I wouldn’t mind watching a movie.”
“Okay.” She vanished into the living room.
Seth squeezed the tight muscles in his neck. A quiet evening with only the two of them could tempt him into doing something he shouldn’t. After the brutality of her marriage, Robin might not be ready for a physical relationship with a man. Disturbed by the reminder, he turned off the overhead light in the kitchen and followed her.
She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television with the remote, flipping through the options. Hearing him, she looked over her shoulder. “It’s been years since I’ve watched many movies. Richard—” She shook off that memory. “Since then I haven’t had the energy.”
“I can see why, with your living 6:30 a.m. alarm.”
She smiled. “Is there something you want to watch?”
You.
“Maybe something on TV if you’d rather.” He hesitated. “Or we can talk, or sit here in dead silence. Whatever you’d prefer.”
After a minute she nodded, rose gracefully to her feet and approached the couch as warily as an antelope nearing a watering hole shared with a pride of lions.
He made a move to stand. “Would you rather be alone?”
“No. I mean, if there’s something else you’d rather be doing...”
Seth smiled gently. “There’s nothing.” He relaxed at one end of the couch and lifted his arm. “Come here.”
She came, melting into him as naturally as if they spent every evening like this—which he’d like to do. Seth cuddled her close and bent to rub his cheek against her hair. With his jaw bristly, strands of her hair clung to his face.
“Hey,” he said, lifting his head. “Your hair is growing out.”
“Out?” Robin sat up, clapping a hand to the top of her head. “You mean the color?”
“Yep. Let me see.” He waited until she dropped her hand and scrutinized the quarter of an inch—if that—of auburn roots. “You’ll let it grow out, won’t you?”
“No!” She twisted toward him in alarm, before blinking. “Well...I guess I can. You know, I was planning to go with light brown next.”
He tapped a forefinger on the freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose. “You’re a redhead, whether you like it or not.” Damn, the huskiness in his voice would tell her what he was thinking.
If she couldn’t already.
“Seth?” she whispered.
He cupped her jaw and cheek both, tracing her lips with his thumb. “Yeah?”
“Would you kiss me?”
He made a hoarse sound and obliged. The instant she parted her lips, his tongue drove inside. If hers hadn’t stroked his, twined around it, he might have retreated. As it was, the kiss quickly became deep and passionate. He kneaded the back of her neck, slid his other hand up her rib cage until it rested just beneath her breast.
When he lifted his mouth from hers for a quick breath, she scrambled onto his lap. Seth caught one glimpse of her face, cheeks flushed, eyes dreamy. Body surging, he repositioned her so that she straddled him. The tight clasp of her thighs drove him wild.
As the kiss became hungrier, he heard a low moan that had to have come from her throat. The sound ratcheted up his arousal. His evening beard must be scratching her skin, but if so she couldn’t mind too much.
She squirmed on him and his hips rocked involuntarily. He slid a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and stroked her back, finding the sharp edges of her shoulder blades, the delicate string of vertebrae. He squeezed her waist, wanting to get his hand between them but unwilling to give up the pleasure of feeling the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest.
Damn, he wished she wasn’t wearing pants. He kneaded her butt, nipped her lower lip. Desperation drove him to tear his mouth from hers.
“Robin, let me—”
Her stare held no comprehension.
“I want you.”
“Yes,” she whispered, and rocked forward and back until he was in acute pain.
A harsh groan escaped him. “No, we need to—”
What? Have sex right here on the sofa? With him distracted, they’d be vulnerable if someone shattered glass again and entered the house fast. He realized he’d quit paying attention to sounds from outside.
At least upstairs he’d have a warning.
“My bedroom,” he said.
Her lashes fluttered. Was that uncertainty he saw on her face? Having to ask that question forced him to recall his own reservations. He made himself lift her off his thighs and set her beside him on the couch.
“Robin,” he said again, gruffly. “I told myself I wouldn’t put you in this position.”
“This...position?”
Seth swore and lifted a shaky hand to scrub over his face. “You’re depending on me to keep you safe. If y
ou have any mixed feelings...”
Her spine stiffened and her chin jutted. “You think I’d go to bed with you if I really had reservations?”
Her tone told him he’d insulted her without intending to.
“That’s not—”
“It is.” Anger and hurt blazed in her eyes. “I asked you to kiss me.”
He glared at her.
Robin jumped up.
Seth stood, too, and reached for one of her hands. “I just didn’t want you to feel compromised.”
There was surprise on her face, but hurt was still there, too.
“What I said is about me. Cops have to be extra careful. I thought you were under enough pressure. That...what I feel for you could wait.” He grimaced. “Except, once I kiss you, I forget about doing the right thing.”
Shoulders still stiff, she said, “I’m an adult, Seth. I don’t know what will happen with Richard. Tonight feels like we’re in the eye of the hurricane. Everything is still swirling around, but here, now, we’re safe. I’m attracted to you. This...feels new to me. I was afraid I’d lose my chance if I let the moment pass by.”
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers.
“Let’s not look for excuses,” she said softly, nuzzling him. “Maybe this isn’t the right time.”
He jerked his head up. “Don’t say that. I was trying to be...scrupulous. But the truth is I’ve been aching for you, Robin.”
She took long enough to search his face that he was afraid she would back off. A nerve jerked in his cheek. Yeah, he wanted her desperately, but he didn’t know why he felt so much was riding on her decision now. There’d be a later.
But a tight, uncomfortable knot in his chest made him remember what happened to his father today. Half an inch to the right, and the shot that grazed Dad’s head would have killed him. The bullet hole above the staircase told him how easily Robin might have been wounded if not killed, too. He could have lost either or both today.
I was afraid I’d lose my chance if I let the moment pass by.
She was right. Tomorrow, anything could happen. He needed tonight.
Within Range Page 14
