by Regan Black
He shot her a startled look before scowling at the street ahead. “Maybe we’re not on the same page after all,” he sighed. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not. It’s me.” She was trying to catch up with the real intention for the evening. They were on a date. He’d been clear. She hadn’t quite believed it. This didn’t feel like the right time to explain her damaged confidence and it definitely wasn’t the time to confess her teenage crush on him.
“I’ll take you home.”
She wasn’t about to let this rare opportunity slip away. “Don’t you dare,” she said emphatically. “A date sounds like way more fun than a dog rescue.”
“Gee, how flattering.” He pulled into his driveway and parked, cutting the engine. “Don’t move.”
She waited, her pulse fluttering, as he stalked around the car to open her door.
He leaned in and kissed her soundly. “Do you feel that?”
She nodded. She wanted to feel it again and again.
“How in the world did you come to the conclusion that this would be a rescue?”
It wasn’t something she could she put into words without sounding like a total loser. “Family conflict aside,” she said, starting with the obvious, “I’m not the girl guys like you ask out.”
“Bull.” He kissed her again.
She laughed, feeling positively effervescent as he helped her from the car. “It’s true. You do realize every male handler who has trained at our facility has asked out Hayley? A few of the women, too,” she added, remembering.
“Then they’re all blind.” He guided her to the door, his palm warm on the small of her back.
She looked down as Stumps barked once and trotted over to greet them. “Hello,” she said, crouching low to return the fond welcome. “I heard you had a big day.”
“He found a potential weapon and the origin scene of an abduction today,” Shane said proudly, dropping his keys into a woven basket on the foyer table.
“Way to go, Stumps!” The corgi flopped to his side and she rubbed his belly.
“He was the epitome of humble professional until the celebration ended with a bath.”
She laughed, pushing her hand through the dog’s thick, soft coat. “I thought he liked water.”
Shane extended a hand to help her up. “Oh, he loves water. Just don’t add shampoo to the equation. Welcome.”
The house, originally a tidy bungalow, had been remodeled into an open area perfect for a bachelor to entertain. It suited him, she thought, taking in the soft earthy color palette and furnishings a man his size could lounge on with ease.
A distressed leather sectional with bolsters and toss pillows in various fabrics was at the center of the living room. A big-screen television was strategically placed for viewing from the kitchen, and a corner of the dining area had been converted to an office.
Fragrant aromas were coming from the kitchen and she followed the scents of tomato sauce and garlic as unerringly as one of their drug-sniffing dogs. The marble countertops, tile floors and cherry cabinetry with stainless steel appliances were an unexpected discovery.
Shane turned the heat on under a saucepan on a back burner and set water to boil for pasta. Pulling two packages of fresh ravioli from the refrigerator, he said, “I took a chance with portobello mushroom filling. If you’d rather have plain—”
“Sounds perfect,” she said. “Did you make the sauce yourself?”
“Yes. My mom’s recipe.”
“Wow,” she said, sincerely fascinated by his efforts.
“You might want to wait until you taste it. I have a tendency to go heavy on the spices.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She studied the space, impressed with more than his cooking skills. He had a pared-back style that still came across as homey. Everywhere she looked there was texture or visual interest. Had he always been that way or was it a result of his time in prison? “Anything I can do to help?”
“Open the wine and relax,” he suggested. He gave a nod to a bottle of red and two glasses on the kitchen island.
Wine she could handle. Maybe it would dull her impulse to break into a happy dance. She was on a date with Shane! She poured two glasses of wine and handed him one. “Cheers,” she offered.
He tapped his glass gently to hers and watched her over the rim as he sipped. “I do have one question about Hayley.”
“Of course you do,” Danica said, rolling her eyes.
“You brought her up,” he said, a teasing glint in his gaze. “Has she dated much since Bo died?”
“Not that I’m aware of, although she still gets plenty of flowers.”
“Pardon me?”
“You saw it today.” Danica swirled the wine in her glass. “Every Friday, a big bouquet arrives.”
“Every Friday?” The teasing was gone now, but she recognized his interest was professional rather than personal. “From who?”
“The cards are never signed. If she is dating someone in particular, he’s staying far from the training center, which isn’t uncommon now that I think about it.” Bo had been the only one of her regular boyfriends to come around the facility. “Today she suggested it was something Bo set up before he died.”
Shane reached to dump the pasta into the boiling water and stopped. “Are you saying she thinks Bo knew he was going to die?”
“No, not that.” Danica smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I think she meant that he placed a standing order before they got married. A gesture to celebrate every week of wedded bliss.” This wasn’t exactly the conversation she imagined having with Shane and yet she didn’t want to change the subject. The entire town needed some resolution to Bo’s murder and the attacks and deaths that had followed. Unlike other members of her family, she would prefer it if the facts cleared Shane’s half sister.
“Hayley has always received flowers. Before, during and after Bo. Personally, I don’t think a standing order is something Bo would do.”
“Why not?”
“Not his style, for one thing.” She took another sip of her wine. “He was more down-to-earth than whoever is sending her these extravagant bouquets.”
Shane made a humming sound as he lifted the lid on the sauce and stirred it. “People in love can change.”
“Maybe.” Danica’s stomach rumbled loudly and they both grinned at the sound.
“Good thing we’re not on a rescue mission or that might have gotten us busted,” he said, teasing her again.
“Probably.” She didn’t want thoughts of Nico or the puppy to ruin the evening, but she couldn’t ignore the situation, either. “I wish we could do something.”
“I’m working on it,” he said. “Through legal means,” he emphasized.
She held up a hand as if taking an oath. “I promise not to do anything dumb.” When he checked to be sure she wasn’t crossing her fingers behind her back, she laughed. Who knew Shane had this lighthearted side? “But if Nico or that puppy makes a break for it, I will catch them, microchips or not.”
“That’s fair,” he allowed.
He popped thick slices of garlic bread under the broiler and then set a bowl of mixed greens on the table. When he drained the cooked pasta, she carried over the wine, adding to each glass as he finished serving.
Thoughts of the case fled from her mind at the first taste of his mother’s spicy tomato sauce. The flavors burst and melded on her tongue. It was all she could do not to moan with delight. “Shane, this is heavenly. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
The sexy, slow smile on his lips would have buckled her knees if she’d been standing.
“It might have been the thing I missed most,” he said. “Prison food tends toward bland.”
She set down her fork and picked up her wine. Despite all he’d said, maybe this wasn’t about a new relationship a
t all. Even if he’d been honest in those kisses, in asking her out and cooking for her, there were things he deserved to hear before this went any further.
Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she gave him the words she’d held back for too long. “I’m sorry—”
* * *
Shane felt his face heating with embarrassment. “Stop.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to look at her. He didn’t know why he’d said that. Maybe it was the conversation with Irene today, or the food. He should have grilled burgers.
“I’m not bucking for sympathy here,” he said.
This was a prime example of why he kept everyone at arm’s length. Inviting people into his world only made them uncomfortable when he slipped up and let down his guard. She didn’t need to hear the gruesome details of those eighteen months behind bars.
Yet, now that Danica had been close enough to kiss, he wanted her closer still. If she had any sense, she’d get up and leave.
“Shane, I’m not trying to give you sympathy.”
“Pity?”
“No, not that either.”
He glanced up, surprised by the flash of raw misery in her soft green eyes. He’d seen that expression too often in his mirror. “Then what?”
She sat up a little straighter. “An apology,” she said. “You should have heard it from my grandfather.”
“Stop, please.” His voice cracked. He couldn’t do this. “You were a kid when that happened.”
“We both were,” she said.
He left the table and stalked back to the kitchen for something stronger than wine, then thought better of it. He wasn’t going to disappoint his mother by facing every uncomfortable moment in life with a stiff drink in hand.
“I can call someone to pick me up,” she offered.
That was the last thing he wanted. He turned to face her, watching for any sign that she’d lie to him. “Is that what you want?”
“Not really.” Her gaze shifted to the stove top. “I was hoping for seconds.”
He stared at her. She kept surprising him.
“You ate my lunch, remember?”
The shy tilt of her lips blasted through the tension locking up his muscles. “You offered it.”
“True. And I’d do it again.”
He walked back to the table, pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down. “Because?”
“You were hungry.” She shrugged. “I lost my appetite when we had to leave the puppy with Evan.”
He felt terrible that he didn’t have a better solution on that front. Yet. “My prison food comment didn’t ruin your appetite?” She’d let him kiss her a few times now, but he’d discovered some women were only interested in the perceived bad-boy factor.
“You are more than what happened to you, Shane.”
No one had said anything so kind to him since his release. More, he could see she believed it. It wasn’t even her first reference to his being a whole and worthy person. He desperately wanted her words, her view of him, to be true. “You’re remarkable.”
“Same goes,” she said.
Hell, she meant that, too. “Think there’s any chance we can salvage this date?”
“It sure can’t get worse.” She raised her glass. “To us.”
He snagged his wineglass and echoed her toast.
They talked of more mundane things while she finished her first and second helpings. Though his two cases percolated in the back of his mind, she continued to surprise him with every shift in topic. He enjoyed her insights and observations and found himself completely enamored with her.
He started to clear the table, planning to leave the cleanup until morning, but she insisted on helping him pack away leftovers and wash dishes.
“You’re thinking,” she said, giving him a light elbow to the ribs.
“About you,” he said.
“Liar.” Her hands swirled through the soapy water as she washed the pasta pot. “You had the judge and jury face on. Your mind is otherwise occupied.”
He couldn’t argue. “Do I want to know what the judge and jury face is?”
“Probably not.” She rinsed the pot and handed it to him to dry. “Want to talk about it?”
“I think the victim in the assault case we picked up today is tied to Hayley,” he said.
She immersed the skillet into the soapy water. “How so?”
“He dated her before she settled down with Bo.” He put the pot away in the cabinet. “I’m wondering if the Groom Killer is one of Hayley’s exes. Someone she dumped rather than someone upset about being dumped by Bo and determined to wreck the wedding business in Red Ridge.”
“That clears Demi, but it casts a wider net,” Danica said. “More than half the male population of Red Ridge has gone out with Hayley Patton or wanted to.” She scoured the skillet. “When she and Bo got engaged, you could hear hearts breaking all over the county.”
“Still, I think it’s worth doing interviews,” he said.
“You might not realize the enormity of the task.” She rinsed the skillet and handed it over. “It’s a much shorter list looking at the men who haven’t gone out with her.”
“I guess I’ll start by speaking with her again.” He was ready to table this and get their date back on track. “Tomorrow.”
Danica snorted as she cleaned the sink and dried her hands. “Hayley doesn’t think of her exes the way most women do.”
“Meaning what?” he asked.
“She dates, serial-style. Until Bo, I didn’t think she had any intention of settling down.”
“You’re saying men get attached to her, but not the other way around.” He brought her hands to his lips, then reluctantly released her. “Thanks for helping with the dishes.”
“Sure.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “I could give you half a dozen names to start you off. Men she probably considers acquaintances only. Before she was engaged to Bo, men had things delivered all the time and they were sure to sign the cards so she’d know without a doubt that they were interested. Since his death, it’s worse.”
He played with her fingers. There was such strength in her compact hands. “How so?”
“It’s as if every single man with a pulse wants to be who she leans on for comfort. Personally, I find the anonymous, clockwork deliveries unnerving. She generally finds it adorable.”
He wanted to kiss that crease between her auburn eyebrows. “You don’t think she’s the killer, do you?”
“Be serious,” Danica laughed. “Not only am I her alibi for at least one or two of the murders, she isn’t capable of launching an attack that would chip her manicure.”
“You don’t like her much, do you?”
She blushed instantly and he felt the need to shelter that heart she wore so obviously on her sleeve. “I do, actually,” she said. “She’s great at her job.” Danica sighed. “I’d come around to the idea that we were going to be related. She can be pleasant and thoughtful when she’s in the right mood.”
“Come on,” Shane urged. “Spell it out for me.”
“Fine.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’ve never put much stock in her pleasant or thoughtful moods. I’ve known her all my life. So have you.” She nudged him aside and walked out of the kitchen. “Down deep, she’s self-absorbed and considers that a personal strength. It’s just who she is.”
He did, but hearing it from Danica gave him the full picture. Even the season he’d been in prison, he’d heard about how Hayley had nearly destroyed the Red Ridge high school football team’s bid for the state championship. She’d dated three different boys on the team, all top players, and they spent the week leading up to the game far more concerned about winning the girl rather than the title.
“Did she make Bo happy?” he asked, joining her at the sectional where she was doting on Stumps.
Lots to consider, Shane thought. Later. Right now he had different priorities.
“You ready?” she asked, her gaze on his silly dog stealing all her attention.
“For what?”
She looked up, smiling at him as if he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. “The names of the men I know she turned down around the time Bo proposed.”
Shane went to his desk and grabbed the notebook. “Go.”
It was a quarter to ten when she stopped rattling off names. With almost two pages of names of potential new suspects in Bo Gage’s murder, Shane was almost sorry he’d asked. Almost. He could just imagine Brayden’s face when Shane showed him all these possible routes to clearing Demi.
CHAPTER 11
Danica was exhausted by the time she finished. It felt like throwing a crowd of strangers under the bus. If any of the men on that list was the Groom Killer, Shane would track him down. The right way. And her family would finally have justice for Bo.
“I know it’s late,” Shane said, tossing the notebook aside. “If you’d rather do the movie another time, I understand.”
She’d leaned back against the couch, her legs stretched out. Stumps had his head in her lap and she was stroking his ear. Going back to her condo didn’t really appeal. Even with Oscar’s company it was hard to face the night alone. “That depends on the movie you have in mind,” she heard herself say.
“Horror, obviously,” he said.
“Obviously?”
“So you’ll let me protect you.” He flopped to the floor next to her.
“Ah. You do know I can protect myself?” Maybe if she said it often enough, she’d start believing it again.
“Not from zombies or monsters that rise from murky lagoons,” he said, his blue eyes lit with mischief. “Seriously, what sounds good?” He turned on the television and started scrolling through the options.
