While she was sitting there, pondering her next move, someone rapped on her window. She might have screamed a little. She tried to catch her breath and get a good look at the hooded figure beside her car, but she was only able to make out a dark silhouette in the glare of the spotlights.
Where did he even come from?
He was making a circular motion with his hand. It took her a minute to regain her wits enough to realize he was asking her to put down the window. She did, allowing a blast of frigid air into her toasty Jeep.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” The voice was polite but not friendly.
That answered her question about how these guys took to uninvited presences.
Duke leaned over into her space to check the guy out. She pushed him back.
“I’m looking for Brian Sheppard.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No. I just wanted to give him something.”
The figure continued to stare at her. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his eyes boring into her. They were some powerful eyes.
“I’m just going to get out for a minute, okay? Don’t shoot me or anything.”
The scary guy chuckled—at least, she thought she’d heard a chuckle—and stepped back. Kate pushed Duke onto his side with one hand and slowly got out, careful to keep her hands where he could see them. Her heart was pounding double-time as she walked around to the back of her Jeep and extracted the box of food.
“Spaghetti dinners,” she said, holding it out to him. “Brian, uh ... Mad Dog—I mean, Mr. Sheppard bought tickets, and he didn’t come, so ...”
The scary guy pushed back his hood, revealing auburn hair and vivid green eyes. He looked far less lethal than the mental picture she’d concocted. His gorgeous smile didn’t hurt either. “You must be Kate.”
She’d contemplate how he knew that later—once she was safely on her way. “I am, yes. Would you give these to him, please?”
He glanced at the box she held in her ungloved hands, which were starting to get really cold, really fast.
“He’s inside. Would you like to come in and give them to him yourself?”
She realized how ridiculous she must look, standing there in the snow in her red-and-green plaid flannel, holding out a box of food. The last of her courage fled. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to bother him. I really should be getting back before the roads get too bad.”
His eyes flicked skyward. “You sure? It’s really coming down.”
“I’m sure.” She shoved the box into his chest—probably her second worst idea of the night—and climbed back into her Jeep.
“I’ll see that he gets this,” he said through the still-open window.
She tried not to think of the snow that had blown in onto her seat as the melting wetness seeped into her jeans. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
“Be safe, Kate.”
She put up the window and shivered, and then she put the Jeep into gear and was on her way. When she looked back in the rearview mirror a few seconds later, he was already gone.
Chapter Seven
Mad Dog
Mad Dog was in the war room with Church, reviewing some of the drafts he’d drawn up based on their planning meeting a few nights ago, when Cage sauntered in. He was holding a box and smiling as if he’d won the lottery or something.
“What do you have there?” Church asked.
“Special delivery for Mr. Sheppard.”
Mad Dog processed the words right about the same time the delicious aromas of garlic bread, tomato sauce, and seasoned meat reached his nose. His stomach rumbled. “Where did you get those?”
Cage’s grin grew. “Kate Handelmann.”
He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. “Kate’s here?”
“Was. She’s gone now. Just dropped them off and left.”
Glancing toward the window, he saw that the snow was coming down even harder than it had been the last time he looked. “In this weather?”
“Guess she thought it was important.”
“You could have invited her in, asshat.”
“I did—once I knew who she was. She declined.” Cage set the box down on one of the worktables and then frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “She seemed nervous. I think I might have scared her.”
Mad Dog glared at him. Kate hadn’t struck him as the type of woman who scared easily. “Why would you do that?”
Cage put both of his hands up in front of his chest. “Hey, I didn’t realize who she was until she asked for you.”
“What do I smell?” Doc asked, entering the room. “Did someone get takeout?”
Mad Dog grabbed the edge of the box and pulled it toward him before Doc could get his hands on it.
Cage was the one who answered, a little too gleefully in Mad Dog’s opinion, “Kate Handelmann just dropped off food for Mad Dog.”
“In this weather?”
“In this weather,” Cage confirmed.
Smoke entered with Sam right behind him. “I saw a blue Jeep on the security cameras. Who the hell is out driving tonight?”
“Kate Handelmann,” said Doc, taking up the thread.
“Kate?” Sam asked, surprised. “Why?”
“She brought food for Mad Dog.”
Sam lifted her nose and sniffed. “That’s right; the spaghetti dinner was tonight. I had seen signs for it plastered all over town this afternoon. They do it every year to raise money to purchase new equipment for the firehouse, and Kate always volunteers. I think a lot of people come just because they know she’s cooking. But why did she bring food all the way out here for you?”
All eyes turned his way. He didn’t like it.
“I bought a few tickets when I picked up the rock salt this morning.”
Heff, never one to miss an opportunity to bust some balls, snickered. “You did, huh?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he muttered.
“It was a good idea,” Sandy agreed, pushing past Smoke. “It demonstrates that you’re willing to support a good cause regardless of the fact that Jerry Petraski has been talking smack.”
Heff smirked. “Or that he’s trying to get into Kate Handelmann’s good graces and her ... other things.”
Mad Dog narrowed his eyes and shot him a warning glance, but the fucker just laughed, confident that he wouldn’t do anything in front of Sam and Sandy. That was all right. Sandy would stray off sooner or later.
“I think it’s sweet,” Sam said, “though she sure could have picked a better night for it.”
His thoughts exactly. While he was glad she’d made the effort, he hated that she’d put herself at risk. He also needed to know she was okay, preferably without a commentating audience.
He turned to Church, nodding toward the plans. “We’re done here, right?”
Their leader’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re done.”
“Good.” He lifted the box of food from the table and made for the door.
“Hey, Mad Dog, you’re going to share that, right?” Doc asked.
“No.”
He could hear them laughing behind him as he pulled on his winter gear. He didn’t care. Kate had brought the food for him, not them.
His concern increased as he made the trek back to his trailer in near-whiteout conditions. The wind had picked up, making it impossible to tell how much was new snow and how much was already-fallen stuff being tossed around by the gusts.
What the hell was she thinking, driving up here like that?
Once he got inside, he shucked his snow-covered coat, hat, and boots and then unpacked half a dozen takeout containers. Five, he put in the fridge. The other, he popped in the microwave. While waiting for it to heat up, he pulled out his phone and did a quick search. It didn’t take him long to find Kate’s cell number; it was right there on her Facebook page.
He tapped in the number and held his breath. It rang a few times before going to voice mail. “Hey, Kate. It’s Brian Sheppard. I just wanted to
thank you for the food and to make sure you got back all right. Call or text when you get home, okay?”
The microwave dinged, signaling that the food was ready. It was a good thing, too. The delicious scents had filled the small space, making his mouth water. He put a second container in right away, knowing one wasn’t going to be enough.
Then, he sat down to eat and wait. Under good conditions, it took about half an hour to get down into town. He knew it was going to take a hell of a lot longer than that tonight.
An hour passed and then two. When three hours had gone by and there was still no word, he started suiting up with the intent of going out to find her. Best-case scenario, Kate had made it safely back to town and simply hadn’t returned his call. Worst case ... well, he didn’t want to think about that.
He was just on the way out the door when his phone lit up with Kate’s number. The sense of relief he felt as he accepted the call was overwhelming.
“Hey, did you make it home okay?”
“We did. Sorry. You must have called when I was in a dead zone, and it took us a lot longer than we’d planned to get home, but we’re fine.”
His gut clenched. Cage hadn’t mentioned anyone being with her. “We?”
“Duke came along for the ride. How did you get my number?”
The tightness eased, along with the realization that she might not appreciate his snooping. “Facebook. I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to thank you for the dinners. You didn’t have to do that, especially on a night like this.”
“You’re welcome, and I don’t mind at all. As for the dinners, well, it was an impulsive decision on my part. I didn’t really think it through, and ... I’m sorry if I did something I shouldn’t have.”
“The only thing you shouldn’t have done was put yourself at risk.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Are we talking about the weather or the fact that I showed up at Sanctuary, uninvited? Because I have to tell you, the dude with the hood was scarier than the snowstorm.”
“He was just being overly cautious,” Mad Dog said carefully. “We’ve had some incidents.”
“Yeah? How many of them have involved a woman and a dog driving up to the front door, armed with takeout?”
He chuckled after hearing the teasing lilt to her voice, pleased that she had a sense of humor about the whole thing. “Not many.”
“I thought not.” She yawned audibly and then apologized for it. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night.”
He would like to talk with her longer but couldn’t be selfish. “I understand. You should get some rest.”
“Okay.”
“Uh, Kate?”
“Yes?”
“Would you ... like to have coffee with me sometime?”
Once again, he held his breath, each second feeling much longer than it was.
“I’d like that,” she said softly. “But our only decent coffeehouse burned down last year. How about we make it dinner instead?”
Doing a mental fist pump, he said, “Even better. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Good night ... uh, what should I call you? Brian? Mad Dog? Please don’t say Mad Dog. It just doesn’t feel right—at least, not yet. Maybe when I get to know you better ... assuming I do get to know you better. And ... I’m babbling. I’m sorry.”
She was adorable.
“How about Chris?”
“I thought your name was Brian? Resorting to aliases now, Mr. Sheppard?”
“Not at all. Brian is my given name, but I was named after my father, so most people called me by my middle name, Christopher, to avoid confusion.”
He didn’t know why he’d told her that. No one had called him Chris in a very long time.
“I like it. It suits you. I don’t have to tell you my middle name now, do I? Because it’s a lot more embarrassing than yours.”
Christ, he liked this woman.
“Only if you want to.”
“Hmm. We’ll work up to that, okay?”
“Okay.” He was smiling like an idiot. “Good night, Kate.”
“Good night, Chris.”
Chapter Eight
Kate
When Kate woke up the next morning, Duke was already gone, off to do whatever it was he did. As she made coffee, she replayed her conversation with Chris from the night before. She couldn’t believe she’d actually asked him out to dinner! Something about the man made her uncharacteristically bold.
But he’d accepted, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t seemed at all bothered by the fact that she’d gone up there, uninvited. Well, except for the doing it during a snowstorm part, which, admittedly, wasn’t one of her brightest ideas.
Mug in hand, she pulled back the curtains and looked outside, pleased to see sunshine trying to break through the lingering clouds. One side of the street was relatively clear. The other had snowdrifts that looked to be three to four feet high, which was typical for a nor’easter. Thankfully, the system had moved through quickly, and the effects weren’t as bad as some forecasters had predicted.
After a quick but hearty breakfast, she dressed in comfortable, warm layers and trekked across the street to open the store. The place was pretty cold first thing in the morning, so her usual winter routine involved turning up the heat and getting the pellet and wood stoves going. Both were big sellers around this time of year, especially when customers came in and saw how well they worked.
Her dad came in shortly after. She was glad to see he was his gruff, cheery self. That and the fact that she hadn’t had a slew of worried texts and voice mails suggested he wasn’t aware of last night’s drama. After the usual good mornings, he commented on how well the spaghetti dinner had gone.
“Even Rico was impressed. He suggested that maybe you were wasting your talents here at the hardware store and should work for him.”
It wasn’t the first time Rico had said something like that. Rico Buschetti was one of the owners and full-time cook at Franco’s restaurant. As much as Kate loved to cook, she didn’t think she could be happy, working in a place like Franco’s. It was a nice restaurant with great food and lovely people, but it was also an established place with an established menu. She couldn’t see herself making the same dishes night after night, using someone else’s recipes. For her, the true joy in cooking came from experimenting and trying new things.
“I’m flattered, but I’m happy right where I am.”
Her dad nodded. He opened his mouth as if to say something more but closed it again when Luther came through the front door.
“Morning, Luther.”
“Morning, Mr. H.”
A subtle wave of expensive cologne preceded his body by several seconds. Luther looked like he always did—well-dressed and not a hair out of place.
“I was just telling Kate here what a good job she did last night,” her father proudly told him.
“She did indeed.” Luther looked at her and had the nerve to smile, the poser.
“Good man.” Her father patted him on the shoulder and then turned to her. “Katy-belle, I’ll be out back, clearing the lot. Call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
He was barely through the door when Luther’s expression flipped from cheery to stormy.
“Where the fuck were you last night?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” she hissed back.
His eyes widened, probably because she’d used the F-word. It wasn’t something she did often, so it packed more of a punch when she did.
I really am being bolder these days.
“Kate.”
“Luther.”
“I promised your father I’d look out for you. What if something had happened?”
Typical self-centered Luther, more concerned with how he’d look than if something had actually happened to her.
“For the record, I did come looking for you to tell you I was going to deliver dinners to the people on my Meals on Wheels route. You were busy.” When he looked co
nfused, she pitched her voice higher. “‘Oh, Luther! Yes! Yes!’ Does that ring a bell?”
His face turned red. “Kate, I—”
She put her hand up, having heard all of his excuses before. “Save it, Luther. I really don’t care.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me. I know it upset you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What on earth makes you think that?”
“Because you wouldn’t answer my texts, and when I went over to your place, you weren’t there. You always go for a drive when you’re upset, though I thought you had more sense than to go out in bad weather, especially alone.”
“Maybe I wasn’t alone.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
The fact that he found such a thing laughable pissed her off. A wave of anger coursed through her body, and she felt the telltale prickle of tears beginning to well up.
“You should leave. Maybe whoever you were with last night would enjoy your company because I sure don’t.”
He actually had the balls to smile. “Jealousy isn’t a good look for you, Kate.”
She was practically shaking at that point. “Get over yourself. You’re delusional if you think I’m ever going to take back your lying, cheating ass.”
His face hardened, and he leaned in close. “Careful, Kate. I’ve been patient, but even I have my limits.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed, the sound more like a bark-slash-hiccup because he was being so ridiculous.
He didn’t like that. His lips curled up in the hint of a smirk. “It’s not like you have a lot of options.”
“I only need one, and that’s my choice to keep my self-respect, thank you very much.”
“Fine.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door. “You know where to find me when you come to your senses.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered. She wasn’t a violent person by nature, but the mental image of her grabbing one of the new torque wrenches and throwing it at his arrogant ass was appealing.
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