FOUR
His vacation did not exactly start out as planned. First, he had to sit on the runway in DC for more than an hour. Then the weather over Maryland took a turn for the worst so he had to re-route to the west and miss the storm. By the time he touched down in Manchester, the sun had already set.
Then a huge accident jammed up the highway so it took him an hour longer than normal to get to his turnoff where he had to slam on his brakes in the downpour before he smashed into a BMW SUV. The fates were against him, Jake thought. All he wanted was food and his bed. A warm woman wouldn’t hurt but it was not a necessity.
Instead, he hopped out of his Jeep and into the pouring rain. He sauntered up to the SUV about to give the driver a piece of his mind when the driver rolled down the window and aimed a gun at his head.
His hands went up in surrender. “Whoa.”
A slim hand reached outside the vehicle and opened the car door. The next thing he knew his mouth went dry and slack as a very beautiful blonde-haired woman stepped out of the SUV on heels. Heels? Was she nuts? She stood on a dirt road and it had been raining so now the road was thick sludge.
“Are you lost?” The only light was his headlamps, but it was enough to illuminate her topaz blue eyes as they narrowed on him.
“Don’t worry about me.” She waved the weapon in the direction of his Jeep. “Just get in your car and drive on.”
Jake offered her a grin and started to lower his hands.
“Uh-uh. Keep them up until you get back in your car. Go.”
Okay, she was nuts. She also annoyed the hell out of him. “I would love to go but you are blocking my way.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder and back to him. He could have taken her but she already seemed spooked and did not want to add to her troubles.
“Can you drive around me?”
He saw hope in her eyes. Yup, she was scared.
“I can. Do you need any help?”
She bit into her lower lip and Jake had the urge to worry her lip with his own. Stop, he ordered himself.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Yeah, he bet she could handle a whole lot.
“Look. I’m going to put my hands down.” Jake spread his fingers apart so she knew he had nothing and lowered his hands, tucking his thumbs in his pockets. As he did, he looked around and saw the issue. Her left tire had hit a small ditch and her right front tire then skidded to the side so her tires probably spun but never grabbed.
“If you get in and start the car up, I’ll rock the backside and see if we can get you moving again.”
Again, she bit that lip, looked at him, at the tire and back at him. She nodded and lowered the weapon then climbed into the car without a word.
Jake placed himself at her rear bumper, waited for her to start the car. “When I say go, put on the gas!”
In his headlights, he saw her acknowledge him with a wave of her hand.
“Go!”
He rocked the bumper as the woman put her pedal to the metal. After a couple of minutes, her wheel grabbed hold, she lurched forward, and he wore mud all over the front of him.
“Peachy,” he muttered, “just peachy.”
Wiping it off only made the mud spread. When he reached the front of her car, she offered him a weak smile. As he glanced at the inside of the SUV he noticed the gun sitting on her lap, a cell phone and its box on the passenger seat along with her handbag and what appeared to be a laptop case. What was she doing out here?
“Do you need directions to some place?”
“No. Thanks for your help.” This time the smile that spread across her face met her eyes. Pretty. Frightened, but pretty.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.” Jake offered his hand for a shake and when the woman wrinkled her nose, he jerked his hand back and grinned, as he wiped his hands on his soaking wet jeans. “Sorry.”
“Well, thanks. Have a good night.”
She dismissed him. Nice. With a shrug, Jake turned on his muddied boots and went back to his Jeep. He climbed in and waited for her to move on. When she didn’t, he rolled down his window. “You okay?” he yelled.
In answer, she rolled down her window and waved him ahead of her.
“O-kay.”
Jake put the Jeep in gear, drove by, and gave a quick wave. Nuts! She had to be.
By the time he reached his driveway a couple of turns and five minutes later, he had put the blonde out of his mind and replaced her with the thought of a hot shower before the food and his bed.
FIVE
Charley finally reached her new home. She thought. Although, it was not exactly new, she realized as she turned down the gravel drive and caught the house in the beam of her headlights. Sitting in front of her was a two-story farmhouse painted a funny yellow color with a worn looking porch that seemed to tilt on one end.
“What have you gotten me into, Waldo?” she muttered.
No, no, she scolded and cut the engine to the SUV. Waldo had sent her to a safe place. Reaching across to the passenger’s seat, she hooked her purse over her shoulder, and tucked her phone inside it. She removed the key from the ignition and grabbed her weapon. Charley stepped out and down of the vehicle, locking it as she went. With caution, she approached the steps, testing each one before she put all her weight on it. Relieved, she exhaled a breath. It was sturdy.
The front door, when she opened it, seemed secure, but creaked some. She would have to invest in a can of WD-40. She stepped into the house, touched the wall next to the entrance, and flipped a switch, illuminating a small, empty living room with a brick fireplace. Cozy. Moving past the living room, she flipped on another light and came to a dead stop on the threshold of the eat-in kitchen. The kitchen was not in nearly as good a shape. The linoleum floor as well as the counters needed a good, thorough scrubbing. She walked toward the oven and stared at it. It was an old, very old white gas stove. She had never used a gas appliance before. Oh, well, there was a first time for everything. She sniffed, wrinkling up her nose as a funky smell irritated her senses. Hand over her mouth and nose, Charley checked the lock on the back door and left to inspect the rest of the house.
She took a set of stairs up and stilled when the third step creaked under her weight then continued. At the top of the stairs, she located two bedrooms. One was obviously the guest room because it was no bigger than a large box. On her way to the other end of the hallway, she found a small bath and a linen closet. The tub didn’t look too bad, just a little ring of iron around the drain. A little cream of tartar would fix that right up.
She reached the master bedroom and was surprised to find a bed with folded sheets sitting on top and a piece of paper. Charley stepped into the room, picked up the note, and read the message Mr. Green, Waldo’s friend and the man that had owned her new house left for her. In his letter, he explained that he left her clean sheets and there was a blanket in the closet for her to use as well as the bed itself. He included his phone number with the instructions in case she needed anything else and to feel free to give him a call. Mr. Green’s note also said that his only neighbor was a very handy man and probably knew the property just as well as he did so not to hesitate to ask him for help.
“Thank you, Mr. Green.” Charley grinned as she tucked the letter into her purse and set it and her weapon on the floor. Exhausted, she made the bed and found the spare blanket before she did a quick check of the house to be sure she had locked it up tight. After that, she stripped and hit the sack, slipping her 9-millimeter under the spare pillow before her head hit the other.
She saw herself at the edge of the room with her gun in her hand. Her heart raced and her breathing quickened. She stepped into the room, her hands shaking. Something was wrong? Kyle. Where was Kyle? He was supposed to meet her. Why had he not shown up?
“Kyle?” she whispered as she moved into the room. “Kyle?”
She tossed her head from side-to-side and swallowed the hard lump of fear that knotted in her throat and prevented her from screa
ming. Sweat broke out across her brow when she received no response. The room was so dark, she could barely see. Was Kyle playing a trick on her?
“Kyle, please answer me,” she begged, clutching the sheet in her fists.
She walked into the kitchen, frantically looked around the space, until her gaze landed on the refrigerator. Her breath caught in her throat. Blood. Drops of red blood formed a trail to the freezer in the moonlight. She gulped and took a hesitant step forward. Run! Run! Charley ignored what her mind yelled. She reached for the handle. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tugged the door open, and opened her eyes.
Her scream rent the air and Charley sat straight up in bed, her weapon held between both hands sweeping the unfamiliar room. Chest heaving, she gasped for breath. She swiped at her forehead and wiped the sweat onto the blanket.
“A dream. Only a dream,” she assured herself as she slid the weapon under the pillow and laid her head back, willing her heart to slow.
But it wasn’t all a dream. Kyle was dead.
SIX
With the ax poised high above his head, he swiped at the sweat on his brow with his shirtsleeve, and aimed for his target. As he swung the ax down, a scream rent the air, and the blade landed with a thud on his booted foot. “Shit!”
The shrill, high-pitched sound came again.
He took off running, the blade of the ax resting against his fist as he humped it across the field toward the gut-wrenching screams. At the rise of his land, he crested the hill near his favorite apple tree and heard the shriek again.
Someone was killing her, was all Jake could think as he added more fuel to his feet and barreled down the hill toward the small white house. He just hoped he could get there in time to save her. Running full out, his breathing labored, sweat pouring down his back and face, he hit the open doorway and screeched to a halt.
Holding himself up by the doorframe, panting for air, he stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the dainty thing of a woman waving a white cloth. When she turned, long, blonde hair shot back from her face like flames. Her gaze met his and she screamed. Her! His heart jumped, and Jake took two strides into the tiny kitchen, wrapped the arm carrying the ax around her skinny waist, and clamped his free hand over her mouth.
Peering into the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen, Jake spoke calmly. “Lady, please do not scream again. You’re going to give me a heart attack,” he complained catching his breath.
Underneath his hand, she mumbled something and nodded her head.
Beneath his flannel-clad arm, Jake felt her heart beat fast, and he watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest. When he looked back into her face, her eyes squinted then widened. She was afraid of him, he realized, and released her, stepping back two paces and holding his arms up in reassurance that he was safe.
She stumbled, caught the edge of the old, diner style table, and righted herself. Then, to Jake’s utter surprise, she stiffened her spine, clenched the fist that held the hanky, and scowled at him. Good for her, he thought, she could be tough when she wanted. Despite her predicament last night, she had fought to be tough even if it had been to the detriment of her vehicle.
“You…you scared the daylights out of me,” she accused, waving the little white cloth in front of her face.
He opened his mouth, shut it, and then with great restraint, spoke. “I scared you? Lady, your screams nearly shaved ten years off my life. Definitely shrunk my gonads so high I’ll never get to use them again.”
A bubble of laughter escaped those pink lips he had his hands on not even two minutes ago. The sound was rhythmic, a light patter of raindrops against a tin roof on a spring rain. Then she snorted and Jake had to bite his cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter with her. Obviously embarrassed, she slipped a hand over her mouth, and grinned at him.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, her blue eyes glittering with humor. “I…I just…”
She pointed toward a white stove that looked like it had seen better days. One burner was missing, the thing had rust at every corner, and it was crooked. Jake tilted his head, mirroring the appliance’s stance.
“Spit it out.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Behind the stove. Big. Hairy thing.”
Still carrying his ax, Jake swaggered over to the dilapidated stove, and peered behind it. With a shake of his head, he looked back at her then planted a hip against the Formica counter, crossing his arms over his chest, mindful of the blade.
“You screamed bloody murder, had me hauling ass over here, because of a rat?”
She bit into her lower lip. “Well, when you put it like that, it seems kind of foolish.”
“Kinda,” he shot back and shrugged. “Got a broom and dust pan?”
Her mouth dropped open and she gaped at him. “You want to use my broom?” Her shoulders shook and she gave a shiver. “Ew.”
Jake rolled his eyes heavenward and wondered why, why, his new neighbor was a sissy. From the delicate material of her pale blue dress, the matching mule sandals, and the manicured nails, he guessed she was a citified sissy. Just what he needed. Not. That was okay, he would just keep as far, far away as possible. With the exception of helping a neighbor out in a rodent crisis, he would have no reason to socialize with her.
He pushed off the counter and stood. “Got two pieces of cardboard or some old newspaper?”
She nodded, and spun on her blue shoes, ass swaying sweetly in that airy little dress and left the room. Jake shook his head, smiling.
In two shakes, she was back with two gigantic pieces of cardboard, one in each hand. “Got it,” she sing-songed.
Did she think it was a walrus instead of a rat? “Hold this,” he instructed, taking the cardboard and handing her his ax. It dropped to the floor narrowly missing her toes.
Scared witless, Jake picked the petite woman up, bodily, and plopped her down on the counter, out of harm’s way. “Don’t move,” he ordered, holding a finger up in front of her turned up nose.
He leaned the ax against a cupboard, took the cardboard she gave him then scooped up the rat. When he turned toward the door, she squealed and covered her face with her arms, kicking her legs. Jake rolled his eyes. “Don’t move.”
Immediately, she stopped flailing her feet, uncovered her face, and bolted her hands to the countertop.
Jake exited through the open door and found a metal trashcan. Lifting the lid, he dumped the rodent and cardboard inside. Knowing she would probably ‘ew’ him to death, he tied the plastic bag, removed it from the can, and set it aside so he could dump it back at his place. Then he went back inside.
“All done.”
“Thank you.” Placing a hand over her heart, her eyes fluttered shut, and she tilted her head back. BAM!
“Ow.” With manicured hands, she rubbed at the back of her head.
Jake covered his eyes with one hand and swiped it down his face. The woman was accident-prone. What was she doing here? Here of all places. Next to him. In his little piece of sanctuary. She was going to fuck it up, big time.
“I gotta go.” Jake grabbed his ax and spun on booted heel.
As he crossed the threshold, he heard the thud of her feet hitting the floor when she jumped off the counter.
“Wait!”
Clutching the trash bag, he turned back to her, and waited.
“I want to thank you. For last night and now this.”
Jake tilted his chin down then started to leave.
“But.”
He stopped again. She came down the single back step.
“What’s your name?”
Jake lifted a brow. His job made him wary of anyone, everyone.
“We’re going to be neighbors. I figure I should know your name.” She stepped in front of him, offered an outstretched hand. “I’m Charley.”
For a second, he eyed the hand, the slim fingers he could crush in the blink of an eye. Seeing the beam of her smile, he managed to return it with a grin of his own. Shifting the ax to his other arm, Jake hoo
ked his hand with hers.
Shit!
When he clasped her hand in his, energy sizzled up his arm, a bolt of lightning straight to his heart. He jerked his hand back, releasing her. In a hurry, he fled back to his property, his house, his piece of mind.
The last thing he wanted or needed was some chiclet. Nope, nuh-uh, no way. He shook his head as he stalked across his yard. He planned to stay as far away from Charley as humanly possible.
SEVEN
“What was that?”
When his hand clasped hers, Charley felt her skin pulse, her heart thrummed faster, and a warm tingle flickered inside. Her knees had started to buckle and if he hadn’t pulled back, she would have sunk to the ground in a quivering mass. Even now as she walked back into the house wiping her hand on the dishcloth, she felt the prickling sensation in her fingers.
As she started back at scrubbing her rundown wreck of a kitchen floor, she speculated on her new neighbor. In her line of work, she had shaken many hands and not one of them gave her such a jolt. Was it his size? Her hair flew in her face when she shook her head. Leaning back on her heels, she shoved the errant hair back and wound it into a knot on the top of her head.
No, it wasn’t Jake’s size. She had met plenty of very tall, broad men. Most weren’t exactly as handsome as Jake, and certainly none had moss green colored eyes that glinted when he was frustrated. Charley was certain Jake had been frustrated with her and the hairy rat. Dipping her brush in the bucket, she shrugged. Not her fault she hated rats and all their cohorts that scampered around scaring poor unsuspecting people. Any woman worth her salt would have screamed.
Despite his annoyance, Jake managed to hold his tongue and take care of her critter. Rather gallantly, she thought, and grinned at the image of him scooping the thing up and out of her kitchen. She wondered if Jake had an old shoe he could lend her. She had already seen a couple of small spiders and was positive there would be more and they would be bigger. Her shoes may not be big enough to squash them but his surely would be. He must wear at least a size thirteen.
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