Ever After (Love to the Rescue Book 3)

by Rachel Lacey

  “I’m not breaking the law.” Olivia raised her chin, still clutching the can of tuna fish.

  “That’s questionable. As you’re well aware, trespassing is a crime.”

  She didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “I’m not trespassing. This is public property. Halverson Foods’ property line lies about five feet past the entrance, right over there.” She turned and pointed toward the driveway some twenty feet behind her.

  “You sure about that?” He sure as hell didn’t know where the property line lay, but as far as he was concerned, she had no business anywhere near here. And there she went again spouting facts that proved she was anything but a ditzy blonde.

  “I’m positive. I told you I had no intention of breaking the law again.”

  “No offense, Miss Bennett, but a lot of people tell me that. They rarely mean it. So you never answered my question. Just what the hell are you doing out here after dark, carrying a can of tuna fish?”

  She glanced down at the can in her hand and, if he wasn’t mistaken, gagged slightly. “I’m looking for a kitten.”

  “A kitten?” Well that wasn’t what he was expecting, but then again, Olivia Bennett had a habit of surprising him.

  “I saw it both times I was out here. It’s little, and something’s wrong with one of its legs. It needs to see a vet, and, more than likely, it needs a home.” Her chin was still up, daring him to challenge her.

  He settled his arms over his chest. “A kitten.”

  She nodded. “I just want to see if I can catch it. I’m not going to trespass.” She held up two fingers. “Scouts honor. So you can just be on your way.”

  He shook his head. “All the same, you have to admit, you’re blurring a line. I’ll just hang around and make sure you don’t cross it.”

  She let out a sound of frustration. “Well if you’re going to stand there, the least you can do is help me look for the kitten.”

  Was she serious about the kitten? He looked down at the open can of tuna in her hands. This woman was completely illogical yet totally logical at the same time. “I’m more likely to scare it off.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Which is why I suggested you be on your way. But if you seriously don’t trust me…”

  “Whether I trust you or not, I’m not leaving you out here by yourself.” He gestured to their surroundings—dark woods to the right and the empty chicken factory on their left. It was no place for a woman to be alone after dark.

  “I can take care of myself.” She turned her back and walked a few steps toward the wooded buffer off the side of the road, waving the can of tuna and calling, “Here, kitty kitty.”

  Pete could almost see the cartoon lines of fishy scent wafting in the air around her. He pulled the flashlight from his belt and shone it in the bushes for her.

  She poked around, crouching and calling for the cat. He would have thought he was being played for a fool, out here in the middle of nowhere in the dark, mere yards from the scene of her arrest, except for the fact he couldn’t think of a single other reason for Olivia—a vegetarian no less—to be out here armed with nothing but a can of tuna fish.

  After about ten minutes, he was about to tell her to pack up and be on her way. It was past time for him to resume his patrol, but she beat him to it, heading back toward her car.

  “I knew it was a long shot,” she said with a shrug.

  He turned toward the cruiser. “All right then.”

  Olivia opened the hatchback of her Prius and pulled out a large wire cage.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving a trap. I brought a bag of kitten chow to put inside. I’m betting his empty belly will get the better of him by tomorrow.”

  “And what if you catch a raccoon instead?”

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as if the idea of catching something other than the mythical kitten hadn’t occurred to her. “Then I’ll set it loose and try again.”

  “You’re going to an awful lot of trouble over this. Why?”

  She turned, her brown eyes bright in the beam of his headlights. “It’s a tiny, helpless kitten. I can’t pretend I didn’t see it. I have to try my best to help.”

  “What if it has a home?”

  She gestured to the darkness surrounding them. “Out here? More likely someone drove it here and dumped it.”

  “Hmm.” Might be she was right. His first year on patrol he’d found a bag of puppies in a ditch, thrown out like trash.

  Olivia carried the trap into the woods, then crouched and dumped a hearty helping of kitten chow inside. She carefully set the spring latch, then sat back to survey her handiwork. “I’ll come out and check it in the morning before I clock in at the café.”

  “Not sure you want to be poking around out here on a Monday morning. Folks might get the wrong idea. I’m off tomorrow. I’ll swing by and see if you’ve caught anything.”

  “Oh, um.” She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

  “I’ll give you a call.” He turned and walked back to his cruiser before he’d had a chance to question his motivation.

  * * *

  Pete was still not thinking about it when he drove back out to the Halverson plant the following morning. He’d already gone for a long run with his dog, and now he’d do a cursory check on the trap Olivia had set. He could only hope he wasn’t about to get his fingers gnawed off trying to free a rabid raccoon with a belly full of kitten chow.

  He slowed his Subaru Forester and pulled over where he’d found Olivia the night before. The thought of her in his cuffs, looking forlorn yet devastatingly beautiful, had nothing to do with why he was here. Nothing. Not the scent of wildflowers in her hair. The fire in her eyes. Or the way she could sucker punch him straight to the gut with her passion for her cause.

  The woman overflowed with emotion, with raw passion and unabashed determination. And Pete, well he did better when he kept his emotions firmly in check. Olivia was a firecracker all right, and he’d prefer to keep all of his fingers intact.

  Therefore, he’d confirm that she hadn’t caught anything in her trap, then he’d put her out of his mind in anything other than a purely professional capacity, which meant trying to connect her to any of the other acts of vandalism around town.

  He stepped out of the Forester and crunched through leaf-strewn pine needles to the spot where she’d left the trap. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  Inside the silver cage, a little white creature gazed at him from wide blue eyes. “Mew.”

  Pete shook his head. “You are one lucky furball.”

  He crouched to get a better look, and the kitten hissed at him. It was little, probably shouldn’t even be away from its momma yet. Its white fur was dirty and matted with burs. He reached out to grab the handle on top of the cage, and the kitten went berserk. It ping-ponged from one end of the trap to the other, hissing and screeching like a wild animal.

  “Whoa.” He grabbed the cage and stood, careful to keep his fingers far enough from the bars as to be out of harm’s way. Out of nowhere, he stifled a laugh imagining Olivia trying to tame this pint-sized terror.

  They’d be perfect for each other.

  Back at his SUV, he put the kitten in the back with an old towel underneath that he kept for Timber, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. It rang through to voicemail, and he felt a flicker of panic. She’d mentioned having to work today. What the hell was he going to do with the kitten in the meantime? “It’s Pete. I got your kitten. Call me when you get this.”

  He slid the phone into his pocket and stared at the creature in his car. It stared right back, eyes wide and terrified. He was tempted to drop it off on her doorstep and be done, but that wasn’t right, and he knew it.

  Therefore, with a heavy sigh, he got back into the Forester and headed home. The kitten meowed plaintively all the way there.

  Pete put the cage against the wall in his garage and slung an old towel over the top. Covering the crate sometimes helped Timber se
ttle down, maybe it would have the same effect on the kitten. It just hissed at him.

  He went into the house and got a small bowl, filled it with water, and carried it back to the caged kitten. This would be tricky. He opened the trap just wide enough to slip the bowl inside.

  The kitten hissed again, louder.

  He slammed the door shut and made sure it had latched securely.

  Now to wait for Olivia’s call.

  * * *

  Olivia listened to the message on her phone, then punched five to listen to it again.

  “It’s Pete. I’ve got your kitten. Call me when you get this.”

  It’s Pete. So they’d moved to a first-name basis now? She felt a little thrill at the prospect. She was attracted to him, which was silly because he certainly didn’t date women he’d arrested. And that was a shame, because Pete was different from the guys she usually dated.

  She’d always gone for the “lost cause” type, the boy her parents would be certain to hate, the one everyone said would end up being nothing but trouble.

  And they’d been right.

  Her dating life was nothing but a string of wrong-way collisions. She’d been in love once. She and Roger dated all through college, but while she was studying her butt off in law school, he was burning brain cells on cocaine. He was an addict, and she’d fought so hard to save him from himself, but in the end, he’d loved the cocaine more than he’d loved her.

  He’d overdosed one sunny April morning, dead at twenty-four. Olivia had been heartbroken. And she’d vowed not to date another man with such demons. Unfortunately she hadn’t always held true to that promise. It was in her nature to fight for a lost cause, and she’d wasted too many years on men who didn’t have their act together.

  Part of her pact with herself before she turned thirty was to get serious about this aspect of her life too. It was time to grow up, both personally and professionally. She needed a career, and she needed a man who respected himself. A man who might marry her and father her children, because her biological clock was starting to tick a bit more loudly these days.

  Shaking her head, she lifted the phone to her ear. Pete had called at nine, almost five hours ago. She had no idea what he’d done with the kitten in the meantime, but she’d just gotten off shift. The thrill of excitement that ran through her this time had nothing to do with the sexy man she was about to dial.

  They’d done it. They’d actually caught the kitten!

  She pressed his number and hit send. It rang twice, then connected.

  “Hello.” He sounded irresistibly dark and sexy on the phone, his deep voice accentuated by the crackle of the airwaves.

  “It’s Olivia. I just got your message.”

  “’Bout time.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I just got off work. How’s the kitten? Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

  “It’s a feisty one, that’s for sure. I’ll drop it by your house in half an hour.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” With a click, he was gone.

  He hadn’t asked where she lived. Hadn’t asked for her phone number either. It irked her that he knew these things from her arrest. Blowing back a lock of hair, she headed for her car. Pete would be at her house in half an hour, which meant she had just enough time to buy a litter box and hurry home to put the dogs out back before he arrived.

  Where should she put the kitten? Bailey and Scooby couldn’t be trusted around it, not at first anyway. It might not even be tame and almost certainly wasn’t housebroken. She flinched. Oh well, if there ever were a landlord who’d forgive her bringing a kitten like this into her home, it was Merry.

  She hurried to her car, then stopped short and stared. Someone had spray-painted chickens all over it.

  What the hell?

  She balled her fists. White paint dripped down the side of her Prius from the crudely drawn chickens stretching from her front bumper to the rear. It was the driver’s side, which faced away from the diner. Someone had defaced her car in the middle of the day in the center of town. Who? Why?

  Beneath the chickens were the words “Cluck you.”

  Classy.

  Who had spray-painted her car, and what the hell was she going to do about it? Would it wash off? Should she go to the police? Swearing under her breath, Olivia slid into the driver’s seat. No time to worry about it now. She had to get home and set up for the kitten. Fifteen minutes later, she turned into her driveway.

  Inside, she let the dogs out of the kitchen and dodged slobbery snouts as she hurried upstairs to change. She tossed her uniform in the laundry basket and pulled on a pink tank top and shorts, thankful for the warm weather this far into October.

  She put the dogs in the backyard and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge when the doorbell rang. She smoothed her hair and adjusted the neckline of her top, which was ridiculous because it was Deputy Sampson at her front door.

  If she knew what was good for her, she’d go scrub her makeup off and change into sweatpants before she opened it.

  Instead, she pulled the door open and offered him her sweetest smile. And holy hell, she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of him out of his uniform. He wore a red T-shirt and khaki shorts, his dark hair ruffled by the breeze, and oh, her heart tripped all over itself at the sight.

  “Olivia.” He looked down at the cage dangling from his right hand, then back at her.

  So they were definitely on a first-name basis, and oh, the kitten! It looked up at her with wide, terrified blue eyes, crouched in the back corner of the trap.

  “Thank you so much for doing this for me.” She motioned him inside, trying to keep her eyes on the cat and not the man.

  “You take up car graffiti in your spare time?” he asked, his dark eyes pinned on hers.

  She sighed. “Someone did that while I was at work.”

  “You report it to the sheriff’s office?”

  She shook her head. “Should I?”

  “Of course. Vandalism is a crime, as you know. Any idea who did it?”

  “Nope. Maybe those college kids who achieved Internet fame last week with that picture of themselves mooning the camera.”

  A smile quirked his lips. “Could be. Do you know them?”

  “No, I don’t know them.” She huffed in annoyance.

  “Then how would they know who you are or what car you drive?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a small town. Lots of people know me from the café. Anyway, thank you for bringing me the kitten.” She reached for the cage.

  He motioned that he would carry it inside. “I don’t think it’s tame.”

  In answer, the kitten hissed.

  “Oh.” She pursed her lips. What was she going to do with it? She couldn’t very well turn a feral cat loose in the house. “I’ll put it in the bathroom for now.”

  He nodded. “Probably best.”

  He followed as she walked to the half bath at the end of the hall. It was barely large enough to hold the trap and the small litter box she’d bought. But once the kitten came out of the trap, she’d have more room to set up supplies for it.

  Pete’s arm bumped hers as he set it on the floor. His skin was hot. It sent a jolt of awareness through her. And damn if he didn’t still smell like he’d just stepped right out of a bakery. He made her hungry, in several different ways.

  “So I’ll be on my way then. Good luck with that.” He gestured toward the kitten, still crouched and watching them.

  “Thanks again. You really didn’t have to do this.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. Make sure you stop by the sheriff’s office later and report that vandalism on your car.”

  He strolled out her front door, leaving her with a healthy dose of unrequited longing and a decent amount of trepidation about the kitten in the bathroom. At least one of those could be easily fixed.

  She went down the hall and set up litter, food, and water for her visitor, then unlocked the cage and closed the bathroom
door. She’d leave it alone in there for a while to calm down, then check on it later.

  In the meantime, she sat in front of her laptop to find out how to tame a feral kitten. Her search results suggested that, with a kitten as young as this one, the process shouldn’t be too difficult. Nothing she couldn’t handle. She also needed to get it to a vet. She suspected it had a leg injury, and it probably had a whole host of other issues, but she’d give it some time to settle in first.

  In the meantime…

  “Ugh.” She closed her laptop and leaned back in the chair. The last thing she wanted to do was visit the Dogwood County Sheriff’s Office, and that’s exactly what she was about to do.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Olivia walked out the front door of the Dogwood County Sheriff’s Office, her pulse thumping an angry tap dance between her ears. The deputy who’d taken her statement had all but laughed at her.

  “Do you own white spray paint?” he’d asked, as if she would spray-paint her own car and report it so that they could enjoy a laugh at her expense. They didn’t take her seriously. And if the sheriff’s office thought she was a joke, how was she ever supposed to get them to take action against Halverson Foods?

  She hadn’t thought anything could be more humiliating than her arrest last week, but this might be, because this time she hadn’t done anything wrong. Now she had to go home and find out how to get spray paint off her car, then deal with the stray kitten in her bathroom.

  That all sounded a bit lonely and depressing, which was not her idea of a good time in the least, so she picked up her phone to try to rustle up some company for later. No boyfriend at the moment, and she was trying to distance herself from Kristi and Terence. Her college roommate, Cara, had moved to Massachusetts. That left Merry. They’d been friends through Cara, but now that Cara had moved, she and Merry had been spending more time together.

  Merry’s phone rang through to voicemail, and Olivia remembered belatedly that her friend worked a twelve-hour shift at Dogwood Hospital on Mondays.