Debra & Regan Webb & Black - The Hunk Next Door

She tucked her hands back into her pockets. “I could have sworn you told me you had steady work. Why are you insinuating yourself into mine?”

“I’ll take that as a no. And I’d be working if my next job wasn’t taped off.”

She gave in and rubbed at the tension in her neck. Hadn’t there been a time when Belclare folks had just done their own thing without professional design teams and small armies of temporary workers? She missed those days. Of course, with the way the Christmas Village had grown it was impossible to set up without help. While everyone liked how December brought a wealth of tourists into town, the police department maintained a higher alert for petty crimes.

Since she’d taken over, the worst they’d dealt with had been a string of burglaries and one car theft. The burglaries had been teenagers looking for trouble and all of the stolen items had been recovered and returned. The car theft had been a pair of temporary workers operating under the influence of alcohol and stupidity.

Yeah, those were the days.

This year, she had legitimate concerns about how to protect Belclare effectively. There wasn’t enough time or manpower to run background checks on every new person in town. Her meetings with business owners hadn’t gone well, most of them siding with the mayor that the additional threats were her problem to solve since she’d brought it on them.

At some point in Belclare’s past, the police chief would have been hailed as a hero for that bust for more than a few hours. But despite the public resentment and doubt, she understood the financial importance of the upcoming days and she was doing her best to make sure it all came together without any further tragedy.

The ugly vandalism didn’t bode well.

“Until Mr. Filmore decides how to proceed with the cleanup, this area is off-limits.”

“I’ll let my boss know.” He pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of his dark red vest.

She frowned. “Don’t you own a real coat?”

“Sure.” He gave her a strange look. “It gets in the way when I’m working.”

“I see.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t die of frostbite on you.”

Based on the way her body reacted to him, frostbite wasn’t a concern for her, either, if he was nearby. She’d nearly forgotten about her freezing feet during this unexpected conversation. She glared back at the sign. “No one is going to die of anything around here.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, his attention on his phone.

“Could you move your truck, please? I have things to do and you’re blocking me in.”

“Sure.” With the phone to his ear, he settled into the driver’s seat. His voice was a low rumble as he explained the problem to his boss.

Then the engine masked his conversation as he rolled out of the way, giving her a small wave.

In her own car, she cranked up the heat and hit shuffle on her iPod, letting the blast of AC/DC fill the car on her way through town. She needed the loud, demanding beat to blot out her thoughts. There was no point in doubting her course of action. She wouldn’t take back the words even if she could. As her thoughts cycled, she spotted Riley’s truck about a block behind her.

He wasn’t following her. That would be paranoid, fearful thinking and she wouldn’t give in to it. She wouldn’t sink to the level that gave some rumored local terrorists the advantage. He was headed for one of the warehouses down by the docks and this was the most direct route through town. But he turned when she did, heading north away from Main Street, directly opposite the route to the docks.

She practiced it in her mind, running through her defensive options as he continued to tail her. Preparation wasn’t paranoia, she assured herself.

Abby nearly cracked when he was practically on her bumper as she turned onto her street. She debated driving right by her house, but decided her address was no secret and it was time to make a stand. With that thought echoing in her brain, she pulled into her driveway.

But Riley didn’t pull in behind her; he pulled into the driveway right beside hers. In fact, the way the two homes were situated, they were now parked side by side.

What the hell? All concept of her attraction to the man vanished instantly. He was like a bad penny turning up everywhere today. The house next door had been vacant for several weeks, since Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had gone to Florida to visit their grandchildren. He had no business being on her street or in their driveway.

She yanked her purse from the passenger seat and got out of the car. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. O’Brien?”

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