Snowbound with the Soldier

by Jennifer Faye

  ‘She was delighted to accept.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘She lives in Bellerive, doesn’t she?’

  Lisle flicked through her files. He could have told her not to bother—he’d practically memorised Neen’s file down to the last detail.

  Lisle held up the file. ‘Yes, she does.’

  He took it. ‘I have a lunch appointment with the manager of Eastlands Shopping Centre.’ He was trying to convince the man—so far unsuccessfully—to sponsor a programme to provide traineeships for unemployed youth in the area. ‘While I’m on that side of the harbour I’ll drop the contract off to Ms Cuthbert.’

  Lisle handed him a copy of the contract without a word. She’d grown accustomed to his bull-in-a-china-shop approach long ago. ‘You know Harley’s job is going to be advertised next week, don’t you? You should think about applying, Rico.’

  ‘I’m more use on the ground, Lisle.’

  ‘You’re wasting your talents.’

  ‘I’m happy where I am.’

  He was making a difference. A real difference. And happiness didn’t come into it.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Monty, give it a rest,’ Neen muttered under her breath. She reached over and ramped up the volume on the radio in the hope of drowning out the dog’s great booming bark.

  She’d get complaints from the neighbours if this kept up, but...

  Her hand tightened around the red pepper she’d started to dice. She just needed half an hour to get the worst of tonight’s dinner prepared and then she’d let him back inside. Without her full attention he’d wreck her apartment. Knowing she was inside, however, he was obviously intent on barking...and barking...and barking until she did.

  She knew he was lonely. She knew he missed Audra. She knew he simply craved some company. Poor dumb dog. If he could be trusted just to sit at her feet and chew a bone...

  She glanced around at her chewed-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life furniture and shook her head. She opened the kitchen window instead. It looked out over the courtyard. ‘Hey, Monty!’

  He came charging up. Barking, barking, barking.

  ‘If you keep up with that kind of nonsense,’ she chided, ‘how will you ever hear what I have to say?’

  He quietened for a moment. The radio blared. She dragged in a breath. For good or ill, she had a way with dogs. ‘What we need to work out is the kind of home that would be best for you. Do you have any thoughts on the subject? I’m thinking no small children, as you’ll only knock them down, and—’

  He started barking his head off again. She continued to slice the onions, cabbage and red peppers for this evening’s stir-fry.

  ‘What I was thinking was a lovely big property where you could run about to your heart’s content, and...’

  He didn’t stop barking. He no longer looked at her, just barked and barked. Her chopping slowed. She glanced at him again. In fact, he seemed to be barking at a point behind her and—

  Her nape prickled. In the reflection of the window, something moved.

  Whirling around, she held the knife out in front of her, every muscle tensed and readied.

  A broad male figure loomed in the kitchen doorway. Adrenaline flooded her. Her heart clawed up into her throat. She gripped the knife harder.

  The figure raised his hands very slowly in a gesture of non-aggression and then he backed all the way down the hallway and out of her house until he stood on the other side of her screen door. Only then did her pounding brain recognise who it was that stood on the other side. Rico D’Angelo. Her new boss.

  Her heart didn’t stop hammering. Her hands didn’t unclench.

  Rico raised a hand and knocked. She didn’t hear it. Undoing her fist enough to reach out, she turned off the radio. ‘Quiet, Monty!’

  Amazingly, the animal obeyed her.

  ‘Neen, I’m sorry I frightened you.’

  She suddenly realised she was still holding the knife. With burning eyes she threw it into the sink. She gripped her hands together at her waist and tried to stop their shaking, tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. The lump dislodged itself to settle in her chest.

  ‘Mr D’Angelo.’ The shaking wouldn’t stop. ‘I...uh...come in.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I just wanted to drop this off.’ He held up a sheaf of papers.

  Monty promptly started barking again and her head throbbed in time with each booming sound. God, how to explain? She pressed her shaking fingers to her temples.

  ‘How about a walk? I take it that’s Monty, there? It sounds as if he could do with one.’

  Gradually, little by little, her heart rate started to slow. ‘I’m sure you’re busy.’

  ‘I dropped by so we could discuss a few things and to get your signature on the contract.’

  The normality of their conversation after her over-the-top reaction finally returned her pulse to normal.

  ‘I know I should’ve rung first, but I had an appointment in the area so I thought I’d drop by on the off-chance you’d be home.’

  She needed to get out of the house. She needed to find a sense of equilibrium again. ‘If you’re sure you have the time?’

  ‘I have the time.’

  ‘I’ll just get Monty’s leash.’

  She clipped the lead to Monty’s collar, led him through the house and locked her front door. She averted her gaze from the carport opposite and her car, with its four slashed tyres. She hoped her enigmatic employer hadn’t noticed them. She bit back an oath, her hand tightening on Monty’s lead. Mr D’Angelo must think he’d employed an utter fruitcake!

  ‘I’m pleased you accepted the position of café manager, Neen. I have great hopes for the café and I know you’re the perfect person to head this up.’

  His smile was too kind, too compassionate...too knowing. His tone too well modulated. She bit back a sigh. ‘You saw the tyres, didn’t you?’

  Monty chose that moment to try and yank her arm out of its socket. Without a word, Rico reached across and took the lead from her. He smelled of cold air and peppermint.

  ‘It happened today?’

  She folded her arms and nodded. ‘Which begs the question, why was I so careless as to leave the front door unlocked, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Monty?’

  She bit back a sigh. ‘It was all I could do to stay on my feet when I returned from the supermarket. Monty is always so...so delighted to see me.’ She could have sworn that she’d locked the screen door, but she mustn’t have. So foolish.

  She closed her eyes and hauled in a breath. Ever since she’d received the news that Grandad’s will was being contested, her head had been in turmoil. Not to mention her heart. Her concentration was shot to pieces. It had to stop! She had to start paying attention again. She had to.

  ‘Have you reported the incident to the police?’

  ‘Yes.’ She swallowed and risked glancing up at him. ‘Mr D’Angelo, I’m very sorry for...um...’ Her stomach churned. What if she had stabbed him? ‘I’m a bit jumpy at the moment.’

  She made him stop when they reached the end of the block.

  ‘Monty, sit.’ The dog stared up at her with his big dopey eyes. She made a hand signal. ‘Sit.’ He continued to stare at her. She folded her arms and looked away. Eventually he sat. ‘Good boy.’

  She fondled his ears and then nodded to Rico. They set off across the road and then turned right towards the park and Bellerive beach.

  ‘He’s improving,’ she murmured, more for something to say than anything else.

  ‘Look, Neen, I’m the one who should apologise. I shouldn’t have come in like I did and I’m sorry I startled you.’

  His eyes were dark, almost black. She didn’t doubt his sincerity f
or a moment.

  ‘I knocked and knocked, and I could see you at the end of the hallway. I called out...’

  ‘But between Monty and the radio—’ and her own too-busy thoughts ‘—I couldn’t hear you. It’s not your fault, Mr D’Angelo. You don’t need to apologise.’

  ‘Rico,’ he ordered.

  The name suited him in one respect, with his dark Italian good looks, but Rico sounded breezy and carefree. She wasn’t sure she’d ever meet anyone less carefree in her life. He was a man on a mission—an important mission. And, like most do-gooding types with a quest to save the world, he carried that world around on his shoulders.

  They might be broad shoulders, but nobody could carry around that kind of weight forever.

  He suddenly stopped and swung to her. Monty strained on the lead. It could pull her completely off balance, but it barely seemed to register with Rico.

  ‘Look, I couldn’t help noticing that yours were the only tyres slashed. Is something up, Neen? Is there something I ought to know?’

  A weight pressed down on her chest when she realised she’d have to tell him—in the interests of his staff’s safety. It grew heavier when it occurred to her that in their interests he might in fact retract his job offer.

  For a moment she could hardly speak. The sun that glinted off the expanse of water in front of them dimmed. Finally she gestured to the remaining distance between them and the beach. ‘Let’s go down there and let Monty tire himself out.’

  When they reached the sand Rico’s hand hovered uncertainly on the lead’s catch. ‘Are you sure he won’t run away?’

  No, but... ‘He’ll stay on the beach,’ she promised. She’d learned that much.

  Without further ado he released Monty and the giant dog charged helter-skelter straight into the water, spraying it in all directions.

  Rico shook his head. ‘You’re going to have sand everywhere when you get home.’

  ‘Sand is something I can vacuum up. And it’s preferable to him chewing the furniture. An hour of this and he’ll be a relative lamb for the rest of the afternoon.’

  He turned to her, hands on hips. She shrugged. There didn’t seem much point in delaying the inevitable conversation.

  ‘The slashed tyres aren’t an isolated incident. The police are aware of the situation but there’s not much they can do.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘Four months ago I broke up with a man who, it appears, can’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘And he’s persecuting you? Threatening you?’

  She lifted one shoulder. ‘I have no proof that today’s tyres are his handiwork.’ But she knew in her gut it was. ‘I’ve taken a restraining order out on him.’

  And she still couldn’t believe she’d left her front door unlocked!

  ISBN: 9781460320006

  SNOWBOUND WITH THE SOLDIER

  Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer F. Stroka

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