Terri Reed - A Sheltering Love

Nick didn’t like the way the man said her name with such familiarity. And he didn’t like that he didn’t like it.

At least she didn’t go all moonie-eyed. Not that he cared.

She set the animal back down. “Thanks, Bob. What are you doing here?” Without waiting for his reply, she walked toward the kitchen where most of the damage had been done by water. “Did the fire department say anything? How it started?”

Granting Nick a suspicious glance, Officer Bob walked to where she stood. “The fire started in the garbage cans. Whoever did this probably didn’t expect the building to catch on fire. But it was sloppy work.”

Nick stepped over to the counter and perched on a stool. “It was the teenagers from the park.”

Claire’s glare took him by surprise. “We don’t know that for sure.”

Officer Bob narrowed his gaze. “Which teenager?”

“Like I told the others, I came across two boys harassing Claire this afternoon in the park,” Nick said to the officer, but his gaze was riveted on Claire. He couldn’t figure out why she’d protect them.

Claire’s gaze was direct and pleading. “I didn’t see who did it.”

Officer Bob cleared his throat. “Maybe he did it.”

Nick’s gut clenched. The unfounded accusation rankled worse than a bottomed out stock market.

What a lame, backwater-cop thing to say. Nick stared at the officer. Bob glared at him with more than just suspicion. Jealousy filled his hazel eyes. So that’s how it was, Nick thought. Officer Bob had a thing for Claire.

“That’s ridiculous, Bob. He saved my life.”

“Maybe he set the fire to stage saving you.”

Claire gave Nick a can-you-believe-this look and then rolled her eyes. “Tell him you didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t do it,” Nick stated flatly.

“See, there you go. He didn’t do it.” Claire put the puppy down and then heedlessly splashed through the thin layer of water on the kitchen floor to the sink.

Bob folded his arms across his chest. The stance only emphasized his thinness. “He’s not from here, Claire. What do you know about him, anyway? He could be a serial arsonist, for all you know.”

Nick snorted, gaining himself another glare from Bob.

She filled a bowl with water, her movements efficient and unhurried, then carried the bowl to the living room where she set it on the dry floor for the puppy.

She straightened and leveled a stern look on Bob. “I know he’s from Long Island, that he’s traveling through town, he carries a Bible in his pocket, he stopped to help me when he didn’t have to and his name is Nick. That’s all I need to know.”

Nick blinked, touched that she’d so soundly defend him without really knowing anything more than she did. That she noted his Bible pricked his curiosity about her faith. She was too trusting and way too giving.

She needed a protector.

He wasn’t about to apply for the job, but he had a feeling that old Bob would sure like to.

“I want to see some ID,” Bob snarled at him.

Irritated to be the subject of the officer’s suspicion, but grateful someone was watching out for Claire’s interest, Nick dug his wallet out from the inside of his leather jacket and handed Bob his driver’s license. “Did they find anything useful?”

“That’s privileged information.” Bob shot him a dark look. “I’m going to run this through the computer.” He turned to Claire. “I’ll be right out front if you need me.”

She gave him a bland smile.

As soon as Officer Bob was out the door, Nick asked, “Why didn’t you want him to know about the kids? You could have been killed.”

Images flashed in his mind. The cloth shroud covering Serena’s body. The blood stains on the sidewalk. The headstone at her grave site. His insides twisted with unspent rage.

“We don’t know that they did it,” she defended.

“And we don’t know that they didn’t. Come on, Claire. You know that kid’s likely to do something.”

“You heard Bob. Whoever did it was trying to scare me with some smoke. They weren’t really trying to burn the place down.”

“You could have passed out and suffocated if I hadn’t come back!”

“Might have. And you did come back.”

He shook his head. “You gonna wait until they seriously harm you before you make them take responsibility for their actions?”

“You don’t know that they did it,” she repeated, clearly exasperated and defensive.

“Then let the police prove they didn’t do it.”

“No! I’m not going to accuse someone without proof. If the authorities find clues that implicate them, then so be it. But I won’t help them along.”

“Instead you’re going to wait for those punks to pull something else? Something worse?” Something like what had happened to Serena. He shuddered.

“I can take care of myself.”

He scoffed. “Give me a break. Lady, you’re a disaster waiting to happen.” A disaster he wanted to avoid.

“Excuse me? I don’t think you have any right to say that.”

She was right. Nick stared at her. When had he lost his mind?

When he’d come within an inch of throttling a punk over a puppy and started this whole mess. He should be halfway to somewhere else by now, not here arguing with Blondie.

But the woman was intent on putting herself at risk. Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, dragging him under.

What he wouldn’t give for a life preserver right about now.

Pulsing with annoyance, Claire planted her hands on her hips and glared at Nick. “I have done perfectly well before you rolled into my life, thank you very much.”

He spread his hands wide in a gesture of entreaty. “Hey, just stating the obvious. I’ve known you less than twelve hours and I’ve saved your bacon twice. Facts speak for themselves.”

“My life is not a disaster.”

“Ho!” Nick held up a hand, palm facing out. “I didn’t say your life’s a disaster. I don’t know anything about your life. I’m just saying people will take advantage of you if you’re not careful.”

His words hit her like a slap upside the head. She’d been taken advantage of before. Billy had taken advantage. Used her. Squeezed her dry and then abandoned her without a second’s hesitation.

But she was to blame for allowing him into her life, her heart. For needing him.

Well, she knew better now. She didn’t need anyone. Certainly not a tall hunk with a blinding smile who threatened her resolve without even trying.

She had to send him on his way. Now. “Look, I appreciate your help. I thank God you were here, but feel free to go. I’m going to be fine.”

“You won’t be safe until the police find out who did this. What if next time Gwen’s here? You willing to put her life in jeopardy, too?”

She frowned, hating the tremor of fear sliding along her limbs. As long as Gwen was under her roof, she was responsible to keep her safe, as well. “You’re right. I’ll mention to Bob that maybe Tyler might know something about the fire.”

He gave her an odd look. “You and Bob an item?”

She pulled in her chin. “No. Not even. We’ve known each other since high school. His family lived next door to my aunt Denise. He’s not my type, anyway.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. Her pulse did a little two-step.

“What is your type?” he asked.

Mysterious, gorgeous, a heartbreaker. Like you. The thought sent ribbons of heat winding through her bloodstream, warming her face. “I don’t have a type,” she stated firmly and spun away.

She walked to the back door where charred wood and curled paint spoke volumes. It could have been so much worse. A wave of helplessness hit her, threatening to overwhelm her. This was going to set her back both financially and time-wise.