by Jane Toombs
“Going to ask me in?” he said after a moment.
“Um, sure.” Heart pounding, she stepped aside and he entered.
After he closed the door he examined it, then turned to her. “No chain. I’ll put one on. Chains aren’t foolproof, but they do let you look out and see who’s there before you open the door. You should know who you’re letting in.”
“I thought you were the tile man,” she blurted.
“Yeah, but I’m not. It’s not safe these days, even in Archer, to take chances.”
Gathering her wits, she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I figured unexpectedly was the best time to come. I have today off and you don’t work on Tuesdays. Besides, I have a present for Peanut I forgot to give her.” He gestured toward the window. “Sun’s out. We can take her for a walk.”
Did he think he could simply show up and find her ready to do anything he suggested? “I have clothes in the dryer and a long list of shopping to do and—”
“No problem. I’m a dab hand at folding clothes as you already know. As for the shopping—hey, I can do that, too. Where’s the dryer?”
He grinned at her and she found herself unable to resist. “I admit I hate to fold clothes,” she confessed.
With two of them working at it, the clothes were soon taken care of. “Now,” he said, “for the shopping.”
“We’ll have to take my car because of the baby bed.”
“No sweat. A friend gave me one—his kid outgrew it.”
She gaped at him. “You actually have a baby bed in your car?”
“Yeah. Grab your list and I’ll get Peanut.”
Fay discovered shopping was fun with Dan along to amuse the baby with the red rattle he’d bought her. Or maybe it was just because he was along, period. In what seemed like no time they were done, the last stop being a hardware store where he bought a chain for her front door. By the time he carried Danny Marie in, she was sound asleep.
After he placed her in the cradle, he reappeared and helped Fay lug in the groceries.
“It’s noon,” she said. “Will you stay for lunch? You’ve certainly earned it.”
“Only if I can help. Hard to adjust to you waiting on me.”
“I’m completely recovered,” she said a trifle tartly.
He gave her an all-over glance that made her catch her breath. “I can see you are,” he drawled.
Having Dan help her in the kitchen reminded her of their last few weeks in the cabin, when she’d been well enough to help him. Except now it felt more intimate than it had then. Her pulse pounded every time they almost touched as they worked together in the small kitchen.
When they sat down to their salad and sandwich lunch, he said, “I warned you that you hadn’t seen the last of me.”
“I know you promised not to call.”
“Showing up isn’t calling.”
“A technicality.”
He shook his head. “Remote versus within touching distance.”
Bemused by his words and the look in his eyes, she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. Touching distance. Forcing herself to snap out of it, she set down her fork and said, “I think you miss the baby.”
“I miss—” He paused for a long moment. “I miss the cabin.”
So did she. But that time was over for them both. “Forward is the only direction I go.”
He shrugged. “Backtracking sometimes works on a case. The spooks have a saying—”
“Spooks?”
“Yeah, the FBI, CIA, those guys say, ‘let’s walk back the cat.’ You can uncover facts you missed initially.”
She grimaced. “We’re not dealing with a case here. I don’t think anything is missing.”
“Maybe not. But are you sure?”
Fay picked up her water glass and deliberately took a long swallow to give her time to think. “Let’s leave the cat alone,” she said finally.
“I’ve got one,” he said.
“One what?”
“Cat. Not that it was my choice. I opened the door last Monday, he walked in and won’t leave.”
She tried and failed to imagine Dan being dictated to by a cat. If anyone had asked her she would have told them he was more likely to have a dog.
“If you don’t want the cat, why not just call the animal shelter? They—” His scowl stopped her.
“His name is Spot. In her animal rescue days, Megan always argued that you can’t get rid of a stray you’ve already named.”
“I always thought Spot was a dog’s name.”
“He’s black with one white spot on his chest.”
“So, okay, the name fits the cat. I think we’ve gotten off the subject somewhere here.”
“Any dessert?”
His question made it obvious Dan had no intention of returning to what they’d been talking about, so Fay pointed to the owl-shaped cookie jar on the counter. “Clara sent over some cookies she calls sandies. They’re delicious.”
Dan crossed to the cookie jar, opened it, grabbed a plate from the cupboard and dumped some sandies onto the plate. He set it on the table between them before reseating himself and taking a cookie. “Clara’s one fine cook,” he announced. “You’re lucky to have her for a landlady.”
“Where do you live?” Fay asked.
“Riverview Apartments.”
“They let you keep pets there?”
“Evidently. No one’s thrown me out yet. Don’t you like cats?”
“I’ve never had a pet of any kind.” Her mother had been adamant about that. No cats, dogs, birds, hamsters, not even a goldfish.
“Why not?”
“My mother said since she was the one who’d have to take care of them in the long run, she had the last word. She believed pets were more trouble than they were worth.” Feeling a need to defend her mother, Fay added, “Didn’t your mother ever complain about Megan’s many strays?”
He shook his head. “She liked animals. Even the goat.” He smiled. “But she did find homes for most of them pretty fast.”
Dan’s smile faded as quickly as it had come.
“How about that walk with Marie once we clean up the lunch dishes? I noticed a park near here. Or better still, we can drive over to the county park and walk along the paved trails.”
“I’ve never taken her there,” Fay said. “When I was a Brownie we hiked those trails before they were paved. Then later—” She broke off.
“Lover’s Lane parking as a teen?” he asked.
She eyed him assessingly. “That’s a wild guess. You didn’t grow up in Archer.”
“Don’t forget I drove a squad car before I earned my detective badge, and we moved those couples on. Nowadays the gals parked anywhere at night have more to worry about than what the guy with them has in mind.”
The baby demanded attention with a wail and Fay started to leave the kitchen.
“Wait,” he said. “Let me change her while you finish up here.”
“Anytime anyone offers to change a diaper, I’ll take them up on it. There’s a changing table and diapers in the nursery.”
Dan lifted the fussing baby from the cradle, murmuring to her. He glanced around Fay’s bedroom, noticing that he was nowhere as neat as she was. He breathed in the scent he associated with the time they’d been together in the cabin, some kind of distinctive cologne with a hint of roses, but also faintly spicy. Like Fay? He smiled, suspecting she could be a lot spicier than her cologne suggested, then had to fight off his body’s immediate reaction to that thought.
“You know, Marie,” he said as he carried her into the nursery, “your mama isn’t like anyone else. You’re too young to hear why, so I’ll keep the details to myself.”
She gurgled at him.
“Recognize me, do you?” he said, depositing her onto the changing table. “I guess you don’t get to see many men. At least I hope not.” It took him a minute to deal with the flash of jealousy that ripped through him at the thought of Fay with anot
her man. He couldn’t call her his, but he didn’t want her to be anyone else’s.
“Old Dan’s got a problem he’ll have to work on,” he told the baby as he deftly removed the wet diaper, used a disposable wipe and slid a dry diaper beneath her. “Never liked that dog in the manger story.”
Fay was just closing the dishwasher when they returned to the kitchen. “She’s all set,” he said, handing the baby over. “I noticed the crib in the nursery, but I guess you’re still using the cradle.”
“She’s growing so fast I know I’ll have to shift her to the crib soon, but the cradle’s so convenient there by my bed. I’ll take her into the nursery to feed her and then we’ll be ready to go.”
He finished cleaning up the kitchen while waiting, wondering if he’d ever get accustomed again to watching Fay nurse the baby without having lustful thoughts. He shook his head, unable to understand why that had changed so abruptly from Madonna and child to something entirely different.
Why was he here? To see the baby, yes, but mostly to be with Fay. What did he want from Fay? To be honest, not commitment of any kind, but to get her in bed. After that, what? What did a forward-moving woman have in common with a stationary man? Sex, maybe. For a time. How long? He moved his shoulders uneasily, sensing something wrong with the scenario, something he couldn’t pin down.
He let the water out of the sink and wiped his hands on a paper towel. Why worry? Either Fay would or she wouldn’t. If she did, they would go on from there for whatever time. If she didn’t, then it was over before it began.
As they got into his car to drive to the park, Fay said, “You’ve got an easy-to-remember license plate. All those sixes.”
“Haven’t lost the car yet.”
“It doesn’t have a police logo on it.”
“That’s because it’s mine. Older car, inconspicuous, new engine no one can see without lifting the hood. Doesn’t attract attention. I like it that way.”
The baby made an unintelligible comment from the back seat. “Glad you agree,” he told her over his shoulder. “I value your opinion.”
Fay giggled. “I forgot you always talk to her as though she understands every word.”
When they’d parked and set the baby in the stroller, he insisted on pushing her.
Fay walked beside him, enjoying the sunshine and the wildflowers growing alongside the trail. The trees had grown taller than they used to be when she was a teen, but weren’t nearly as big as those around the cabin had been. They were in a sort of woods, yes, but nothing like the wilderness in the Upper Peninsula.
“Do you ever miss not living where you grew up?” she asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Could you find an equivalent job in Evergreen Bluff?”
He sighed. “If a Sorenson hadn’t—” He paused and started over. “One of my brothers did something a long time ago that made eternal enemies of the entire Crosswell clan. Wouldn’t matter, except Sherm Crosswell is the acting sheriff of the county my hometown is in—Nonesuch—and so being a deputy under him is out of the question. I could apply for a state job, but troopers don’t have any say in where they’re stationed, so why do that?”
“There must be other counties up there besides Nonesuch.”
“Yeah, but we’re talking home town here. Nonesuch is the biggest county in the U.P., and the county seat, Ojibway, is smack on Lake Superior way up at the top of the county with Evergreen Bluff thirteen miles away. Close enough. The point is, Nonesuch takes up so much territory that the county seats in any of the other counties vary from fifty to a couple hundred miles away from my hometown. The U.P.’s several small cities have equally small city police forces. All of those pay a lot less than I make here and none of them are in Nonesuch County.”
“So the salary is important to you.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Why would you think otherwise?”
She could hardly tell him the truth, that she’d thought his lack of drive to go beyond his present rank meant he wasn’t particularly interested in money. That was foolish of her, she realized. He enjoyed what he did, but at the same time he wanted to be paid a decent amount to do it.
“Um, I guess I figured if you wanted to live closer to home, you might be willing to work for less.” At least that approached the truth in an oblique way.
“As a deputy under Crosswell, I would be making less, but I might consider being home worth it. I’m not sure.”
“A two-family feud,” she said. “I haven’t run into anything like that before. Individuals might hate you, but an entire family hating an entire other family? Awesome. Do the Sorensons return the hate?”
He shook his head. “Much as I dislike admitting it, what happened was my brother’s fault. But no lasting damage was done. Why the Crosswells still hold a grudge is beyond me. Sometimes small towns are like that.”
A squirrel chattered at them from an oak tree branch, clearly scolding them for invading his space. Fay smiled up at the squirrel. “I don’t suppose we’ll see any animal in this park wilder than that. I still remember the day we came across the doe. And those awesome wolves.”
“Going backward in time?” he teased. “I thought that was taboo.”
“An occasional outstanding memory is permitted,” she informed him.
“I’ll tuck that away for future reference.”
She found herself enjoying this outing with Dan far more than the occasion warranted. Well, why not? They were friends, after all. Only friends? Fay straightened her shoulders. Yes, and only friends they would remain.
Still, was there any real harm in an affair, short-lived though it probably would be? It wasn’t as though either of them believed themselves in love or were trying to trap the other into marriage. She glanced sideways at Dan, only to find him looking at her. He stopped and so did she, gazes locked. She found it hard to breathe.
“I—” she began.
“I—” he said in unison.
Both started to laugh, the moment passed, and they walked on. What had he been going to say? she wondered. For that matter, what had she intended to say? Surely not something like “take me, I’m yours.” Which was how she’d felt.
“You’re smiling,” he said.
“I suddenly realized I’d forgotten what I started to say to you.”
He didn’t reply, so she prodded him. “How about you? I promise not to interrupt this time.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t important.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Something about smelling the perfume in your room,” he muttered. “The kind you use.”
“My perfume?” She blinked at him, confused.
“Told you it wasn’t important.”
She knew it had been, but she couldn’t find any reason. Unless the scent of her perfume could have reminded him of the time they’d waltzed in the cabin and he wanted more of the same. Like she did.
“I think it may be time to move the cradle into the living room,” she said, translating her thought into words before she realized what she was doing.
He raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason to mention it right now?”
“Um, I intend to start using the crib, so the cradle doesn’t need to be in my bedroom any longer.”
“Every time you say ‘um’ first, it means you’re giving me a diluted version of what you mean.”
“It does not!”
He grinned at her. “Then why are you blushing?”
“My color comes from a brisk walk in the fresh air,” she said haughtily.
“So let’s move the cradle into the living room as soon as we get back to your place and see what happens,” he said.
“Da—the baby might not like the crib.”
“Peanut is one cool customer.”
“She’s only a baby. She might not understand she’s outgrowing the cradle.”
He turned the stroller into a walk leading to a bench under a flowering cherry tree and stopped. “This isn’t about the b
aby.”
She looked into his eyes and was caught in their blueness. “No,” she admitted. “But I’m not sure—”
“Who is?” As he spoke, a pink petal drifted down from the tree and caught in his hair. Without thinking, Fay reached up to remove it and found herself in his arms.
His mouth covered hers and she gave herself up to the remembered pleasure of the kiss. Neither Ken nor any other man had ever made her feel such a hammer of desire from a single kiss. So why wasn’t she sure? She wanted Dan, no doubt about it. Why not go with the flow even if it wasn’t meant to be forever?
His hands moved down to cup her bottom, pressing her close, letting her feel his need for her. She clung to him, relishing the moment with its tantalizing promise of fulfillment. But not here. Not now.
He lifted his head, loosening his hold. “Still not sure?” The rasp of passion in his voice thrilled her.
“Maybe we should see what happens,” she murmured.
He released her, then plucked several pink petals from her hair. “Showering us with blessings?” he asked.
“You must be a secret romantic,” she said, trying to come down from her high.
“Never been accused of that before.” He turn to the stroller. “What do you think, Marie?”
The baby looked up at him wide-eyed. “Still got your blue eyes, I see,” he said to her.
“My doctor says they show no sign of changing, so they’ll probably stay that color.” It seemed appropriate to Fay that Danny Marie’s eyes should be blue, like her namesake’s.
“Anyone in your family with blue eyes?”
“My father,” she admitted reluctantly. Disturbed at the thought, she glanced at her watch. “We ought to be getting back. I have work to do.”
“On your day off?”
“Always. I’m used to working a five-day week, so I have to keep up.”
“You can’t adjust the work to fit your three-day schedule?”
Fay shook her head and he shot her a skeptical look.
“It’s just not how I operate,” she added.
“High-powered.”
Taking the flatness of his tone as a criticism, she snapped, “I didn’t get where I am by slacking off.”