He leaned back, threw the door closed, and jogged around the front of his SUV. Calling out to the policeman still standing by the tape, he said, “I’ll take care of getting her vehicle later.”
They drove in silence for a moment, and Harper’s mind raced. How could everything have gone so wrong within a matter of moments? Following all proper procedures, she was almost finished with the evidence collection that she would need for both her certification and for her employer when she had suddenly landed on her ass with a possible broken wrist. And, of course, the cause of both had to be an infuriating—albeit gorgeous—detective.
Sighing, she knew that she needed to make amends. She had been sure that the police were finished with the scene or she would have waited. “While I had every right to be where I was, I’m sorry if I got in your way. I’m also sorry that you’re now having to take your time to drive me to the hospital. I’m sure I could’ve made the trip myself.”
“Apology accepted.”
His deep voice glided over her, sounding sincere. Twisting her head around to look at him, she asked, “That’s it?”
He shrugged. “You apologized. I accepted.”
She was quiet for a moment, wondering about the ease of his acceptance, and he continued, “I was taught that a heartfelt apology should always be accepted. If not, then it reflects on me, not the other person. And while we’re at it, I’m sorry to be the cause of your fall.”
She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. His words were spoken in a soft voice, but the sincerity rang out clearly, something she had not expected considering his earlier arrogance. Her mother’s similar words ran through her mind. “Funny, I was taught the same thing... apology accepted.”
They remained quiet, and she soon observed they were already pulling up to Hope City General Hospital. Expecting him to let her out, she blinked in surprise as he parked outside the emergency room and flashed his badge to one of the guards standing near the door. He offered her his hand to assist her down and, looking over his shoulder, signaled for a wheelchair.
Shooting him a sideways glance, she whispered, “I can walk!”
Nodding, he stepped back, allowing her to move through the ER doors. Walking to the reception desk, she pulled out her wallet with some difficulty and handed over her information, ID, and health insurance card before being whisked to one of the back bays. Glancing behind her, she saw Sean standing with his legs apart, his hands on his hips, face hard and unreadable... and wondered if that was his usual stance. Before she could blink, the doors closed, and he was gone.
Grateful that with his assistance she had made it to the emergency room quickly, through reception, and now into an examining room. But the pain in her wrist was increasing and overtook all other thoughts. A doctor walked in, his expression as exhausted and beleaguered as she felt, and she heaved a great sigh.
Two hours later, after numerous medical personnel had popped in—most asking the same questions—x-rays and splinting her arm for a hairline fracture near her wrist, she signed her discharge papers, accepted the pain prescription, and was wheeled back to the front of ER.
“Do you have a ride?” the nursing assistant asked as his gaze had already moved toward the crowded waiting room, probably in anticipation of the next patient.
She shook her head. “No. My car is still where I fell. I’ll call a friend to come get me.” She stood, thanked the young man who offered a smile before hurrying off to his next patient, and started digging in her purse. What a disaster of a day. Her arm ached, and she battled tears once again, thinking of all she would need to do. Call her office. Fill out Workman’s Compensation paperwork. Explain to her boss what happened. Get back to the site to pick up her car. And somehow find Sean McBride, whose backseat still contained her evidence bag. Pulling out her phone, she started to dial her best friend’s number as she stopped at the outside doors.
“Harper,” a deep voice called out from nearby.
Suddenly two large, booted feet were directly in front of her much smaller ones, and she startled, coming to a halt before she slammed into a body. Hands reached out to grab her shoulders, steadying her.
“You’re determined to stay knocked off your feet today.”
Her gaze drifted upward, and she was stunned to see Sean. Rolling her eyes at his attempt at humor, she asked, “Detective McBride? What are you still doing here?”
“You need a ride.”
“I was going to call a friend.” She wiggled her phone in her good hand, presenting evidence she had a plan. “See?”
He grinned. “I can see that. But you don’t need to since I’m here.” He gentled his voice, bending closer. “Anyway, I’d really like to. Your injury was caused by me. Please, let me help.”
She tilted her head to the side, measuring his words before puffing out a breath. Grumpy to nice? Unable to come up with a reason to decline, she nodded. “Okay.”
“Just okay? No argument?”
Narrowing her eyes, she quipped, “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“No, ma’am.” He shifted to her side, carefully wrapping his hand around her good arm, and escorted her out to his SUV. He opened the door and assisted her up again. Nodding toward the seatbelt, he asked, “Can you manage?”
“Thanks, I’ve got it.”
He walked to the driver’s side and climbed in. Shocked he had waited on her, she asked, “Were you at the hospital the whole time?”
“No. I knew it would take a while. I delivered the biscuits to the fire station, had a chat with a friend and my brother while there. I can take you home and have someone bring your car to you.”
She jerked her head around. “No, just take me back to the warehouse. I need to finish collecting my samples and can take my own car home.”
His gaze dropped from her face down to her splinted arm and back up, landing on her eyes. “You have a broken arm.”
“It’s a hairline fracture.”
“It’s still a broken arm.”
“Okay, fine, it’s a broken arm. It’s not like my head was cut off. The splint takes the edge off the pain, and I can still collect my evidence samples and drive my car since I refused the narcotics. Anyway, I don’t know you, so I’m not going to give you my address so that somebody else I don’t know can bring it back to me. You’re a detective. You know that’s the safe play.”
With her peripheral vision, she could tell that he turned to look at her again, but she kept her eyes facing forward.
Finally, he sighed. “Okay, I’ll take you back to the warehouse.”
They drove along in silence, and she wished she could have more time with him looking at evidence, gaining from his knowledge. The fact that he was sexy as hell did not hurt either. Maybe I should have given him my address. Before she reconsidered, he parked next to her vehicle.
The same policeman still patrolled the area, and the idea of getting out and continuing her job made her want to cry. Perhaps it was because the throbbing of her arm made it difficult to think of anything other than going home, taking a pain pill, and laying down. Maybe arguing with him was not my smartest move.
For a moment they sat silently staring out the windshield. The blackened hulk of the warehouse rose before them. Remnants of fire always look like death.
4
His younger brothers and sisters always came to Sean when they needed help. As the oldest of six, he often filled the role of responsibility. Now, with pain etched across Harper’s face, he wondered when it would dawn on her that stubbornness was only going to make her feel worse. Although, her tenacity also made her more attractive. Something about her reminded him of his younger sister, Tara... calm and capable.
While Harper had been in the ER, he had driven back to the warehouse to collect the evidence in the new nylon bags so that he could take them to Shamika. He then ran a quick internet search on Harper Walsh, confirming that she did indeed work for Eastern Mutual Insurance Company, was a certified Evidence Collect
ion Technician, and was enrolled in the Certified Fire Investigator program with the IAAI. They were legitimate, considering he had been a guest speaker at several of their programs the previous year. He had even managed to drop the sausage biscuits off at the fire station, barely having time to say hello to Rory.
Driving back to the hospital, he had called Jonas. “I got the new evidence, and it’s in Shamika’s hands now.”
“What took you so long? Hell, if you got lunch, are you bringing me some?”
“I ran into the insurance company’s evidence collector while at the warehouse, and she had a little accident. I drove her to the ER, and since her vehicle is still at the site, I’m taking her back to her car.”
There were a few seconds of silence before Jonas had asked, “Ah, hell… an accident? God, don’t tell me part of the building fell on someone.”
Sean sighed. “No, no. I came up behind her and barked at her, not knowing why she was there. She tripped and fell onto her arm.”
“Shit, man, you broke the insurer’s arm?”
“I didn’t break it! Harper fell.”
“Harper?”
He met Jonas’ inquisitive nature with silence but heard chuckling over the phone.
“Pretty name, Sean. Pretty woman as well? Jesus, Sean, first date you’ve had in months, and you break her arm, then take her to the ER.”
“Oh, hell. You know what? Fuck off, Jonas.” He disconnected with a growl, the image of her pained expression when she looked up at him still in his mind. Jonas was right... Harper was pretty, and the image of taking her out for a real first date hit him in the chest.
He squeezed the back of his neck and sighed. He had just enough time to get back to the ER to meet Harper, assuming she would be ready to go home and would make arrangements with someone to bring her car back to wherever she lived. But her insistence on finishing her job was not what he expected.
Having parked next to her vehicle, she looked out the front windshield at the destroyed building.
“Remnants of fire always look like death.”
“You’re right, it does.”
She jerked her head around, a deep rose blush covering her face. “I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”
Fighting the urge to reach out and offer comfort, he remained still. She fiddled awkwardly with the seatbelt. He was trying to ignore how pretty she was, but with her delicate scent filling his vehicle, it was hard not to notice. He glanced at her splinted wrist and stared at the scars that covered her hand. He had noticed them when he first held her left hand to check for a break. Reddened, wrinkled, burn scars that appeared to be years old. She continued to fumble with the seat belt, the buckle proving difficult. “Need help?”
She nodded, and he noticed the tight lines around her mouth as she moved her arm. He reached over to assist. “Hang on.” He alighted from his SUV and jogged around the front to open her door.
Once her feet were on the ground, he made sure she was steady. Care or interest, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I don’t want to leave her. “I’m coming with you. I don’t know how good the samples will be, but I’d like to hear your impressions of the burn site.” He grabbed her evidence kit from his back seat, slung it over his shoulder, and they walked side-by-side past the policeman who did nothing more than offer a chin lift as they walked under the yellow tape again. The temperature had dropped during the day, and the wind blew briskly. I wonder if she’s dressed warmly enough. She stood for a few seconds, her face toward the breeze, and inhaled deeply.
“Are you okay?” He stepped closer wanting to block the wind.
Nodding, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Yeah, the cold air feels good. It helps clear my head.” They walked around to the back of the building. “I started on the inside and was almost finished back here when you arrived earlier. I was letting the remains speak to me when you startled me.”
He cocked his head to the side, uncertain he had heard her correctly. She blushed, but he pressed, “Speak to you?”
“Um... yeah.” She licked her lips, then lifted her gaze to meet his. “Each fire tells a story. I let the remains talk to me.”
Yeah, me too. Fascinated, he stepped closer. “So, what did you determine?”
She sucked in her lips, rubbing them together as her gaze roved over the charred wall. “The burn pattern seems greatest in three different places along the back wall. Fire spreads vertically under normal circumstances, but since there is such a wide spread of fire markings, I would assume the person put accelerant over there,” she pointed toward the right, “then over there,” pointing to the left, “and then centered it right at the window in front of us.”
“What makes you think it’s that order?”
“The charring is worse on the right, a bit less on the left, and even less in the middle.”
Nodding, he was impressed. “Any idea what kind of accelerant was used?”
“No, not until I have a chance to check the evidence.”
She turned and faced him, and he noted that the top of her head came to his chin, so her head was leaned back as she held his gaze. Inside the building, her hair appeared dark, but in the sunlight, it held shades of auburn that glistened. It was thick but sleek, not curly. He wanted to reach out and touch it, just to see if it was as silky as it appeared.
They stared for a moment, neither speaking, and he jolted, blinking out of his musings about her hair. Jesus, I need more than coffee… I need a fuckin’ day off... or a woman... or both.
Clearing his throat, his voice was rough as he ordered, “Go ahead and get what other samples you need.”
Her face hardened as she pinched her lips. “I don’t need you babysitting me. I’m a professional and know what I’m doing.”
“Maybe I just want to protect the scene.” He grimaced. Why the fuck am I being so snarky? Something about her unbalanced him, pulling him out of his ordered existence.
She jerked back. “You haven’t finished collecting all the evidence you need?” She shook her head, adding, “I would never have interrupted the police in their collection.”
He hung his head and slowly shook it back and forth. “Yeah, I had collected. I came back to gather more in different containers, but we had technically finished last night.”
“So, you’re just being contrary.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, she turned and walked over to the wall, kneeling carefully among the charred remnants. Irritated with himself but still willing to blame her for his lack of concentration, he watched her collect, begrudgingly noting that she used the right containers. With her wrist splinted, she fumbled several times but did not ask for help, and he did not offer it. Yeah, I’m a royal prick.
She replaced her evidence containers in her bag and stood, wobbling slightly. Lifting her gaze to him, she said, “All done. You can officially consider your babysitting job to be over.”
They walked away from the site, side-by-side, neither speaking. He held the yellow tape up so that she could duck under, then he followed her to their cars. She placed her evidence bag on the passenger seat, then walked around, hesitating as he stood next to her driver’s door.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you sure you feel well enough to drive? I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, but I do feel really bad about you being injured.”
She held his gaze, his one-eighty mood swings hitting her. Sucking in a huge breath, she let it out slowly. “Detective McBride, I’m sorry, too. You’re right. We’ve been at odds since we first met. We both have a job to do, and it seems like we could work best together, not against each other. My company has a right to find out the cause of the fire in this building before they agree to pay out a significant amount of money to the city.”
Her words hit him like a punch in the gut as he recognized the olive branch she was offering. “You’re right.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Pulling a pen out as well, he scribbled onto the back before handing i
t to her. “Here’s my card with my contact information. I’ve included my personal cell phone number on there. I’d appreciate any information you find out, and I agree to share my findings with you. And please, call me Sean.”
She reached out to take the card from him, her fingers sliding along the back of his. Her touch was feather-soft, and yet, he swore he felt tingles move up his arm.
“I assure you I can drive, and I’ll make it to the lab first. I’ll turn in everything and then just call my boss and take the rest of the afternoon off. If I feel like I can’t make it home, I've got a friend I can call.”
He stepped away from her door, allowing her to get in. She started the car with no problem, but he watched her wince when she attempted to use her left hand on the steering wheel. She managed a three-point turn behind his vehicle and then pulled away. He stood until he could no longer see her. Dropping his chin to his chest, he gave his head a little shake. Feeling someone come up next to him, he looked as the patrol officer approached.
“Detective? Was she not supposed to have access?”
Glancing at the name on the man’s uniform, he replied, “You did the right thing, Officer Jenkins. Her credentials were correct, and she was here for the insurance company, checking on the cause of the fire.”
With a final chin lift, he climbed into his SUV. Thoughts of Harper filled his mind. Hell, I’ll probably never see her again. It had been a long time since he had dated anyone seriously, but maybe, just maybe, a woman like Harper would understand the demands of his job. He had no desire for what had fired his blood as a younger man. Drunken one-night stands were a thing of the past. So were friends with benefits, which he found did nothing but give mixed signals and end the friendship. And yet, the idea of asking her for a date slammed into him. Like that’ll happen. After today, I’m the last person she’d want to spend time with.
Jonas sent a message asking to meet in the lab, so he headed there first. By the time he parked and walked in, he could feel his head pound and his footsteps drag, ready for the day to end, hoping for a full night’s sleep. Stepping into the lab, he looked toward the back where Shamika was at her station with Jonas. “What have you got?”
A Hope City Duet Page 26