by Jill Sanders
“Nat Willis?” Carson asked the chief. “He lost his job after that last DUI you gave him. He’s out on bail as of last week.”
“It’s worth checking into.” The chief nodded to Carson, who started to leave the room.
“I’ll be back soon,” Carson called back to him before leaving.
“What did you call me in for?” Sawyer asked, trying to get comfortable, since he knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. They had stripped him of his uniform and his chief had his gun in his hands.
“We can deal with that later. You need to rest.” The chief held up the gun. “I’ll check this into the locker. You can get it back when you come back to work.”
“Thanks.” He glanced around. “Tell me they didn’t cut me out of my clothes.”
Deter chuckled. “No, they’re there.” He nodded to a bag on the nightstand.
“Good. I’d hate to have to get another uniform.” He felt his head drifting. “Damn, did they say anything about my head?”
He closed his eyes and tried to focus.
“You’ve got a concussion. That’s why they’re keeping you overnight. The doctor just told you that.”
“Right.” Everything was foggy, and he’d already forgotten what the man had said five minutes ago about his kidney.
“Rest.” The chief touched his arm. “Someone will be here, watching out for you.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the room was dark.
Reaching for a light switch, he winced with pain and grabbed his side.
“Easy.” Rose’s voice was like nectar from the heavens. He reached out to find her, to touch her, but only found air.
“Rose?” he croaked out, surprised at how dry his mouth was.
“I’m here.” A low light turned on across the room. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate the bright lights.”
Even the low light was causing pain in his head, and he nodded in agreement.
“What happened?” he asked as his memories of the afternoon escaped him. He remembered sitting on the patio eating sandwiches with her, then… nothing.
“Someone attacked you shortly after I left.” She took his hand in hers and ran a finger over his palm. “You have a lacerated kidney and a concussion.”
He heard the concern in her voice, and he glanced up at her and met her eyes.
“Hey, it could be worse.” He gripped her hand tighter.
“How?” The tears that were streaming down her face caused his heart to hurt.
“You could have been hurt.” He tugged her down until she laid her lips softly over his. “See, I’m feeling better already.”
She smiled down at him and wiped the tears away with her free hand.
“Besides,” he added, “now I get a vacation.”
She shook her head. “Don’t joke. I can’t…” More tears rolled down her face. He reached up and gently wiped them away, ignoring the pain the move caused.
“Come down here.” He patted the spot next to him on the bed. She gently moved to sit beside him.
“This is all because of me, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No,” he answered, unsure whether what he was saying was true or not. Then he remembered something.
“Carson?” He glanced around.
“He went to get some dinner. He said he’d be back in half an hour. He’s the one that called me.” She smiled. “I think he’s trying to play matchmaker.”
“Too late.” He took her hand up to his lips. “I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you.” He kissed her soft skin again.
She shook her head and smiled. “That’s the medicine talking.”
He didn’t have the energy to argue with her. “Ask Carson when he gets back if he found out if it was Nat Willis. I’m not going to be able to keep my eyes open much longer.” He’d heard the beep on the machine and knew that the new pain meds flowing through his system would have him snoozing soon. “Stay with me if you can.”
“I’m right here,” she said as he drifted off.
This time when he woke, it was to the sound of arguing.
“What the…” He stopped when he realized Rose was in the room. “What is going on?”
“Will you please tell these… men”—Rose’s eyes narrowed at Carson and the chief— “that it’s the smartest move for you to come stay with me for a few days so you have someone watching over you twenty-four seven. I have plenty of rooms. Besides, my agent is going to be here tomorrow, so if it’s Sawyer’s reputation you fear for, then don’t worry, we’ll have a chaperone.”
Sawyer laughed and so did Carson and the chief.
“It’s not, and you know that’s not the issue,” the chief said. “It’s the damn press in town. If they get wind that one of us is staying in the house with the woman under investigation in the murder of her husband…” He sighed. “Things could turn ugly.”
“And they aren’t already? It’s been splattered all over national news that Sawyer is seeing my husband’s ex-mistress and that we are in some twisted love triangle. Besides, you could always paint it that I’m under house arrest or that he’s there for my safety, like security.”
The chief was silent for a while and he looked over at Carson.
“Gee, I wonder what Sawyer think about all this? Too bad we can’t ask him,” Sawyer said with a smirk.
“What do you think?” Rose asked softly.
“I think I can ride this out by myself at home.”
Three voices rose as they continued to argue about where he was going.
“Why must I go somewhere?” he finally asked.
Rose walked over and sat next to him. “You need someone there to watch out for you. You won’t be able to put on your own shoes, let alone cook for yourself.”
“The doc says it’s best someone be with you at least for the first week,” Carson answered.
“Then I’ll call someone and have them watch out for me,” he said clearly.
“Who?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll hire a nurse if it will make everyone stop shouting over me.”
“I think it’s best if you have Rose look out for you.” Carson stepped forward. “I can swing in daily and check up on you myself, as well.”
“Whatever. Just stop yelling.”
“We aren’t,” Rose said softly. “It just sounds like it because of your concussion.” She smiled down at him. “Rest, I’ll take care of everything.”
Thirteen
A helping hand…
Ozzy was enjoying the back seat of Rose’s car as they drove away from the vet’s the following day, but with every bump the car hit, Sawyer would make a strained and painful sound and hold his side.
“Sorry,” she said each time.
“Why didn’t I notice all these potholes before?”
She giggled and apologized again.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as they pulled into her driveway. There was a police cruiser sitting across the street and, thankfully, no media vans in sight. They had stopped off at his place before picking up Ozzy from the vet. The dog had a small cut on his head with three stitches. The fur around it had been shaved to the skin.
Rose had packed a bag of clothes for Sawyer along with a few books and his laptop. He’d tried helping her load everything up, but when he turned white as a sheet, she’d forced him to sit. He hadn’t argued, and she wondered if it would be this easy to watch after him all week long.
When she parked by her garage, he got out and tried to pick up his bag.
“You take Ozzy.” She handed him the leash. “Go introduce him to Tsuna. I’ll take your stuff up to the room you’ll be staying in.”
He took the leash from her and made his way slowly towards the back deck.
The workers had finished replacing all the boards and the deck was back to normal. They had secured them with thick screws instead of nails, which she had been told would stop whoever had ripped them up from doing it again.
Hunt
er had left that morning after sharing breakfast with her. He said he’d try to make it back down sometime next week, but he was due in court and had a lot of preparation to do.
She’d often wondered why he’d chosen Buffalo, but after seeing how successful his business was, she understood.
She set Sawyer’s bag down on the bed in the room directly across the hallway from her own. Hunter always stayed in the room at the end of the hallway and she wanted to keep it available if he made it back.
She would put Julie in her favorite guest room, the one she thought of as the robin-egg blue room.
She unloaded Sawyer’s clothes and set everything in the dresser, making sure the attached bathroom had everything he’d need for his stay.
“There you are,” he said from the doorway. He was leaning on the doorjamb, watching her. She noticed that his face was still pale, and he was a little winded. “The dogs are best friends. They’re already snuggling up by the fire I built.”
“You shouldn’t have exerted yourself.” She set his bag in the bottom drawer and walked over to him. “I’ll make us some dinner.”
“I can help.” He followed her down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, both dogs jumped up as if they had been caught doing something bad.
“You can watch.” She smiled over at him.
“When is your friend supposed to be here?” he asked when he sat at the kitchen table. She had to nudge him into the chair, but he went without argument.
“Tomorrow midday sometime.”
“You’ve known her… how long?”
“College. I went to UCLA and majored in art with a minor in business.”
She’d come home from the store and put the fixings for boeuf bourguignon in the slow cooker before heading out to pick up Sawyer from the hospital. She’d enjoyed planning their meals for the week. The kitchen smelled wonderful already. She estimated another half hour and the meal would be ready, so she started on the homemade bread. Flipping on the oven, she pulled out the bread pan.
She’d made the dough a few nights ago and had almost a dozen loaves of it frozen in the large standup freezer just inside the mudroom.
She’d set out the frozen dough that morning and, now that it was thawed, rolled it once more. Taking a stick of butter, she greased the pan, covering the loaf with melted butter and some seasoning.
“What is that?” Sawyer asked from the table.
“Bread,” she answered as she put the pan in the warmed oven.
“Homemade bread?” he asked, trying to see the roll.
“Yes,” she smiled. “I make the dough ahead of time and freeze it so I can simply thaw, season, and cook.”
“Real homemade bread?” he said again.
She chuckled. “Yes. Haven’t you ever had homemade bread?”
“No, who has? I mean…” He shook his head. “No.”
“Your mother didn’t bake or cook?”
“Sure, things like spaghetti and mac and cheese, but not homemade bread. No one that I know had homemade bread growing up.”
She glanced at the basement steps and frowned. She wanted a red wine to go with the meal but still hadn’t brought herself to go down the stairs. The small wine fridge at the end of the island was empty.
“What’s wrong?” He turned and glanced at the door.
“Nothing.” She walked over to the door. “I’ll go get some wine.” She hadn’t realized she was standing there, her hand on the doorknob, until Sawyer’s hand rested on her shoulder.
“I’ll go with you.” He said softly, “Have you been down there since…”
She shook her head. “I… don’t think…”
“Together.” He took her hand. “You can do this. Remember, this is your home. You’ve nothing to fear.”
She nodded. “It’s not fear, it’s the memory that kicks me in the gut.” She opened the door. A cool blast of air hit her.
“Didn’t they fix the hole yet?” he asked.
“Yes, but they haven’t put in the glass door I requested. Since there was already a hole there, I thought I’d add an exit from the basement instead of just another wall.” She glanced over at him. “It was the new contractor’s idea to put in a large sliding glass door. He says that if I ever decide to finish the basement, it would be a big bonus.”
Sawyer nodded. “Good idea.”
They made their way down the stairs. Her heart jumped when she noticed the new cement wall. There were large wooden planks over the space where the glass doors would be, which was where most of the cold air was coming in. She was thankful the workers had installed door sealing around the basement door so that none of the cold would escape into the upper rooms.
Still, as she looked across the empty space, she remembered the rainy night last week when she’d heard the rocks falling and felt the entire house shake. Her first thought had been that it was an earthquake. Then she’d remembered the basement wall and her worry about its safety the nights before Isaac had disappeared.
She’d grabbed her flashlight and headed down the stairs, expecting to see half of the house caved in. Instead, as she’d assessed the damage, the light had shone on a shoe. Shoes, she remembered. When she’d turned slightly, the light had landed on Isaac’s face, still half-encased in cement. She’d screamed, dropped her flashlight, and rushed upstairs. Almost five minutes had passed before the panic attack had ended and she had composed herself enough to call 911.
“Here.” Sawyer distracted her and stepped between her and where she’d last seen Isaac. He opened the wine closet door and nudged her inside.
She stepped in and instantly felt warmer.
“It’s warmer in here than out there.” She chuckled to cover the fact that her entire body shook with the memory.
He pulled her close and she realized nothing could hide the fact that she was shaking. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he assured her.
She wrapped her arms around him loosely, afraid to hurt him if she held on too tight. Her face rested on his shoulder. When she looked up at him, she smiled at the black eye he had. Reaching up, she touched it lightly.
“Here you are, bruised and hurting after someone attacked you, and I can’t stand to walk into my own basement.” She took in a deep breath.
“For good reason,” he added softly.
“Still.” She straightened her shoulders and dropped her arms. It was hard walking away from him, but she backed up a step. “Wine.” She looked around. “Isaac knew more about it than I did, but I’m sure we can find something to go with the boeuf bourguignon.” She started looking.
“I could help you if I knew what boeuf bourguignon was.” He chuckled.
She smiled. “Beef stew. Red wine would go great, something dry maybe.” She glanced at the labels.
“How many bottles do you have?” he asked, his eyes scanning over the storage area.
Isaac had put in the custom wine shelves himself the first month they’d lived in the house. Since it was on the north side of the manor and the outside walls were covered completely by dirt, they hadn’t even needed a cooling system in place. The room, when the door was shut, stayed at a chilly 55 degrees Fahrenheit.
“I’d say close to two hundred.” She pulled out a Merlot. “You do like wine, right?” He was standing with his hands tucked behind his back, as if afraid to touch the bottles.
“Some of it. I’m willing to try others,” he answered honestly, and she smiled.
“If you don’t, I’m sure when Julie gets here we can finish this off together.” She held up her choice.
She tucked the bottle under her arm and opened the door. She avoided looking in the direction of the wall and practically sprinted up the stairs.
Sawyer shut the door behind him and the warmth of the upstairs and the wonderful smells of baking bread and cooking beef soothed her instantly.
“I’ll open this.” He took the bottle from her. She wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made her nod instead.
“I’ll set the
table.” She disappeared into the formal dining room and busied herself with putting out the good place settings. Out of habit she pulled out the candles and was about to light them when she remembered who she was having dinner with and why Sawyer was here. This wasn’t a romantic dinner like she used to have with Isaac.
Her face heated. She quickly put the candles away before Sawyer could see them and walked back into the kitchen.
“The bread smells wonderful,” Sawyer said from the table. He’d poured her a glass of wine and she walked over to taste it.
“Perfect.” She opened the oven, and the room filled with the smell of warm bread.
She dished up the stew and sliced a few pieces of the bread.
“Let me help.” He reached for the bowl, but she nodded to the wine instead.
“You carry the wine and glasses in. I’ll get the rest.” She took the bread in first, then came back for the stew.
She sat down and smiled when Sawyer took the seat across from her.
“To a slow recovery,” he joked, holding up his wine glass.
“To recovering.” She smiled and sipped the wine. “Please, dig in.”
“This looks amazing.” He picked up his spoon and began eating. She was surprised at how much food the man could put away.
After dinner, Sawyer tried to help her clean up, but he was out of breath and turned white again, so she strong-armed him into going into the living room to relax. When she walked in half an hour later, he was fast asleep on the sofa. Both dogs were laying across his lap, snuggling together.
She gently nudged Sawyer and his eyes slid open quickly.
“You’d be more comfortable in bed,” she suggested. “I’ll watch Ozzy tonight, so you can get some sleep.”
He nodded and stood up. She watched him sway slightly and reached for him.
Wrapping her arm around him, she took him upstairs. He walked like a zombie, slow and purposely.
“Do you need any help?” she asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Shoes.” He nodded to his feet. “Bending is a bitch.” He ran his hands over his face. “I feel drugged.”
“You did eat three bowls of stew and half the loaf of bread.”
“Good food,” he mumbled and smiled. “I can’t remember the last time I had a meal so wonderful.”
