by Terri Reed
Okay, maybe it could work. But he wasn’t going down that road. He’d traveled that bumpy path once before and ended up scarred for his trouble. He had no intention of reliving that kind of pain again.
He cleared his throat and released her hand. “After we clear these dishes, I’ll install the dead bolt.”
She blinked. “Sounds like a plan.”
Yeah, it did. Everything was perfect. So why was he feeling so off-kilter, as if they had unfinished business?
* * *
Two days later, Melody locked her two dead bolts before heading to the youth center. She was glad Parker had insisted on doing the installation since it turned out to be more complicated than she’d thought it would. He’d had a few tools in the pack he wore at his waist and then he’d borrowed a drill from Mr. Hendrix.
Parker was a man who was always prepared and who always did the right thing.
Which was refreshing for her, since most of the men in her life all seemed to do the wrong thing. Her father, her ex-husband. Daniel. All had made bad choices that left those who loved them hurting.
Would Parker turn out to be the same? She hoped not.
Sharing an enjoyable meal with him had also shifted their interactions into a comfortable, growing friendship. He was easy to talk to, easy to be with. A dangerous combination. But she couldn’t deny how nice it was to have someone other than herself to rely on. She’d been on her own for so long...
She’d almost spilled her guts about her failed marriage, just barely managing to hold back. And he’d been polite enough not to push, though she knew he was curious. It was in his eyes every time he looked at her. But she didn’t need to burden him with her past. It was enough that they shared the bonds of grief over two young boys with lives cut short by drugs.
She exited her apartment building and walked toward the parking lot where she parked her car. A movement in her peripheral vision snagged her attention. Stopping, she spun to her right in time to see Zane Peabody duck behind a tree. What was he doing? Did his presence here this morning confirm he was the one who’d tried to break into her apartment two nights ago? If so, why?
Drawing her weapon, she yelled, “Zane Peabody, show yourself.”
SEVEN
Adrenaline rushed through Melody. She couldn’t believe this was happening here at her apartment building. That someone was after her, wanted to kill her. And that someone could be Zane.
Zane dashed from behind the tree and took off down the street, escaping.
Melody chased after him, fueled by a mix of anger and distress. She sped up and rounded the corner. The street in front of her was empty. No sign of Zane. She’d lost him.
Frustration pounded at her temples as she drew to a halt, catching her breath.
There was no sign of him among the cars or the trees lining the street in front of the buildings. Why was Zane hanging around her apartment? What did he hope to accomplish?
A prickling sensation at the back of her neck sent a fresh wave of alarm cascading down her spine. Someone was watching her. But the street was quiet. Not a soul in sight. Not even the birds chirped. Her hand tightened on her sidearm.
She retraced her steps to the front of her apartment building. The feeling of being observed intensified. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was there. A car engine roared. Melody’s heart rate accelerated. She whipped around to see a white and blue striped Mustang pull to the curb a few feet away. Parker climbed out from behind the steering wheel. She exhaled a relieved breath. Sherlock stuck his head out of the open back window and gave a long, howling bark of greeting.
Parker strode toward her, a big smile on his handsome face. Her pulse tripped over itself for an entirely different reason. His dark eyes gleamed in the morning sunlight, and his brown hair, still damp from a recent shower, was swept back from his forehead and curled slightly at the ends. A flutter of interest stirred low in her abdomen. She fought the reaction. He wore black snakeskin cowboy boots, dark blue jeans and a light gray suit vest over a black dress shirt open at the collar. The man exuded charisma and self-confidence whether in uniform or out. Which didn’t bode well for her peace of mind.
“Morning,” he said as he came to a halt at her side.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, of course.”
Of course. Like that made sense. “Seriously.”
He tilted his head. “I’m serious. I thought I’d swing by and see what you were up to.” His glance raked over her. She resisted the urge to adjust the tailored suit jacket or to make sure her slacks weren’t wrinkled. “It’s your day off, right?”
Narrowing her gaze on him, she answered, “Yes, it’s my day off. How did you know that?”
“I checked the schedule.”
Not sure how to feel about his attention, she murmured, “Checking up on me?”
He flashed her a devastating grin. “Kinda.”
Okay, now she was really confused. “Why?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Someone threatened your life a few days ago. Just because you’re off duty doesn’t mean we should take the threat lightly.”
She supposed that was true. Or maybe he still thought she was somehow involved with the drugs they found in the center. Or perhaps he was interested in her personally. She dismissed the latter. Though he’d been polite and charming, he’d never indicated his behavior was anything more than a cop doing his job. “I’m headed over to the youth center. Saturdays we open at ten in the morning.”
He looked at her hip where her gun rested. “You always carry when you’re at the center?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Like you said, just because I’m off duty doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be armed.”
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “That’s not quite what I said, but okay.”
“Zane Peabody was watching my building.”
Parker’s stance changed, turning protective as he searched the area. “What?”
“He’s long gone. He ran away when I confronted him.”
A fierce frown deepened the small lines around his eyes. “You confronted him? Alone?” He shook his head. “What were you thinking?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a police officer. I carry a badge and a weapon.”
“I haven’t forgotten. But you should have called for backup.”
“There wasn’t time.”
Shaking his head, he gestured toward his car. “I’ll drive you to the youth center.”
“I thought you were going to a car show this weekend.”
“Tomorrow after church.” He cocked his head and considered her a moment. “Would you care to join me?”
“Go to a car show?” She couldn’t say she was much interested in looking at cars, but the idea of spending the day with Parker away from work sent a thrill of anticipation racing along her limbs.
“Yes, to the car show. And church,” Parker confirmed.
Uncertainty filled her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”
A loud explosion by the street jolted Melody. Sherlock’s frantic barks pierced the air.
Parker reacted swiftly, grabbing her by the waist and practically throwing her to the ground. His big body covered hers. The spicy scent of his aftershave crowded her senses. Heart pumping wildly, Melody tried to breathe through the sudden fear flooding her system.
A car engine turned over. Another loud bang filled the air. This time the sound registered. A tailpipe expelling a shot of exhaust. Not gunfire.
Hot spots burned at every point of contact between her and Parker. Sensations zipped through her. She liked the feeling of his muscular body pressed close. Much more than she should. “Uh, Parker, you can get off me now.”
He eased to the side and then helped her to stand as he rose. An old car rambled past, black smoke spewing from the tailpipe.
Melody let out a relieved laugh. “I hope no one caught that on video.”
Parker chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. “Me, too. I did
n’t crush you, did I?”
“Hardly.”
He captured her hand. Warmth seeped into her bones. “I’m glad that turned out to be nothing.”
Staring at their joined hands, she thought there were some dangers that didn’t announce themselves with the force of a bullet. Like finding herself way too attracted to her coworker. She extracted her hand. “I better get going.”
“I’m driving you,” he stated in a tone that said he wouldn’t be swayed otherwise. “And on the way to the youth center we can talk about tomorrow.”
He could talk all he wanted. She wasn’t going to go. Her reaction moments earlier confirmed one thing. Fraternizing with him outside of the job would be a bad idea all the way around.
* * *
Melody couldn’t believe Parker had turned her no into a yes, but his constant persuading yesterday had changed her mind without her actually realizing she’d agreed.
Now she sat next to Parker in the fifth pew at Sagebrush Christian Church letting the voices of the congregation rising in song wrap around her like a comfortable, familiar old blanket.
It had been too long since she’d attended a service. She’d found reasons not to over the past few years, but Parker wouldn’t heed her excuses.
The man was way too charming. She’d better watch herself around him, or she’d find herself charmed right into heartache.
She had to wonder, though, why he was so determined she accompany him to church. Was it only because he felt he needed to keep her close to protect her? Or did he think she needed church in her life?
Was he out to save her both physically and spiritually?
She smiled with wry amusement. Her grandfather would have approved. But Parker didn’t have to worry. She had accepted Jesus as her savior when she was a young girl. And even though the relationship was strained, she hadn’t completely turned her back on God.
A slight breeze came through the open window and ruffled her hair, like fingers teasing her nape. She glanced at Parker. His profile was strong and confident.
Her breath caught for a second.
He turned his head slightly, catching her gaze, and smiled. He sang in a deep baritone that she found herself listening to rather than joining in the singing.
When the hymn concluded, Pastor Eaton stepped to the pulpit. Tall with graying hair and kind eyes, the pastor reminded Melody of her grandfather on her mother’s side. They’d lost him years ago to cancer, but Melody still thought fondly of the summers she spent at his ranch in north Texas. Her grandfather, like Pastor Eaton, had been a man of God.
As the pastor read from the book of Isaiah, Melody recognized the passage and remembered her grandfather teaching her from the same verses. She missed those more carefree days with her grandfather and grandmother.
When the service ended, Melody followed Parker out of the church building. He stopped to talk to people, introducing her to those she didn’t know as his coworker. A stark reminder that there was nothing personal between them. A vague disquiet lodged itself beneath her breastbone.
They returned to Parker’s car where Sherlock sat waiting for them in the backseat with the window down to allow airflow. Parker never went anywhere without his partner.
Once they were on the road heading to Odessa, Parker said, “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for inviting me.” The hairs at the back of her neck stirred as Sherlock’s hot breath fanned over her. He had his paws on the back of her seat and his nose close to her ear. She shifted away from him.
“What did you think of the service?” Parker asked.
“It was nice. Pastor Eaton is passionate about God.”
“Yes, he is. Did you like the message?”
“I did.” She was surprised since she hadn’t considered whether she’d enjoy the sermon or not. “It made me think of my grandfather.”
He glanced at her. “How so?”
“My grandfather was a minister of a small congregation before he passed on.”
“Ah. Now they make sense.”
She cocked her head. “What makes sense?”
“The scriptures you have posted all over your bathroom mirror.”
A flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks. She’d forgotten about those. Of course he’d seen the Post-it notes when he’d used the sink to wash for dinner. “You didn’t mention them the other day.”
“I didn’t want to pry. Besides, I think it’s a good practice. Start and end your day reading scripture.”
“That’s what my grandfather would say.”
The pleased expression on his face made her think of her earlier suspicion. He had thought she needed faith. And in truth, she did. She wanted a deeper faith. She just wasn’t sure how to go about it.
“The verse Pastor Eaton taught from today was one of my grandfather’s favorites,” she said. “‘But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint,’” she recited, having committed the words to memory so long ago.
“The verse paints a vivid visual,” Parker said.
“Yes, it does. Grandfather would say, ‘Put those words in your heart, Melody, girl. God will move in your life. He will be there for you always. But first you have to actively trust Him. It won’t be enough to say it. You have to act on it.’”
“And do you?” There was a wealth of curiosity in his tone. “Trust God, that is?”
The question dug deep, into places she rarely delved. “I try. When my father deserted us, I took my grief and anger to God.” Her throat burned with the anguish of that time in her life. “When Mom slipped into depression, I turned to God again, seeking comfort.” Those dark days haunted her dreams still. “Time and again, I’ve turned to God just like Grandfather instructed.” Her fingers curled, her nails digging into her palm. “I’ve asked a hundred times why? Why had someone killed Daniel? Why would Sierra take her own life? Why, why, why?”
Why had her husband, Roger, abandoned her?
“But answers—solace—never came,” she said, wincing slightly at the bitter note in her tone. “Only more heartache and more questions.”
Still, she tried to hang on to the faith of her grandparents because the seeds of faith had been planted deep.
Some days were harder than others. Today? Today was a good day. She wanted a renewed strength.
“It’s not a sin to question God, you know. If you’re asking from a sincere and humble heart,” Parker said quietly.
She blinked. Her pulse sped up. A flutter of anxiety hit her tummy. Could she honestly say her questions had stemmed from a humble and sincere heart?
“Can I ask why you don’t attend church regularly?”
Grateful to be pulled from the direction her thoughts were headed, she slanted Parker a glance. “I usually work the Sunday shift.”
But this week, she’d been given two days off in a row. And was spending the time with Parker. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “Did you have anything to do with me having this weekend off?”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”
Suspicion flared. “Why?”
“You work too much.”
She frowned as mild irritation flared. “That’s not your call.”
He shrugged, totally unrepentant. “No, it isn’t. It’s Captain Drexel’s.”
Aghast, she stared at him. “You talked to my captain?”
“He wanted an update on the center. And when he heard about the threatening note...”
“He decided to have you babysit me?” Her fingers curled around the seat-belt strap. She wasn’t sure if she was angrier that they thought she was incapable of protecting herself, or that Parker was spending time with her only because he’d been asked to. And why was she taking offense? He was doing his job.
“Not babysit. Protect.”
“Right.” Just as she’d thought. “Look, Parker, I can
take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
He pulled back. “But you don’t have to. You’re part of the Sagebrush Police Force. We take care of our own.”
His words slid through the barrier she’d erected around her heart, piercing her in vulnerable places. He was talking about cops who belonged, not those like her who existed on the fringe. He had no idea what it was like for her. And she couldn’t fault him.
“Come on, don’t look so down. Spending the day with me and Sherlock isn’t that bad, is it?”
Forcing a smile, she admitted, “No, it’s not that bad.” Not bad at all.
“Good. Now relax.”
Right. Easy for him to say. She couldn’t relax when she was so acutely aware of him next to her. His vitality vibrated in the air around them. Her senses hummed. Great. How was she going to spend the whole day with him and ignore her attraction to him?
* * *
“That was surprisingly fun,” Melody said.
Parker nodded in agreement as he drove them back to Sagebrush. Though he wasn’t that surprised the day had been pleasurable. He enjoyed spending time with Melody. She was inquisitive and intelligent. Not many women would put up with a whole day of looking at classic cars. “I was impressed by how much you know about muscle cars.”
She laughed, the sound soft and pleasing. “My dad was always a car buff. He’d had a 1970 Plymouth Barracuda. He spent a lot of time working on that car. I would sit in the garage with him while he tinkered with it. I hadn’t realized how much information I’d absorbed until today.”
“Does he still have the car?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since right after Sierra died. And it didn’t come up in the short phone conversation.”
Appalled, he stared at her. “Didn’t he come for her funeral?”
Melody gave a dry laugh. “No. He couldn’t be bothered.”
The hurt and bitterness in her tone made Parker ache for her. “That stinks.”
“Yes, well, once he left, he left. No looking back.”