He pulled his gaze away for a second, and she wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. “You’re an idealist, Sara.”
“And you’re a pessimist, Devon,” she said. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He dragged his gaze back to her in open shock, Maybe he’d never had someone call him out before. “Just to be clear, I’m a realist, not a pessimist—and no, I’m not seeing anyone. Your point in asking?”
There was a second of silence, and what settled in that second was awkwardness. She wanted to reach over and touch his arm, and at any other time, she would have.
“Do you believe in fate?” she said. She hadn’t meant to say it.
He turned, facing her, leaning on the rail. He was so close, and he gave everything to her in that look. “You mean in what you’re destined to be? Like, destined to be poor forever, destined to be fucked up, destined to never get out, or destined to have everything?”
The way he said it, she wondered what had happened to him. “No, I’m talking about us meeting, being thrown in each other’s paths. If I wasn’t attacked, would we have ever met?”
He lifted his gaze, and she could tell he was thinking. He was so damn tall and strong and big, but it was nothing unfamiliar. Even the way he carried himself, he talked with such hidden meanings that she wondered if he truly understood how his reality was warped.
“You trying to say you being attacked was a good thing?” he said. Yeah, there was arrogance in his tone. He wasn’t a man who could be twisted to anyone’s will. She really liked that, loved that.
“No, never, but if it meant I got to meet you, then…” She was still scared, but at the same time, she took in the way his gaze lingered, the way he pulled in a breath.
“There can be no happy ending here, Sara. We’d never fit, not me in your world or you in mine,” he said. She wanted to argue with him, but he stepped back and continued. “Did the sheriff say they’re any closer to figuring out who attacked you?”
So he wanted to change the subject.
She just shook her head, seeing dust in the distance and an approaching car. “No, but the sheriff said that when they were asking around campus and gave his description, a lot of names were tossed out, too many. It seems he could be anyone, so the sheriff wants a sketch artist to do up a drawing of him. It’s good that you’re here, because I know they wanted you and me to sit with the artist so they can have an accurate drawing.”
He turned and stared out at the approaching sedan, and the way he was watching was tense, off. It was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“A sketch artist…so is that the reason you called me out here?” There was nothing friendly in the way he looked at her now, and she didn’t miss the accusation.
She shrugged and shook her head. “No, I called you first, before the sheriff mentioned having the sketch artist come out. Is there a problem with that?” She didn’t know why she needed to ask. Maybe it was his reaction or the way this moment had suddenly turned from her getting to know him to her thinking he might want to get in his car and leave.
He didn’t answer.
Chapter 12
“So the nose is off to the side a little more, and his hair is covering his ears. Eye color?” said the sketch artist.
Devon swore the woman had smoked one cigarette after another. She was maybe fifty, he thought, though her face was so deeply etched with lines that she appeared to be seventy, with salt and pepper hair. The short woman was fast on her feet. Her name was Anna-Mae, and she was a local artist the sheriff had called in as a favor. She was sitting on the front porch in a kitchen chair Andy had dragged out for her.
Devon counted seven cigarette butts on the wood porch at her feet, which she’d ground out with the toe of her cowboy boot. The ash of one of the freshly lit cigarettes that she held between her fingers over the sketch pad was likely an inch long.
“It was dark,” Sara said. “I don’t remember. I didn’t pay attention. They could have been brown.”
Devon stared at the drawing, seeing the image of the guy come to life. He was sure it was Jackson, the guy who had ripped him off. What was his first name, Joshua? No, Carter. Right, Carter Jackson. Blue eyes, dirty blond hair, square jaw, and more of a round nose, but he said none of that as he stared at the sketch.
“He was bigger, tall, large hands, strong…” Sara said. He watched, seeing the shadow of something in her expression. She was still completely off kilter from what had happened. “And he smoked. I could smell the cigarettes on him, if that helps. His shirt was green and white, a jersey of some kind…” Then Sara stopped talking and looked up at him.
He could see the sheriff standing behind Anna-Mae, Laura and Andy off to the side, and Gabriel leaning against the rail. Even Tiffy and Jeremy had returned and took turns checking out the sketch as the woman worked. He knew he could end this right now and make it easier.
“Devon, you get a better look at him?” the sheriff said.
He took in the heavy gaze the sheriff leveled on him. It was the kind of look that made him wonder if he could read what was really going on in his head.
He pulled in a breath and took a step closer. Sara scooted over and made room for him on the wicker sofa, and he sat down, a waft of cigarette smoke coming his way. He actually waved his hand in the air. “Maybe you could give us five minutes of clean air?” he said. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, but he didn’t miss the sheriff’s amusement and a chuckle from someone else.
The woman flicked off the ash, pulled another long, heavy drag, and blew it out before dropping it on the porch and putting it out with her foot. He wondered if Sara’s father would have a problem with what she’d done. He’d have expected it, but when he looked over to Andy, all he did was drag his hand over his face.
He realized he couldn’t stall anymore. He took in the sketch, seeing how the hair was off. “Eyes closer together, and his nose is longer, wider. His brows are thicker but lighter, and light freckles over the base of his nose, in here.” He gestured to his face and watched as Anna-Mae sketched. “The hair was longer, more wavy.” He gestured but shook his head when she made it too curly. “No, not like that—like his.” He gestured to Gabriel, and everyone looked. “But his hair was just touching his ears.”
He linked his fingers, clasped his hands, as he leaned forward. He could feel the heat from Sara next to him. She was so damn close, and it was making him uncomfortable. She glanced to him, and her eyes widened as she took in the picture.
“Yeah, that’s him,” she said with a shaky breath.
“Anything else? Ears, jaw, distinguishing marks?” Anna-Mae asked, but Devon just shook his head. He knew without a doubt this was Carter Jackson, a college student, pre-law, who had totally ripped him off.
“You really got a good look at him, Devon,” the sheriff said. “This will help, and hopefully we can figure out who he is and have him locked up before the sun goes down.”
Devon looked up. As he stared at the drawing Anna-Mae finished and handed over to the sheriff as she packed up her sketch book, her charcoal, and her colored pencils, all he could see was how screwed he was.
He could vaguely hear talking and then felt a nudge beside him when he realized that Anna-Mae was gone, walking back to her car, the sheriff beside her, along with Andy and Laura.
“You okay? You got kind of quiet there.”
He took in Sara’s expression and didn’t have to look up to know that Jeremy, Tiffy, and Gabriel were lingering close. “Yeah, yeah, just got to get going. Didn’t expect to be out here this long.”
There it was, her interest for him. Yeah, he needed to shut that down, so he stood up and looked over to her brothers and Tiffy.
“Well, I’ve got to get going…” he started.
“Stay for dinner,” Sara said from beside him.
He was already shaking his head, but Jeremy said, “It would be great, Devon. We’re barbecuing tonight, steaks. Don’t run off.”
&
nbsp; Tiffy added, “Seriously, Devon, you’re kind of part of the family now. You get a lifetime pass and are always welcome here.”
Gabriel even nodded.
Devon felt Sara’s hand on his arm. “Yeah, thanks for the invite, but seriously, not this time. I really have to go,” he said—and he had to warn his brother.
He started down the steps just as Andy and Laura walked back from where the sheriff was now driving away in his cruiser, the artist behind him.
“You off?” Andy asked.
Devon didn’t have to look down to know that Sara was beside him. “Yeah, I really have to get going. It was great meeting you all.”
Andy held out his hand again, and he shook it, a strong grip. His gaze didn’t waver. “You too, Devon.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Sara said.
He took in her parents as they climbed up onto the porch, and Devon had to force himself to walk calmly. Sara fell in beside him.
“Are you okay, Devon?” she said. “Because I can’t help thinking that there’s something else.”
He could see his car like twenty feet away. He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m fine, Sara. There’s nothing else except that time got away from me.” Another step closer, and he went to reach for the handle when Sara stepped around in front of his door.
“If you’re sure. Can I see you again?” she asked, not pulling her gaze away. There was determination there.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sara.”
“Why, because you’re from the wrong side of the tracks, as you said, and I’m too good for you? I thought we already established how ridiculous that sounded.”
He wondered if she was going to let him pass. “You always get what you want?”
There was an odd smile, and then she winced and shrugged. “Mostly, but sometimes not. I don’t think this is the end with us. I don’t want it to be. There’s just something about you, Devon. I feel really good when I’m around you.” She pulled in another breath and let it hang. “But if you’re not interested…”
What was she doing? Did she have any idea how she looked? But it was so much more than that. There was something about her that ran deeper than surface beauty, something that was so special that he knew he had no business messing with her.
“So you’re talking dinner, fun, dating?”
She didn’t nod. She didn’t smile. “Yeah, something. Maybe we could start out with a coffee, or a movie, or dinner, or even just a walk in town, just hanging out, talking. I would like that. But yeah, Devon, I want to see you again.”
He didn’t say a word, then rested his hand on the door, so close to her shoulder that he was almost touching her. She didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pull her gaze from him.
“Tell you what, even though I’m convinced it’s not a good idea, how about tomorrow, I’ll pick you up, take you into town for lunch, tacos, and…” They could talk, be together, and what? His brother would kill him if he knew.
“How about tonight instead?” she said, then smiled brightly. It was gorgeous, the kind of smile that started in her toes and worked its way through her. Yeah, he could see how a guy would want her no matter what it took. There was just something about her light. Being with her, it rubbed off on him.
“You’re pushy. You don’t take no for an answer.”
She linked her fingers together. “I am when needed. Unless you already have plans tonight?”
He should say yes, be done with it, and drive away and not come back. “No plans,” he said. “Okay, tonight. I have a few things to do, but how about if I come back and pick you up at, say, five?”
“Five it is. I’ll be ready. This will be fun,” she said.
He dragged his gaze back over to the house as Sara stepped away from the car, and he pulled open the door, about to step in. Andy Friessen was watching him. Yeah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
Then her hand pressed over his on the open car door. “Don’t let my dad scare you off, Devon. He’s been doing that to every guy I’ve had any interest in for years. It’s who he is. He’s all bark. Just hold your ground, and…” She glanced over to her dad and then back to him, her green eyes so serious. “Show up.”
Then she stepped back, and he slid behind the wheel and started his car before putting it in gear. He just took in Sara, the gentle breeze lifting her hair, and he wondered if she’d be asking him out and wanting to sit with him, talk to him, if she knew the world he belonged to.
“Yeah, you’re fooling yourself, Devon,” he said under his breath as he pulled away.
With one glance back in the rear-view mirror, he was struck by an odd unfamiliar feeling. He could see himself having a life with Sara. It was crazy, stupid, and not realistic, because Devon had learned one thing: Reality might not be what he wanted, but it was all he was going to get. Sara Friessen wasn’t the kind of reality that would come with a happy ending, not in Devon’s life, not in his world.
They would have dinner tonight, talk, and then he would set her straight. He could do it. Because where this was headed was nowhere good.
Chapter 13
“Sara, I get how you think Devon is a good guy because he saved you, and yes, we’ll be forever grateful to him for that, but you’re suddenly going out with him?” Andy said. “You know nothing about him, who he is. In case you’ve forgotten, you were attacked last night, nearly killed. Do we need to talk about what almost happened to you?”
Andy was looking at his daughter, who was dressed in blue jeans and a loose blue crop shirt, she’d even gone so far, he noticed, to cover some of the bruising around her eye with makeup.
“No, Dad, I do not need you to remind me of what happened last night. I was the one who was there and experienced it, lived through it. Are you thinking I should wallow and hide out now because I was attacked?” She rested her bag on the kitchen island and didn’t pull her gaze from him.
“No, but you suffered a trauma. You need to stay home.”
“That’s ridiculous, Dad. I’m not an invalid. Aren’t you the one who says when you fall off a horse, get back on?”
He couldn’t believe she was comparing horses to a guy almost raping her, killing her. “You’re not going out, and it’s not the same.”
“But it is, Dad. It’s all about fear—and you know what? Devon isn’t a bad guy. He’s nice, and I like him, and he’s just picking me up for tacos and talk. That’s it, and then I’ll be home. It will still be light out, and you can lock the front door and see that I’m okay. I won’t break, Dad. I have a great head on my shoulders.”
He was shaking his head, though.
Laura stepped into the kitchen, her hair damp, in a beige long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Your daughter wants to go out on a date with Devon, and I was just telling her that she’s not,” he stated. He didn’t miss the twitch of what looked like a smile that Laura was trying to hide.
“I see. Sara, you were attacked last night, but now you want to go out with Devon?” Laura rested her hand on the island, the one with his ring, the flash of diamonds. It was an impressive set that said she was his. After all these years, he still couldn’t get over how tiny but strong she was.
“Yes. I like him, Mom. As I was telling Dad, we’re just going for tacos. It’s not even a real restaurant. Then I’ll be home.” She looked from him to Laura. “Or is there something else about Devon?”
Now she was challenging him, and he wondered how far she’d take it. “You know nothing about him,” he said. “Yes, he saved you, and again, he’ll have my gratitude. But you know nothing about his family, what he does, why he was on campus that night if he doesn’t even go to school there anymore. That was by his own admission, by the way. I’m grateful he was there, but I have a whole lot of questions about him. You’re my daughter, and…”
“You want me to stay away from him. I get it, Dad. As far as you’re concerned, no one i
s good enough for me—or is it because of the color of his skin?”
He thought Laura swore under her breath, but that was nothing compared to the shock he felt at his daughter saying the one thing he hadn’t expected. “Are you saying I’m racist?”
“Aren’t you? I mean, you have different rules for Zac and the same different rules for Jeremy, too, when he was growing up. You even admitted you were sexist.”
He laughed under his breath, but it was more of a warning, one she didn’t seem affected by in the least. “You’re damn right I’m sexist,” he said. “I’m arrogant and even domineering, and I won’t make apologies for that, not to you or anyone, Sara Friessen. But calling me a racist, you’re crossing so many lines. That I am not. You think I care about the color of his skin?” He shook his head, and now she understood she’d pushed too far. “It’s about who he is, Sara, not the color of his skin, so don’t ever forget that.”
She fisted her hands and rested them on the counter beside her purse, lowering her gaze for a minute. “Fine, I’m sorry. Maybe I went a little too far. But keeping me under lock and key isn’t the answer.”
“She has a point, Andy.” Laura rested her hip against the island. She was so close to him and looked up at him even though she was speaking to Sara. “So dinner is tacos, and you’ll tell us where you’re going, and you’re home by eight.”
He didn’t have to look over to see how happy his daughter was. Just then, he heard a car pull up, and he glanced out the kitchen window and saw the familiar compact. Devon stepped out and looked around.
“Sara,” Andy said as he turned back, “I’m serious. The taco place and then come home, nowhere else.”
She smiled brilliantly and raced around the island to hug him. He held her tightly for a second, not wanting to let go. “Thank you, Dad! Thanks, Mom,” she said, then grabbed her purse and raced for the door.
Stay Away From My Daughter Page 8