He’d gone into the house with Rick, saying he would stay only a few minutes to make sure everything was truly all right, but it had stretched into nearly half an hour.
“He still needed to talk, I’m sure,” Sloan said. “And not in front of a stranger.”
Brett nodded as he fastened his seat belt. “He wasn’t really thinking of doing anything drastic. Just stunned and worried about what to do.”
“You were right. He wouldn’t abandon his daughter that way.”
“No. They’ve been through too much. He’s feeling better now.”
She glanced at the house, at the lit window in the nearest corner. Darkness shadowed the rest. She hoped the light would spread for that loving father. And wondered when she’d started thinking in corny metaphors.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I’m going to dig into that boss of his. Put on some official heat.”
“Good.” He glanced at her. She shrugged. “He’s a nasty little man, the kind who likes making everybody under him miserable.”
He leaned back, angled so that he could see her face. “Have I mentioned how much I admire what you did in DC?”
She blinked. Stared at him for a moment, then lowered her gaze. “Yes, I think you have.”
She tried to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat. Somehow she had let this man, and his approval, mean too much to her. It was another step down that path she’d sworn never to walk again.
“And don’t tell me anybody would have done it. You know that’s not true.”
“Thank you,” she said, still not looking at him. Silence spun out between them. She tapped a thumb on the steering wheel, a small release for the nervous energy that was building up. “It’s awkward sometimes,” she finally said.
“What is?”
“Much of my life is out there, public knowledge, and so available for anybody to look up. It had to be to get the job done, but it puts me at a disadvantage sometimes.”
She glanced at him as she spoke the last words, saw them register. He lowered his gaze, and she knew he knew exactly what she meant. He knew so much about her, while she knew next to nothing about him.
Except the most important things. The soul-deep character things that made him who he was.
Yes, she knew those. That was what had her in this tangled mess of emotions, wasn’t it?
She waited, silently. He said nothing. And that, she supposed, said everything.
She smothered a sigh and ordered that inner voice that kept chewing at her to shut up.
“Back to the sheriff’s office?” she asked neutrally.
“You don’t have to do that. It’s a long drive.”
“But it’s where your car is.”
“I can get a ride in the morning. Just drop us at the bottom of the hill on the highway. That’s on your way.”
Because heaven forbid I should actually be allowed into a tiny corner of your personal life.
So much for shutting up that inner voice, she thought.
“Fine, Detective.” It came out with an edge. Okay, shutting up the outer voice wasn’t going real well either.
“Just trying to save you time,” he said, sounding puzzled as well as stung, apparently at her tone. Or her use of the formal Detective.
“I said fine.”
“You’ve already driven across three counties and hiked partway up a mountain, all for somebody you don’t even know. You don’t need to do any more.”
When he put it that way, her earlier thoughts seemed a bit snarky.
“Besides, won’t your aunt and uncle be worried?” he asked.
“No. I called them while you were inside.”
She started the car and retraced their route back to the highway. He didn’t speak until they were back on the main road and on their way to his requested drop-off point.
“One of the cops I worked with in LA once told me that the most frightening word in a woman’s vocabulary is fine.”
He said it so casually it took her a split second to get there. “Yes, I suppose it can be,” she said in the same tone, “since it often means exactly the opposite.”
“Sloan—”
“It really is fine. The problem is mine. I’ll drop you off wherever you want.”
A sharp, short bark came from the back. Sloan glanced in the mirror. Cutter’s head had popped up over the seat. Those dark amber-flecked eyes were fixed on them steadily.
“I swear your dog is glaring at us.”
“Not my dog,” he reminded her, turning his head to look. “And right now I think I’m grateful for that. Because he is glaring.”
“Well, that’s unsettling.”
“Yes.” He turned back to the front. “I’m told he prefers people to get along.”
“Oh.” One corner of her mouth turned downward. Honesty, she thought. He deserved that much. “My fault. I shouldn’t expect to be welcome in your home just because you’ve been in mine. You were doing us a favor, in a semiprofessional capacity.”
It sounded insufferably stuffy even to her, but he just gaped at her.
“Is that what this was about?”
He sounded so astonished she felt silly. And suspected they’d just been through one of those she-thinks/he-thinks situations men and women were famous for.
“Let’s just say saving me maybe ninety seconds didn’t seem like a big-enough deal for you to walk up that hill. Unless you had other reasons.”
“I really was trying to save you the trouble. But there are other reasons,” he said, his tone rueful. “It’s not much to begin with, and when you add a huge pile of dirty laundry thanks to a dog that goes through towels like a Las Vegas pool, it loses what little charm it has.”
She couldn’t help it—she laughed.
“Just let me drop you both off. I won’t invade your male space, either of you.”
He gave her a look that seemed suddenly sharper. But he said nothing more, and when they got to the location he’d originally suggested, he gave her further directions up the hill.
The place, when they got there, wasn’t anything like what she’d expected. They drove down a long gravel drive that cut through a wide grassy swath. There was a small dark brown cottage set back among some tall evergreens, cedars and spruce mostly, she thought. It faced east, with a large window that looked out over the grass and out to more trees in the distance.
“Doggy heaven,” she said as she drove through the wide-open space.
“More like a tennis ball graveyard,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a couple dozen out there by now.”
“He loses them?”
“Never. But his priorities change.”
“This is a dog we’re talking about, right?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
She laughed again. She liked this Brett. The intense, focused detective was admirable, but this man, bemused by a dog, was...
“No more ‘Detective’?”
She felt herself color slightly. “I’m sorry about that. Silly reaction.”
“You,” he said quietly, “are anything but silly.”
He opened the car door and stepped out. She hit the button that unlatched the rear liftgate so he could retrieve his too-clever dog. She would stay in the car, she decided, to make it clear she didn’t expect to be invited in. She didn’t want to compound that mistake.
But when Cutter was out, he trotted around to the driver’s door and sat, looking up at her expectantly. Not sure what else to do, she opened her door. She could at least say a proper goodbye to the animal, she supposed. She swung around in the seat and leaned down to scratch that spot below his right ear that Brett had told her he loved.
“You’re such a smart boy,” she crooned to him, lowering her head to nuzzle h
is soft fur. She felt a quick swipe across her jaw as he gave her a canine kiss. She laughed; she couldn’t help herself. A memory flashed through her mind of a dark, shadowed man in pain and the way this same dog had somehow eased it with just a touch on the aching leg. She didn’t doubt it now. There was just something about this dog that made you feel better.
Cutter started toward the house. But when she started to pivot back into the car, he stopped and came trotting back. He nudged at her. Puzzled, she reached out to pet him again. But that wasn’t what he wanted.
At first she was startled when he caught her wrist in his teeth. But his hold was so delicate, so gentle she couldn’t be scared at the odd action. But then he began to tug, still gently, until it seemed as though she had no choice but to stand up. The moment she did, the dog squeezed in behind her and nudged her forward, away from the car.
And toward the house.
“Dog,” Brett said, almost warningly.
“What is he doing?” she asked, feeling a bit helpless when she stopped and the dog nudged her—firmly—again.
She felt a little better when the animal left her for a moment and proceeded to give Brett a similar nudge, although that one was a bit stronger. And then he was back to her, inching her along, then Brett again.
“Is he...herding us?” she asked, staring at the determined animal.
“It’s in his blood, I’m told,” Brett said. Then, with a sigh, he added, “I guess you’d better come in.”
“Well, thank you for the warm invitation,” she said drily, and had the pleasure of seeing him look uncomfortable.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just... I told you it’s not much.”
“Is it warm?” she asked. The night air was getting chillier by the minute.
“It can be,” he said, and as if the words had jolted him out of whatever mental place he was in, he started to move quickly. “Come on. I’ll get a fire started. It’ll clear out the damp.”
Cutter immediately stopped his nudging, as if he realized they’d given in to his wishes. Demands. Whatever they were. She admitted in some back corner of her mind that she hadn’t really been resisting all that hard. She was ragingly curious. And if an invitation from a dog was all she was going to get, she’d take it. It wasn’t as if she had to stay. She just wanted to see where he lived.
Just curious, she repeated. That was all it was. Nothing more.
And there was no cat for that curiosity to kill.
Just a wily, clever dog.
Chapter 20
Sloan was surprised the moment she stepped inside the place. The layout was intriguing and, given the traditional, almost cabin-like appearance of the outside, unexpected. The main space felt larger than seemed possible from the small size of the place, probably because the ceiling was vaulted. The wood floor held to the rustic feel, and the large stone fireplace on the far wall added to that. But the layout itself felt modern, open and appealing. Overall she thought the effect rather charming, if a bit rough.
While he built the promised fire in that big fireplace, she looked around more thoroughly. In one corner was a kitchen area, with small but up-to-date-looking appliances, set off by an island with two bar stools at one end. In the opposite corner an L-shaped wall blocked off what she guessed served as a bedroom, although it was open and doorless at the short end of the L. Next to that was a smaller walled-in space she assumed was the bathroom, and beside that a small alcove that held a desk, a laptop computer and a printer, along with a set of file racks that suggested he brought work home all too often.
The rest was all open space. In front of the fireplace was a dark blue sofa that looked a bit worn but comfortable. There was a pole lamp at one end, the kind with a reading light lower down, and a large, low, rough-hewn table. And to her delight, the wall space that wasn’t taken up with windows was nearly all lined with books. There was a television on one of the bookcases, but it was fairly small and told her the man didn’t live and die by the tube. She saw the remote for it on the table at the end of the couch, sitting next to a thick book with a bookmark about halfway through. A presidential biography, she noticed, one she’d read herself back in the dark days when she’d needed both inspiration and her faith restored.
Cutter had abandoned them for a station in front of the refrigerator. “Dinnertime for him?” she asked.
Brett glanced over, then chuckled and started that way. “Snack time, actually,” he said. She followed, curious. “He doesn’t eat until later, when a full stomach makes him thankfully sleepy.”
She laughed, leaning her elbows on the counter as he opened the refrigerator. Her eyes widened as he pulled out a bag of what looked like baby carrots, the kind that were already peeled and shaped into neat, even pieces a couple of inches long.
“Carrots?”
“He loves them,” Brett said with a shrug. “Told you, he’s a different sort of dog.”
He took a handful out of the bag, then tossed one to the dog. Cutter caught it neatly and chomped with gusto. It was quickly gone, and he tossed the dog another.
“If you’d told me he liked orange treats, I would have expected Cheetos.”
Brett laughed. He gave Cutter the last carrot and then held up his hands palms out to indicate that was the end of the treats. The dog sighed audibly but seemed to accept the edict.
Brett put the bag away, then turned back to the dog. “You had a session this morning and then at Foxworth, and you’ve been up a mountain trail and down. Can we pass on the tennis ball marathon tonight?”
Apparently in answer, Cutter walked over to where the fire was now going handily, starting to put out some nice heat, and plopped down in front of it looking contented.
Brett walked over and put another larger log on the fire. She wondered if there was any other heat in the place, remembering Ty’s joke about the ranger station having only the fireplace. It must have, she thought. Otherwise it would get very cold in here at night, and you’d have to get up all the time to keep a fire going.
Or find some other way to keep warm in the dark hours.
A shiver that was all out of proportion to the rapidly fading chill of the room ran through her. She was obviously out of control. When Brett straightened from the fire and turned to face her, something in his expression made her speak hastily, before her unruly mind could careen even further down a path she’d clearly marked off-limits.
“I’d better go. Let you get on with your evening.” Maybe she should visualize that path blocked with some of that yellow plastic tape saying Danger. Maybe that would make her imagination behave.
Not while you’re in the same room with this guy.
“You want to know the real reason I didn’t want to invite you in here?”
No. “Yes,” she said, nearly bloodying her lip in the attempt to not say it.
“You scare the hell out of me.”
The very idea of Brett Dunbar being afraid of anything, let alone her, seemed absurd.
“I think you have that backward,” she said softly.
He blinked. “I scare you? Why?” An expression that was an odd combination of wary and weary crossed his face. “Because of the badge?”
She wondered how often that happened, that people turned away from him for that reason. She supposed even if that meant they were likely the kind you wouldn’t want as a friend anyway, it had to be wearing sometimes.
“No,” she said, wishing she had a talent for dissembling. But she didn’t, and she knew it, so she went with as much honesty as her tangled emotions would allow. “Because you make me think about paths I’ve sworn not to walk again.”
She heard him suck in a quick breath, as if she’d sucker punched him. Perhaps that was how he felt. He’d probably had no idea of the crazy way she was reacting to him. And probably was happier not knowing,
because now he likely thought he had to fend off another misguided female. Because she was sure there were others. She couldn’t imagine a man like Brett Dunbar not having a trail of feminine admirers behind him.
For a long moment he just looked at her. Firelight flickered over his face, throwing the masculine angles into sharper relief and making him even more attractive, something she wouldn’t have thought possible. And sending her mind into even crazier channels, engendering wilder imaginings about firelight flickering over him under other circumstances.
When he spoke at last, his voice was low and rough in a way that sent a jolt of sensation through her that was hotter than the fire and colder than the night all at the same time.
“I’ve got a few paths I’ve sworn never to walk again, too. One most of all, and that’s the one you make me think of.”
“Why?” she asked softly.
He let out a compressed breath. “Why do you scare me? Because you’re an amazing woman. You’re smart, brave, kind, generous and sexy as hell. For starters.”
He took the breath right out of her. On some level she registered that she’d heard similar things before from other people, but never had it slammed into her as it just had when he had said it.
She stared at him for several seconds. He held her gaze, although she had the feeling he would much rather have looked away. It took her much longer than it should have to be able to speak.
“I meant...why did you swear not to walk that path again?”
He did look away then, and she wondered if he regretted what he’d said, what he’d betrayed by that unexpected barrage of compliments. She could almost feel him starting to pull back, to step away from the entangling emotions. But she could also feel the pain, his pain, and it was so strong, so awfully familiar, that she didn’t, couldn’t, do what she would likely have done under different circumstances.
Cutter’s head came up, and the dog looked from Brett to her and back again. As if he’d somehow sensed a decision point and was waiting to step in again if necessary. She was just chastising herself for that silliness when she flicked a glance at Brett and saw him looking at the dog with an expression that matched her thought, as if he expected the dog to block the door if he had to.
Operation Power Play Page 14
