Deathtrap (Broslin Creek)

by Dana Marton

  She nodded. “The best part of being self-employed is that I can set my own schedule.” She could always add some extra work hours in the evenings instead of watching TV with Peaches.

  He moved on to put in some giant ornamental grasses she’d ordered because she’d read that birds liked to nest in them and they ate the seeds in the winter. He’d already dragged all the plants and trees to where they would be planted, so she could make sure what had worked on paper would work in real life too. All he needed to do was move a clump of grass back a foot, then start digging.

  When he lifted to step on the shovel, the jeans tightened on his butt. She felt bad about leering, she really did. But she had a hard time looking away.

  “Budget?” she asked, to distract herself.

  He glanced at her. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  It felt nice to have her opinion asked. “No sense putting a lot of money into it if you’re selling the place. Just enough to make everything look fresh and taken care of. Reseed the trouble spots in the lawn, edge the flower beds, take out everything that’s dead or unhealthy.”

  She thought for a minute. “Maybe put some flowering bushes by the front door to draw the attention there. Azaleas would be good. They’re flowering right now, and they’re pretty.”

  His masculine lips tugged into a smile that made her heart thump. “You’re good at this.”

  She swallowed. The man shouldn’t be smiling and flexing muscles at the same time. It was too much for someone like her, whose only experience with men was, well…Jeremy.

  He worked through the morning, while she tried to process the fact that she was seriously attracted to him. The idea made her feel wary.

  He was too much of a type A, take-charge kind of guy. She was still trying to figure out who she was, what she wanted to do with her new lease on life. Her little cottage, her little garden, her home. Her choices.

  Yet feeling attraction toward a man was a good sign. It was so blessedly normal when her past had been anything but. So she didn’t resist too hard the impulse to watch him.

  He worked like he meant it. Since he’d started first thing in the morning, he was done by eleven. He cleaned up in the sink in her laundry room, then went out back to play some more with Peaches. He’d tossed the ball for the dog every time he’d gone to the shed for tools, too. He seemed to genuinely like Peaches, which made her like him.

  “I got okayed for a pet.” She shared the good news. “In case nobody comes for Peaches.”

  He watched her for a long moment. “So everything’s okay? Healthwise.”

  “The labs couldn’t be better.”

  “I’m glad.” He gave her a true smile before turning back to the dog. “You think you’ll ever want him inside?”

  “I would. We have a kind of understanding. I think we’re growing on each other.” She hesitated.

  “But?”

  “First I’d have to give him a bath. I haven’t quite worked up the nerve for that. And I’d have to take him to the vet for a full checkup to make sure he’s completely healthy. Just the two of us in the car, together.” She rubbed a fist against her chest. “I haven’t worked the nerve up for that yet either. But I will. I just need a little more time.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know how stupid it makes me feel. Everyone loves dogs. I feel like a total chicken for being scared of them. But I don’t seem to be able to help it.”

  “Give yourself a break. You were five years old, attacked by an animal bigger than you that probably weighed two or three times as much as you did. How do you think the average tough guy would feel if a moose attacked him?”

  She hadn’t thought about it like that.

  “I grew up on a farm,” he said. “A bull plowed me over when I was a teenager, just trampled me into the ground. I never forgot it. I don’t like being around bulls. I wouldn’t go into an enclosure with one without my service weapon. I most certainly would not take one home and let him into my house because it was a stray. So really, you’re showing an amazing amount of intestinal fortitude here.”

  He gave her a smile that made her catch her breath. “Let me put it this way, if you were giving a full-grown bull a bath, I wouldn’t volunteer. But Peaches I can handle.”

  “Okay.” Because, realistically, it could take weeks before she got brave enough to do it on her own. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Do you have dog shampoo?”

  She nodded. “It’s important to think positive and act like you could actually do the things you want to accomplish. I bought some the other day.”

  He stared at her. “You’re impressive, you know that?”

  She didn’t know how to respond. Jeremy used to call her his broken angel. She liked impressive much better. “I have a small guest bathroom,” she said to distract herself from her growing attraction to Bing.

  “Let’s go with the hose in the back and keep dirt out of the house as much as possible.”

  “Won’t he catch a cold?”

  “Not on a day like this.”

  Her anxiety level kicked up a few notches as they walked to the back. What if Peaches didn’t like baths? What if he attacked? She tried to calm her nerves while she went inside for the shampoo, towels, and a handful of treats, but her knees were still weak as she stepped onto the deck, her arms full.

  She must have carried the tension on her face, because as Bing took the bottle from her, he said, “You don’t have to be here.”

  “I want to be.” She was only holding the towels. She should be able to handle that, for heaven’s sake.

  Peaches was wagging his tail. Bing got him to sit, then turned on the hose and just let some water run. The dog didn’t seem bothered by it. He kept his eye on the bag of treats.

  “Oh, what a good dog. Look at that.” Bing gave him a bacon biscuit, then slowly moved the water over Peaches, starting with the back end.

  When the dog stayed still, he got another treat.

  “You’re a handsome fella, aren’t you?” His soothing voice and in-control body language worked on the dog and on her too.

  Jeremy had to control everything because he couldn’t deal with life any other way. She was beginning to suspect that need came from insecurities. Bing, on the other hand, was simply in control because he knew what he was doing and projected utter self-confidence that let others relax around him. She decided she liked that.

  He wet the dog down, then got going with the shampoo, handing out plenty of treats, then rinsed.

  She was ready with a towel, but she wasn’t quick enough. Peaches shook himself the next second, covering both of them with a wet spray.

  She squeaked. Bing gave a belly laugh, his face completely relaxed and happy. And she felt a tug, different from the tug of attraction she’d felt out in the front yard while he’d been working.

  This was a new sort of longing, for something she’d never had before. Nothing fancy, just a normal family morning of giving the dog a bath and laughing together, the kind of relationship it implied.

  With Bing.

  She looked away. Don’t be stupid.

  He toweled the dog dry, praising him for good behavior, then turned back to look at her. “A shame he didn’t have a chip.”

  She winced. “He might.”

  “You didn’t have him checked?” Then he shook his head. “Sorry. Never mind. You aren’t comfortable with him in your car yet.”

  “I’m going to do it.”

  “I know. I’m not calling you chicken. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

  And, of course, her heart just melted.

  He straightened and stepped back when Peaches shook himself again to get rid of the last of the water. “How about I call Mango’s vet and see if he could squeeze your dog in? Otherwise, as a new patient, you might have to wait a while for an appointment. And I can drive him in. He’ll be fine in the back of the pickup. The vet’s not that far from here.”

  Since he was h
ere on personal business, he’d brought his own car, not the cruiser. The black pickup, parked by the curb, had a cap on it. Seemed safe enough, but….

  The yard work was part of their barter. The dog bath was a gesture between friends. The vet might be too much, she decided. He’d be doing something she should be taking care of herself.

  Independence was the goal, becoming a competent, self-assured woman who could handle anything. New heart. New house. New life.

  Her new life. Where she did the things that needed to be done.

  “I’ll take care of the vet,” she told him. “But thanks for offering.”

  He watched her for a long second, then nodded, respecting her wishes.

  But when they were sitting at the patio table and having a cold drink a few minutes later, watching Peaches race in the wind, he turned to her and asked, “Who was he and what did he do to make you so wary of men who want to help?”

  She stiffened in her seat. “I’m not helpless.”

  “Nobody said you were. We all need help with some things. You’ll be helping me next week with my landscaping. The sister of one of my officers is helping me sell the house. My neighbor helps me with feeding the cat if I have to work late. And I help back when I can. That’s the way life works.”

  It sounded so easy and uncomplicated when he said it. “Maybe that’s easier to see for people who don’t have independence issues.”

  “You’re independent. You live in your own house and you support yourself.”

  “And I’m thirty. For most of my life I was like a child, needing people to take care of me. I feel like I’m just now becoming an adult. The whole arrested-development thing. I’m just now figuring out who I am and what I want from life.”

  “Some people still don’t have it figured out who they are and what they want from life when they’re twice your age.”

  “But I want to,” she said stubbornly. “I want to do all the things I missed. I want to start really living.”

  He leaned back in his chair, the sunshine playing on his dark hair. “Then you will. I don’t think anyone who knows you can doubt that you’ll be exactly what you want to be.”

  A sour burst of laughter escaped her. “My ex warned me that I’d be taking my life into my own hands if I left him. My mother wants me to move home so she can take care of me. Well, actually, she thinks it’s a sin against God that I’m alive, but that’s another long, uncomfortable story.”

  “Your father?”

  She hadn’t meant to share so much with him. But he was easy to talk to. She found herself answering the question instead of deflecting it. “Died of liver cancer from drinking. Dad couldn’t take the stress and the fact that every penny he made had to go towards my medical bills. I was born with a weak heart.” It was a miracle her heart had lasted as long as it had. “My illness claimed all of my mother’s attention from day one. There was none left for my father.” So he’d found companionship in a bottle.

  His fingers tightened around the glass he was holding. “A man should stand up to his responsibilities.”

  A man like Bing, she thought, would. She couldn’t imagine him in a situation where he wouldn’t step up to the plate.

  She watched the dog rolling in the grass for a while before she looked at him. “I get the give-and-take thing. But for most of my life, I was doing all the taking and none of the giving. I want to change that.”

  “You were sick. I think you can give yourself a break over the past.”

  “I was too weak to do most anything. I was homeschooled, then went to college online, and then started my web-design business from bed.”

  He shook his head as a sexy grin tugged at his lips. “I wouldn’t call you a loafer, exactly. You’ve done amazingly well with the cards you’ve been handed.” He paused and watched her. “So what happened with the ex-fiancé?”

  That still hurt. She didn’t want to go into it, especially not with Bing. “He took care of me.” She had to give credit where credit was due.

  “And?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “We did well while I was sick. He kept my care in hand. He kept up with my doctors. Kept the meds straight. I was taking loads of pills at the beginning. He handled the bills and our finances. He handled the apartment. He was great.”

  “But?”

  “After the surgery, I got stronger.”

  “You wanted a more equal partnership, and he didn’t want things to change,” he guessed.

  She pressed her lips together. It didn’t seem right to complain about the man who’d been there for her for so long. All she said was, “I just thought at one point, this can’t be a healthy relationship.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t,” he suggested without judging. “Maybe for him to feel strong, he needed you to feel weak.”

  She blinked at him, surprised how quickly he got it. It’d taken her a long time to figure that out.

  “All men are not like your ex,” he said next.

  “I know that. On some level.” And as she released the air from her lungs, she released something else, some false assumptions she’d been hanging on to for too long, that everyone who was strong would want to keep her weak.

  She cleared her throat. “If the offer still stands, I’d be grateful if you could help me take Peaches to the vet.”

  He made the call right then and there. And the vet said he could see them if they could get there within the next twenty minutes. So they raced Peaches to the pickup and got him into the back with the help of a little bribery.

  She was impressed. “I’m beginning to think that dog treats are the best thing ever invented.”

  “Definitely in the top ten,” he said with an easy smile as he slid behind the wheel.

  Her answering smile slipped off her face as she had to push aside a bouquet of white carnations to make room for herself on the passenger seat. The implications hit her, and she felt like an idiot. Of course a guy like Bing would have a woman in his life.

  She gestured at the flowers as he started the engine. “Going on a date?” she asked casually, then held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  All the lightness disappeared from his face.

  “Sorry.” She pressed her lips together. “None of my business.”

  “Saturday was the second anniversary of my wife’s death. It’s the second bouquet. The first wilted before I could make it to the cemetery.” His voice sounded wooden.

  “Work keeps you busy.”

  He shook his head. “I feel like I should be taking her more than flowers. I should be going there telling her I got her killer. I want to be standing there telling her that the bastard’s heart’s no longer beating.”

  He said that last bit with a sudden savagery she hadn’t heard from him before, a dark storm shifting in his gaze, and she got a glimpse of a side of him she hadn’t seen before, a side that criminals must have faced. He looked fierce enough to make her want to stay on the right side of the law. Meticulously.

  “I’m sorry.” Losing a loved one had to be difficult, no matter what, but she imagined that losing someone to violence had to be even harder. Especially for Bing, who spent his whole life protecting people.

  He didn’t tell her more, and she didn’t want to pry. They rode in silence for a while. And then they talked about small things, their pets, gardening, the weather, until they reached the vet.

  Peaches had some blood work done for heartworm and other parasites that would come back in a day or two, but other than that, he received a clean bill of health. He didn’t have a chip. The vet asked if Sophie wanted one put in, but since the dog wasn’t hers, she wasn’t comfortable making that decision. Peaches hadn’t made any effort to leave her backyard, and he did have the collar with her phone number on it, so she felt that, for the moment, they were okay.

  Bing drove them home, led the dog to the back, and snapped off the leash, then shook his head with a smile when Peaches took a leaping run as he spotted a squirrel at the back fence.<
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  “Thank you.” She grinned after the goofball before turning to Bing. “And thank you for the gardening. And the bath too. This is more progress than I would have made in a month on my own. I—”

  “I enjoyed it,” he said quietly, watching her face.

  She blinked. “You did? But it was just a lot of work.”

  “I enjoyed spending time with you.”

  Oh. Pleasure spread through her. “Me too.”

  She walked him back up front, feeling thrilled and awkward in equal measure. They stopped on the stoop outside the door.

  A half smile came to play on his lips. “You’re easy to be around. And easy on the eye. That’s a bonus.” He caught himself. Took a step back. “I have no right to be saying that. I’m not in a place where—”

  “I’m attracted to you too,” she blurted, then wished the earth would just open up beneath her and swallow her up along with the wave of embarrassment that washed over her. She had no idea how to act around a man she was attracted to. She was pitifully inexperienced when it came to dating.

  He stepped closer with an intense, thoughtful look on his face. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  Her heart gave a hard thud.

  “You probably can’t kiss.” Another step closer. “What does the doctor say?”

  “We never kissed,” she deadpanned. “Dr. Pratt and I are not interested in each other that way.”

  The sound of his deep laughter broke the tension between them. He moved a little closer still.

  “Dr. Pratt says intimacy is all right, unless the other person is sick.” She couldn’t believe she just said that. Why not put a neon sign on her forehead? DESPERATE FOR SEX.

  “This isn’t going to work.” He leaned his forehead against hers, the skin-to-skin contact jolting. “This isn’t the right time for either of us.” His hands slid up her arms. “I shouldn’t kiss you,” he said.

  And then he did.

  Holy heavens.

  He didn’t do more than brush his lips over hers, and her head was swimming. Her heart seemed to skip several beats, which gave her a moment of anxiety before she remembered that it might be normal. Things like that were frequently mentioned in romance novels.