Chapter Four
Katie knew when Goldie perked her ears and shot out of her bedroom that Tyler had arrived to pick her up for their outing—not technically a date since they were going dutch. She cast a critical glance into the mirror.
Too casual? She’d opted for jeans and a cream-colored top with crocheted sleeves and a demure neckline. The scar at the base of her neck was clearly visible but Katie didn’t care. She found she wanted Tyler to know about what had happened to her and how she’d overcome it. The pink in her cheeks had nothing to do with the light layer of makeup she’d applied. She was looking forward to their evening together.
Don’t get your hopes up, she warned herself.
Toeing on a pair of strappy sandals, she hurried down the stairs to greet him. The silhouette looming at the window pane gave her a momentary start. But then she recognized the breadth of Tyler’s shoulders and her pulse leaped for a different reason. She took a deep breath, let it out again, then opened the door with what she hoped was a pleasant smile and not a cheese-eating grin.
“Hi,” she said.
His golden brown eyes hit her like a gale-force wind, rocking her back on her feet as they trekked intently downward, snagging briefly on her scar. “Hi, yourself,” he said looking back into her eyes.
“You shaved,” she remarked, amazed at how much younger he looked without the scraggly beard.
Goldie stuck her head through the door just then, saving him from having to explain himself. “Who’s this?” he asked, reaching out a hand for the dog to sniff.
“This is Goldie. She’s my service dog.”
His gaze jumped up questioningly, but Katie didn’t elaborate.
“She’s expecting puppies in a few weeks. The father is that chocolate labra-doodle in my kennels. I think they’ll have beautiful pups.”
Tyler stroked Goldie’s soft head. “I wondered what that dog was. What are you going to do with the puppies?”
“I’ll give away some and keep the two most trainable ones.”
He eyed her with a growing smile. “That sounds fun.”
“It is. But it’s hard work, too.”
A crackle of awareness passed between them as they stared into each other’s eyes. “Well,” said Katie, breaking the spell. “The restaurant fills up fast after seven, so we’d better get going.”
He looked a bit surprised by her eagerness to leave. “Okay. You ready?”
“Let me just grab my purse.” Backtracking to the closet door, she fished out her purse. “Stay, Goldie,” she said, stepping outside and locking the door behind her.
Tyler was staring across the yard at Bronco, visible in the outdoor portion of his kennel. The dog yipped and made a growly sound as if trying to communicate. “I’ll come back for you, buddy,” Tyler called.
Katie flipped on the porch light so it would be shining when she got back. With a smile for Tyler, she let him escort her off the porch.
He limped with each step, his mouth crimped with pain, but the frown on his face told her not to comment. And once they were situated in his car, he became the competent and confident man she’d known. He shot her a smile that reminded her of how he’d looked back in high school.
“You look fantastic,” he told her unexpectedly.
The gruff timber in his voice brought heat flooding to her face. “So do you.” He wore a royal blue short-sleeved shirt over a pair of jeans, an ensemble that disguised his gauntness.
He said nothing for a moment, turning left at the head of her driveway and accelerating. “You’re going to have to tell me where this place is,” he reminded her. “I’m just driving all distracted over here.”
The subtle flirtation put a bubble of happiness in her chest. “You’re headed the right way,” she replied. “Turn north on the 522, and it’s just past the campground at the second bridge.”
“Easy enough.” He snapped on the radio, filling the car with the liquid voice of country-music singer Blake Shelton. A dozen questions vied for articulation in Katie’s mind, but she knew the time wasn’t right to ask them. If this was Tyler’s first real outing since his injury—and something told her that it was—she needed to take things slowly.
They arrived at Tim’s in exactly five minutes. The large, airy restaurant had been built on a finger of Lake Anna, with a deck and several windows overlooking the water. The distinct aroma of fried seafood greeted their nostrils. The hostess led them to a table for two in the corner of the room.
Too romantic? Katie wondered, grateful for the privacy, nonetheless.
Tyler pulled out a chair for her and she sank into it gracefully, lifting her bottom so he could push it closer.
Then he collapsed into the chair across from her, grimacing as he took the weight off his legs. Katie couldn’t contain herself any longer. “That prosthesis really bothers you,” she observed.
He shot her a fulminating look but she could tell his anger wasn’t directed at her. “It sucks,” he bit out. “They’re making me another one.”
“Who’s they?”
“The amputee clinic at Walter Reed.”
She winced. “That’s a horrible word,” she admitted not needing to repeat it in order for him to understand.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed. He snatched up his menu and pretended to study it.
“The fish here is good,” she said helpfully. “So are the crab cakes.”
The waitress came with their drinks. Katie had ordered a glass of white wine, while Tyler stuck to iced tea.
“You don’t drink?” Katie asked. In high school, he’d been known to put away a six-pack all by himself.
“Afraid if I start, I won’t stop,” he drawled without looking up from his menu.
Sensing the tension thrumming in him, Katie cast about for something to say that would put him at ease. Why not admit to her high school crush? It might go a long way to soothing his battered pride. “I had a serious crush on you in high school, you know,” she confessed.
He looked up, startled. A flicker of interest lit his eyes. “This is where I lose points for barely remembering you,” he admitted on a rueful note.
She waved his apology aside. “Trust me, I was entirely unmemorable.”
He set his menu aside. “Or maybe I was just blind,” he suggested.
A blush heated Katie’s cheeks and she hid it by pretending to study the menu.
A waiter sidled up to their table. They both ended up ordering identical plates—stuffed flounder with a salad and hushpuppies on the side.
“So tell me what you did after high school,” Tyler requested.
Her chest tightened. Here goes. “I went to UVA to study psychology.”
He kept quiet, seemingly quite interested.
“However, my junior year, a local man climbed through my dorm window and attacked me at knife point.”
Tyler’s expression darkened. His gaze dropped to the scar on her neck.
“I was saved by another student pounding on my door, but…” She drew a shaky breath. It was still so difficult to talk about. “The episode pretty much shattered my sense of safety. It took a year just to step out of my house and several more years of therapy to live a productive life again. My parents got me Goldie, and that’s when I got my life back. I finished my degree online and decided to train my own service dogs.”
“Including Bronco,” he inserted. He seemed intrigued by the notion of her getting her life back.
“Yes. He’s the smartest pup I’ve ever come across.”
Tyler nodded. “I noticed that.”
“What made you change his name?” she asked, relieved to shift the focus elsewhere.
“I’ll show you,” he decided, pulling out his cell phone. She watched him thumb the screen before handing it across the table.
The phone displayed a picture of several bearded warriors, each one dressed in camouflage and bristling with weaponry. Their confident poses and bad-ass expressions were the first thing Katie noticed. She spotted Tyler
by his jet-black beard. The others looked as young and robust as he did.
“You see the guy on the right with the lighter hair and blue eyes?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a great friend—all smiles and fun-times with a can-do attitude. The dog reminded me of him.”
“They do resemble,” Katie agreed taking in the man’s blue eyes and killer smile. “Though I’d have to say he’s a good deal more handsome than Bronson.”
“All the women say that. His name’s really Brantley Adams, but everyone calls him Bronco because he used to be a champion bronco rider.”
“No kidding.” And now he was obviously a SEAL. “Do the others have nicknames?” She held the phone sideways so he could see it, too.
“Some of them. That guy there is my peer—was my peer,” he amended with a quick frown. He pointed out a swarthy-skinned godlike creature with hair as black as his, but less facial hair. “His name’s Sam. I wouldn’t recommend calling him anything else. Then there’s Cooper, a junior lieutenant.” He pointed to a lanky blond. “The young one we call Bamm-Bamm.” He pointed to stockier youth who looked about nineteen years old. “The Asian guy goes by Haiku. And this is Jeremiah Winters.” The last warrior was the tallest with intelligent-looking features. “His first name’s Jeremiah, but we all call him Bullfrog.”
“Jeremiah was a bullfrog,” she quoted. Then she arched an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be complimentary?”
“To a frogman, absolutely,” he said with conviction. “Makes him the mac-daddy of us all.”
His smile fled as he realized that he’d once again included himself in their number. He gently plucked the phone from her hands and he put it away, avoiding eye contact.
“You’ll always be a SEAL, Tyler,” she assured him quietly.
He blinked thoughtfully, avoiding her gaze. “Funny, that’s what Sam said to me. But I don’t feel like one.”
She longed to soothe him with further reassurances but something within her sensed he didn’t want to hear empty platitudes right then. “How’s your family?” she asked him.
But his expression only darkened more. “Mom’s at the rehabilitation center in Gordonsville. She didn’t recognize me the last time I visited.”
His flat tone could not disguise his heartbreak. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. Don’t stop visiting,” she advised. “You never know when she’ll have a lucid moment.”
“Maybe you’d like to come with me next time?” he suggested, raising his gaze from the tablecloth.
“I’d love that. Does she like dogs? Seeing an animal can sharpen the mind.”
He cocked his head with visible hope. “Yeah, she loves dogs.”
Katie shrugged. “Okay. Just tell me when you want to go, and I’ll arrange my schedule to do it.”
“Who’s been stalking you?” he asked out of the blue.
The reminder of her present troubles edged aside her eager anticipation. “I have no idea.” She explained how she’d arrived home one day to see a man fleeing from her front door. He’d left her dogs in an uproar and the pane set into her door shattered.
“Then I kept seeing the same maroon Chrysler in my mirror, like he was following me. He tried to push my Honda off the road the other day.”
Concern hardened the line of Tyler’s already chiseled jaw.
“Then the last episode happened just two nights ago. He tried to break in while I was sleeping.”
“Christ,” he swore. To Katie’s surprise, he extended a hand across the table, palm-side up.
Katie accepted his gesture of comfort, laying her own hand atop his. The firm but gentle pressure of his fingers as they crooked around hers made her mouth turn dry.
“That must have awakened some painful memories,” he deduced, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.
“Definitely,” she breathlessly agreed. “But Goldie is trained to get me through panic attacks.”
He eyed her curiously, unaware of his effect on her tingling nerves. “You think Bronco will help me the same way?”
“I wouldn’t have foisted him on you if I didn’t think so.”
He nodded and looked down at her hand. “Your skin is so soft.”
“Shea butter,” she replied. “Trust me, if I didn’t use it day and night, my hands would be scarred and callused from hauling on leashes.”
“You should be proud of the work you do,” he said.
“I am.”
The waiter approached them again with their food, forcing her to pull her hand back and concentrate on eating.
The meal passed in a blur of pleasant conversation. Tyler, she discovered, shared many of her interests, from music to following current affairs. Even their political views were similar. By the time they finished eating, she felt comfortable trailing him out onto the deck that overlooked the water. A cooling breeze wafted across the inlet, making the waves dance and glitter in the waning sunlight. The swallows that had built nests under the adjacent bridge dipped and whirled, reflecting the tumult in Katie’s innards when Tyler caught up her hand.
Only a couple times since college had she allowed herself to get physically intimate with a man, and both relationships had ended with her calling it off. Holding hands with Tyler was heavenly. But would she balk later if intimacy became a regular affair?
“I should probably get back,” she told him. Regret vied with her desire to stay in this perfect moment forever. “I don’t like to leave my dogs alone for long.”
He cut her a searching look. “No problem.” Then he led her back to his car, and sped her safely home. For a change, they didn’t speak, except to discuss the wild turkeys that hobbled across the road, forcing them to slow down.
“You don’t see that every day,” Tyler observed.
As he pulled into her driveway, slowing in front of her house, Katie turned her body to face him. “I had such a nice time,” she assured him, both longing for and dreading a parting kiss.
He sent her a wry smile. “I’m supposed to bring Bronco home with me,” he reminded her.
“Oh, that’s right.” They both climbed out of the car to cross the dark yard when suddenly Tyler flashed out a hand and seized her wrist.
Startled, Katie looked over to find him staring at her front door.
“I thought you left the light on,” he observed.
Yes, she had, but now her porch stood in darkness. However, there was still enough light for her to see that her window pane had been shattered all over again. “No!” she cried, racing for the door.
Even with his painful prosthesis, Tyler managed to catch her elbow as she mounted the steps. “Call your uncle,” he said in a calm voice that helped to dissipate her horror. “I’ll go inside and check things out.”
“Find Goldie,” she called after him. The fear that her pregnant dog had been hurt by the intruder made her movements less than competent as she fumbled for her cell phone and dialed her uncle’s number. What if the intruder had a gun? Could Tyler hold his own against him?
Waiting for her uncle to answer, Katie watched through her windows as Tyler went from room to room flipping on the lights. Her uncle’s voicemail answered, and Katie left a succinct message asking him to call her right back. Suddenly, there was Tyler, stepping through her door with a broom.
“You can come in,” he stated. “Goldie’s okay. He bribed her with a meaty bone. But brace yourself. The intruder tore up your window seat in the parlor.”
Bewildered as to why, Katie sidestepped the glass Tyler started sweeping and entered her home with a held breath.
The formal parlor had been the coup de grace of her renovation project. Expensive crown molding accented the pale yellow walls. Her furniture was a tasteful blend of modern and Victorian. A working clock from 1912 ticked over her whitewashed mantle. Nothing had been disturbed except the window seat. The cushions had been ripped off and tossed onto the floor. Someone had taken a hatchet to the wood beneath, pulling up and breaking off several planks to reveal the empty space
below.
Katie clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her dismay. If it wasn’t enough that she would have to replace the window in her door a second time, now she would have to make repairs to the window seat. “What on earth?” she cried as Tyler came up behind her. “What—what was he looking for?”
“My guess is money,” he suggested.
“Money?” She whirled around to look at him.
“Think about it. The former owner went to jail for embezzling his client’s money. What if he hid it in this house thinking he could find it again when he got out?”
Just then her cell phone rang, and she took the call, telling her uncle what had happened, and suggesting Tyler’s theory. “He’ll be right over,” she relayed, putting her phone away.
Tyler offered her a sympathetic hug “Better finish sweeping up,” he said, turning away.
Katie found Goldie lying in the kitchen gnawing on an oversized knuckle bone.
“You don’t need this,” she sternly informed the dog. Tossing the bone into the trash, she threw herself down at the kitchen table until Goldie wandered over and gazed into her eyes, steadying her erratic heartbeat.
Look Again Page 4
