by Alison Bliss
Jesus, please stop. I wanted to tell him not to go on, that I’d heard enough, but my thick tongue wouldn’t work, so I sat there cringing while he kept on talking.
“Upstairs, we found Chief Swanson’s wife, Janet.” His fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Dead. With her wrists bound behind her back.”
I gasped and covered my mouth. Oh, dear God, the chief didn’t…
It was only the second time he’d looked directly at me since he began the story. “I know what you’re thinking, Anna. It’s the same damn thing everyone thinks. But Chief Swanson didn’t do it. He loved his wife. They’d just gotten back together after being separated for almost six months, and it was the happiest I’d seen him.”
Confused, I lowered my gaze and finally found my voice. “P-people sometimes do…things.”
“Not this,” he said, adamantly shaking his head. “He wouldn’t have hurt Janet like that. Maybe he wasn’t a perfect husband, but the chief and I were good friends. I spent a lot of time with that man. I know he didn’t do it.” He sighed heavily. “Besides, none of it makes any sense. Why would Chief Swanson tie up his wife and leave her upstairs while he doused himself with an accelerant and…”
I wasn’t sure if Cowboy didn’t finish the sentence because he couldn’t say the words or just didn’t want to. Either way, I was relieved. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was tough. For you, I mean.”
He nodded and turned onto my road. “The other firefighters are all part of my extended family. It’s like someone telling me that my brother killed himself and his own wife when I know he didn’t.” He released a hard breath. “I just can’t prove it.”
I gaped at him, recalling the book I’d helped him locate. “That’s what Bobbie Jo was talking about earlier?”
“There are no other leads. I have to know what happened that night.”
Up ahead, the small white house I’d rented came into view. I nodded at it. “That’s where I live, the one with the blue shutters.”
He slowed, veered off the road, and rolled to a stop in front of my driveway to let me out. “Chief Swanson and his wife lived up the road, only about half a mile.”
I remembered passing by the charred rubble of a home nearby and even stopped to take a closer look. But, at the time, I didn’t know it had belonged to the chief. Dread flooded over me as torturous images flickered through my mind. I didn’t need or want any more sleepless nights than I already had.
Instead, I wanted to get out of the truck and walk away from the horrible pictures flashing through my head. Get as far away from them as I could. But I sat there for a second longer, feeling like I owed Cowboy some sort of comforting thought in return for the roadside assistance he had given me.
“No matter what happened to your chief, I’m sorry for your loss. It had to be devastating for you to lose someone so close.”
Cowboy gave me a quick nod. “You lost someone, too, right? In a fire?”
For some strange reason, I wanted to answer his question. But the moment I opened my mouth to do so, nothing came out. Damn it. Frustrated, I looked down and twisted my fingers together.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know I understand and you’re not alone.”
I glanced back up, meeting his unwavering gaze. Then I realized what he’d been trying to do. He’d hoped that by talking about his traumatic experience, I would open up to him about mine. “I…can’t.”
“If you ever want to talk about it, I might be able to help. Who better than a fireman, right?”
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As I reached for the door handle, he cocked his head and said, “You don’t like me, do you?”
Oh, hell. What could I say to that? I couldn’t forget how Cowboy had snapped me out of my panicky state and suppressed my inner demons. Like some kind of fairy tale with a brave knight who had courageously slain the maiden’s dragon and won her hand, as well as her heart. But I didn’t believe in fairy tales. Or knights in shining armor.
Because the one man I trusted—a man who swore he was saving me—ended up taking the one thing I loved most in this world. That knowledge left me with a dilemma. And it had Cowboy’s name written all over it. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just…well, I’m a little quiet, that’s all.” And I had no intention of starting something I couldn’t finish.
“A little?” Cowboy chuckled at that. “Sweetheart, if you got any quieter, I’d check your pulse.” He smiled at me. “You know, I joke that Austin looks like a turtle, but he’s got nothing on you.”
I blinked with confusion. “Did you just refer to me as a turtle?”
“Yep. That’s what you remind me of. Judging by the way you acted tonight, I’d say you have a tendency to protect yourself by pulling in your limbs and head.” Then he grinned sinfully. “Bet I’d have one hell of a time breaking you out of your shell.”
I could only imagine why he’d think that would be fun. But I didn’t want him—or anyone, really—scraping at my innermost layers. That wasn’t what I moved here for. In less than six months, I’d be long gone. So the last thing I needed was to fool around with a handsome, exciting playboy. Especially one who was only looking for me to stroke his ego. Probably among other things.
“Well, Cowboy,” I said, shaking my wrist loose from his grip and hopping out of the truck’s cab. “I guess that’s just one more thing you’ll never know about me. Thank you for the ride home.”
I closed the truck door and stepped away before turning to wave good-bye, but I didn’t miss the look he gave me. I’d only meant to discourage him from pursuing this venture any further. Unused to being shot down, Cowboy’s stubborn eyes narrowed and one corner of his mouth tipped up, as if I represented some sort of intriguing challenge. One he intended to overcome.
To get away from the scrutiny of his riveting green eyes, I quickly spun and headed for the house.
He motored down the window on the passenger door. “Hey, Anna,” he called out from behind me. “You’re still going to hold that book for me, aren’t you?”
I stopped halfway through the yard and glanced back. “Of course I am.”
“Good. See you tomorrow, then…Sparky.” He flashed me a smug grin, then drove away.
Waves of regret crashed against the barrier of my heart, breaching my defenses, and creating tidal pools of sorrow. I barely cleared the doorway into my home when I bent over, squeezed my arms across my middle, and felt hot tears streaking down my face. Not only had he used a nickname that had taken me back to a time I wasn’t fond of visiting, but…
He remembered me.
Chapter Three
It was all so bare.
No flowers. No trinkets left in his honor. No proof of the lives he’d impacted. Only unruly weeds and climbing vines that had taken over the gravesite, covering the bottom half of the granite marker.
I avoided the stinging bull thistle while carefully clearing the other invading weeds, then removed the vines that clung to the solid gray headstone, revealing the rest of the sandblasted letters beneath his name that had been enhanced with black lithichrome paint.
In honor of a husband, a friend, and a hero.
Saddened by the words, I lifted myself from the ground and trudged ten feet away to gather some wildflowers into a nice bouquet. White heath aster and blue-eyed grass were the closest, but I bypassed them, opting for the Indian blankets I had spotted a yard away. They looked similar to a sunflower, but were smaller and had bright reddish-orange petals with yellow tips. I took my time gathering a small bundle, and with my gaze trained on the grass in front of me, solemnly strolled back to the grave.
I kneeled down once more, arranging the flowers neatly together before placing them at the base of the stone. I’d been there for almost half an hour and hadn’t cried once, but that one little good deed filled my heart with sorrow and had my eyes brimming with blinding tears. The only reason I’d chosen those partic
ular flowers was because they were also sometimes referred to as “firewheels” and I thought it was a gesture Chief Swanson would appreciate.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, kissing my fingertips and pressing them lightly to his gravestone.
It wasn’t until that moment I felt his presence behind me. Or maybe I’d detected the vibrations of his irritation. Because when I glanced over my shoulder and shaded my eyes from the sun, Cowboy was standing there, holding his white Stetson in a death grip, and frowning at me like I’d just slapped his mother.
“What are you doing here?” he growled.
I pushed myself off the ground and straightened, dusting my hands together to remove any loose debris. “Just paying my respects.”
“Oh, really?” He nodded to Chief Swanson’s grave. “Thought you’d only been in town for a few weeks? Last night, you failed to mention you knew the chief.”
“That’s because I didn’t know him.” Not really, anyway.
He gave me a strange look, one I assumed meant he wasn’t buying it. “I just saw you kiss the man’s grave and tell him you were sorry.”
Christ, how long had he been standing there? “I am sorry. Sorry something so tragic happened to him. Is that a crime?”
Cowboy’s brow raised in suspicion. “No, but do you normally visit the graves of people you don’t know?”
“When I feel it’s necessary, yes.” I moved past him, heading in the direction of my car. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and change my clothes before I go to work.”
His stride was much longer than mine, so it didn’t take him more than a second to catch up to me. “If you know anything about this case, you need to tell me.”
I kept walking as he slowed his pace to match mine. “I told you already. I didn’t know Chief Swanson.”
“Yet I still find it odd that you’re at a cemetery visiting a man you claim you didn’t know.” Cowboy placed his hand on my arm to still me. “I’m looking for his brother, Anna.”
“Good for you.”
“I’m serious, damn it!” His grip tightened, and my gaze lowered to his hand clasped around my elbow. With a frustrated sigh, he released me and ran his fingers through his thick sand-colored hair before slapping the white Stetson back onto his head. “Look, I promised the chief if something ever happened to him I would find Ned Swanson and hand deliver a letter to him. If you know anything—”
I scowled at him. “I told you I don’t. I don’t know this Ned guy, and I didn’t know Chief Swanson. Why do you keep pushing me? I have no reason to hide anything from you.”
“Oh, yeah? You didn’t show up at the station this morning like I’d asked.”
I rolled my eyes and started walking again with him on my heels. “That’s funny, since I don’t recall being asked. I believe it was more of a direct order.” I gave him a nonchalant shrug and silently thanked my lucky stars I had a good reason for not showing up. Answering his questions wasn’t something I looked forward to. “I was busy. Sorry.”
“Don’t seem all that sorry,” he stated, just as we reached the entrance to the cemetery. Our vehicles were parked in the grass of the circle drive, his massive pickup bullying my tiny Cavalier from behind. “If anything, I’d say you look relieved.”
His accusatory tone sent my frustration swarming like bees fresh out of a fallen hive. “And you, Captain, shouldn’t be so surprised I didn’t show up. You knew I had to fix the tire on my car.” I stopped when I reached my driver’s side and cocked my head at him. “Am I right?”
“You are,” he agreed.
“Then you know why I didn’t show.”
Cowboy glanced down and gave the new front tire a light kick. “Well, it’s fixed now, it seems.” He circled around me from behind, then leaned against the rear door next to me, allowing his mere proximity to smother me. “Who took care of it for you? One of the guys from Tony’s shop over on Main Street?”
“Not exactly,” I said, shaking my head. “I called Bobbie Jo to give me a ride into town, but she was already at the pediatrician’s with Austin. So she called Jake and asked him to help me. He took the old tire off and drove me into town to buy a new one. Even put it on the car for me.”
“Is he okay?”
My eyes widened. “Now you’re accusing me of doing something to Jake?”
He grinned with amusement. “I imagine Jake’s a big enough boy that he can take care of himself. I was talking about my godson,” Cowboy clarified. “Austin’s not sick or anything, is he?”
Oh. Right. “No, I guess not. Bobbie Jo said it was just a well-baby exam.”
“That’s good.” But Cowboy’s words didn’t match his expression as his brows knitted together. “Last night I gave you a card with my cell phone number. Any reason why you didn’t call me instead of Jake?”
I shook my head again. “I didn’t call anyone. Bobbie Jo did, remember?”
“Well, why didn’t she call me?”
“I don’t know. I guess that’s a question for Bobbie Jo.” I pulled my door open and moved closer to get in.
His arm shot out across the doorway, blocking me from sitting down. I turned my head to look at him and watched another grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “You have a little something…” He lifted his free hand and swept his calloused thumb across my bottom lip. “Right there.”
My mouth fell open involuntarily at the intimate gesture. At first, I thought he’d made the whole thing up—possibly trying to charm me once again—but then I remembered touching my fingers to my lips at the gravesite. I glanced at my hands, which were still dirty from pulling weeds and picking flowers.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a tissue and dabbed at my lips. “Um, thank you.”
He dropped his arm and straightened his posture, suddenly looking very official. “We still need to go over what happened last night so I can add it to the report.”
Guess he was trying to charm me, after all. I glanced at the thin gold watch on my left wrist. “I can’t right now. I’m going to be late for work.” I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and closed the door, looking back at him through the open window.
“It’s only going to take a few minutes.”
“Sorry,” I said, starting my car. “The director is only covering for me until noon, and I still have to go home and change.” The denim overalls I wore were comfortable, but way too casual to be deemed professional work attire.
He huffed out an irritated breath. “That fire happened only minutes after you put something in the dumpster. I have questions that need answers.”
“No, what you’re really saying is you think I started the fire last night.”
Cowboy’s jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“But I am your number one suspect, correct?”
His eyes burrowed into me and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Look, this isn’t some sort of witch hunt. I’m just doing my damn job.”
“Fine. I’ll get in touch with you…after I’ve spoken to a lawyer. In the meantime, I’m going to work so that I can do my job. Good day, Captain.”
As I pulled away, he cursed under his breath, but I sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t called me Sparky again. How did he even know about that terrible nickname, anyway?
After driving home to change and grab a quick sandwich, I made it to the library right on time. The director had a meeting at City Hall she needed to attend, so the moment I arrived, she made a beeline for the door.
Only ten minutes passed before Cowboy stormed into the library, hands fisted at his sides and a sour expression on his face. “Would you quit running away from me while I’m trying to talk to you?”
“As far as I was concerned, we were done talking. I told you I had to change and get to work.”
His hard gaze immediately lowered, taking in the sight of my calf-length yellow sundress and white canvas tennis shoes, before darting back up to my face. “Do you always dress like thi
s?” The way his eyes widened told me he hadn’t meant to verbalize his thoughts and he was just as surprised by the unintentional insult as I was. “I mean…er, sorry.”
So what if my work clothes looked like something out of Sandra Dee’s closet? It wasn’t like I dressed to please him. Actually, it was just the opposite. I dressed this way to keep men like him away from me. It was an added bonus that it was for his own safety…even if I kept that information to myself.
I shook my head passively, then started past him, insulted by his comment. “It’s fine,” I said drily.
He reached out and gently touched my arm to stop my movement. “Anna, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I just meant you have a good figure. I can see it, despite your clothes.”
Silently, I glared at him.
“Uh, I mean…I can see through your clothes.” Then he cringed and breathed out a few expletives.
“Good to know,” I told him, my tone suddenly drought-worthy. I snatched up the book on the counter that he’d given me to hold the night before and shoved it into his chest. “Here’s your book, superhero. Now maybe you can use your telepathic abilities to read my mind.” I walked away from him and kept going until I’d crossed the room and put some distance between us.
From there, I studied him inconspicuously as I pretended to straighten the books on the shelf before me. I rolled my eyes. Good with the ladies, my ass!
Cowboy rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head as he carried the book to the nearest table and sat down. He opened it to where he must’ve left off the night before. Once he looked determined to focus on the task at hand, I reluctantly circled back and returned to the circulation desk…and to my own work. The stack of romance novels I’d devoured over the past week and brought back to the library were piled high on the desk, waiting to be checked back in.
During my teen years, romantic fiction had become my favorite genre, mostly because it was so much better than my own reality. The library’s shelves brimmed with romance-filled tales of brave heroes slaying fire-breathing dragons and sweeping fair maidens off their feet. But I didn’t need a dashing hero on a white horse to save me from anything. I could ride my own damn horse, thank you very much.