by Dora Hiers
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
She whirled around, gripping the coffee mug like a weapon, her pulse hammering against an already beat up brain until the voice registered. Ryker. She blew out a long breath.
He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter next to the electric skillet, a spatula in his hand. Batter bubbled on the griddle. “I don’t think that little coffee mug would do much damage to my head, but I suppose you could try.”
“Ah ha. I think you’re right. Your head’s too hard.” She relaxed her grip long enough to pour some caffeine into the cup and reach for the sweetener packets, sniffing appreciatively of the scent brewing in the kitchen. Not just from the coffee.
And trying hard not to notice Ryker’s muscular legs stretched out in well-worn, form-fitting jeans. Man, those legs went on forever! And the red pullover sweater couldn’t hide his strong, powerful shoulders. Did he know how good he looked?
Ryker? Probably not.
“Did you stay here all night?”
He nodded and reached for a coffee mug on the counter, sipped, his eyes watching her from over the rim of his cup. He swallowed, smiled. “Yeah. Hope you don’t mind. You were out cold, so I couldn’t ask permission to sleep on the couch. Would’ve slept in your hammock, but a family of raccoons beat me to the back yard.”
No wonder she’d gotten her first good night’s sleep in a week. Thanks to some raccoons and Ryker. But, she couldn’t let that happen again.
“Are you hungry?”
She stirred the coffee, then leaned back against the counter next to him and sipped. “Like a bear after hibernating all winter.”
He grinned, his face transforming into the boy she grew up with. “Yeah? Maybe I should have made more pancakes?”
Her mouth watered, thinking about the first bite of chocolate chip gooey goodness. “Uh, no. That’s more than enough for me. But, you’re a different story. You probably could eat that many on your own.”
He turned around to flip the pancakes. “Don’t be telling stories, Dane. You can eat as much as I do.” He grinned sideways at her, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Sometimes more.”
Her heart skipped a few beats. She’d need to have a serious chat with her primary organ if Ryker stayed in town. “Just what a lady wants to be reminded of. The fact that she’s getting older and can’t eat as much as she used to. You have a way with the ladies, Marshal.” She wagged her head back and forth but couldn’t force her lips into even a mock frown. It didn’t matter. Ryker’s attention was back to the griddle.
Then he turned his head to look at her, those golden eyes assessing her, from hair to feet, a smile curving his lips when his gaze landed on her pink fuzzy slippers. She nibbled on a fingernail, embarrassed that she hadn’t changed out of her sweats. Why hadn’t she run a brush through her tousled hair? Or splashed some cool water across her swollen eyes?
“You don’t look like you have a thing to worry about, sweetheart.”
Her neck felt as if it was on fire. He never looked at her that way or spoke in that tone. Soft, gentle, husky, like a caress. He’d always given her the exasperated look, the “in trouble again?” look. She was pretty sure he never speared Jennifer with the “can’t you stay out of trouble for just one day” look. No. That one was reserved just for her.
His head swiveled back to the pancakes.
She blinked and cleared her throat. Fumbled with pulling the plates from the cabinet and the silverware from the drawer then retrieved the butter and syrup. Anything to stay busy, to keep from thinking about what she thought she’d seen in his eyes and heard in his voice.
He carried the platter to the table, then came back for the two coffee cups, golden eyes guarded, voice back to Ryker-normal. “I figured we’d take some over to Quiver Full after we eat.”
After all the years of yearning for his attention, had she only imagined the emotion on his face and in his voice? “What a fabulous idea. Mind if I take a shower first?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’d mind if you didn’t.”
She swatted him on the arm and stood on the tips of her slipper-clad toes to whisper in his ear. “I think that smell is coming from you.”
He threw his head back and laughed, his stance relaxed, carefree. The first time she’d seen him this way in a long time.
She couldn’t stop the grin from taking over her entire face. It felt so good for Ryker to be home. In her home. Making breakfast for her. How cool was that? This was even better than her dreams.
Ryker glanced over a shoulder as he refilled both mugs. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like work already.”
“You never used to be afraid of working up a little sweat, Dane.”
She sat down at the table and waited for him to join her. Sweat she didn’t mind. She was still working on the “afraid” part. “I’m kidding. What do you need?”
He set both cups on the table. She snatched hers, and the coffee almost sloshed over the top.
“It’s two-part. Here’s the easy part.” He sank down in the chair, dimples peeking through whisker-stubbled cheeks. “Want to go to the football game tomorrow afternoon?”
She gasped and almost choked on the coffee sliding down her throat. “The Panthers game?”
His eyebrows arched, amusement lighting his face. “Is there another team around here?”
True. “What’s the catch?”
He plopped a couple cakes on each plate and reached for the syrup.
She waited.
Ryker looked at her as he picked up a fork. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you mind if I pray?”
He cleared his throat and put the fork back down. “Sure. Okay.”
She reached for his hand. “Thank you, God, not only for the food but for Ryker being here, for the comfort he provided for me last night, for his friendship and what he means to me in my life. Bless our day, I pray. Amen.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then released it and picked up the fork again. She did the same, took a bite. Chocolate chips oozed from the pancakes. “Yum, Ryker. These are fabulous. You can cook my breakfast anytime.” Not that Jennifer would let him, but, hey, it didn’t hurt to put the invitation out there.
“Thanks.”
She finished chewing, realized that he still hadn’t answered her question. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch really. I could use your help this week organizing the house. Do you think some of the kids at the orphanage would like to earn some money?”
She rolled her eyes. “What kind of question is that?”
He laughed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. I’d like the kids to do some yard work. But as for you, I just need general help setting up the place. Furniture placement. Hanging pictures. That sort of thing. You know. So it doesn’t take me all month doing it by myself.”
“Consider it done!” Someone needed to teach Ryker the fine art of negotiating, but it wouldn’t be her. She was definitely getting the better end of this deal even if she knew it would take longer than just this week. “What time is the game tomorrow?”
“One.”
“Do you have the tickets already?”
“Not yet. They have plenty of seats still available, though. They’ve not been playing well this year.”
“Yeah. I’ve caught a few games on TV. Do you mind if we bring a few kids from the orphanage along?” Come on, Ryker, say yes. Yes. Yes.
“How many?”
“A couple. Renata, Amber. Oh, and maybe Jason. Kyle.” And whoever else helped with the yard work. “At least a couple.”
“Sure.”
Yes! One down, one to go. “And the other part?”
“That’s where it gets a little tougher.”
She licked her chops. Piece of cake. “Okay.”
“I need you to talk to me first.”
Oh. When he said tough, he really meant torture. “Ohh-kay.”
“What happened?”
She rested the fork on her plate, her appetite depleted. There was no sense pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d see right through it. “Somebody was in my house last week. Uninvited.”
“I can see that. What’s the rest of the story?”
“Does there have to be more?”
He put the fork down on his empty plate and waited.
She sipped coffee, savoring the warmth as it slid down her throat. She took a breath, exhaled. She needed to do this. She hadn’t told anyone besides the local police yet. Not even her brother. “I had a job in Spain, which lasted about five days. I arrived home late one night to a man waiting for me in my house.”
“You’re sure it was a male?”
No doubt about that. The jerk had made sure she knew. She nodded, her lips compressed in a thin line, feeling the pancakes more in her throat than halfway to her stomach. “Yeah.”
“Was he looking for something?”
She shrugged, rested an elbow on the table and massaged her forehead. “I don’t know.”
“Did he go through any drawers? Pull any books from the shelves? Was the place a mess?” Concern replaced Ryker’s normal exasperation. What was up with him lately?
“No. But I think he went through the desk in my bedroom. Some of my things appeared to be rearranged.”
“Do you have whatever he was looking for?”
She sighed, frustrated that she hadn’t been able to come up with answers to any of the questions Ryker asked. She’d searched her brain throughout these long sleepless nights. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured out if he was really looking for something or not. When I came in, he decided he wanted me instead.”
She stared at the half-eaten pancakes, the chocolate now mixed with the syrup, a gooey mess on the plate. Anything to keep from looking at Ryker, seeing the emotion on his face. Would he be angry with her? Would he think she deserved it because trouble always seemed to knock on her door?
Danae stole a glance at him. His face glowed red, fists clenched against the table. His shoulders stretched stiff and erect.
Yep. He was angry. She licked her parched lips. “He didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“I’m sorry, Dane.” Ryker moaned and hung his head. With hunched shoulders and closed eyes, he rubbed his forehead, a hand covering most of his face.
Ah, poor Ryker. He thought the worst. He didn’t give her enough credit. She reached for his hand and pulled it back, meeting his lion eyes with a half-hearted grin. “You and Stephen taught me a few tricks over the years. Enough to buy me some time. But, Amber and Renata from Quiver Full are the ones who actually saved me from being raped.”
5
Shock and relief made Ryker’s gut squishy like the jiggly jello his housemother used to make for dessert. “Kids from the orphanage?”
Dane nodded, pride radiating from the smile that lit her face. “Not really kids, Ryker. Two of the teenage girls I hang out with.”
Thank you, God! A silent prayer whispered through Ryker’s heart, leaving a slight flutter in its wake. He’d talked to God twice in less than twenty-four hours. What was happening to him? He blinked. He’d have to dwell on this later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on Dane’s safety. “Did the girls use a chair and a lamp to fend off your attacker?”
Dane’s eyes widened. “No. I did that. How did you know?”
“I get paid to notice things like that, Dane.” Although those days were likely over.
She stood up, carrying the dirty plates to the sink, and turned on the faucet. She looked over a shoulder, her fingertips testing the temperature of the water as it heated. “They heard all the commotion inside, my screams, banging into walls, knocking the chair over, throwing the lamp.”
Dane grabbed a plate, rinsed it, and started loading the dishwasher. “I’d locked the door when I came in, so Amber alternated between ringing the doorbell and banging on the front window. Renata went to the neighbors and called the cops. Between Amber and the neighbors who came over to help, they made enough noise to scare the jerk straight out the back door.”
Ryker brought the rest of the dirty dishes to the sink. “Do you think the two incidents are connected? The break-in and the elevator?”
She paused, balancing a plate dripping syrup into the sink in one hand, and scrunched her face, that cute little nose wrinkling. “I don’t know. That didn’t cross my mind.”
He nodded and took the dishrag to wash the table. “I’ll finish here, Dane. Why don’t you go get ready? We can talk about this on the way to the orphanage.”
Drying her hands on a towel, she flashed him a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Ryker finished loading the dishwasher and turned it on. The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” He hollered down the hallway as he made his way to the front door. Confident that the same crank who had attacked Dane wouldn’t ring the doorbell to get her attention, his fingers still touched the cold metal of his gun as he peered out the broken window next to the door. He’d need to see about installing a peephole for Dane.
A Serenity Ridge police officer stood on the front porch, a hand perched on his weapon, legs braced slightly apart, back and shoulders stiff and straight.
Ryker pulled the door open. “Good morning, officer.”
The police officer didn’t offer a return smile. Sweat beaded on the man’s upper lip. “You have some ID on you?”
“Is that how you address your city’s residents after ringing their doorbell?”
The officer’s only response was a glare and a tighter grip on his weapon.
Ryker didn’t trust the youngster’s itchy trigger finger. He hardened his tone, self-confidence and maturity on his side. “I’m a Deputy U.S. Marshal. I’m going to reach into my pocket for my wallet, and I’ll show you my badge. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Ryker offered his identification badge to the officer. “Ryker McLane. As I said before. Deputy U.S. Marshal.”
The officer relaxed his stance. Slightly. The hand loosened its grip on his weapon.
“Is there something I can help you with, Officer…” Ryker stepped out on the porch and glanced at the man’s nametag, cataloging the name for future recall. “Burton?”
“What business do you have here?”
Ryker, calm and steady, kept his gaze fixed on the officer’s stony face. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is when we’ve been called here for prior disturbances recently.”
So the guy was following up. That’s good. Ryker couldn’t fault him for that. He flicked his head once in acknowledgement. “Dane and her brother are good friends of mine. I’m in town for her brother’s wedding.”
The officer didn’t need to know all the details. Like the part about Stephen asking him to keep an eye on Dane. If Stephen knew and trusted this cop, he’d have asked him to keep watch over Dane. Ryker made a mental note to ask Stephen about Officer Burton.
“Is Danae around?”
So, the officer knew Dane by first name. An extra set of eyes where Dane was concerned was a good thing, right? “Yeah. She is. Would you like to come in?”
“Yes.”
A man of few words or a limited vocabulary. Ryker swung the door open and waited for Officer Burton to step inside.
“Can I get you some coffee?” He’d never known a police officer to turn down a cup of joe.
“No, thanks.”
Guess he did now. “Suit yourself.” Ryker wandered back into the kitchen. He found a plastic bag and stuffed the pancakes into it, keeping an ear cocked to the nervous police officer in the living room.
Slow, measured steps headed toward the kitchen, and then stopped. Ryker did a one-eighty, away from the counter, alert, ready. Joe Police Officer strutted into the kitchen.
Ryker picked up the coffee cup and took a long swig, watching the officer over the rim of the mug. The officer’s gaze took in the bag filled with pancakes and R
yker’s bare feet. The man’s brows dived, and his face twisted into a snarl. A hand fluttered just above his weapon.
Dane breezed around the corner into the kitchen, pulling wet hair back into one of those elastic bands. “Ryker, I—”
Ryker knew the second she realized another person was in the room. She gasped, her eyes flickering wildly as she backed up three steps. A hand slashed through the air, finally settling around the vicinity of her heart.
“Dane, hey, it’s okay. It’s Officer Burton from the Serenity Ridge Police Department. You two know each other, right?”
She exhaled, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Oh, hey, Chris. Sorry, you startled me.”
So Officer Burton’s name was Chris. Officer Chris Burton. Ryker filed that name away for future reference.
“Good morning, Danae.” Officer Burton inclined his head and smiled at Dane, the trigger-happy hand now stretched out at his side, far away from the weapon.
Dane flashed an anxious look at Ryker then turned to Officer Burton and smiled. Or grimaced. Ryker wasn’t sure, but the tightness around her lips and the worry lining her eyes made him a little uneasy. She was on a first name basis with the officer but obviously didn’t feel comfortable. What was the story here?
Or maybe she was just a little unnerved that someone else was in the house? Ryker probably should have checked with Dane before he let the guy in. Scowling at his insensitivity, he turned back to the counter and poured coffee into to-go cups, mulling over his role.
Protector for the week. Friend forever. Stand-in brother for as long as he could remember.
But he felt something more. Some emotion he just couldn’t get a handle on. Whatever it was, Ryker didn’t like feelings he didn’t understand, things he couldn’t fix. He dumped a couple sweetener packets into Dane’s cup, then stirred, sloshing the hot liquid over the rim. What had him so worked up this morning? Couldn’t have been from sleeping on the couch because he woke up feeling rested. Probably just the tense look on Dane’s face.
“Chris, did you meet my friend Ryker?”
