by Ross, Mia
“I really don’t want that.”
Clearly puzzled, she tilted her head like a curious cocker spaniel. “Why not?”
“I like being under the radar.”
“What radar?”
He didn’t know how to explain it to her, so he shook his head and started to walk away. When he heard her gasp, he whipped back around. “What’s wrong?”
“Your shirt. Your shoulder.”
Reaching over, he could feel that the shoulder seam on his left sleeve had gotten torn during the rescue. That meant...
“I have to go.” He backed away from her as if that would make her forget what she’d seen.
“Wait!” Pulling off one of her silver hoop earrings, she lifted the flap of his shirt and used the wire to fasten it to the remaining fabric. “That will cover it till we get to the hospital.”
“No.” The harshness in his tone made him wince. “I’m sorry, but I’m fine, really. Nothing to worry about.”
“Seth, your hands are all cut, and you’re bleeding in a dozen places. You at least need to clean up and get some bandages.”
As more emergency vehicles raced toward the square, people started flooding in to see what was going on. Cornered and helpless, Seth’s razor-sharp instincts were screaming for him to drop back and disappear. The problem was, there was no cover in this wide-open town square for him to slither into.
His skin crawled with cold sweat, adrenaline twisting his gut so hard he thought he’d be sick. Another quick survey of the area showed him he was completely out of options.
Swallowing the nausea, he turned to Lisa in desperation. “Will you help me?”
Chapter Three
Panic stiffened his expression, and his entire body looked ready to do battle. Lisa had never been in a war, but Seth reminded her of a trapped animal who was prepared to fight to the death rather than surrender.
But there was no enemy to engage, and he had nowhere to run, which left him no options at all. She sensed that he was on the verge of completely losing control, so priority one was to get him calmed down before that happened. She couldn’t do that here.
The wild swings in his behavior—from heroic to
panicked—were like nothing she’d ever seen, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Then she recalled Ruthy taking his hand and talking quietly, forcing him to listen. If she tried the same, would he go along or turn and run?
Lisa reached for his blood-streaked hand, half expecting him to pull away.
He didn’t.
Instead, he clasped her hand firmly, as if he was holding on to a rope that could save him from falling into nothing. After the horrific view she’d gotten of his shoulder, his shadowy history only made her more curious about him. Maybe someday he’d trust her enough to tell her the truth about himself. For now, he needed her help. Despite her misgivings about him, Seth had taken an enormous risk to rescue a man he’d never met. She wasn’t about to let him down.
“Come on,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Let’s get out of here.”
They started walking, and she slipped her cell phone from the pocket of her apron.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Hush.” She punched a button and put a determined smile on her face. “Hey, Ruthy. Just wanted to let you know everything’s fine. Pastor Charles is a little banged up, and the EMTs are taking him to Kenwood Hospital just to be safe. Seth’s walking me back to my place to check on Cleo. We should be back in about half an hour.” After a pause, she laughed. “Yeah, you know how she is when the weather gets bad like this. I’ll make up the time later. ’Bye.”
She put the phone away, and he smiled down at her. “For a waitress, you’re pretty good under pressure.”
“It’s not a lie,” she informed him coolly. “I found my cat when she was about four weeks old, out in a bad thunderstorm. Ever since then she’s been terrified of storms. I’ll be glad if she comes out of hiding at all today.”
Turning down a side street, she led him up a set of stairs and unlocked the door of an apartment wrapped on three sides by a wide porch. After being hammered by the wind for so long, the calm inside was a welcome change.
She loved her tidy studio, with its L-shaped kitchen tucked in one corner and a small bathroom in the other. The garlands swagging from the ceiling were real, filling the open space with the outdoorsy scent of pine. Twined into them were long strings of ivy and tiny white lights that popped on when she hit the switch by the door. A nice contrast to the clouds outside, the effect was warm and inviting.
“Cleo?” Lisa called out, moving around in search mode. “The thunder’s gone, baby. You can come out now.”
It took her about two minutes to discover the cat was nowhere to be found. Hands on her hips, she declared, “I’ll guess she’ll turn up when she’s ready.”
Glancing around, Seth frowned. “Can she really get out of here?”
“There’s a hole in the bathroom ceiling that goes up into the eaves. I’ve never checked, but I think she hides in there when she’s scared.”
Moving to the doorway, Seth peered into the bathroom. “Did it ever occur to you that if she can get out, other critters can get in?”
Lisa went into the kitchen and turned on the water to wash the dust off her hands. “Oh, it’s not that big.”
“I don’t know. Mice don’t need much of an opening.”
“Cleo would take care of any that snuck in,” Lisa assured him.
“How is she with bats?”
She’d just opened the cupboard where she kept the first-aid kit, and she stared over her shoulder at him. “Bats?”
“Not your favorite, huh?”
She shuddered as she pulled out the little box. “We have them out at the farm all the time. They’re like rats with wings.”
“If you’ve got some cardboard and tinfoil, I can make a plug for you to put in the hole after your cat comes back.”
“I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”
“Sorry,” he apologized, holding up his hands in deference to her temper. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Yeah, no one ever does.” Sighing, she said, “Have a seat. We need to get you cleaned up before anyone else sees you.”
She motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table. Once she had a bowl of warm water, she joined him.
“This might hurt,” she warned as she stirred some rubbing alcohol into the water.
“It’s okay. I’m pretty tough.”
She couldn’t begin to imagine how tough he’d have to be to survive the injury she’d glimpsed before he turned away to hide it from her. While she was trying to think of something to talk about other than that, he gave her a warning look.
“Don’t ask. I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t meaning you can’t stand to talk about it, or can’t meaning you’re not allowed to?”
Grimacing, he clamped his mouth shut and refused to answer her. But his eyes had gone that icy color again, and she decided she’d had enough of his emotional-freezer routine.
Making sure she had his full attention, very carefully she said, “That’s your choice, but you should know I don’t do dark and mysterious. Life is short, and I don’t waste my time chasing after people who can’t come out of themselves long enough to enjoy it.”
He took a minute to absorb that, and his demeanor shifted slightly. “I’m not allowed to talk about it. Not with anyone.”
What a horrible sacrifice to make, she thought wistfully. Unless that order changed, Seth would spend the rest of his life with part of himself locked in the past.
“That can’t have been easy to admit,” she said approvingly as she unwound a length of gauze to wrap around the large pad she’d set on his forearm. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
When his voice faltered, she glanced over at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
While she was dying to know what he wished, she realized this disillusioned man had coiled up tight for a reason. No amount of prodding would convince him to open up to her unless he wanted to. If that meant it would never happen, she had to accept that. She might not like it, but she really didn’t have a choice.
He cleared his throat and said, “I wish I was more like you.”
“Really?” Astonished by his revelation, she laughed. No one had ever told her that before. “Why is that?”
“Some folks can put their feelings right out there for everyone to see. You’re one of ’em.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good,” he answered immediately. “Very good.”
He gave her a shy smile that made her want to hug him. Maddening as he was, he had a vulnerability that made her want to put in a little more effort with him than she normally would. If he was anyone else, she’d shrug at his quirks and be nice but not pursue him as more than a casual acquaintance. But it was Christmas. Goodwill toward men and all that.
And there was something in the way Ruthy had thanked her for being nice to him that made Lisa want to keep trying. Far from home, he needed a friend. She could do that.
“Something smells good.” He complimented her on the spicy aroma wafting over from a Crock-Pot on the counter.
“Chili for supper tonight. It’s great with Ruthy’s corn bread. When the weather gets cold, I have it a lot because it’s easy to make while I’m at work.”
“I should try that sometime. Maybe you could give me the recipe.”
“Two cans of stewed tomatoes, a packet of chili powder and a half-pound of browned hamburger.” As she rinsed her cloth, she grinned over at him. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“You’ve got me beat, that’s for sure.”
“You just need a little practice is all.”
* * *
Yeah, Seth thought, with a lot of things. Like not getting tongue-tied when a pretty woman smiled at him the way Lisa was doing now.
“Y’know,” she said while she rubbed salve into the worst cuts on his arms, “that whole roof could have caved in on you. God was really watching out for you.”
He wasn’t willing to reveal that he and God had parted ways long ago. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but he sensed that if he started debating religion with this very determined woman, it wouldn’t end well. This was her house, and if he couldn’t agree with her, the least he could do was not make her angry.
Uncertainty hung in the air between them, and he searched for a way to get past it. “So what does the rest of your week look like? Lots of Christmas shopping?”
Lame, lame, lame, a familiar voice in his head chided him. Fortunately, Lisa was more forgiving.
“Oh, I’ve been done for two weeks now,” she replied as she rinsed out her cloth. “It’s a good thing, because I’ll probably be busy at the church.”
Seth chuckled. “They didn’t even have Pastor Charles strapped on the gurney yet, and he was already trying to talk me into helping with the repairs.”
“That sounds like him.”
“I think he was a little loopy,” Seth continued. “He asked me to head up the crew.”
“Why is that loopy? You’re doing a great job for Ruthy, and the way you rushed into that mess, you’ve got plenty of guts.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s really all you need.”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on.”
Pinning him with a no-nonsense stare, very quietly she said, “I’ve gone to Christmas Eve service in that church every year since I was born. I can’t imagine it any other way.”
The thought of her being so disappointed made him feel like a heel. It also made him feel as though he should explain his reluctance. “It’s not that I don’t want to help.”
“Then what is it?”
The truth stuck in his throat, but he knew he owed her at least that much. After some hunting, he came up with an explanation he could live with. “I’m not very religious, so working on a church doesn’t seem right.”
As she wrapped a bandage around his left hand, she casually asked, “Is this nonreligious thing a habit or something new?”
“I was raised in it, like you. It just doesn’t work for me anymore.”
“Any particular reason?”
“God quit listening to me.”
Seth was horrified to hear that come out of his mouth. He’d never said it quite so bluntly, and it sounded bitter. Then again, he was bitter, so maybe that was reasonable. To his surprise, Lisa didn’t chide him the way his mother often did. Actually, she didn’t seem all that concerned.
Instead, she bathed him in a gentle, understanding smile. “I know it seems that way sometimes. God’s timing isn’t like ours, because He’s been around so long and He can see so far into the future. He always hears us. He just doesn’t always answer right away.”
“Well, I got tired of waiting.”
He’d endured three years of covert missions in the blazing sun, begging for divine help that never materialized, but Seth didn’t want to get into that with her. Now he understood why smart people never discussed politics or religion with each other. It was the best way to remain friends.
“Maybe,” she suggested as she tied off the bandage, “if you think of the project as a building instead of a church, you’ll feel better about lending a hand.”
When she connected with his eyes, the hopeful look on her face nearly did him in. Then logic kicked in, reminding him that he was treading on very thin ice.
He hated to disappoint her, so he said, “Maybe.” While she started cleaning up his other hand, he ran his bandaged one over the mosaic tabletop. “This is really cool. I’ve never seen one like it.”
“That’s because I made it.”
She made it sound as if it was no big deal, but Seth was impressed. Leaning forward, he studied the design. “Really? How?”
“I got the table for five dollars at a yard sale and crushed up some broken Spanish and Italian tiles Gus was throwing out. After that, I just had fun with it.” Tying the last knot, she said, “All done. If that gash still looks nasty after you take the bandages off, I’ll redo it for you.”
“Thanks.”
Standing, she walked the few steps to the kitchen and started putting her things away. While he waited, Seth wandered into the bathroom to check out the ceiling. After poking around for about thirty seconds, he found several waterlogged ceiling panels. A quick look around told him why.
“You don’t have a fan in here,” he called.
“Does that matter?” she asked from the doorway. “It’s just me.”
“Every bathroom needs an exhaust fan. You should have your landlord put one in.”
Tilting her head, she gave him a get-real look, and he chuckled. “I’ll bring my tools over tomorrow and take care of it.” When her eyes narrowed, he amended his offer with, “If you want.”
“I thought you had a lot going on.” She tossed his flimsy excuse back at him with a healthy dose of sass to make sure he got her point.
He decided not to take the bait. “This is a basic drop ceiling. It’d take me about an hour to put in a fan and replace all the panels. You helped me out today. I’d like to return the favor.”
“What about helping with the church? You don’t have to be the foreman, just sign up for the crew. There’s only three weeks till Christmas, and we need every set of hands we can get.”
“I’ll think about it.” When she gave him a chiding look, he added, “That’s the best I can do.”
Lisa’s expression
told him she hated his nonanswer, and he glanced around her apartment, searching for a way to get back in her good graces. He found his inspiration on the walls. Every inch of them was filled with artwork, and he strolled around admiring each one in turn. When he spotted her signature at the bottom of one, he asked, “You painted these?”
Seth recognized it was a stupid question, but it made her smile, which was a relief. After all, she was the only friend he had in this town. He didn’t want her mad at him if he could avoid it.
“Yeah, they’re mine. It’s a hobby.”
Paintings and sketches of various sizes hung everywhere, and in the corner he saw more paintings stacked on end like books. Bright landscapes were mixed with more subdued views of foggy and cloudy days. The people she’d painted had so much dimension and character, he felt as if he could walk up and talk to them.
On an easel stood a portrait in progress, with a picture tacked to the upper corner. The photo was faded, and he assumed it was fairly old. None of the six people in it looked familiar at first. Then the dark-haired woman caught his eye, and he did a quick comparison with Lisa.
“Is this your family?”
“Yes.” She looked completely shocked. “You’ve only met me so far. What made you think that was us?”
“Her.” He pointed to the woman holding the adorable, laughing toddler instinct told him was Lisa. “She looks like you.”
Some emotion he couldn’t describe flooded Lisa’s face, and for a few terrifying seconds, he thought she might cry. Instead, she amazed him with the most incredible smile he’d ever seen. How many did she have, anyway?
“That’s my mother. She died of leukemia a few months after that picture was taken.” Staring at the picture, she continued. “All us kids have a copy of it, but as you can see, they’re not holding up well. I thought it’d be nice to do a full-size oil painting that would last forever. I want to have it ready to hang over the fireplace at our farm in time for Christmas.”
Seth recalled her mentioning her father’s death. He could only imagine how much the painting would mean to the Sawyers. “That’s a real nice idea.”
“I don’t remember her at all.” Lisa tapped her mother’s face with a nail done in cotton-candy pink. “I’m having a terrible time getting her right.”
