Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire

by Rachel Lee

  Her hands fumbled again as she considered the particular other person involved in tonight’s misadventure and realized that she really didn’t want to fall down in front of him.

  God, Esther, your life is getting to be so limited! Why are you worrying about stupid things like that?

  When she limped back into the kitchen, the mess on the floor had been cleaned up, Craig had dressed again in his wet clothes and Guin was huddled under the table looking as miserable as Esther had ever seen her.

  “I called the vet,” Craig said. “He’ll be waiting for us.”

  She looked at him, astonished he had gone to so much trouble. This wasn’t his concern and she certainly wouldn’t have expected a man to get involved at all. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Jake always appreciates a few minutes to make himself a cup of coffee and get his pants on.”

  “Do you have to go to him often?”

  “Usually he comes to me. Or rather my sheep.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  “I don’t know that I’d say that.”

  Guinevere was reluctant to step out into the stormy night, so Craig picked her up and carried her to Esther’s Jimmy.

  “You’ll hurt yourself!” Esther protested as she trotted after him into the windy, wet night. Twice she nearly lost her balance and had to slow down.

  He put the dog into her cage in the back of the car then faced Esther. “She weighs about the same as one of my sheep.”

  Which probably explained the breadth and strength of the bare shoulders she had seen just a short while ago in her kitchen.

  She was glad to pass him the car keys when he offered to drive, and soon they were bucking their way down her rutted driveway to the highway. Guin whimpered occasionally from the rear.

  The rain had let up a little, but the lightning was still flickering nonstop, and the rumble of the thunder drowned the roar of the engine.

  “Jake Llewellyn is a very nice man,” Esther remarked. “Guinevere just loves him.”

  “Everything with four legs loves that man. And most of the two-legged critters like him just as well.”

  Given that it was the middle of the night, it was hardly surprising that she couldn’t think of a thing to say. The silence initially felt awkward to her, but Craig didn’t seem to mind it, so finally she relaxed. With her head slightly turned, she watched him drive. His hands looked strong and capable on the steering wheel.

  Out of nowhere she was shocked by an image of those hands on her flesh. Hot color flared instantly in her cheeks, but her mind wouldn’t let go of the image. An ache began low inside her, and she closed her eyes, caught in the sway of urges too strong to stifle.

  For years she had refused to indulge such fantasies because they only made her miserable, but now she seemed unable to stop them. As clear as if it were happening that very instant, she could see his dark hands against the pale flesh of her breasts, and with the image came an unmistakable spear of arousal.

  She wanted this man. In the privacy of her heart and mind, she admitted how much she wanted him to hold her and touch her. She knew it wasn’t possible, that he would never want her in such a way, but part of her rebelled against that reality. Part of her demanded to know why not. Part of her wondered why once, just once, she couldn’t know the delight of lovemaking. And another part of her, a scarier part, was prepared to sacrifice pride and good sense in order to have her way.

  Guinevere whimpered, yanking Esther out of her dangerous thoughts. Her concern for her dog overrode everything else, and she felt ashamed for having let her thoughts wander even a little bit. Poor Guin!

  She even felt a little bit of panic. Guin had been her closest friend and companion for six years now, and Esther just didn’t know how she would manage if anything happened to the dog. A large chunk of her heart had belonged to Guinevere since her puppyhood, and life without her was impossible to contemplate.

  “We’ll be there soon,” Craig announced as if he felt her increasing worry.

  “I’m so scared,” Esther admitted to him. “I’m probably making entirely too much out of this, but…I’m scared anyway.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for caring about your dog, Esther. And you don’t have to apologize for being worried about her. I’d be worried sick if it were Mop or Bucket.”

  She liked him for being able to admit that so easily. But then Craig wasn’t much like the men she had known in the past. He seemed comfortable with himself, as if he didn’t need to prove anything. It was surprisingly relaxing and comforting.

  “I was never allowed to have a dog as a child,” Esther found herself confiding. “I always wanted one, but I waited until I felt I had a good enough home for one, and could be sure that I could take care of her if she got sick or anything.”

  “So Guin is your first dog ever?”

  “Yes. I’ve spoiled her rotten, and I’ve gotten ridiculously goofy about her.”

  “Why ridiculous? Esther, believe me, Guin doesn’t think she’s been ridiculous to think the sun rises and sets on you. Why should you feel silly for feeling the same?”

  “Because she’s just a dog?” She said it tentatively, because that was what she’d so often heard, but she didn’t quite believe it. “Just a dog? What does just a dog mean? Pardon me, but I think dogs, cats and every other living thing are worthy of respect, the same respect we’d give to another human being. The inability to speak English is hardly the measure of a being’s worth. Or at least it shouldn’t be, although I’ve known quite a few people who thought it was. My point is, humans have a tendency to consider every other species inferior, and therefore less worthy of love and respect. That’s ridiculous. Difference doesn’t necessarily imply inferiority.”

  Once again he had surprised her. “You’ve thought a lot about these things.”

  “Driving a truck, there isn’t much to do except think.” He tossed her a smile just before he negotiated the turn into the veterinary clinic’s parking lot. “But I think my upbringing had a lot to do with my feelings on the subject. All life is sacred, not just human life.”

  Jake Llewellyn was waiting for them, and opened the front door as soon as he saw their headlights. He held the door open while Craig carried Guinevere inside.

  “Down the hall, first door on the left,” he said. “Just put her on the table.”

  Esther hurried after them, and when Guin was on the table, she put her hand on the dog’s neck to comfort her. Guin seemed more interested, however, in licking Dr. Llewellyn’s hand.

  “How you doing, girl?” the vet asked her as he scratched her behind the ears and checked her eyes at the same time.

  Guin whined briefly.

  “That’s what I hear,” Jake replied. “An upset tummy with nothing in it. So what did you get into, sweetheart? Hmm? A nasty old spider?”

  He made Craig and Esther wait outside while he examined Guin. The next ten minutes of Esther’s life were some of the longest she’d ever known. It reminded her, in fact, of the night her mother died, when she had paced a hospital waiting room wondering what was to become of her now.

  “God, that’s terrible!”

  She wasn’t aware she had spoken out loud until Craig said, “What’s wrong? What’s terrible?”

  “Oh, I was just remembering…” She hesitated and then decided she might as well face up to it. “I was remembering the night my mother died. I spent an hour pacing a hospital waiting room just like this, worrying and impatient. But what suddenly struck me was that I was more worried for myself than I was for my mother. I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen to me if she died.”

  “What’s so awful about that? Given the kind of mother she apparently was, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you’d felt like cheering.”

  Almost in spite of herself, Esther chuckled. “It’s hard to cheer about being put in a foster home. Are you always so understanding of human weakness?”

  He shrugged and gave her a crooked smile. “I’m
just as human as the next guy. Who am I to judge? So, what were the foster homes like?”

  “Adequate.” Now it was her turn to shrug. It wasn’t a period of life she liked to remember.

  “You weren’t mistreated or anything?”

  “No, not at all. It was just…I couldn’t make the connections I needed to make for it to feel like home. They were all really nice people, though. It isn’t as if they didn’t want me to feel at home.”

  His dark gaze was suddenly penetrating. “Have you ever felt at home anywhere?”

  In an instant she went on the defensive. “Of course! I feel perfectly at home wherever I live.” But was that true? Suddenly uncomfortable with the realization that she might not really know what it meant to feel at home, she didn’t want to look too closely at the matter.

  Before Craig could press her any further, Jake joined them. “I want to keep Guinevere until late this afternoon, Esther. I can’t find anything obviously wrong, but I don’t want you to take her home on the off chance that she’ll start vomiting again. It doesn’t take much to put a dog into acidosis, and if she vomits again I’d rather have her here where I can do something right away. Okay?”

  “Yes, of course, but…is she going to be all right?”

  Jake smiled. “I really think she will. But vomiting of this nature is serious in a dog, and if I need to take steps, the sooner the better. I’ll call you if she worsens, otherwise you can come get her at four this afternoon.”

  Leaving Guinevere behind was awful. Esther couldn’t remember when her heart had ever felt so empty.

  Craig reached out and took her hand as they crossed the parking lot to the car. “She’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it.”

  “But Jake didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “That’s just good policy. Honestly, Esther, I think if he thought that Guinevere was in serious danger he wouldn’t have told you to go home.”

  She nodded, needing to believe he was right. But it sure didn’t seem right to go home without Guinevere.

  Craig helped her up into the Jimmy, a courtesy she wasn’t accustomed to, then climbed behind the wheel and exited the parking lot.

  “I’d suggest a sandwich or coffee somewhere,” he said, “but this place closes up tight by ten o’clock.”

  “I can make us something when we get home.” The idea of a cozy middle-of-the-night meal with him actually sounded good. Sleepiness had fled when he had arrived earlier, and it didn’t appear to be interested in returning.

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  Did that mean he didn’t want to spend any time alone with her? Or did he mean exactly what he said? She hesitated, trapped in her insecurities.

  And then, as if her guardian angel suddenly decided to intervene, a voice in her head whispered, What have you got to lose?

  Good question, she realized. What did she have to lose? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the saying went. If she didn’t invite him to have a sandwich with her, he never would. And if he declined, was she any worse off?

  Emboldened, she said, “It’s no trouble, really. I have some turkey breast that will make wonderful sandwiches.”

  “You’re on,” he said promptly. “I love turkey.”

  So they rode on into the night while she wondered wryly if all she needed to do to attract a man was keep plenty of turkey on hand.

  By the time they got home, the rain had stopped but the yard in front of her house was a great big mud puddle with the forlorn heads of flowers sticking out of it. In the distance thunder still growled and lightning still flickered, giving the night a restless, uneasy feeling.

  Esther climbed out of the Jimmy, nearly losing her footing on the wet, slippery ground. She steadied herself against the door, then hurried up onto the porch, suddenly afraid that Craig would offer to help her. She didn’t want him to help her. She didn’t want him to see her as someone who needed help.

  All of a sudden she froze. On her door a white piece of paper fluttered, seeming to almost glow in the darkness.

  Craig’s voice came from behind her. “Looks like someone was here.”

  Esther didn’t want to take another step. She was as afraid of that sheet of paper as if it were a doorway to hell.

  Craig stepped up beside her. “Maybe one of the deputies was by and left a note so you’d know he was here.”

  Esther suddenly realized that she’d been holding her breath. Letting go of it in a great gust, she seized the possibility he offered. “Yes! That has to be it. Beau must have stopped by again.”

  Stepping forward, she took the paper down, unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house felt chilly and damp, and so very empty without Guinevere. A pang of renewed loneliness struck her as she limped through the house to the kitchen, switching on lights as she went.

  “Why don’t you throw your clothes in the dryer again,” she suggested to Craig. “You’re still wet.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  But he didn’t move and she realized that he was waiting for her to read the note in her hand. His questioning glance in the direction of the paper and her reluctance to even look at it spoke volumes. Slowly, fearfully, she raised it.

  It was from her father.

  Chapter 8

  Craig built a fire in the living room fireplace while Esther huddled under the quilt on the couch, her braced leg stuck out in front of her. She couldn’t seem to get warm, and she shivered even inside the cocoon of the quilt.

  The fire was soon burning brightly, and Craig disappeared down the hallway. Before long she heard things rattling in the kitchen. He was probably making them something hot to drink, she thought.

  Like a drowning victim clinging to a straw, she was trying to focus on the ordinary and mundane. Anything except the note from her father that said he had been there.

  Craig returned eventually with a plate of turkey sandwiches and two mugs of hot chocolate. He held the sandwiches toward her. “Help yourself.”

  “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

  “Try to eat something anyway, Esther. Put some fuel in the system. You’ll think more clearly and you’ll probably warm up.”

  Obediently she took half a sandwich and bit into it. Much to her surprise, when the delicious flavors of turkey and tomato touched her tongue they awakened her appetite. She devoured what she had in her hand and reached for another half sandwich.

  Craig watched her with smiling eyes. “Are you always difficult?”

  She looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “I sometimes get the feeling that if I said the sky was blue you’d argue that it was green.”

  Color heated her cheeks. “I’m not contrary.”

  “No, but you sure as hell don’t want me to do anything for you. Even something as small as making a sandwich. Why? Are you afraid it’ll give me power over you?”

  She was embarrassed to realize that his assessment was quite close to the truth…and equally embarrassed to realize that his having power over her sounded…intriguing. Tempting. What would it be like to be totally at the mercy of Craig Nighthawk? Not that she would ever find out.

  “Is it just me?” he asked her. “Is it something about me? Maybe those stories you’ve been hearing about my checkered past? I didn’t hurt that little girl, you know. I never laid a finger on her.”

  Horror washed over her. “I know that! Do you think I’d have ever let you into my house if I hadn’t known that?”

  They stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch, and Esther suddenly felt as if they were at opposite ends of the world.

  And that was her fault, she realized. She’d been so preoccupied with her own problems, with the scars from her own past, that she had never once considered that Craig Nighthawk might have some problems of his own. That he might have some tender scars of his own.

  “Forget it,” he said before she could think of anything to say that would close the gap between them. “I’m just getting edgy becaus
e I’m so tired. You must be exhausted, too. Finish that sandwich, then curl up and go to sleep.”

  But now she really had lost her appetite and put the sandwich back on the plate. “You go ahead and sleep,” she said. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “There was nothing threatening in that note, Esther. All he said was he was sorry he missed you and would call you.”

  “But he put it out there sometime between one and three in the morning! That’s hardly unthreatening. Would you go to visit someone at that time of night?”

  “I might if they were family and I’d just pulled into the area after a long drive.”

  She stared at him with utter hopelessness, feeling that she was losing her only ally in a hostile world.

  He shook his head finally. “I’m not saying you aren’t right to be afraid. I’m just trying to put it in the best light possible. Don’t worry, you aren’t going to be alone at night until this is settled one way or another. I plan on staying here every night.”

  She ought to protest. Some corner of her weary mind recognized that this was a terrible imposition to make on this man, and that she had no right to such concern from him, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to refuse his help. Not now that she knew that Richard Jackson was here and knew where her house was.

  “You come with me in the morning when I get my things,” he continued. “I want you to meet Paula, so you’ll be able to call her during the day if you get scared. I also want you to feel comfortable about running over there any time you feel a need for company.”

  He patted the sofa beside him. “Now curl up and sleep. Or go upstairs if you’d rather. I’ll be here.” She hesitated and finally he opened his arm. “C’mere,” he said softly.

  And for some reason she did precisely that, crawling down the sofa until he could tuck her against his side and cradle her head on his shoulder. He made her feel warm and safe, and something deep inside her relaxed that had never relaxed before.

  Sleep crept up gently. At some point she became aware that her head was now resting on his lap, and that he was stroking her hair with gentle fingers.