See You at Sunset

by V. K. Sykes

  “When did you sign out?”

  “I guess it must have been about five thirty. Like I said, we got about two hours’ extra work.”

  “Did you leave the site at any point during the day?”

  Cain raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t Jace tell you?”

  “Please answer the question.”

  “Jace and I went to my place for lunch. We were back here at noon, if that’s your next question.”

  Cain obviously had a brain and wasn’t the least bit nervous.

  Micah would verify the accuracy of Cain’s claim as to when he came and went from the site, as he would every other employee’s. The crews were required to record their arrival and departure times, signing in and out with the guards on duty at the gates.

  “Did anyone other than Horton see you during the half hour you were gone from the site?”

  Cain shrugged. “Guess not. Hell, we just went to my place, ate a sandwich, drank a beer, and got back to work on time.” He sat up straighter and locked his gaze on Micah’s eyes. “What’s this about anyway, Deputy?”

  Micah had been careful to keep that information from all the guys he’d interviewed so far. There was no need for them to know unless they didn’t have solid alibis, and the first wave of guys had them, with the exception of Horton and one other. Most had been working long days as the construction bosses pushed to make up for time lost due to bad weather.

  “Since you live on the island,” Micah said, deciding to gauge Cain’s reaction, “maybe you heard about a burglary at a house on Yellow Grass Road.”

  Cain barely reacted. Just a slight curl of one corner of his lips. “Actually, I didn’t. I try to mind my own business, though people around here do like to gossip, don’t they?”

  Micah decided to try a different tack. “If you’re like most construction guys I know, you must get hurt a fair bit on the job. You’re used to dealing with pain.”

  Cain was clearly surprised by the abrupt shift in direction but recovered quickly. “Actually, most of my pain comes from my girlfriend.” He winked at Micah. “You know what I mean?”

  Asshole. Micah’s instinctive dislike of him grew. “Ever been arrested?”

  “Never,” Cain said.

  “Maybe you and Horton spent your lunch hour breaking into that house,” Micah said abruptly. “You don’t have much of an alibi, and your buddy has a criminal record. Possession of stolen goods, no less.”

  Cain’s gaze flickered, then he look irritated. “So you just assume that everybody with a criminal record is a liar?”

  Micah gave him a bland smile. “Okay, that’s it. For now.”

  Cain stood quickly and left the room.

  Micah stayed seated, thinking. His spidey senses were definitely tingling when it came to Cain and Horton, but he had to caution himself against letting his gut feelings send him down the wrong path. Since he had to conduct this investigation with little support from the rest of the department, he’d better be sure to get it right.

  Chapter 9

  As Holly stowed the vacuum cleaner in the hall closet, a sharp rap sounded on the door. She took a quick glance out the front window through the venetian blinds and saw the sheriff’s office cruiser parked in the driveway.

  Crap. She looked a mess.

  Pulling the scrunchie off her ponytail, she shook her hair loose and then glanced down at her pink scoop-neck tank top and white shorts. Thank God they didn’t look too horrible after a couple of hours spent tidying up her aunts’ house.

  “Hi there, Deputy,” she said brightly as she swung open the door. Her heart skipped a few beats at the sight of Micah in his sexy cop’s uniform, complete with handcuffs on his belt. Man, was he a fantasy come to life.

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked. “Seven thirty probably isn’t the best time to drop in. Have you had dinner?”

  Was he about to ask her out if she said no? Holly wavered between wanting an invite and being afraid of one. She instinctively came down on the side of caution.

  “I had a salad earlier,” she said, lying. “And I was just doing a little cleaning. Under the circumstances, I’m happy for the interruption.”

  “Good.” Micah stepped inside. As usual, his stubble was heavy at this time of day, and he was wearing a slight frown. In fact, he looked pretty tired.

  “Long day?” she asked.

  Micah’s smile was wry. “More cats to rescue than usual.”

  “Yeah, those darn cats.”

  “Actually, I spent most of the day at the resort site interviewing guys about the break-in at Fitz’s place,” he said. “Then I got HQ to run criminal record checks on some of them.”

  She should offer him a beer. Island hospitality demanded it, which was as good an excuse as any. “Why don’t I get you a cold beer and you can sit down and tell me about it?”

  His face broke into one of those easy, warm smiles she found so appealing. “I didn’t come to talk about the case. But, sure, a beer would hit the spot.” He glanced down the hall toward the kitchen. “Could we go out on the deck? It’s a real nice evening.”

  “Of course, though I’m afraid it’s a bit of a danger zone out there. It’s getting pretty decrepit.”

  Holly led him to the kitchen and retrieved two bottles of Shipyard from the fridge. Micah slid open the patio door and stepped out onto the battered deck that ran almost the full width of the house.

  The harsh coastal weather—the rain and the salt and the brutal winters—had combined with the passage of time to render most of the deck unusable. Looking down at the rotting, crumbling boards made Holly sad. She’d spent a lot of happy hours out here in her teens and twenties, her bare feet resting on the low rail, a glass of lemonade or beer on the table beside her, and a thriller or romance novel in her lap. The view of the glittering water and the islands in the bay was both breathtaking and soothing. Sadly, the deck had become yet another casualty of her aunts’ need to economize.

  As with so many other things, Holly had practically begged them to let her pay for the necessary repairs. And as usual, the answer was no. Florence had admitted she was afraid to go out on the deck anymore and missed being able to sit out there. But she remained adamant that she’d pay for the repairs herself when they could afford it. Which would probably be never.

  “As for the case, there’s not much to go on so far.” He took a long drink, one hand resting on the rail.

  “Better be careful, Micah. If that rail gave way and you fell, the county would probably sue my aunts for negligence.”

  Micah rolled his eyes and then gave the rail a yank, causing it to wobble. “The state of this deck is exactly what I came over to talk about.”

  She frowned. “It is?”

  “I’ve been thinking about things I could do to help Florence and Beatrice. And what I’d really like to do is build them a new deck.” Micah shrugged, as if already hearing her aunts’ objections. “I must owe them for about five thousand cups of free coffee by now, after all.”

  She smiled. “Well—”

  He cut her off. “I’ll pay for the materials and do the work myself. Your aunts have always enjoyed sitting out here. A view like this shouldn’t go to waste, and those two more than deserve it for all the good they do for the island.”

  Because the conversation was starting to make her feel way too emotional, Holly decided to go for lighthearted. “Okay, you seriously win the vote for nicest guy on the planet. Although way to make me feel guilty, dude.”

  Consternation pulled his brows down. “Holly, I never—”

  She poked him in the arm. “I’m kidding. I think it’s a wonderful idea, and I’d be happy to help with the costs. I just hope you have more luck convincing them than I’ve had.”

  Micah glanced out toward a passing ferry heading for the dock, its decks loaded with passengers waving at friends and relatives onshore. Then he settled his gaze back on her, and the intensity made her stomach go fluttery.

  “I’m not going to take no for
an answer,” he said. “Your aunts are proud, and pride is important. We all know how deep it runs here on the island. But letting your neighbors help out and take care of you in tough times is important too.”

  Like he took care of her last summer when she was injured. Like all her friends had taken care of her.

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest, silently challenging her.

  “Okay, I’m with you,” she said. “I’ll hog-tie Florence if she gives you any trouble.”

  Micah’s warm laugh rolled over her, turning her flutters into pinwheels. God, she loved his laugh.

  “I’d pay a lot of money to see that,” he said.

  She held up her arm and flexed the muscles in her bicep in a silly imitation of a bodybuilder. “I’m tougher than I look. And by the way, I intend to help you with the deck. I have zero experience with power tools, but I can fetch and carry like nobody’s business.”

  “Great. Now, how’s Florence doing anyway?”

  The question wiped away her smile. “Beatrice called this afternoon. Florence’s blood work is off, so they’re going to keep her a while longer and redo the tests.”

  “She’ll hate that, but at least she’s getting some much-needed rest.” Micah turned and started to carefully test the boards of the deck with his foot. “I was just thinking—what if we converted the deck into a screened porch?”

  “Micah, that’s an awful lot of—”

  “Expense,” he finished. “Not as much as you might think. Anyway, if we enclose the deck, your aunts can enjoy the fresh air and the view even when it’s raining. And we could replace the screens with windows when summer’s over so they could use it all through the fall.”

  Holly studied Micah’s face. It was radiating determination. Oh, what the hell. “Honestly, that sounds like a slice of heaven, but it would take a huge amount of your time. It’d be a lot to ask of you.”

  “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right.” He came back to stand beside her and carefully rested his hand on her shoulder, almost as if he expected her to jerk away. His palm was callused and a little rough. It felt wonderful against her bare skin.

  “I’m counting on you to help me talk them into this,” he said.

  “Of course I will,” she said, forcing a smile. “I don’t know how to thank you, Micah. It’s a truly amazing and thoughtful plan.”

  Only her desperate fear of where kissing might lead them—up to my bedroom—stopped her from launching herself at him. But they were friends, and that friendship was important. The last thing she wanted to do was screw that up.

  He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. How about I take some measurements now? That way I can get started right away on ordering some of the lumber. And since I’ve got the day off tomorrow, I might as well get going with the demolition.”

  His sexy voice somehow made demolition sound like a ton of fun.

  “Go right ahead,” Holly said. “But aren’t you hungry? You obviously haven’t had dinner.”

  “It won’t take long,” he said. “I’ll just get my toolbox out of the truck.”

  “I could throw together something quick, like pasta and sauce,” she said. “And a salad? How does that sound?”

  Dumb, that’s how it sounds.

  She was acting like Micah was still just her old pal, and she was just inviting him to stay for a casual meal. Though she’d done that many times over the years, what she was feeling now was anything but casual.

  His eyebrows ticked up. “Sounds great, but only if you join me.”

  She gave him a mock scowl, trying to keep things light. “I told you I’d already eaten. Are you trying to make me fat, Micah Lancaster?”

  He laughed. “A salad doesn’t count.”

  His smile faded, and the look in his eyes changed from amused to smoldering as his gaze trailed over her body, lingering briefly on her chest before dropping to her hips and legs. “Besides, I don’t think a little pasta could even begin to mess with perfection.”

  The dark tone of his voice sent her heart rate up to jackhammer level and made her realize just how much trouble she was in.

  Because she didn’t have much food in the house—and because she’d needed to get away from Micah for a few minutes—Holly had popped next door to the store and picked up some basics, including a box of rigatoni, a jar of tomato sauce, and a quart of chocolate ice cream. Fortunately, she still had some salad fixings from her trip to Whole Foods yesterday after her visit to the hospital. She knew Micah wouldn’t complain about the hastily prepared, plain dinner. Fancy for him was anything that didn’t come out of a freezer or a can.

  And he absolutely loved chocolate ice cream.

  As she prepared the meal, she snuck frequent peeks at him through the patio doors. He seemed as focused and precise about measuring the deck as he was about everything he did. Micah’s strong, comforting presence made her feel utterly secure whenever he was around.

  With one eye on the pasta that boiled on the range beside her, Holly worked on the salad and warily probed her own feelings. It had been a long time since she’d felt like this around a man—since she lost Drew, to be exact. In some ways, Micah was a lot like her husband, although Drew had been more intense. He’d been the kind of man who charged through life full bore.

  With Drew, every trip home from overseas or from his stateside base had been a celebration. Making dinner while he puttered around the house or worked on his motorcycle had been a blissful refuge from her demanding and frenetically paced job. She’d loved nothing better than a quiet evening at home with the man she loved, cocooned from the demands of their busy lives. But soon Drew would leave again. The quiet times had been only a temporary respite for both of them.

  Still, she missed those moments with an intensity that could still make her body ache with longing. And no matter how much fun she had with Jackson or how involved she was in her job or new partnership, the ache never fully disappeared. Some days, in fact, her life felt pretty shallow, especially in comparison to the one she’d led with her husband.

  And what would her husband have thought of a man like Jackson? That question nagged at her, and she didn’t think the answer was one she’d want to hear. But Drew had really liked Micah, as Micah did him.

  She jerked her head up at the sound of the patio door sliding open.

  “Wow, you look pretty intent there. Does it take that much concentration to make a salad?” Micah said in a teasing voice as he strode through the kitchen with his toolbox.

  Holly eyed his very fine butt as he passed her. His back and shoulders were pretty darn impressive, too. “Micah, you know very well that I’m more than a little challenged when it comes to kitchen duties. As are you, as I recall.”

  “Bullshit,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m totally challenged, but you sure aren’t. And what you’re making now smells great.”

  That was a big stretch, but it made her smile. It was nice to be appreciated. “I really should have offered to buy you dinner at the Pot. This isn’t much of anything.”

  He turned and looked at her. “I’m glad I have you all to myself for once. Most times when we’ve had a meal together, it’s been with a crowd.” Then he winked at her before disappearing through the front door.

  Holly was still thinking about that wink as Micah came back in and went upstairs to clean up. When he returned to the kitchen, he opened the bottle of red wine she’d set out and poured each of them a glass.

  “Think it’ll be a problem if I start right in on the deck?” he asked. “I was thinking that Florence will probably want peace and quiet, at least until she gets back to work.”

  Holly shook her head. “I doubt that a little hammering will bother her. Besides, she’s going to be on enough antianxiety medication to tranquilize an elephant.”

  “You told me she hated that stuff.”

  “She does, but she looked pretty blissed out yesterday,” Holly said drily.

  She grabbed a pair of cloth napkins and a ha
ndful of cutlery and headed through the arched doorway into the dining room to set the table. “By the way, you still haven’t told me whether those criminal record checks turned up anything. I have to say that the thought of some creep skulking around the island looking for places to rob makes my skin crawl.”

  Micah was leaning against the kitchen counter, wineglass in hand. She sidled around his big body to get to the stove, resisting the silly impulse to brush up against him.

  “After what happened to you, anybody would feel that way,” he said. “The main thing is to keep your doors and windows locked all the time. Everybody here has to get used to doing that. But try not to worry.”

  She decided not to mention minor details like how easy it would be for an intruder to smash the glass in the door and twist the dead bolt open. Besides, the slight frown on his face as he stared at the patio door suggested he was thinking the same. Still, she appreciated his attempt to reassure her.

  “So has Aiden got any ex-felons working for him over there or not? Micah, I won’t melt into a terrified puddle if you tell me the truth.” At least she hoped not. She took a gulp of wine for fortification, just in case.

  He gave a reluctant nod. “Only one guy had a rap sheet. A dude all tattoos and attitude. He was convicted of Class D petty theft when the Portland cops found stolen computer equipment in his apartment. Horton probably planned the theft with the buddy that did the actual break-in, though they couldn’t make that theory stick. He served four months in county jail for that one. Plus he’d done time in a juvie facility before that.”

  “Gee, that sounds swell—not. I don’t get why a contractor would hire somebody like that.”

  “Experienced laborers can be hard to find during construction season, and it’s worse here in the islands because of the long commute,” Micah said. “Then there’s the fact that some contractors like to give guys like a Horton a break if they’ve had some history as a good, reliable worker. It’s not a terrible thing to do.”