by Dani Pettrey
“Brooke,” Kenzie greeted her, rounding the hall with Owen clinging like a monkey to her side. “So glad you could join us.” She hugged Brooke, and Owen attempted to tickle her.
“Thanks for having me.” Brooke hugged her back and laughed for Owen’s benefit.
“Sorry about this little monkey,” Kenzie said, swinging him around into both her arms. “He’s in a tickling phase.” She tickled him in her arms, and he belly laughed.
“Raspberries,” Noah said, zurberting his tummy.
Owen laughed harder, flopping about in Kenzie’s arms.
Brooke smiled.
“Come on in,” Kenzie said, gesturing with her head toward the noise. “Wings are just about ready.”
“Kenz makes the best wings,” Noah said, placing his hand on Brooke’s lower back to guide her into the family room. “Watch your step.” He smiled. “It’s usually a maze around here.”
“Uncle Noah!” Fiona jumped up from watching Animal Mechanicals. She wore her favorite pink tutu over her leggings. A gift from Aunt Gabby.
Fiona bolted for Noah, hugging his legs with such force he almost wobbled back. He reached down and swooped her up into his arms. “How’s my favorite princess?”
Her bottom lip puckered out. “Owen keeps stealing my tiara.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
“No. Every princess needs a crown.” She looked at Brooke and brightened. “You’re a princess too. You need a crown.”
She wiggled in Noah’s hold, and he set her down. She clasped Brooke’s hand. “Come with me.”
Brooke smiled, the expression lighting her face and easing the trauma of what had occurred earlier. That’d been his greatest hope. She had a pressure-filled job and now couldn’t even feel safe in her own home. Despite being one of the bravest women he knew, she was still human. Every human had some level of vulnerability, and it seemed the stalker had nipped at hers.
Brooke and Fiona disappeared around the corner.
“There’s my boy,” Nana Jo said, looking up from stirring her famous shrimp pasta on the counter separating the kitchen from the family room. “Get over here and give your momma a kiss.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her on the cheek as he snuck a spoonful of Old Bay shrimp from the pasta bowl.
“Don’t think I didn’t see that, Noah James.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smirked.
“So you brought a lady to dinner?” Her eyes and attention were a little too focused on the pasta salad.
“Someone has been breaking into Brooke’s house and vandalizing her property.”
Nana Jo stopped stirring. “The poor dear.”
“Gabby asked me to make sure she stays safe while she and Finn are away.” And, truth be told, he liked the time he spent with Brooke. She was independent, focused on her work, and proud to serve her country. They had a lot in common, and when it came down to it, he enjoyed her company.
Noah looked over to find her and Fiona standing at the edge of the hall—both wearing tiaras and holding sparkling silver wands.
A smile curled on Noah’s face. “Well, don’t you two look like princesses.” He knelt down so he was eye level with his niece as she entered the room. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thanks, Uncle Noah.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.” He tapped her button nose.
“And you”—he stood, dipping his head to look into Brooke’s warm brown eyes—“are beautiful as well.” She was beautiful, but he hadn’t expected the thought to leave his mouth.
Brooke smiled. “It’s the tiara,” she said, righting it.
His smile widened. “It does look quite fetching on you.”
She laughed. “Maybe I need to purchase one of my own.”
“Supper’s ready,” Kenzie called, pulling the most amazing-smelling wings from the oven with a kitchen towel.
“Kenzie,” Nana Jo said with a side of scolding.
“What?” Kenzie asked, setting the hot pan on the trivets.
“Pot holders were invented for a reason.” Nana Jo sighed. “Hopeless.” She shook her head. “Both my children are hopeless.”
“Um, you have three children,” Noah pointed out.
“I meant the two present, but Gabby’s the observant one of you three.”
“Hey!” Kenzie swatted her mom with the towel still clutched in her hand.
Nana Jo tilted her head. “What can I say, darling. You and your brother are oblivious at times.” She stepped back from the island and wiped her hands on the red Nana Jo Cooks Best apron Noah had given her last Christmas.
“I take offense too,” Noah said, snagging another shrimp while his mom wasn’t looking. “Being observant is kind of a requirement for my job.”
His mom came around the island, sidling up against him as Brooke and Fiona followed Kenzie to the table. “If only you had a fraction of that skill when it came to women.”
“What?” He shrugged. “I happen to like my single life.” He had focus, purpose. What more could he need?
Nana Jo shook her head. “Case in point.” Rolling her large blue eyes, she sighed and headed for the seat beside Brooke.
Noah swallowed. Please, God, let Momma behave.
Miracles could happen, right? He took a deep breath as he sank into the chair opposite the table from Brooke.
Because that’s what would need to happen for his mom to not say something he’d regret.
FORTY-FIVE
“Thanks for joining us for dinner,” Noah said as he stepped inside Brooke’s house later that night.
She smiled. “Thanks for having me. I enjoy spending time with your family.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about my mom. She tends to talk without a normal human filter.”
Brooke laughed. “It’s okay.” Seeing Noah’s face turn cherry red when Nana Jo had asked when he was going to start dating again had been pretty funny. But then she suggested asking Brooke out, and Brooke’s cheeks had flushed with heat. Probably turning about the same shade as Noah’s.
“Basically, she’s crazy,” he said, still mortified.
“It’s really okay. I had a lot of fun.” His deer-in-the-headlights expression had been priceless, but it made her wonder why Nana Jo had specified the word again. Had something happened with his last relationship? He’d mentioned understanding bad choices. Had the steadfast Noah Rowley chosen the wrong girl? Was that why he was a self-proclaimed bachelor?
“I’m glad you had fun,” he said, as she set her key in the bowl by the door and hung her purse on the hook.
He leaned against the back of the couch, his hands braced on either side of him. His black casual button-up shirt and dark-washed jeans looked good on him. He was such a handsome man. He looked up at her, his expression soft, his gaze much deeper. He’d never looked at her quite like that. “You looked adorable in the tiara,” he said.
“Thanks.” She stepped back to her purse and grabbed the pink-and-silver tiara out. “Fiona sent it home with me.”
He chuckled.
She tried it on, playfully checking out the look in the full-length hall mirror before realizing that Noah now stood a few feet behind her. “Perfect,” he said, his voice a register lower than she’d heard it before.
She turned, and their gazes locked.
He took a step closer. “I—”
A knock interrupted him.
No! What was he about to say? It had—he had—looked like it was something meaningful.
Noah pulled his gun from his waist holster and opened the door a crack.
“Don’t shoot. It’s just me,” Logan said.
“Hey, man.” Noah opened the door wider, allowing him to step in.
Logan? She liked Logan. He was affable, funny, and charming, but what was he doing at her house?
“Just wanted to let you know I was here.”
Noah clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Emmy and I have to go check out Brodie’s supposed alibi for when the garage was vandalized,” Noah said.
Her brows perked up. “He has an alibi?”
“Not a good one,” he said. “But Em and I are headed to Riley’s Pub to check it out.”
Brodie hung there a lot. “But if his alibi proves to be true?” she asked, her thoughts tumbling forward. “Then who . . . ?” Who had been in her home? Who was stalking her?
Noah rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m on this. You don’t have to worry.”
She nodded. She believed him. Trusted him. It was a new sensation. With guys she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Granted this wasn’t a romantic situation, but still, trusting a man outside of the rescue swimmers she would bank her life on was new. But she needed to remind herself that he was there to protect her. Not because he wanted to date her or even wanted a friendship. The first made her sad, the latter even more so. What would she do when her stalker was behind bars, and Noah was no longer around?
“Knock, knock,” Emmy said, strolling in through the open doorway.
Brooke had never actually seen it happen—it’d always been more a turn of phrase—but Logan’s jaw literally dropped.
“Wow,” he said.
“You like the dress?” Emmy said, turning around as the dress twirled about her knees. Red with short sleeves, cut just above the knees with gorgeous yellow hibiscus patterned on it. Her hair was down, flowing to the middle of her back. Brooke didn’t think she’d ever seen it down.
“You look . . .” Logan fumbled for words.
Emmy arched a brow.
“Amazing,” he finally said, still not taking his gaze off of her.
“Thanks.” She looked to Noah. “You ready to go?”
“Yep, let’s do this.”
Logan finally dragged his stunned gaze off Emmy and looked to Brooke. “I’ll be right out front in my car. If you need anything, anything at all, text me,” he said. “Let’s put my number in your phone so it’s a quick dial.”
“Not necessary.”
Logan and Noah both frowned.
“I’m not going to have you sitting out in your car. You can hang in here,” she said.
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“You won’t be. I was just going to make some popcorn and watch a movie.”
Emmy smiled. “I’d say poor Logan if it’s a chick flick you’re planning on watching, but he’s the one man I know who enjoys them.”
“What can I say?” Logan said with that charming smile of his. “I’m a romantic at heart.”
Emmy burst out laughing.
“Okay,” Noah said. “We’re leaving. You two have fun.” He shifted his gaze to Brooke. “I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded, thankful for his reassurance, but she and Logan would be just fine. Both armed and watching a chick flick. It was a new combination.
Brooke lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan twirling rhythmically around, wondering how much longer until Noah would be back. She glanced at the clock—0100. She hadn’t anticipated him and Emmy being gone so long. She’d wanted to wait up and see if Brodie’s alibi had been confirmed or dismantled.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to see Noah.
She rolled over. She’d felt funny bailing on Logan to come to bed, but it was getting late, and she had an early watch. Not like she’d be able to sleep though. Her heart hammered in her throat as her mind tracked back through all that had happened over the last few days.
Her eyelids heavy, she was just about to finally doze off when she heard the front door creak open and voices emanating from downstairs.
Noah was back.
She hopped out of bed, pulled her robe over her knit shorts and tank top, and headed downstairs.
Noah looked up as she bounced down to join the group. He smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She smiled back.
“You should be sleeping.”
“I’m fine.” She took the last step into the foyer, her hand resting on the curled, cherrywood rail. “How’d it go?”
“Well, I don’t think Emmy will ever be dateless again,” Noah said, chuckling.
Logan visibly bristled.
“She got more numbers than a phone book,” Noah said.
“That’s an exaggeration,” Emmy said.
“Please, come sit,” Brooke said, gesturing to her front room. “Can I grab anyone a drink? I’ve got apple cider from Hagman’s Farm in the fridge,” she offered.
“Yes, please,” Emmy said, glancing at Noah and Logan holding up their hands. She laughed. “Looks like we’ll all take a glass.”
“Warm or cold?” Brooke asked.
“Warm, please,” Logan said, followed by Emmy and Noah.
“Four warm ciders coming up.”
“Let me help you,” Noah said, following her into the kitchen.
“It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ve got this.” She grabbed the gallon of cider from the fridge.
Noah ducked his head back in the front room and then scooted back to Brooke’s side. “I wanted to leave those two alone for a few minutes.”
Brooke arched a brow as she grabbed cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. “Are you trying to play matchmaker?” Interesting for a boss and his team, let alone a guy period.
“No,” he said, leaning against the counter next to the stove as she set a silver pot on the front burner. She clicked it on, the gas flame dancing to life.
“I want to give them time to do their thing,” he said.
She poured the cider into the warming pot. “Their thing?” she asked, curiosity tickling her.
“They have this way they work in tandem.” He leaned over, glancing in the front room, then shifted back with a smile.
“I’m guessing they’re doing it now?” Brooke asked, slowly stirring in the cinnamon and nutmeg.
“Yep.” He watched as she slipped the cloves into a white mesh bag and dropped it in.
“There,” she said. “Fifteen minutes and we’re good to go on cider.” She set the spoon on the holding tray. “Should we head back in?”
Noah leaned over to look in the other room, then leaned back by her side. “Not yet. They’re working their magic.”
She arched her brows. “Their magic?”
“They just have this way where they start off with quips, then argue to see who can figure out whatever piece of the puzzle needs solving, and they both come back with something valuable. Sometimes the same thing as each other, but often two different leads. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Noah arched his shoulders, stretching them out.
“You sore?”
“Just been a long few days.”
“I have something that’ll help that.”
“Oh?”
“It’s called Deep Blue. It’s this essential oil cream a friend of mine gave me, and it really works.” She grabbed her extra tube from a nearby drawer of miscellaneous items. “Just rub it on the sore area, and it’ll loosen it right up.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“I can help you if you want.” Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Not sure where that came from. Here,” she said, taking the tube back. “Just lean your head forward.”
He did so, and she rubbed the aromatic cream on his neck.
“Wow. That does feel good,” he said within seconds.
“Works fast, right?”
“Yeah. That’s good stuff.”
“You want me to get your shoulders?”
“You’re a medic. I’m sure you know what you are doing.” He smiled over his shoulder.
She warmed. She loved seeing the relaxed, playful side of him. “Okay, if you could unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt, I can slip the fabric off of your shoulders.”
He did so, and her heart halted. Whoa! She knew he was fit. She’d seen him running on base every morning, but the man was sculpted.
“All good?” he asked over his shoulder, his gaze
locking with hers once again.
“Yep.” She squirted the cream into her hand. Far more than she needed. Hopefully he didn’t notice her fumbling.
Taking her right fingers, she swiped a dollop from the puddle in her left palm and started at the base of his neck, moving out across his left shoulder. His muscles were taut, but she wasn’t sure if that was from the stress from overworking or if he was just that sculpted. She kneaded the cream into his muscles, and he took a sharp inhale.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yep. All good.” The words sounded fine, but his voice sounded tight. She was about to ask again, just to make sure she wasn’t hurting him or anything, when Logan and Emmy rounded the corner.
“Well, I can see we’re interrupting,” Logan said, with a snarky grin.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Noah said, straightening.
“All done,” Brooke said, stepping back and moving to the sink to wash her hands. She’d just rub the extra into her hands, but she’d learned the hard way that any touch to your face or inadvertent rubbing of the eyes with Deep Blue on your hands was a very bad idea.
Noah rebuttoned his shirt and, with a tug on the bottom, straightened it out. “What did you two knuckleheads come up with?”
“We have some good ideas for where else to start digging on Gwyneth and her probable connection with Rick Carson,” Emmy said.
“Great. You can get started in the morning.”
“Actually”—Emmy shrugged—“we’re both pretty wide awake, so we’re going to grab a couple of milkshakes from Red’s and head on into the office for an hour or so.”
Brooke loved Red’s. The 24/7 diner worked great for a chocolate malt no matter when she got off watch.
“I’d say don’t work too late, but we all know neither of you will listen.” Noah shook his head.
“Here,” Brooke said, grabbing two to-go cups. “Take some cider with you.”
“That’s so sweet of you.” Emmy smiled. “Thanks.”
She ladled the sweet, clove-scented drink into the tumblers.
Logan took a sip. “That’s delicious. Thanks, B.”
Noah’s brows hiked up. “B?”
“Just something we came up with. Right, Logan?” Brooke said.