Slow Burn (Rabun County Book 1)

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

“And you just… MacGyvered a ladder out of rope.”

  He grinned. “Although I appreciate the compliment, I’m not quite at that level of ingenuity. I learned how to do this from one of the firefighters who trained me.”

  “Wait.” She shook her head. “I thought you were the sheriff.” She gestured toward his hat.

  Sutton remembered that he’d grabbed one from the laundry room, but he hadn’t paid particular attention to what it said. Taking it off, he looked at the logo, which indeed said Rabun County Sheriff.

  “That’s my dad. Was my dad.” Replacing the hat, he turned it backwards so that it didn’t block the light. “He retired last year.”

  Her chin quivered and then she pressed her lips together, looking like she was trying not to cry. Sutton wasn’t sure what he’d said, but whatever it was, he needed to distract her again. If she freaked out, it was going to make it a hell of a lot harder to get her out of there.

  “You know, my brother went to UGA,” he said, trying to reestablish some neutral common ground. “I bought him a shirt featuring a gator eating a bulldog one year, which made for a pretty tense Thanksgiving break.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I mean, I thought it was hilarious, but Ethan can be humor-impaired when it comes to his alma mater’s losing streak when matched against a superior institution. Anyway, this rope is tied nice and tight now, so I’m going to lower the ladder down.”

  “And that ladder,” she pointed to the one on which he knelt, still wishing for kneepads “is going to support us both.”

  “It’s not fully extended, and it’s stronger than it looks. So am I.”

  From the gloom of the musty cellar, her gaze locked with his. There wasn’t enough light to make out the exact color of her eyes, but he could still read the suspicion.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “If you say so.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Sutton braced his boots on either side, locking them beneath one of the ladder rungs before stretching out and extending his arms. “The rope is going to be a little wobbly when you step up, so I’m going to wrap my hands around your good wrist… it’s okay,” he said when she stepped onto the bottom rung and the ladder shook. “It’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.”

  She glanced down at the cellar floor and then back up at him. “This is more nerve-wracking than it probably should be.”

  “You’re doing just fine,” he assured her, reaching for her wrist, only to draw his hand back when he felt a static electric shock.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to zap you.”

  “Believe me, I’m used to it,” she muttered.

  She started climbing again, so Sutton focused on keeping her from falling rather than asking what she meant.

  Progress was halting, as she could only use the one arm, and she had to maneuver her boot to fit onto the narrow rung. Her skin was also slick with sweat, and he had to keep adjusting his hand so that he didn’t lose his grip.

  Granted, she was wearing a freaking parka, but profuse sweating was also a common reaction to injury or pain.

  Since his hand was on her wrist, he did his best to check her pulse. It seemed elevated, but that was understandable under the circumstances. However, he wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt worse than she’d let on, and potentially going into shock.

  “Almost there,” he said when her boot found purchase on the next rung. “I don’t want to risk jarring your shoulder, so I’m going to have to move my grip to the waistband of your jeans to help haul you out. I promise I’m not taking liberties.”

  Her head came up. “Did you seriously just say taking liberties?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Do what you have to do, Dudley.”

  Sutton frowned, unsure how she’d gotten that from Sutton, but it wasn’t important at the moment. Grabbing onto her waistband, he tried his best to allow her enough room to get at least one leg onto the ladder without letting go. He didn’t want her to lose her balance and fall back down. Because of the limited space in which they had to operate, it felt – and probably looked – like a game of Twister.

  After he was reasonably sure she could manage without him, he began to inch backwards.

  “Okay,” she said, sucking in a shaky breath while the arm she balanced on trembled. “That was more stressful than falling.”

  “You don’t have much time to think when you’re going down.”

  “Nope,” she agreed, glancing up. “That was pretty much limited to oh shit.”

  Hazel. Her eyes were hazel. Sutton looked into her really quite pretty hazel eyes and smiled.

  “Just a little bit more to go to get you out of here,” he said, continuing to back up.

  “This is murder on the knees.”

  “Tell me,” he said, coming to the end of the ladder. Climbing to his feet, he reached down to help pull Adeline up.

  “I need just a minute,” she said, resting her forehead on said knees.

  “Are you dizzy?”

  “Not really.”

  “Nauseated?”

  “Not anymore. Just…” She flapped her good hand, and Sutton took that as his cue to shut up. He did, although he watched her closely. When she finally lifted her head, he did a quick check for visual signs of distress before opening his backpack and rooting around.

  “Can you take off your glasses?”

  “Why?”

  “I just want to check your pupils.”

  “I hit my shoulder, not my head.”

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but accidents happen so quickly that sometimes it’s tough to tell exactly what you might have bumped or banged in those few seconds, until the shock wears off and you start to feel it.” When she didn’t respond, Sutton glanced up. “It can’t hurt to check.”

  She didn’t look happy, but acquiesced.

  Bringing the pen light around from one side and then the other, Sutton noted with satisfaction that both pupils restricted rapidly. He then repeated the process from the front, observing for consensual response.

  “Congratulations,” he said, clicking off the light. “You get a PERL.”

  “And on our first date, even.”

  That elicited a grin. “Pupils Equal and Reactive to Light.”

  “Yippee.”

  “I’m a little slow on the uptake this morning because I haven’t had my coffee yet, but that Dudley comment was a Do-Right crack, wasn’t it? Because of my phrasing?”

  Her cheeks reddened until they matched her hair. “I, um, have a bad habit of turning snarky under duress. As you may have noticed.”

  Oh, he’d noticed. And found it entertaining as hell.

  “Do you mind if I have a look at your shoulder?”

  She hesitated a beat. “It’ll be fine. I think I just wrenched it.”

  “You’re sure it’s not dislocated? Any numbness or tingling?”

  “It’s fine.”

  Her tone had changed, defensive finality replacing the reluctant humor, and while Sutton was tempted to push the issue, he didn’t want to piss her off. He wasn’t acting in any sort of official capacity, and even if he had been, he’d learned a long while back that you couldn’t force people to let you help them. Even, and sometimes especially, when they desperately needed help.

  “As long as you think you’re okay to drive. I wouldn’t want you to black out on one of these mountain roads.”

  That seemed to give her pause, but then she shook her head. “I’ll be okay.”

  The coat was so thick that he couldn’t make out much of anything. Maybe she was fine, maybe she wasn’t. But because the latter possibility worried him, he tried one last hail Mary. “I can give you the name of a local doctor, if you want.”

  “Thank you, but no. Look, I really do appreciate your help. Even if you’re not the sheriff – or a Canadian Mountie.”

  Despite her attempt at humor, Sutton recognized a brick wall when he encountered one. T
here was no point in continuing to push. “I’m happy to be of service. And speaking of the sheriff…” he pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket, checked to see if he had service. “We better give him a call.”

  “Why?”

  “Because animal abandonment is a crime, and animal abandonment involving tossing a puppy out in a trash bag is fuc… excuse me,” he said. “It’s –”

  “Fucking awful?”

  Sutton’s mouth stretched into an appreciative smile. “It is indeed.” But then his smile faded. “I doubt he’ll be able to do much other than take your statement, unless the puppy is chipped. But…”

  He trailed off, looking around, and then trotted down the steps.

  “Is something wrong?” Adeline said.

  Maybe Mary had gone to find a cup or a bowl or something, so that she could give the puppy a drink of water?

  Holding up a finger to indicate he’d be right back, he walked to the front of the house. Finding nothing but the old tire swing, he called out her name, but a slight echo was his only answer.

  Sutton strode back around the corner, only to stop dead when he noted the suspicious absence of the shotgun.

  That old coot. He didn’t know whether to laugh or… really, laughing was the only option.

  “What is it?”

  Sutton looked up to where Adeline stood at the top of the stairs – he guessed she was feeling steadier – and shook his head.

  “Unless I’m very much mistaken,” he finally said “Ms. Mary took off with the dog.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ADELINE stepped out of the shower, immediately reaching for a towel. The temperature gauge outside the window claimed it was fifty-two, but she would swear it was colder inside the cabin.

  Built in the thirties as a summer fishing camp, the place constructed by her great-grandfather remained… rustic was really the best way to describe it. Plumbing and electricity had been added as the decades passed – otherwise she wouldn’t have braved staying here – but the wood walls were original, and not exactly well-insulated. Even cranking up the thermostat hadn’t accomplished much more than taking an edge off the chill.

  She was going to have to figure out how to use the wood-burning stove if she expected to stay warm.

  Moving gingerly, she did her best to dry herself off without lifting her left arm. The hot shower had helped relax the muscles, but she wasn’t going to push it.

  Sometimes it’s tough to tell what you bumped or banged… until the shock wears off and you start to feel it.

  Sutton McCloud’s words popped into her head, and Adeline decided she was definitely in the feeling it stage.

  The tile floor seemed to suck her body heat right out through her soles, so she stepped into her slippers before she became chilled. Wiping steam from the mirror with the corner of the towel, she blinked at her reflection. She still wasn’t entirely used to her hair, which was one of the first changes she’d made when the grief of losing her father began to ebb, ushering in the growing restlessness that had ultimately driven her here.

  Picking up her glasses from the top of the vanity, she studied her altered appearance.

  Shades of copper and cherry – vivid even while wet – shimmered where once there’d been nondescript brown. Coupled with hazel eyes, more brown than green, her average height and – no matter what Sally said to the contrary – average looks, she hadn’t exactly stood out in a crowd.

  And that was exactly how she’d wanted it.

  While most teens – especially teen girls – had been doing almost anything to get noticed, Adeline tried to disappear into the background. She’d had so much attention at such an early age, attention that had almost destroyed her, that once she’d faded from people’s memories, she’d striven to keep it that way. She’d wanted nothing more than to be normal. Boring, even.

  But when her dad died, everything turned upside down. Including Adeline’s ideas about what she wanted. She was ready to be noticed – or at least to not disappear. She was ready to be herself, if she could figure out who that was. But whoever she might be, deep down inside, it was time to embrace that woman.

  No more hiding.

  Leaning closer, Adeline discovered some dirt lodged into the corner of her frames, and so took them off and rinsed them. She was lucky they hadn’t broken when she fell through the floor. Hell, she was lucky that she hadn’t broken. She could have landed on a rock, or a jagged piece of wood, or – God forbid – the puppy. But the soil beneath the room was thick and comparatively soft, maybe because it was protected from erosion and the baking sun. Aside from messing up her shoulder on the way down, things could have been considerably worse.

  Replacing her glasses, Adeline angled her body so that her back was reflected in the mirror, and took her first hard look at the shoulder in question.

  The bruising wasn’t terrible, most likely due to the extra layer of padding from her coat. It was tender, though, and hurt like a bitch if she moved it the wrong direction. Because she could move it, she was starting to suspect it was a soft tissue injury, rather than something involving the joint. And while that was good news in terms of not needing to see a doctor, she also knew from experience that it was going to get worse before it got better. Strained or pulled muscles tended to take their own sweet time in healing. Luckily, she’d found a pharmacy on the way home, and was able to purchase an ice pack and some pain reliever. She’d made liberal use of both before the shower.

  If her stepmother were here, she’d be trying to slather Adeline in arnica gel and vitamin K cream and probably burning some sort of healing incense.

  Although the thought amused her, she couldn’t be too smug. She was pretty sure that the yoga classes Sally had been dragging her to for years in order to help her balance, also helped prevent worse injury. If her shoulder joint weren’t so flexible, Adeline imagined she’d currently be sitting in the ER.

  She’d have to give her stepmom a call, tell her what happened. But she’d wait until she wasn’t in actual pain, so that she could highlight the humor. Sally, more than anyone she knew, elevated laughing at life’s little mishaps into an artform.

  It still amused Adeline, after all these years, that Sally married her father. The free-spirited, fun-loving artist and the serious, stoic marine biologist. But their differences worked for them.

  Adeline waited for the sense of loss to swamp her, but she found herself floating down a stream of happy memories instead. Her parents – for Sally had certainly filled that role – were truly smitten with each other and had been until her father’s heart attack. All of their lives had changed for the better the day that she and her dad walked into Sally’s art studio, and Adeline recognized her good fortune. So many people didn’t get marriage or parenthood – let alone step-parenthood – right, but her little family was a definite success story.

  Realizing that she felt… okay, Adeline wondered if she was moving to the acceptance part of the grieving process. But she rejected the thought almost as soon as it formed. It seemed too disloyal.

  Not to mention that she’d been on the verge of an emotional meltdown mere hours ago. Whether it was anger and pity for what had been done to the puppy, the pain and sense of helplessness she’d been struggling not to give into after she fell, the discomfort with unfamiliar people and surroundings – especially when she’d been so convinced that a change of scenery would help – or some combination of everything, Adeline had come dangerously close to losing it.

  She’d experienced losing it years ago. She didn’t want to go through that again.

  So, after giving a brief statement to the deputy who’d shown up – and who thankfully hadn’t questioned her I was lost, my GPS wasn’t working, and so I got out of the car to see if I could find better reception narrative – she’d escaped as quickly as she could.

  So quickly, in fact, that she didn’t know whether the very affable, very tall, and – he hadn’t been wrong – very strong Sutton McCloud had been able to retrieve t
he puppy. He’d gone in search of the crotchety, dog-snatching, shotgun-toting Mary while Adeline spoke with the cop, and she’d left before he returned.

  Because you’re a coward.

  Maybe, Adeline conceded. Maybe coward was part of that deep-down-inside woman she was trying to find, although the admission kind of sucked. But she’d been so embarrassed by the whole situation, and her chagrin was only compounded when the “sheriff” who turned up to rescue her was actually his son.

  Scratch that. His stupidly attractive son.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, Adeline had been concentrating so hard on not giving in to the pain in her shoulder that she’d broken out in a cold sweat. Stuffed as she was inside her thick coat, she had no doubt that she’d looked like a damp, plump, ginger marshmallow that had been kicked into some dirt.

  Plus, she’d insulted him. Dudley Do-Right, indeed.

  It doesn’t matter.

  And it really didn’t. She doubted she’d see him again. While Clayton, the closest real town to the cabin, had a population of less than three thousand, she wasn’t planning on hanging out at the bars or anything. She’d come here to regroup, and to figure out where to go from here – perhaps literally. The last time she’d been here she was eight years old, and she’d come with her father after…

  After.

  Because truly, if there were a before and after point in both of their lives, the day they’d lost her mother and sister was it.

  He’d used this place, where he’d met and fallen in love with her mother, as a way to close that chapter of his life and find a way to move forward. Now that he was gone, it seemed fitting for Adeline to use it as a way to say goodbye to him, and life as she’d known it. She wasn’t really interested in meeting new people. Not yet, anyway. She needed to focus on letting go of what was before thinking about what might be.

  Of course, letting go was more difficult when you couldn’t remember things. She’d been trying, since she arrived, to recall something about that week, but like so much from that period in her life, her recollection was fuzzy. No doubt it was the brain’s way of protecting one from trauma, but a part of her felt cheated at not having those memories available to her. She’d hoped at least to be able to picture her dad here, if not her mother. Instead, it felt like any other random lakeside cabin. She couldn’t conjure even a hint of connection.