A Date for the Detective_A Fuller Family Novel

by Liz Isaacson

  And yet, there one sat. And he was employed, kind, and knew how to cook. She watched him for a while longer, wondering what strange rhythm her heart had decided to beat. She also hoped he had enough food for her to stay awhile, because “It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon,” she said to announce her arrival back in the living room.

  Kyler’s shoulders straightened and he looked over one of them. “Milt said it might go into tomorrow. Snow, even, especially up here.” He didn’t sound happy about that.

  “And you came up anyway?” she asked. “What were your weekend plans?”

  He turned his whole body sideways on the chair so he could keep facing her. A frown pulled at his eyebrows and disappointment cut through his dark blue eyes. They reminded her of the dark wash blue jeans, comfortable and functional, but a piece of clothing that could also make a man.

  Surprised at her accelerating pulse, Dahlia opted for a seat on the couch so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch Kyler.

  “Hiking, fishing, camping,” he said.

  “I saw your motorcycle out front,” she said. “That’s why I came knocking during the storm. You brought up equipment for all of that on a bike?”

  “We have most of the that kind of stuff here already.” He rose, his tall frame exuding confidence and charm, and came to sit closer to her. Not on the couch, but in an armchair at a ninety-degree angle from where she sat.

  She saw a book open on the table, a pencil discarded beside it. “Studying?”

  A laugh rumbled from his chest, and Dahlia couldn’t help the way her attention riveted on him. She told herself to look away, keep a straight face.

  But her emotions eradicated the rational thoughts in her mind. She giggled too, absorbing the happiness in his crooked smile and the way his eyes crinkled around the edges.

  “Relaxing,” he said. “Well, as best as I can without getting outside.” He nodded toward the open book on the table. “That’s a crossword puzzle book. My mother used to make us do all kinds of things when we came to the cabin. No TV. No radio.” The smile slipped from his face, and Dahlia mourned the loss of it.

  “Sometimes the silence is nice,” he admitted. “Sometimes it drives me crazy.”

  “I understand that.” More than Dahlia wanted to admit. Her house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood with mostly people over the age of sixty. Sometimes the quiet atmosphere was welcome, especially after a long day at her desk, with ringing phones and people talking and constant activity.

  But sometimes…sometimes silence smothered her, pressed the life from her lungs, demanded she pay attention to it.

  He exhaled like he was trying to clear his mind of something. “So there’s plenty to do here. Games, puzzles, even needlepoint. Do you knit, Dahlia?”

  She laughed this time, startling slightly when she saw the flirtatious twinkle in Kyler’s blue jean eyes. No way he could be flirting with her. Could he?

  “I am as far from a knitter as a person can get,” she said.

  “My mom taught me,” he said, looking at his hands. “But I don’t think my hands were quite made for it.”

  “They do seem better equipped for bigger things,” she agreed, cursing herself for the statement. What did that even mean? She tore her gaze from his strong, capable hands, her face heating.

  “Well, I think we’ll be here for the night.” He stood. “I’m going to go check the bedrooms. Make sure we have all the blankets we need.”

  Dahlia stood too. “Really? All night?”

  Kyler lifted one eyebrow. “Listen.” He cocked his head, his eyes drifting closed. He was beautiful in that moment. Soft. The sound of his slow inhalation in calmed her, and she let herself listen too.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be hearing,” she finally said, her voice half as loud as it usually was.

  “Exactly.” His eyes came open. “No hail on the roof. No rain on the window.” He pointed to the glass on the far side of the room. “It’s snowing.”

  Chapter Three

  Kyler didn’t know if he should be grateful for the snow, or frustrated by it. If he’d been in the cabin alone, he’d have been irritated and moody. But with Dahlia there….

  He opened the linen closet and pulled out an armful of towels, the scent of her hair still teasing his nose. Help me take care of her, he prayed. Though the detective could surely take care of herself, Kyler was happy she’d stumbled upon the cabin during the storm.

  “Are you sure you have enough food for me?” She joined him and took the towels from him. Standing so close to her in the hall made every cell in Kyler’s body vibrate.

  “’Course there is.” His voice grated against itself and he cleared the emotion from it. “I brought a lot. Hiking and fishing tend to work up an appetite.”

  She smiled up at him, the action reaching all the way to her eyes this time. They lit up from within, and Kyler felt like he was looking into the windows of a beautiful soul.

  “Are you dating anyone?” The words left his mouth before he’d had time to think them through. Horror struck him right behind his breastbone, especially when her eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  Kyler grabbed the first blanket he could get his hands on and retreated down the hall. “Sorry,” he mumbled, hoping the apology would reach her. “None of my business.” He paused at the doorway to the room where he’d been planning to sleep. “You’ll be in the green room?”

  She pointed to the room from which she’d emerged earlier. “Is this the green room?”

  “Yeah.” His chuckle sounded so nervous, and he hated it and liked it at the same time. Maybe he didn’t need to dance around Dahlia. “Bathroom right there across the hall.” He indicated the door next to the closet where they’d been standing. “You can put the towels in there.”

  “And you’ll be in there.”

  “Well, not right this second. I’m going to make sure things are ready and then build a big fire. It’ll keep the whole cabin toasty all night.”

  Alarm crossed her face. “There’s no heat here?”

  “No central air or heat, no,” he said, a shiver running down his arms from the draft in the bunk bed room. “Your room is close to the fireplace. Or you can sleep on the couch if you want.”

  Dahlia looked over her shoulder. “We’ll see.”

  Kyler nodded, the pressure building in his chest to blurt out something crazy again. He ducked his head and had taken one step into the bedroom when she said, “I’m not seeing anyone right now, no.”

  A smile struck his face like lightning, and his step faltered, but he continued into the bedroom. With nothing to do—his mother kept the beds clean and made—but put the extra blanket on the bottom bunk he’d be sleeping in, he went back into the hall to catch Dahlia walking into the bathroom.

  He hurried past and back to the kitchen and living room. Before he brought in the wood to build a fire, he switched her clothes from the washer to the dryer so she’d have them in the morning. Then he set about using his Boy Scout skills to get a roaring fire going in the hearth.

  He loved the cheery sight of dancing flames, enjoyed the smoky, ashy smell of the fire, and sat back on his haunches to watch the powerful force flicker.

  “Do you have coffee?” Dahlia asked, drawing Kyler’s attention and making him realize how warm his face had become.

  He leapt to his feet when she continued behind the couch and into the kitchen as if she’d make it. “Yeah, we do. I can do it.”

  “You made dinner.” She flashed him a smile as he crowded into the small space with her. “I can make coffee.” She glanced around for the machine.

  “It’s right here.” He dragged the fancy coffee maker his brother’s wife had given his parents for Christmas a year or two ago. “It’s one of those that you put the little cups in?” Why he phrased that as a question, he wasn’t sure.

  “Oh.” Dahlia’s brows creased, and she looked up at him. Something delicious and slow moved thro
ugh him, heating him the same way the joyful flames had. She swallowed, a nervous glint to her eye. “Did you hear what I said in the hallway?”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded like he’d rubbed it against sandpaper. He cleared it so he wouldn’t give too much away—as if he hadn’t already. “I mean, yes. Yes, I heard you.”

  A smile lit her whole countenance. “So maybe you’d like to take me to dinner?”

  “Maybe.” He reached into a cupboard and pulled down a tray filled with coffee cups, hot chocolate cups, and even apple cider cups. “Pick your poison.”

  She studied the little cups, her now-dry hair brushing her forearm as she lifted it to choose one. “I love hot chocolate.”

  Kyler took the cup from her and popped it into the machine, filled it with water, and faced her again. “How about I get your phone number? Then we can make plans for when we can go out.”

  “Do you have cell service out here?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She sucked in a breath. “A phone?”

  He gestured toward the counter where he’d cut tomatoes and avocadoes. “Right there.”

  “I need to call in.”

  She hadn’t said she’d give her phone number to him after that, but he nodded. “Sure, of course. I’ll babysit this for you.” Not that it needed babysitting. The machine did all the work.

  Dahlia snatched the phone from the counter and dialed as she strode toward the fire. The scent of chocolate rose into the air, mingling with the musical sound of her voice, and Kyler had never been more thankful for snow in his life.

  He woke hours later, in the bottom bunk, shivering. The only warm spot on his body was a small patch on his chest, where BB lay pressed up against his body. Kyler’s teeth knocked together as he scrabbled around for that spare blanket he’d brought in before the fire, the hot chocolate, and the lazy hour of conversation with a beautiful woman.

  Finding the blanket, he dragged it onto himself, checking to make sure the door was still open, still able to receive the heat from the fire. The orange glow that had been present when he’d gone to bed didn’t seem quite as robust, and he heaved himself out of bed. Keeping the blanket draped around his shoulders and scooping BB into one hand, he went down the hall to put on more wood and get the cabin warm again.

  He glanced into Dahlia’s room as he passed, but it was too dark to see anything. He’d just put the third log on the fire and started poking around to get the wood to catch the flame when she said, “I could’ve done that.”

  He spun, his heart pounding in the back of his throat. “Dahlia.” She wore a dark sweatshirt and had brought out the blanket from the green room, which covered her lap. He drank in the soft, feminine shape of her face, the way she looked sleepy and sexy fresh from slumber, how she ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes.

  And stars alive, those eyes. Kyler could dive in and never surface from their dark depths.

  BB jumped up on the couch to her lap, making himself comfortable. She glanced down at the little dog and giggled.

  “Were you cold?” he asked, collecting his dog with an apology in his eyes. He caught sight of her gray sweat pants, and somehow the woman made such things look like high fashion.

  “Oh, he’s fine.” She nodded and folded her arms across her middle, where BB had just been. “Maybe a little nervous too.”

  He turned his back to the fire, the logs he’d put on uniting with the flames just fine and pumping out the heat he wanted. He was very aware that he wore a thin T-shirt and gym shorts. He hadn’t checked the weather before coming, and had never been cold in the cabin in June.

  “Nervous? About what?” He stroked BB, as much to calm the dog as to soothe himself.

  “This is a strange place,” she said simply.

  He accepted her answer, not sure what else to add to the conversation.

  “Do you come out here alone very often?” she asked.

  “Maybe once or twice a year.” He didn’t want to get too deep into his reasons, but he added, “Sometimes I just need to be by myself to…reset. Get my head back together. You know?”

  Surprisingly, the woman who seemingly had everything together, always, nodded. “I completely know that, yes.”

  Earlier, they’d spoken about his family, the dogs he’d owned over the years, and what he used to do with his siblings up here at the cabin. Dahlia had contributed little to the conversation except to ask another question, or nod, or laugh at something he’d told her. Kyler had gone to bed kicking himself for dominating the conversation so completely, but she honestly hadn’t seemed to mind.

  “Your job must be stressful sometimes,” he said, hoping she’d talk now.

  She yawned and lay back down on the pillow she’d brought out of the bedroom with her. “It definitely can be.” She smiled at him, and in the glow of the fire, it was the perfect smile. Soft, and sweet, and beautiful. His heart kicked into another gear and he couldn’t help reaching out to stroke her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  A shock traveled the length of his arm, from fingertip to shoulder, and her eyes widened as if she’d experienced the same electricity.

  “I never did get your number,” he whispered.

  Her eyes closed, that dreamy smile still on her face. “I don’t even have my phone with me, remember?”

  “I still want to get it.”

  She opened her eyes and looked right at him, seemingly into his very soul. The moment lengthened, with just the crackling of the fire in the background. Kyler watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, wanting to exist inside this magical sphere for just a moment longer.

  “I won’t forget to give it to you,” she said.

  He nodded though a slip of frustration moved through him.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to get out of here tomorrow?” she asked, her voice barely louder than his breathing.

  “Not on my bike,” he said. “Maybe if the Chief sends someone for you.” He wasn’t sure what she’d told the person she’d called last night. She’d said she needed to call in, and she had. She’d seemed happy with the resulting conversation, and it was at that point that Kyler felt like she’d really relaxed.

  “It’s Saturday,” she murmured. “I told Stace not to worry about me. That we had a phone and food and all of that. They know where we are.”

  Relief and joy spread through Kyler. Maybe he’d get another day trapped inside the cabin with her. Maybe two or three.

  “My family knows where we are too,” he said. “Well, I mean, they know I’m up here. I didn’t tell anyone about you.”

  Dahlia smiled and extended her hand toward him, her eyes still steadfastly closed. He laced his fingers through hers, leaned back against the couch, and sighed. Touching Dahlia was exhilarating, and though he’d pay for this simple gesture in the morning, right now, he let the fireworks spin and pop through him, his eyes wide open.

  Chapter Four

  The scent of bacon teased Dahlia’s nose. Everything beyond her closed eyelids seemed too white, and when she opened her eyes, sure enough, she got blinded. She yawned as she sat up, her eyes squinted toward the windows and then toward the kitchen.

  “Hey,” Kyler said with a smile in his voice. Dahlia couldn’t actually see him quite yet. “You hungry?”

  Her stomach flipped at the bass notes in his voice and the thought of consuming whatever he was cooking. “Yes.” She stood, the knots in her back not as bad as they’d been yesterday. “I haven’t slept that good for a long time.”

  Glancing up from the pan, Kyler wore an inquisitive glint in his expression. “Oh yeah? On a couch in a snowed-in cabin is where you get your best sleep, huh?”

  Dahlia slid onto the stool at the counter. “I usually work late and get up early,” she said, the strong lines of his face coming into focus now. He was incredibly handsome, and Dahlia wondered why she’d never noticed him before practically beating down the door of his family’s cabin out in the remote hil
ls.

  “I do the early morning really well.” Kyler made short work of the eggs in the pan. “Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich? Or just bacon and eggs?”

  “Sandwich.”

  He beamed as he pushed down the lever on a double toaster and Dahlia caught the tail end of two English muffins going in. “A woman after my own heart.”

  She giggled. “You’re a big sandwich fan?”

  “If you can put it between bread, I’ll eat it.” He flipped off the burner and placed a slice of cheese over the egg patties he’d made. After covering that with a lid, he finally trained a full look on her. His eyes burned with an intensity Dahlia hadn’t seen many men wear, especially when they looked at her.

  “Why do you work late?” he asked.

  “Crime never sleeps,” she said. “And the paperwork never ends.” Oh, how she loathed paperwork. If someone had told her that becoming a detective for the Unified Police Force would come with so much paperwork, she wouldn’t have applied so aggressively for the position.

  “What kind of crimes do you deal with?” he asked. “I mean, I’ve never heard of anything too exciting happening in Brush Creek.”

  Dahlia’s defenses flew into place, but she worked to bring them back down. One of the reasons she didn’t have many boyfriends was because she didn’t talk about herself much. And she didn’t like talking about her job at all. Some of it she couldn’t talk about.

  But as she drank in the curiosity on Kyler’s face—along with the complete meekness—she found herself wanting to share a whole lot of herself with him.

  “We mostly work with the farms and ranches out here,” she said. “Theft, vandalism, that kind of thing. Very few cases in Brush Creek or Beaverton or Maple Mountain that the local police can’t deal with. But if they need a consult or an extra pair of eyes, we do that too.”