Chapter Eight
“Don’t you think something like that would do?” Derek had been trudging through the snowy woods behind his home for nearly an hour. Izzy had insisted they find a Christmas tree to welcome his family. He’d tried to object, but it was like asking a grizzly bear to stay away from a stream during salmon season.
Izzy arched her brows. “That’s a shrub, not a tree. Besides, it looks like a family of raccoons nested in the center. Where would the ornaments go?” The dog looked up at her as she spoke, as if she made perfect sense to his canine ears.
“Fewer branches means less work hanging ornaments.” He refused to smile when Izzy rolled her eyes. When he was near her, he found himself grinning more often than he had in years. Anyone else would be able to attribute their mood to the festivities and cheer of the season, but he was different. This was a hard time for him, with reminders of Christmas traditions and joys of years past around every corner.
Did his mother still love the holidays and the first snowfall, wherever she was? There was no doubt Izzy was the reason for his uplifted mood, and that was concerning, as she was leaving in a little over a week. Did he like her just because she was off-limits? Izzy had made it clear she wasn’t interested when she turned away from his kiss in the hotel room. The kiss that sparked fresh life in him didn’t seem to have the same effect on her. Added to her disinterest, she was his employee, after all.
“Come on, Christmas Grinch. Just a little bit farther. The perfect one is out there. I know it.” She flashed him a smile over her shoulder, and his heart skipped a beat. He followed her, holding the handsaw in his left palm and strings to the sled in his right.
“I’ll have to run out and get ornaments before we can decorate.” Derek hadn’t thought of that minor detail before they bundled up and set out.
“Don’t you have any in your house we could use?” Izzy picked up a handful of snow, packed it into a tight ball, and threw it for Atticus.
“I can’t use them. We never put up a tree after my mother left. Putting up her ornaments wouldn’t be fair to my father.” Or to him. Derek had purchased the house from his father because he couldn’t bear to part with memories of happier times, but he didn’t want to relive them, either. Izzy’s face filled with sympathy.
“Of course you don’t.” Her voice had gentled. “We can make popcorn strings to wrap around the tree instead,” she suggested.
“People really do that? I thought that was something made up by film producers.” They’d come to a clearing in the forest, and Derek slowed his pace. His calf muscles were burning after the uphill climb. The strenuous physical activity didn’t seem to bother Izzy.
“Gram and I did it every year. She’d pop big pots of it on the stove, and we’d string them and talk for hours.” A flash of whimsy flickered in her eyes as she got lost in the memory.
“Then we will, too.” She was giving up her own holiday to keep her gram in the place she loved, and that was as selfless as it got. It wasn’t that big of a sacrifice to bring one of her traditions into his holiday. That was what a normal couple would do, wouldn’t they? While it would help add more legitimacy to their story, it unsettled him. The last thing he wanted to do was fall for Izzy.
She’d come to a complete stop in the middle of the clearing. “Derek, what’s that?”
Derek’s stomach clenched. A few feet ahead of them, the pure snow was stained with crimson droplets. The trail of red spatters turned into large pools closer to the tree line on the opposite side of the clearing. Izzy broke into a run, Atticus at her heels. Derek’s heart jammed into his throat.
“Izzy, don’t.” Even as he said it, his feet started pumping beneath him as he followed her.
She stopped quickly, and he bumped into her back. Her breath came in quick pants. Derek clutched her shoulders when he saw the young doe lying lifelessly in the snow.
“That’s a predator’s fresh kill. We need to get out of here.” Derek grabbed her arm above the elbow and pulled her back toward him. “Atticus, get back here,” he hissed.
The dog had trotted over to the deer to investigate. He paid no mind to Derek’s warning and sniffed around the carcass. He let go of Izzy’s arm and moved forward to get the dog. The stubborn old thing wouldn’t follow a command unless a treat was dangled in front of his nose.
A low snarl from within the forest stopped Derek in his tracks. Another growl joined the sinister sound, then another, until there was a chorus of howls echoing through the trees. He turned to Izzy. “Run,” he shouted. When he heard Atticus’s deep bark break through the air, he whipped around. A pack of thin, scraggly wolves had moved into the clearing to protect their meal. They barred their jagged teeth, stained pink from feasting on the deer.
One of the wolves charged at Atticus, and adrenaline speared through Derek. He picked up a fallen branch and ran forward, smacking the wolf with the thick piece of wood. Its teeth were already buried in the dog’s side. Atticus let out a long screech of pain. The other wolves advanced. They were so close, and Derek could see the saliva on their teeth and dripping from their mouths. His heart beat like a war drum. He’d be damned if these wolves were going to take down his best friend.
Yellow eyes and jagged teeth leaped toward him and grabbed the fabric of his jacket. He twisted and turned, but he couldn’t shake free. A whiz of green blurred past in the corner of his eye. It connected with his attacker and sent it plummeting to the ground with a dull thud. Izzy was suddenly in front of him and Atticus, waving the plastic sled wildly at the pack of wolves. If they stepped back, Izzy stepped closer, until the beasts were back behind the trees. In one final effort to scare them, Izzy threw the sled into the forest. It hit one of the wolves, and the rest scattered deeper into the woods.
“Now we can run,” Izzy said breathlessly. Derek was momentarily stunned by her bravery. She’d morphed into Xena the Warrior Princess right in front of his eyes. Atticus whimpered softly, and Derek hoisted him up. The dog weighed over one hundred pounds, but the adrenaline coursing through his blood fueled every step through the endless snow. Izzy came to his side and lifted the dog’s hips to help shoulder some of the weight. Together they stumbled back toward the house. What had only been a half-hour walk on the way to the clearing seemed like an eternity on the way back. He blew out a breath when the house came into sight.
“Right to the car,” he said when their feet connected with the solid stone drive. They made the final struggle across the driveway, and Derek gently placed Atticus down and reached for the door. His hands, slick with the dog’s blood, slipped off the handle. Frustration built as he repeatedly tried to open it.
“Hurry, Derek. I think it’s terrible,” Izzy said.
Fear snapped inside him. “Don’t you think I know that? This never would’ve happened if you hadn’t insisted on a goddamn tree!”
Derek instantly regretted the statement. Izzy drew back as if she’d been slapped. Her eyes filled, and she busied herself comforting the dog. He wiped his hands on his jeans, pulled open the door, and bent down to pick up Atticus. The dog whined as he placed him in the backseat. Izzy rounded the car and got in beside the dog. Derek jumped in the driver’s seat, twisted the key, and peeled out of the driveway. He glanced in the rearview mirror and lowered it so he could see Atticus. His giant head covered Izzy’s whole lap. Her lips moved slowly as she stroked him. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he was sure they were words of comfort.
He hadn’t meant to explode at her, but the dog meant a lot to him. He’d been a steadfast friend in times of loneliness and depression during his young adult years. Atticus gave him responsibility and the gift of unconditional love that he so desperately craved after being abandoned by his mother. When he’d wanted to stay locked in his room like a hermit, the dog would appear in the doorway, reminding him it was time for their afternoon walk. If something happened to Atticus…
He gritted his teeth. Derek refused to think of the dog’s mortality. Yanking the whe
el sharply right, he pulled into the emergency vet clinic. He unclipped his seat belt, jumped out of the car, and slid his arms under the dog’s hips and chest, pulling him close. The black interior was shiny with fresh blood. Derek didn’t wait for Izzy. He rushed into the clinic, taking the stairs two at a time despite the dog’s cumbersome weight.
“I need a doctor. Quick!” he said in an unsteady voice to the young woman behind the front desk. She jumped up at the sight of the blood and ran around the desk. Two veterinarians appeared from an exam room and rushed forward. Derek quickly explained what had happened, then they took the dog from him and disappeared into a back room.
He registered Atticus, then went and sat in the waiting room with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. It was only now, when he was sitting quietly, that he noticed the rapid thump of his heart and a sickness that coiled deep within his gut. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He was utterly helpless. His best friend’s fate was in the hands of two vets he’d never met.
Light pressure rested on his shoulder. He looked up and into Izzy’s watery eyes. He hadn’t even been aware that she sat next to him. He’d lashed out at her because she was there, and an easy target. It wasn’t her fault they were in this situation. He walked those woods with Atticus nearly every day and had never caught a glimpse of wolves before. They had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I’m so sorry.” Izzy’s voice trembled, and she looked down at her hands.
“I wasn’t fair. It could have easily happened when I took Atticus for his afternoon walk.” She didn’t meet his eyes. His words had done damage.
“But it didn’t. It happened because I forced you out to find a dumb tree, and now…” Izzy shook her head. “Poor Atticus was just trying to protect us.”
They fell silent. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. He was much better at pushing people away than he was at comforting them. So he remained silent.
Minutes turned to hours, and Derek was ready to crawl out of his skin, go up to the desk and demand answers, shout if he had to. But it wasn’t necessary because one of the vets started down the hallway toward him. Derek couldn’t read the man’s expression, and his insides turned to ice.
“How is he?” To his ears, his voice sounded desperate and panicked.
“Lucky,” the vet said. “The bites occurred near two main arteries. He lost a lot of blood. We stitched him up and bandaged the wounds.” The vet flipped a page on his clipboard. “I’ll leave you instructions for changing the wraps. Pain medication and antibiotics should be given every six hours. We gave him a rabies booster, too, but thankfully, you’ve been vigilant about his vaccinations.”
Some of the tension aching in his back and shoulders eased. Atticus was going to be all right. They sat in the waiting room for a few more hours while the dog was under observation. Izzy was completely silent, and he was too emotionally drained from the afternoon to try to make amends. He’d made her feel at fault for the dog’s condition. If Atticus were gravely injured, his sharp words would’ve left a mark on her and unwavering guilt on him. Izzy had been nothing but kind and helpful since she arrived. She was the first woman he’d had a connection with since he closed his heart off. Did he purposely sabotage new friendships, or did he act irritable around her because he wanted her on every level? It wasn’t smart. She was as temporary as the ice that glazed over the pond outside his window. Once she left, would he still think of her, or would it be out of sight out of mind? He knew the answer, and he didn’t like it.
The vet finally came out with Atticus and helped Derek and Izzy load him in the car. Izzy chose the backseat again, and Derek went back inside the practice to settle the bill. The car ride home was as quiet as the waiting room, the only sound the soft hum of the heater.
…
Derek tiptoed downstairs and peeked into the parlor. When they’d brought Atticus home last night, he’d built a fire and laid Atticus on a thick comforter so he wouldn’t have to walk up the stairs and pull at the stitches. Izzy was curled up on the blanket beside the dog, with one arm draped over his shoulder and the other cradled under her cheek. He slid the door quietly closed and slipped out of the house. He’d screwed up yesterday, and it was time to make amends. He told himself it was to soften her demeanor toward him for the benefit of his family, but the truth was something else. He couldn’t stand the fact he had hurt her.
Part of him wished he’d turned her away the day she arrived on his doorstep, because now he was dreading the day she left. If only she weren’t so different from the girls he casually dated. They were safe because he was only physically attracted to them. Izzy was so much more. He enjoyed the conversations they shared, eating dinner together, and simply being in her presence. Maybe the only saving grace was that she didn’t seem interested in anything more than a friendship. Not only had she rejected him physically, but she was still professional around the house, insisting on carrying out all her temp duties. He’d be smart to remember she was here for a paycheck and nothing else.
Chapter Nine
Izzy’s eyelids fluttered as a wet tongue dragged across her face. She smiled at Atticus, whose nose was less than an inch from hers. Her back was warm from the steadfast fire that had burned slowly overnight. If she turned, she was sure it would be reduced to glowing embers by now. The dog nudged her with his nose, and she rubbed her hand over his face.
Thank goodness, he was all right. A terrible weight had lifted from her chest when they were able to bring him home, but her stomach was still in choppy waves at being the root of his pain. At least, Derek had made it quite clear that’s what he thought. His sharp words and accusing eyes had burned her.
Did she even want to go through the next few days with his family? How could she pretend to be head over heels for him if they shared a cold silence the entire holiday, like yesterday at the vet’s office and in the car? She’d tried to open her mouth to speak several times, to apologize to him for the mess they were in. Each time, there was a sharp pain in the back of her throat and tears on the verge of spilling. So, she’d remained quiet, and so had he, which told her he’d meant every word he said about her being at fault for the dog’s injuries.
She glanced at the antique grandfather clock and bolted upright. It was nearly noon. How had she slept that long? She dragged a hand through her hair and started to stand.
“I thought I heard you stirring. Come have some breakfast.” Derek appeared in the doorway, wearing fitted dark jeans and a cable-knit sweater. He looked as good as a plate of frosted Christmas cookies, while she was in sweatpants and an oversize T-shirt.
“I think I missed the chance for breakfast hours ago.” Izzy searched his face and didn’t see any of the anger it had held the day before.
“We’ll call it brunch, then.” Derek disappeared into the hallway.
She followed him, self-conscious at being in pajamas this late in the day. The scent of frying bacon peppered the hallway and made her stomach growl. In the kitchen, he had the breakfast nook set with plates, forks, coffee, and orange juice. What was going on? One moment she was walking on eggshells with him, and now he’d fixed breakfast? She couldn’t keep up.
“You’ll need some fuel. We have a lot of work today.” He shot her a smile, and little snowflakes danced in her belly.
“Oh?” She reached for the glass of juice and studied him curiously. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to decorate for the holidays, and there was no way she’d be pushing a tree on him again. Tomorrow would be the day for cooking, so what could they possibly have to do today?
“You’ll see.” He put a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her. It was a pleasant surprise not to do the cooking, but it made her second-guess his intentions. Was this really just a temp/boss relationship, or did he feel something deeper, too? She tried the eggs, and the burned crust on the bottom made her smile. He’d gone out of his comfort zone for her, just like with the grilled cheese sandwich left at her doo
r.
“I’m the temp. I should be the one making breakfast, but this is nice. Thanks.” Izzy bit into a piece of buttery toast.
“You’re more than that.” He had put down his fork and was staring at her. The toast suddenly seemed very dry as she tried to swallow it down.
“You’re different, Izzy. Genuine. People have so many angles, so many secrets. You’re the first person I’ve trusted since my mother left.”
There was a pang in her chest, one that pleaded for his words to be sincere. Her appetite had vanished, but she forced herself to scoop up more eggs. If only she could tell him she felt the same, but as the words formed on her lips, something stopped her. It wasn’t like half of Phi Beta Sigma was going to hop out of the pantry and ridicule her, but the experience had made her guarded.
Derek picked up his coffee mug, took a long drink, and looked at her over the rim. She wasn’t sure if he was admitting that he cared for her, or just tallying the differences between her and his mother. If they were really in a relationship, like his family thought, she’d have one heck of a ghost to contend with every step of the way. Maybe Derek needed to come to the conclusion that not everyone would leave him like his mother had. Who was she to judge him, though, when she couldn’t even reciprocate his feelings like an adult? Maybe she needed to come to the conclusion that not everyone would hurt her like Bret had. And perhaps it was high time she considered herself worthy of someone’s affection. But how could she shake the lifelong perception that no one could develop deep feelings for her?
She got up and cleared the dishes to keep herself busy. Derek stood, too, and started collecting the empty coffee mugs and juice glasses. He’d been shouldering some of her duties lately. She really didn’t deserve the check she’d get from the agency.
“Thank you for breakfast. It was a nice surprise.” Her words sounded lame when compared to his a few moments ago, but it was the best she could do right now. She had to figure out the feelings she had for him first, then decide if the risk of telling him outweighed the benefits. She didn’t want to leave here with a broken heart, but what if she walked away from something special?
The Bookworm and the Beast Page 8
