Terri Reed - A Sheltering Love

The nurse pushed aside the curtain and stepped in. She was tall, African-American and very striking. Her black hair was pulled back into a fancy twist and her smile was kind.

In one hand she held a clipboard and in the other a brown paper bag, which she set on the counter. “The doctor says you can be released. I have a few forms for you to sign.” She handed Claire the clipboard and pen.

Quickly looking over the form, Claire worried her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure how the bill would be paid—if the insurance would cover it or not. She signed where appropriate and handed the clipboard back. She’d deal with the financial stuff later. “Where are my clothes?”

The nurse moved to the counter behind the gurney and picked up a clear plastic bag that contained Claire’s dirty clothes. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “You’re not going to want these anymore.”

She set the bag down again and then grabbed the brown paper bag she’d brought in and handed it to Claire. “Your boyfriend brought you these. When you’re dressed, come on out.”

Claire blinked. Boyfriend? She opened the bag and pulled out her red polo shirt and fresh jeans. Embarrassed heat crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks.

Someone had gone through her things.

Nick?

A jittery panic hit her stomach like a spray of pebbles. He couldn’t be her boyfriend. Not in a million years. She didn’t need a boyfriend.

But she had to admit it felt good to have someone care.

Anticipation quickened her pulse. She put on the clothes. Finger-combed her matted mop of hair. Then sedately walked out from behind the curtain toward the administration desk.

Her nervous flutters fled, replaced with a melting warmth as Nick unfolded his long, lean frame from a chair and strode to her, reminding her of a dangerous panther stalking its prey.

And to her utter dismay, she realized she wanted to be hunted.

“The doc said you’re okay,” Nick stated by way of greeting as Blondie—Claire, he corrected himself—slowly drew nearer to him.

He’d waited to come until after the fire engines had disappeared and the investigators had finished scouring the area for clues to the arsonist. He’d answered the investigator’s questions and told them what he could about Blondie and the teens.

She’d changed into the clothing he’d brought her. Smudges of soot stood out in stark contrast on her pale face. Her hair poked out in different directions with bits of green grass peeking out here and there. He stifled a smile.

She was adorable, vulnerable and in need of protection.

In need of help from someone other than him.

He’d get her settled safely, then leave.

She blinked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to get you. I didn’t figure you’d have a way back. I hope the clothes are okay. Your roommate, Gwen, picked them out. She was pretty upset but I told her you’d call her as soon as you could. She had to get to work or she’d be here now.”

“Thanks. I’m glad Gwen did the responsible thing and didn’t come here.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How…how bad is the damage to the building?”

Anger flared in his gut at what those punks had done. “The porch is gone. You’ll need a new back door.”

They headed toward the doors of the hospital. “And the puppy?”

He slanted her a glance. “Nick is fine. I found him in the park chasing bees.”

Ducking her head, she chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind that I named him after you. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

He held the door open. “I’m flattered.”

To his amusement, her cheeks turned pink. “I guess I’ll have to call him Little Nick. So I don’t get you two confused.” They walked in silence for a moment before Claire glanced back up at him. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

She stopped and tilted up her heart-shaped face. “I could have died if you hadn’t rescued me.”

The glint of admiration in her baby blues spread through him, making him think of knights, damsels in distress and fire-breathing dragons. Making him feel like a hero.

Stupid.

He was nobody’s hero.

“You were almost to the door,” he said.

“Why did you come back?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He ushered her to the parking lot where he’d parked her little green four-wheel drive Subaru.

“Try me.” Her eyes widened. “Uh, thanks for bringing my car.”

He lifted a shoulder as he unlocked the door and held it open for her. “Gwen gave me the keys—we didn’t think you’d want to ride on the back of the Harley.”

A gleam of longing entered her blue eyes. “Actually, I would have liked that.”

He raised a brow. “Then I’ll take you for a spin before I leave.”

The hunger in her eyes set his blood to racing at full throttle on an open road, then abruptly she shook her head and wariness entered her gaze. “No, no. That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

She climbed in the car and primly folded her hands in her lap.

Nick shut the door, grateful for the reprieve. The thought of her with him on his bike with her arms wrapped around his waist sent a shiver through him.

Not a good sign.

He wouldn’t allow himself to become attracted, attached or anything else to her.

Gotta keep moving, he warned himself.

Driving with Claire down Pineridge’s main street, Nick surveyed the town with a jaundiced eye. Small-town America. He’d passed through so many over the last two years, they tended to blend together.

Redbrick storefronts with large, single pane windows lined both sides of the wide cement sidewalks. Every few stores sported a blue awning over the doorway. Nick barely glanced at the pedestrians moving at a sedate pace from shop to shop, going about their lives. He didn’t want to consider an old man’s frown or a young mother’s smile. Didn’t want to make a connection with anyone.

On both sides of the main street, about ten feet apart, stood a lone birch tree with a small square patch of dirt at its base. Kind of like himself, part of the whole, but separate.

On the west side of the main drag, cars parked between white angled lines. Red bricks indicated the crosswalks instead of painted lines. The street signs were tall, white posts with arrow-shaped slats and street names printed in bold black letters. The white posts rose out of large, round, colorful flowerpots. At each intersection, old-fashioned black metal lamp-posts added charm to an already charming community.

A family sort of town. A place to raise kids, watch summer parades and grow old in. A place he couldn’t easily disappear into. A place where he didn’t belong.

All the buildings were the same height. No high-power skyscrapers here. The perfect place for a woman like Claire, he thought, glancing over at her. Generous and kind. Open and friendly. A big city would eat her alive.

At the far end of town, he turned down the side street that led around the park.

The Zone came into view, a solitary structure flanked by empty lots. A lone police car sat at the curb in front. Nick parked behind the police car. Claire was out and up the cement front stairs before he had opened his door.

As he followed her inside, the puppy barked a greeting and raced to Claire. She bent and scooped him up for a quick hug. “Oh, you sweet little thing. I was so worried about you.”

Nick’s gaze focused on the officer rising from the couch. This guy had been here earlier. His uniform was starched and his badge shined. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. His young, clean-shaven face led Nick to guess the man to be in his early twenties.

The officer gave him an assessing once-over before focusing on Claire. “Good to see you’re okay, Claire.”