by Katie Ruggle
“And I promised I’d look at your stove.”
They were both quiet for several sips until Chris spoke again.
“So…you made brownies?”
* * *
After she and Chris ate two-thirds of the pan of brownies for breakfast, she grabbed her laptop and settled on the kitchen floor to keep him company while he checked out the recalcitrant burner.
“Looking at porn?” he asked, lifting the grates off the top of the stove.
“Not unless there’s such a thing as antique doll porn.” Before he could respond, she hurried to add, “And if there is, I don’t want to know. There are some things you can’t unlearn.”
He raised the top of the stove and propped it on the bracing rod. “If you can think of it, there’s porn related to it. People have dirty, dirty minds.”
“Chris. What did I just say about wanting to remain blissfully ignorant?”
With a snort, he asked, “So you’re actually going to try to sell those things?”
“Figured it was the quickest way to get them out of the house, unless I can convince you to take them to give away to kids.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Firefighters do it.”
Turning away from whatever he was messing with, he gave her a look. “Fire gives kids cute little stuffed animals, not one of those…things.” He gestured toward the box. “People already love firefighters more than cops. I don’t need to make it worse.”
“Some people,” Daisy corrected, and he gave her a grin before turning back to the stove. Even using a lighter, he didn’t seem to be having any luck getting the burner to work. Since watching him wave an open flame around a gas appliance—even if that appliance involved fire on a regular basis—made her nerves twitch, Daisy turned her attention back to her laptop.
She frowned at a photo, trying to recall if the doll in the picture matched either of the ones her dad had given her. The few times she’d opened the box, she hadn’t wanted to look too closely, so she couldn’t recall any distinguishing features. With a groan, she put her laptop aside and climbed to her feet. Her sound of dread shifted to a grunt of effort as her muscles protested.
“What’s wrong?”
She grabbed the box and returned to her spot on the floor. “I have to actually look at the freaky things.”
He laughed and lowered the top of the stove. “I have more bad news, too.”
She made a face. “Hit me.”
“The problem doesn’t seem to be the igniter, so it’s most likely the gas line. Since that’s beyond my handyman skills, we’ll need to call in a professional.”
While she was still processing that information, Chris’s cell phone rang. After glancing at the screen, he answered. “Hey, Rob. What’s up?”
Whatever the sheriff’s answer was, it made Chris glance at his watch, flinch, and then hurry to replace the grills on top of the stove. “Sorry about that, sir. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Leave those,” Daisy whispered. “I’ll get them if you need to go.”
With a shake of his head, he replaced the rest of the grills before moving to the door. “I’ll be home in four minutes. I’m leaving Daisy’s now.”
Climbing to her feet again with more determination than grace, she followed him to the entrance so she could secure the door after he left.
“No new trouble,” Chris said. “Well, except with her stove.”
From the half of the conversation Daisy could hear, it sounded as if Chris was late meeting the sheriff, so she was surprised that he didn’t leave, but stood by the door instead.
“Don’t worry about that,” he told the sheriff with a laugh. “I know my limitations, especially when it comes to things that could explode. I’ll give the repair guy from Connor Springs a call and have him come out and take a look.”
After another short pause, Chris started opening the interior door locks. “See you in a few. Sorry again.” He ended the call. “I forgot to bring in my old portable radio—the one that doesn’t hold a charge—last night. Rob said he’d swing by my house on his way in to work this morning to grab it. I lost track of time, so he’s standing on my porch, wondering where I am.”
“Sorry for delaying you,” Daisy said. “And thanks for looking at the stove.”
“Not your fault I blew off my boss.” With a grin, he ducked through the interior door and then looked at her over his shoulder. “And I didn’t do much. Don’t use it until we get someone out to fix it.”
“I won’t. Go on—you told the sheriff four minutes. You know he has the stopwatch running.”
“Bye, Dais.” Her name was muffled as the door swung shut behind him.
After refastening the locks, she returned to the kitchen. Gathering her laptop and the dolls’ box, she headed for the study. The house seemed too quiet in Chris’s absence. Strangely, the increased frequency of his visits was making it harder when he wasn’t there, instead of easier.
Although she tried to return to her research, she found herself staring blankly at the computer screen. Without Chris there to joke with about the dolls, she couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for the project. Normally, she liked learning new things, but too many thoughts were currently taking up space in her brain. The differences between composition and leather doll bodies just wasn’t holding her attention.
Leaning back in her desk chair, she spun in a circle. Daisy stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the deal was with her growing dissatisfaction. Before, she’d had moments of melancholy or loneliness, especially during sleepless nights, but she’d bounced out of it quickly. Her life wasn’t exciting—well, it hadn’t been until recently—but she’d been content…sort of.
It wasn’t just Chris’s weirdness, his switching back and forth between pushing her away and being Mr. I-Was-Worried-About-You. The walls of the house, which had always felt safe and protective, were beginning to chafe. More and more, her sanctuary felt like a trap.
After spending time with Lou, Rory, Ellie, and their respective men, Daisy wanted more. She was starting to feel like she could have more, too. They’d argued over if she was going to volunteer for the fire department or the dive team, as if it wasn’t an impossibility.
Hearing that had woken a tiny voice in the back of her mind, one that whispered how it might be conceivable, that she might not have to be trapped in her house for the rest of her life. It was a seductive glut of possibilities—getting a real job and learning how to drive and being able to make brownies whenever she got a craving, because she could pick up the eggs herself, instead of waiting until guilt drove her dad to stop by with groceries. Maybe, if she really wanted to put the cherry on the top of her fantasy, she could even go on an out-of-the-house date with Chris.
It was a wonderful dream, but it would never become reality if she fainted every time she saw an open door.
“Okay,” she said, the loudness of her voice startling her a little. She sounded almost fierce. “That’s what I want. Now how do I get that?”
Adjusting her computer so the screen faced her, Daisy opened a new browser window. After taking a deep breath and letting it out again, she began to search.
Chapter 10
Letting out a grunt, Rory stumbled back a few steps.
Daisy cringed. At least the other woman hadn’t landed on her butt like the last two times Daisy’s kicks had knocked Rory over. “Sorry! I keep forgetting you’re not Chris.”
“Dais!” Chris snapped. “Hands up. Don’t drop your guard.”
Her fists lifted in front of her face. “I just feel bad for assaulting Rory.”
“Don’t.” Rory returned to her original position and adjusted the kick shield. “I need to learn this, just in case I don’t have a gun at exactly the wrong moment. Besides”—her teeth bared in more of a snarl than a smile—“I want to be able to take Ian
down eventually. It’ll be useful for keeping him in line.”
“Heard that,” Ian called from his spot by the heavy bag.
Daisy’s laugh took the power out of her next side kick, and she had to hop on her standing left leg to keep her balance as her right barely brushed Rory’s shield.
“Daisy. Focus.” Chris was crabbier than usual. She wondered if it was just the night shift taking its toll, or if he’d had a bad call. The thought kept her from making a smart-ass response. Instead, she concentrated on the target, and her foot connected solidly with the shield. Although Rory’s breath left her in an audible huff, she kept her position.
“Nice, Ror!” Daisy grinned at her and was rewarded by one of Rory’s brief smiles.
Quickly regaining her serious mien, Rory ordered, “Again.”
“Great,” Daisy muttered, although she obediently sent her foot toward the shield again. “She’s turning into Chris the Dictator’s mini-me.”
Rory gave her another one of her pseudo grins that Daisy thought were just an excuse to bare her teeth. “Just wait until I teach you to shoot.”
“How can you do that?” The next kick connected solidly. Daisy loved that feeling. “It’s not like I can shoot up the living room. Well”—her foot hit the shield again—“I could, but my dad would probably be annoyed when he saw the damage.”
Rory tilted her head in thought, not looking discouraged. “We could shoot through a window.”
“No,” Chris said flatly, without looking away from his attempt to correct Lou’s form.
“It’d need to be an upstairs window.” As always, George’s deep voice came as a surprise. Pausing in the middle of a push-up, he braced his arms and held his body weight off the floor with an effortlessness that Daisy envied. “Metal grates on the ones down here. You’d have to angle the target to adjust for the shooter’s height if she was on the second story.” Shifting to one arm, he illustrated his words by lifting his hand and holding it at a diagonal. The ease with which he supported his body with one arm and his toes made Daisy stare.
“No shooting out the windows.” Ian put a hand on the heavy bag to steady it while he sent a warning glare over his shoulder at Rory. “This is not the Old West, and our homestead is not under attack.”
“It’d be good practice for defending the house from zombies.” Since Rory was the queen of deadpan humor, Daisy wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.
“Can I practice shooting from the window, too?” Lou asked, exertion making her breathless. “I’ll bring my new gun. This’ll be so much fun.”
“We’ll only aim at the annoying neighbors,” Rory promised. That time, Daisy was sure she was kidding. Fairly sure.
“No.” Callum added his voice to the chorus that time.
Rory rolled her eyes, as if the guys’ protests were ridiculous. “Fine. No shooting the obnoxious neighbors. I’m sure there’s at least one window in this place that faces an unpopulated area. Daisy, again.”
As Daisy obeyed, she tried to decide if training-tyrant Rory or gun-toting Rory was scarier.
“Have her dry fire at a target,” Ellie suggested from her spot on the elliptical machine. “When do I get to kick people?”
Looking at Ellie with surprise and, Daisy was pretty sure, dawning respect, Rory nodded. “Good idea. Get her comfortable with it until we figure out how to work around the not-leaving-the-house thing. I’ll bring a couple of handguns for you on Saturday.”
“And you get to kick people when the doctor clears you to kick people,” Chris answered Ellie. George, apparently done talking for the day, grunted. Although Daisy was still learning to interpret George-speak, she was pretty sure it translated as something like, “What he said.”
Ellie grinned. “Should I ask the doctor to write me a note specifically stating that I am healed enough to kick, knee, elbow, and punch others?”
“I have to get to work.” Callum extended the kick shield toward George. “Mind taking my spot?”
With a nod, George rolled to his feet and moved to stand opposite Lou, who appeared to be taking full advantage of her break. Her hands were braced above her knees as she panted for breath.
Dropping a kiss on Lou’s cheek, Callum asked, “Sure you don’t need the truck today? You could drop me off at the station.”
“Nope, I’ll be fine. We’re going to have some breakfast here while we talk about death.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything.” Callum headed for the door.
“Don’t I always?” Lou called after him. “Have a nice day at work, honey!”
Turning away from her departing boyfriend, Lou eyed George’s massive form. “I’m glad I’m the one doing the kicking.”
“Be right back,” Daisy told Rory, who looked a little relieved to drop the shield and shake out her arms.
“Callum.” Daisy hurried after him. “I’ll let you out.”
Pausing just outside of the training room, he nodded and stepped back so she could lead the way. When they reached the entry, she unfastened the locks and opened the inner door for him. With a nod of thanks, he started to pass through the doorway, but then he paused.
“Don’t let them start shooting,” he said quietly, “from anywhere in your house.”
Daisy laughed. “I’m pretty sure Rory and Lou were kidding about that.”
“Probably.” Despite his words, his frown said clearly that he doubted it. “Thank you for letting us use your gym.”
“Anytime. It’s fun. I like having people to train with—besides Chris, I mean.” She kept her focus on Callum and off the exterior door. Her hands were sweating, and she wanted to dry them on her pants, but she didn’t want to give away her nervousness.
“We appreciate it.” His expression was analytical, and she knew he noticed the signs of her anxiety, even though she tried to hide them. “Take care, Daisy.”
“Bye.” She forced herself to count to five in her head before she allowed herself to close the inner door behind him and start locking the dead bolts. Her impulse had been to slam the door as soon as he was through, but she managed to quietly shut it and not embarrass herself by smacking him in the backside with the door. Even the thought of the potential humiliation that could have occurred made her squeeze her eyes closed.
Resting her forehead against the door, she took a minute to compose herself before heading back to the training room.
* * *
Since Ian had grabbed five doughnuts and headed home to sleep, only the four women, George, and Chris gathered around the dining room table for coffee, water, and breakfast pastries. Chris pulled out a chair, preparing to sit, but Daisy shook her head at him.
“I’m staying.” The stubborn set of his jaw made Daisy roll her eyes.
“You can if you want to,” she said, “but you look ready to fall asleep standing up. Why don’t you go home and rest? I promise to take really good notes.”
“My time off starts tonight. It’s better if I stay up as long as possible to transition over to days.” Despite his words, he remained standing, showing that he was at least thinking about his bed.
“Just sleep for a couple of hours, then, to keep you from being a complete zombie. You can’t violate confidentiality, anyway, so you’d only be listening. And snoring.” Encouraged by the upward quirk of his mouth, she continued. “If you have a digital recorder handy, we could use that. It’d be even more accurate than my notes, and you could listen to it after you get some sleep.”
It only took him a few seconds to consider it before he nodded. “Good idea. I’ll run out and see if I have a recorder in my squad.”
“Actually, now that I think about it, there’s no need.” Daisy nodded at her phone sitting in front of her on the table. “I can record our conversation using this.”
“Good idea. Thanks. I’ll take off then.” He leaned toward her, and she
automatically turned her face toward his. His lips were just inches from hers when she realized what was happening and froze, staring at him. For a moment, it had felt like they were an old married couple, and he was about to kiss her good-bye. Her throat tightened with almost painful longing. How much she would love to have that easy, comfortable, content life with him. She wanted that good-bye kiss and all it represented so badly that her chest ached with it. It was just a daydream, though. She would never have that, not if Chris’s startled expression was anything to go by.
His eyes widened as he took a step back, bumping into a wall with an un-Chris-like lack of coordination. “Right. See you later.” Turning, he hurried out of the room.
His exit caught the others’ attention. “Is Chris leaving?” Lou asked—or Daisy thought she asked. It was hard to understand her exact words, since Lou’s mouth was full of doughnut.
“Yeah.” Daisy stood and followed the fleeing deputy to the door. “He’s following Ian’s example and getting some sleep.”
“Night shifts are tough,” Lou said, and Rory made a sound of agreement. “It’s hard enough dragging myself out of a warm bed to go on a dive team call.”
When Daisy caught up with Chris at the door, he was focused on unfastening the locks, not even glancing at her when she stopped next to him. Apparently, squirrelly-acting Chris had returned. Daisy hadn’t missed him.
“After you get a nap in, want to come over for a matinee?” she asked, deciding that at least one of them should try to act normal. “Dad picked up the mail, and Brutal Fists finally arrived.” His hand paused on the first chain lock. “C’mon. You know you want to make fun of their technique in the cage-fighting scenes.”
His exhale was audible, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Sounds good. I have a couple of errands to run first, so I’ll be here around five or so.”
“Perfect.” She knew her grin was too wide, but she couldn’t do anything about it. “I’ll make some cornmeal-crust pizza and a salad, and we can finish off the brownies.”
Smiling slightly, he finally made eye contact. “You’d better hide them from the sugar vultures in there, or there won’t be any left for tonight.”