The Hunk Next Door

by Debra Webb

  “Oh, I could tell that first thing,” she said. “She’ll relax. Personally, I’m glad to have a strapping young man so close. Makes me feel safe.” She got up, put her glass in the sink and walked to the door. “She cooks when she’s upset. Based on the groceries she hauled in the other day, there’s at least one lasagna in her freezer and another in the oven. You could do worse than get yourself invited to dinner.”

  Startled by the older woman’s suggestion, he didn’t have a chance to reply before she was gone. The older woman was a matchmaker. He’d stake his skill with a weapon on it.

  He was putting the glasses in the dishwasher when the chief reappeared.

  “Where’s Mrs. Wilks?”

  “Home,” he replied, drying his hands. “She said something about dinner in the oven.”

  “I’m the one with dinner baking,” she muttered. She’d been watching his hands with an odd expression, but those blue eyes abruptly locked on to his face.

  He looped the towel through the bar on the front of the dishwasher and tucked his hands into his pockets. She tempted him, her dark, snug jeans hugging her curves and her soft gray cable-knit sweater emphasizing the storms in her eyes. “Are you satisfied now?”

  She scowled at him. “With what?”

  “Your search,” he reminded her. “You were kind of obvious. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong.” It was one of the few things he could say with absolute certainty.

  “You have no idea what I think about you.”

  He pushed away from the counter, pleased when she held her ground. Maybe she wasn’t seeing him as a threat after all. “Enlighten me,” he suggested as he covered the plate of cookies.

  “I’m still assessing,” she said, reaching for the coat she’d draped over the chair back.

  He laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” She paused, her hands going still on the second toggle of her coat.

  “Sorry.” He held up his hands. “Just the two of us tiptoeing around the facts.”

  “Which are?”

  “We’re neighbors. The whole welcome thing reminds me of something my mom used to say.”

  “Which is?”

  “Not really appropriate.” And nonexistent. “Is there anything I could do or say to put you at ease?”

  “Tell me what your mom said.”

  “Maybe another time.” He grabbed his beer, taking a long pull from the bottle while he watched her.

  “You seem legit,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Thanks.” He returned the beer to the counter. “I could raise a little hell if it would make you feel better.”

  “I’d feel better if you stayed at one of the long-term hotels like the rest of the crews.”

  “Ah. But that’s not happening.”

  “What did your mother say?”

  He shook his head. She was tenacious, a trait that must serve her well. “It had to do with snooping and gossip, but it doesn’t really apply in this case.”

  A telltale blush crept into her cheeks. “Why not?”

  “Because you were checking the closets for bodies or stolen goods, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  He shrugged. “That’s your job,” he replied. “And why should I get offended if I’m not hiding anything.” Not where she could find it, anyway.

  She pursed those full, rose-colored lips, pushing his thoughts into dangerous territory. “Coming over here was Mrs. Wilks’s idea.”

  “I believe you,” he said with a smile. “And you made the most of the opportunity. Considering recent events, I would’ve been more concerned if you hadn’t taken a look around.”

  She pushed back her sleeve and checked her watch. “Still haven’t seen the basement,” she pointed out.

  He gave her a mock grimace. “It’s musty and more than a little spooky down there.”

  “Then you can go first.”

  “That’s a big risk. What’ll you give me in return?”

  “If we survive, you mean?”

  He nodded, liking this playful side of her. “Let’s assume the positive.”

  She checked her watch again. “If we survive, I’ll share dinner at my house.”

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “What a guy question.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s lasagna—homemade—and more than enough for two.”

  “Sounds great. Follow me.” He led her into the hallway and opened the door to the basement. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Just move,” she said at his back.

  He hit the switch and the fluorescent light at the bottom of the stairs slowly brightened.

  Riley started down, hearing her footsteps on the wooden stairs echo a half beat after his. Reaching the cement floor, he moved aside so she could examine the space.

  She hesitated on the last step, studying him closely while she held a brief height advantage.

  Wondering how she saw him, he let her look her fill. It gave him time to return the favor. Her wide blue eyes made him hate the threats that had her wary of everyone around her.

  He’d done his homework; he knew what she’d looked like before the drug bust. The new, perpetual scowl was a telltale sign of the damage to her confidence. She’d probably always been cautious, but now she didn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Mrs. Wilks.

  As she finally moved past him, he caught a whiff of her shampoo again. He cleared his throat. “Storage and laundry to the left—”

  “Pinball to the right,” she finished for him. “Mr. Hamilton’s hobby.”

  “So you have been down here.”

  “Not recently.” She turned a slow circle. “It’s like a time capsule.”

  It was a valid assessment. “Fortunately they left decent appliances.”

  “That’s a plus.” She walked over to the first pinball machine on the short wall.

  “Want to play a game or two? It works great.”

  “No, thanks. I’m obsessive. If I start I won’t want to quit and dinner will burn.”

  “In that case, allow me to see you safely up the stairs.”

  Her smile chased away the shadows haunting his thoughts. “Thanks for indulging my curiosity.”

  “My pleasure.” He gestured for her to go up first, immediately regretting the chivalry as it put the shapely curve of her hips and backside right at eye level. No one could fault her fitness. Thinking of Director Casey’s reaction if such an unprofessional observation showed up in his report cooled him right down.

  She didn’t seem to pick up on his wayward thoughts, waiting patiently while he locked up and followed her across the driveway and into her kitchen. The houses were similar Cape Cod floor plans, but her decor reflected a more modern sense of style. He liked it.

  “How are the knees?” He pointed to the large ceramic tiles under her feet.

  “Just fine,” she replied as the oven timer went off.

  So much for asking for a tour of her place.

  “My biggest adjustment was the cold,” she said, pulling the large pan out of the oven.

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  “No one does. Go for the reclaimed hardwood.”

  He nodded in agreement. The remodeling ideas were coming to him almost as quickly as questions regarding the drug bust. But he hesitated to wreck the momentum by quizzing her about that case. “Man, that smells good.”

  “It tastes better.”

  She put him to work tossing a salad while she pulled the lasagna out of the oven, letting it stand while she set the table.

  He hadn’t been hungry until he’d walked in. The rich aroma of sausage, cheese, tomato sauce and oregano had his mouth watering in anticipation by the time she served.

  “Whoa,” he said, setting down his fork after the first bite. “That’s amazing.”

  “Thanks. It’s the sauce.”

  “Here I thought it was the company.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you always come on so strong?”

  He shrugged, taking ano
ther bite and giving himself time to think of a reasonable reply. “Call me a doer,” he said, keeping it light. “All my life I’ve seen people waste time and effort waffling about what they want and how to get it.”

  “Are you saying you want me?” Her eyebrows arched, silently daring him to reply honestly.

  He grinned at her. “I’m saying I decided to live my life differently. Focused on the moment.”

  “Interesting philosophy.”

  “It’s working so far.” They ate in silence for a few minutes more. “Looking at you, Madam Police Chief, I’d say that’s pretty close to your philosophy, too.”

  She raised her water glass in a toast. “Close enough.” She sipped, returned the glass to the table. “And my friends call me Abby.”

  “I’ve moved up from suspicious stranger to friend?”

  She chuckled. “It’s a long ladder, but you’re on your way. You were nice to Mrs. Wilks.”

  “That’s easy.”

  “Remember that when she starts asking the personal questions.”

  “I’m an open book.”

  She snorted. “I think Danny is infatuated with you, but he’s a fair judge of character.”

  “Danny’s impressionable,” Riley said with a laugh. “He’ll be a good neighborhood cop one day.”

  “He needs experience. Have you remodeled many old homes?”

  He recognized a diversionary topic when he heard one, but if it kept her at ease, kept him close enough to protect her, it worked for him. “A few. I’ve been swinging a hammer since I was about eight.”

  “A calling?”

  He thought about those early days in the orphanage garden. “I guess so. A completed job, done well, is a reward in itself,” he replied, echoing the teachers who’d raised him.

  “Another phrase from your mother?”

  He nodded, letting her make the assumptions that supported his cover story. “Do you need help with anything around here?”

  “Not today.”

  “Say the word if you change your mind. What about your calling? Have you always been interested in criminal justice?”

  “My uncle was a cop and I thought he was the coolest thing going,” she said. “Whenever I got the chance, I’d go down to the station and hang out. Talk about impressionable.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a place for a kid.”

  “My parents worried, but I’ve always thought it depends on the kid.”

  “There’s some truth to that,” he agreed. “Are you thinking kids trashed the sign?”

  “I’d like it to be.”

  “Meaning?” He leaned back in his chair, debating another serving. He was full, but he wanted to keep her talking. Danny had given him some insight about the community, but Abby would have a better overall picture.

  “I’ve been thinking kids wouldn’t have been so careful.”

  “I’m not following. It looked like a fast and dirty tag to me.”

  “I think it was supposed to look that way,” she agreed. “But how many kids, moving fast enough to not be seen by traffic, would think to cover their footprints?”

  “You’re sure they didn’t just get lucky?”

  “I’m sure the tracks were deliberately concealed.” She blotted her lips and set the napkin next to her plate. “I need to think about something else. More lasagna?”

  “Twist my arm,” he said, reaching for the pan. “What’s the secret with the sauce?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

  “Tell me anyway. You’ll feel better.”

  “I feel fine now.”

  “But there’s so much more to life than ‘fine,’” he teased with a wink.

  She opened her mouth but whatever she’d been about to say was cut off by a loud crash outside. They were both on their feet in an instant. He followed her as she raced through the house and out the front door.

  Across the street, a man was caught under an extension ladder, a reel of brightly colored Christmas lights still blinking in his hand. Riley swore, reaching for his cell phone to dial 911 while Abby kept running. Mrs. Wilks and others were soon in the street, wondering how to help and speculating on what happened.

  * * *

  ABBY TOLD HERSELF this was only an accident as she ran across the street. Letting her instincts take over, she shouted for blankets and they appeared moments later.

  “An ambulance is on the way,” Riley said, appearing beside her. “Hang in there,” he said to the man under the ladder.

  “Well, this is a fine way to meet your neighbors,” Abby said briskly. “Riley O’Brien, this is Roy Calder.”

  “Everyone calls me Calder. Wish I could say it was a pleasure,” he added through gritted teeth.

  “Does it hurt everywhere?” Riley took the lights out of Calder’s grip.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  “Riley!” Abby pushed him back. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s right,” Calder said. “Feeling everything means my back’s in one piece.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t thought of the injuries in terms of potential paralysis. “That is good.” Abby rubbed the chill from her arms, accepting a coat that appeared from somewhere. Mrs. Wilks was cheerfully scolding their neighbor for working without a net.

  “I was almost done,” he defended. “Anyone see the bastard who pushed the ladder?”

  Abby shivered with a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. “What did you say, Calder?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Chief, despite the looks of this. Someone brought me down on purpose.”

  She looked around the scene wondering who might have done such a terrible thing. All she saw were the familiar faces of her neighbors looking as stunned as she felt. “Did you get a look?”

  “No more than a glimpse of a dark knit cap when I felt something at the ladder.”

  “Back everyone up,” she said to Riley, hoping he could manage crowd control. She wished she’d remembered to grab her phone. She was going to need someone to help her walk the area and look for evidence. But first things first. She knelt beside Calder again. “What did you hear?”

  Calder groaned a little, either thinking about it or just struggling to breathe. “A crunch. Boots on the landscaping.”

  “Okay. Good.” Calder’s wife used white rock in the flower beds. Covered in snow, the assailant must have miscalculated. “What else? A car? A bike?”

  “No. That’s about it. I was falling before I could even shout at him to stop.”

  She looked at Calder’s house. “Did he come from your left or right?”

  “The left.” Calder groaned again. “Christ. Libby will kill me. I wanted to get this done for her tonight.”

  “Maybe I should question her,” Abby said, teasing him. Libby was known as one of the gentlest people in Belclare. And she was seven months pregnant with their second child.

  Calder’s laughter turned into a cough. “I’m sure she feels she has cause to do me harm more days than not.”

  Abby pasted a smile on her face as the paramedics arrived and took over. As she backed out of the way, she hit an immovable wall. Before she could apologize, she felt warm hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

  Riley. His touch was somehow calming. But that didn’t last long. Anger, shock and worry spun like a wild tornado in her belly as Calder was moved first to the backboard and then to the ambulance.

  When the ambulance was gone, Abby walked toward the landscaping to have a look.

  “You should go inside,” Riley said from right behind her.

  “No.” She faced him. This close, she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. “He thinks someone pushed the ladder. I need to call in some help and check out the scene.”

  His eyes narrowed and his mouth, usually so quick with that wry grin, turned into a dark frown. He handed her his phone. “Make the call. I’ll clear out the spectators.”

  He managed the task efficiently and polit
ely, turning down offers to help clean up the mess while she explained the situation to the officer on duty at the station.

  When Riley returned, the street was eerily quiet. “Here.” He handed her a heavy flashlight. “Figured you’d need that.”

  “Thanks.” She wasn’t sure what she hoped to find, but it wasn’t the nasty note scrawled on the siding of Calder’s house: “One down. Who’s next?”

  “Not paint. Looks like charcoal,” Riley observed.

  “Guess Calder was right about being pushed.” Open season on Belclare. The media would be showing that all night long and as soon as the word got around about this, the rest of the town would know Calder was in the hospital because of her.

  Her stomach clutched and she nearly tossed her dinner right there at the scene. Anger jolted her. She’d never come close to contaminating a crime scene in her career. “Damn it. If they want me, they should come at me.”

  “They want you to suffer.”

  Knowing he was right made her feel worse. “What am I supposed to do, leave town? How would that help anyone?”

  “That might be the most important question.”

  She glared at him, wishing the light was better. “You sound more like a cop than a carpenter.”

  “From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It wasn’t meant that way.”

  “Too bad. I’d think you know from experience that very few people do bad things for the fun of it.” He flashed the light on the grim message again. “It’s kind of obvious someone is trying to get under your skin.”

  To her ultimate frustration, it was working.

  She didn’t know what to make of her new neighbor. He had a presence people responded to, herself included. His easygoing manners didn’t quite fit with his critical thinking. And how insensitive of her to think a guy with a tool belt had only one dimension.

  She had enough experience with people to know better, but something about Riley was different. Something more than the way her body went hot when he was close. Whatever else she felt, this was hardly the time to address her physical attraction to him.

  “Do you see any footprints?” The beam from the flashlight sliced through the darkness as she searched for anything helpful.