Lara Lacombe - Colton K-9 Bodyguard

Bea vaguely remembered reading the woman’s obituary in the local paper several years ago. Micah had still been deployed, and she’d meant to go to the funeral to pay her respects. But something had come up, and she hadn’t made it to the service.

“I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet a moment as they crunched along the drive. “It was rough on me, losing her. We were close, and I hated not being able to come home to see her before she died.”

Bea hadn’t known the woman had been sick until the announcement of her death. Micah’s Aunt Wanda had been a friendly yet private woman, and like many other people her age, she had had her pride. It would never have occurred to her to ask for help, and Bea felt a little stab of guilt for not checking on her while Micah was away.

“I’m sure she understood,” Bea said. “I know she was very proud of you.” Bea wasn’t just trying to make Micah feel better. She’d spent some time with Aunt Wanda when she and Micah had dated, and the woman’s love for her nephew had been obvious enough for a blind man to see. Micah’s aunt hadn’t been able to have children of her own, so she was practically a second mother to Micah, especially after his own had died when he was only twelve.

Bea reached out in the darkness of the truck and laid her hand on his forearm. He jumped, clearly startled by her touch. But a second later his hand slid over hers, large and warm and a little rough against her skin.

For a moment, Bea allowed herself to pretend they were still a couple, headed home after a nice evening out in Red Ridge. She pictured a gold band on her hand, his matching ring glinting in the moonlight shining through the driver’s side window. Their kids would be tucked into bed by now, the sitter watching something on TV with the volume down low. They’d walk into the house and Chunk would rise from his bed in the kitchen to greet them and beg for a treat. They’d pay the babysitter and check on the kids, one boy and one girl, then head to their bedroom and make love before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

It was an image that made her heart ache. How different her life would have been, if only Micah hadn’t changed his mind. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why, but the idea of having that conversation was overwhelming, especially with her current headache.

A moment later, Micah pulled into the paved driveway and parked the truck under a large carport. He killed the engine, then turned to Bea. “Wait here,” he said softly. “I’ll come around to help you out.”

Bea nodded, grateful for his offer. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, and it bothered her to feel so weak. Her doctor had assured her it was normal, and told her the sensation would soon pass. Bea hoped he was right—she couldn’t very well spend the next few days literally leaning on Micah whenever she needed to walk somewhere.

Micah hopped out of the truck and opened the back door. Bea heard a scraping sound and looked back to see he’d dragged a small ramp across the concrete, fitting it against the seat. Chunk waited until his master pointed to the ramp and then scampered down with slightly more grace than Bea had expected. Once his paws hit the ground, Micah pulled the ramp away from the truck and shut the door.

Man and dog rounded the hood together and came to stand by the passenger door. Bea felt a little self-conscious being the focus of so much attention, but as soon as Micah touched her hand the sensation fled. He helped her slide out of the truck and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they started down the short walk to the front door. Chunk fell into step on Bea’s other side so she was flanked by the two males. Even though Chunk’s head only came up to her knee, Bea knew he would do everything in his power to help keep her steady, and she felt a surge of affection for the dog. She’d never really considered herself an animal person before, but she might have to make an exception for Chunk.

The house was orderly, but a thin veneer of dust on some of the tables was a testament to Micah’s workload. He led her down the main hallway to a bedroom in the back of the house and indicated a chair in the corner of the room. Bea sat, Chunk at her feet, while Micah quickly stripped the bed and put on fresh linens.

Bea glanced around, trying to determine if this was Micah’s room or simply a guest room. She wasn’t about to displace him from his own bed.

She didn’t see any personal effects in the room, but Micah had always been tidy, and his time in the army had probably reinforced the habit. A few pictures hung on the walls, framed shots of sunrises and sunsets in a desert, the sky a kaleidoscope of oranges and pinks and reds that looked too intense to be real. “These photos are gorgeous,” she said.

Micah glanced up and smiled. “Thanks. I took them while I was on deployment. Photography was kind of a hobby for me then.”

“What about now?” Bea was no art critic, but based on those shots it seemed like Micah had real talent. It would be a shame for him to let it lie dormant.

He shrugged as he folded an extra blanket and placed it at the foot of the bed. “I don’t get out with my camera as much as I used to. There just hasn’t been time.”

“That’s too bad,” she remarked. “Hopefully after you close the Groom Killer case your schedule will go back to normal.”

“That would be nice,” Micah said. “You’re all set in here. Let me show you the bathroom, and I’ll grab a spare T-shirt and some flannel pants for you to sleep in tonight.”

For the first time, Bea realized she didn’t have any of her clothes or toiletries. “Do you think we can stop by my place tomorrow so I can pack a bag?” she asked as she followed him down the hallway again.

“No problem.” Micah showed her the bathroom and placed some clean towels and a few sample containers of soap, shampoo and toothpaste on the counter, along with a travel-size toothbrush that was still in its original wrapper.

“Thank you,” she said, touched by his willingness to welcome her into his home. Would she have been so gracious if the shoe had been on the other foot? “I’m not staying in your bedroom, am I? I don’t want you to give up your bed for me.”

Micah shook his head. “You’re in the guest room. I’m just down the hall, across from you.” He studied her face. “You look tired.” It wasn’t a compliment, but his voice was kind. “Are you hungry? I can fix a sandwich or heat a can of soup if you’d like something to eat.”

Bea hadn’t eaten since lunch, but the thought of food made her stomach roll. “No, thanks. I think I’d rather just wash up and go to bed, if that’s okay with you.”

The corner of Micah’s mouth curved up. “You don’t have to keep me entertained,” he said. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Holler at me if you need anything.” He and Chunk backed out of the room and into the hall.

“Thank you,” Bea called out. He acknowledged her words with a wave of his hand as he and the dog walked toward the kitchen. Bea closed the door and turned to the sink, wincing as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

A large bandage dominated her forehead, a few spots of red bright on the white gauze. She poked gingerly at the area, but it was still numb from the injections the doctor had administered before he’d stitched her up.

“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” she muttered. And it wasn’t going to be pretty, either. But she’d take a gash on the head over being dead any day.

It didn’t take long to carefully splash water on her face and brush her teeth. A few minutes later, Bea stepped out into the hall and made her way back to the guest bedroom.