Agent Undercover (4 page)

He blinked. “Yeah.” His hoarse voice said otherwise. “Tell me how to find your house.”

She gave him the directions, then asked, “That fire truck really sparked some memories, didn’t it?”

“They always do. I can’t see one without …” He broke off and swallowed.

“Will you tell me more about the fire that killed Will’s mother?”

E
yes on the road, Dylan blinked at the question, then supposed it was only natural that she ask. Still, it threw him. Then again, she seemed to have some sort of connection with Will, so maybe it wasn’t so odd she’d want to know more about the boy’s mother. He gathered his scattered nerves and said, “Sandra was my sister. She was a good mom. Most of the time.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Dylan.” She paused. “What do you mean most of the time?”

“She did drugs.” Blunt, straight to the point.

“Oh, my. Poor Will.”

“Yes. At first, it wasn’t like she was an out of control junkie. She was more recreational than anything, but …” He bit his lip.

“She ended up hooked?”

He drew in a deep breath. “In a big way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. Anyway, she had this new boyfriend that seemed to be making a big impact on her. Larry something. He was a math teacher out at the high school. Sandra did a lot of subbing at all three schools in town. But I remember her coming over one night and telling me about
this great guy. And she was going to change her life. I only met Larry a few times.” A smile crossed his lips.

“What’s the smile for?”

He shook his head. “Just thinking about the two of them. I was really skeptical when she first told me about him. Figured he was just another drug source, but he wasn’t. I could tell he was clean the moment I met him, and he really did seem to care about Sandra. In fact, they reminded me of a couple of teenagers who’d just discovered true love.”

“True love?” She sounded skeptical.

Dylan eyed her from the corner of his eye then asked softly, “What? You don’t believe in true love?” He really didn’t have the right to ask, but he wanted to know. Even though his experience with Erica had cut deep, he still felt like God had the right person in mind for him.

He couldn’t help wondering if that person was Paige.

He could feel her embarrassment as she cleared her throat. “Maybe. For some people.”

“But not for you?”

A pause. “This isn’t about me,” she finally answered, sounding subdued. “So Sandra and Larry were in love?”

Making a mental note to come back to her feelings about love, he let her direct him back to the topic. “I don’t know, but Sandra finally seemed happy. Like she’d gotten rid of a few of her demons. Larry even got her going to church. And Will was crazy about the guy …” He sighed. “But I just … don’t know … It was hard for me to hope because … she was still Sandra, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Dylan glanced at her. “You sound like you mean that. Is someone you love a drug addict?”

Paige flinched and he reached over to touch her shoulder. The warm zing that skittered up his arm surprised
him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to find a painful subject. Are you okay?”

She placed a hand to her head. “Um, yes, just a headache. I’ll take one of those painkillers as soon as I get home and sleep for a couple of hours. That should do the trick.”

Dylan frowned at her but let that explanation work for now. He had a feeling she’d been going to say something else and had decided against it. He didn’t let it bother him. He usually wasn’t so open with people he’d only just met, but there was just something about Paige, something that made him want to explore the possibility of a relationship.

Plus, he had Will to think of. What if Will’s reaction to Paige was just a fluke? Then again, what if it wasn’t? Their connection seemed real.

He had to keep Paige around in order to find out. Of course, with the way he was attracted to her, it was obvious that wasn’t going to be a hardship. At least not for him.

He cut those thoughts off as she directed him to turn into the drive of a small, yet cozy-looking house with gray vinyl siding and green shutters. “Ah, you rented this from the Jacksons, didn’t you?”

“Yes. My … brother found it for me.”

“Well, I know they’re relieved to have it rented. They’ve had some serious financial difficulties since he was laid off six months ago. Rose Mountain is a great little town, but unfortunately, it doesn’t offer much in the way of employment unless you have a specialty.”

“Like medicine?”

He smiled. “Like medicine—or teaching. Or owning your own business.” He turned the engine off and started to climb out.

“You don’t have to get out. I can make it.”

He knew she could, but for some reason he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. “Do you mind if I see you in? Make sure you have everything you need?”

She narrowed her eyes and he held his breath until she said, “Sure. Thanks.”

The joy that stirred in his heart didn’t shock him at this point, but it did make him remind himself to take it easy. His heart ignored the reminder and thumped faster.

He followed Paige up the steps to the covered porch. She slid the key in the lock and opened the door. “My garage door opener is in the car.” She froze. “My bike! I totally forgot to ask anyone about it.”

Dylan grimaced. “I’m afraid it was pronounced dead at the scene.” He flushed. “But I told Principal Bridges I would keep it at my house until you could decide what you wanted to do with it. The dump is probably the best place for it.”

She eyed him and he squirmed under her gaze. She asked, “It’s that bad?”

“Trust me. It’s that bad.”

She sighed. “Okay. I’ll come by and take a look at it when I’m feeling a little better.”

A bush rustled to her left and she shot a glance over her shoulder. Visions of the car speeding into the school crosswalk flashed momentarily, and she blinked.

Another rustle. An animal? A neighbor child playing hide-and-seek?

Dylan must have heard it, too, as he turned to look at the bush.

She tensed. Or something more sinister?

The bush shook and she heard—a sneeze?

She moved toward the sound. “Whoever you are, you better come out now, or I’m calling the police.”

Absolute stillness.

Paige narrowed her eyes. Was she being paranoid? Dylan walked up the steps of the porch and grabbed the broom she’d left next to the door.

Coming back down, he flipped it so the handle pointed toward the shrubbery.

Paige’s adrenaline rushed through her as he poked into the bush.

A grunt sounded. “Ouch! Stop!”

Tempted to run inside and grab her gun, she ignored the feeling. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone. “You have two seconds to show yourself or I’m calling the cops. I—”

“All right, all right.” The voice sounded frustrated. Then a head popped around the side of the bush. “Paige Worth?”

A young man in his mid-thirties with shaggy blond hair gradually revealed himself. He had a smile on his face that Paige immediately didn’t trust. He looked—
oily
was the word that popped into her head.

Dylan didn’t look like he was too happy to see the guy, either.

Paige narrowed her eyes and drilled him with a harsh glare. “Why are you hiding in my bushes?” she asked.

The trespasser rubbed his chin and studied her. She saw his eyes settle on the bandage around her head. “Aren’t you the one who saved the little boy yesterday?”

“Again, who are you and why were you in my bushes?” Paige responded without answering the question.

The man held out a hand. “I’m Simon Moore. A reporter for the
Bryson City Journal.”
Paige shook his hand and felt her insides cool.

His eyes zeroed in on Dylan, and Paige watched Dylan
narrow his eyes at the man. “And you’re the doctor, right? The little boy’s dad?”

“Uncle,” Dylan replied.

A “gotcha” look appeared in the reporter’s eyes, and Paige grimaced at Dylan’s slip. He’d just confirmed that the reporter had the right people. “I’m sorry about the hiding thing. You didn’t want to talk in the hospital and I thought I could—”

“—convince me to talk to you by ambushing me outside my home?” Paige raised a brow in disbelief. The man didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.

“Look,” Dylan said before Mr. Moore could open his mouth again. “She’s still not feeling well and needs to get inside and rest. Why don’t you come back another time?”

“Actually, don’t bother. There’s not a story here, all right? Please.” Paige softened her tone. “I have a headache and want to lie down. Feel free to report what happened, just leave me out of it.”

“Why?” A calculating look crossed his face as he assessed Paige, then Dylan. “Do you two have something to hide?”

Paige drew in a pained breath. “No, Mr. Moore, we don’t have anything to hide. Will is a little boy who needs a little less excitement in his life. I simply …” She trailed off. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You’re just going to write what you want.” She gave a snort of disgust. “Happy reporting.”

She stepped inside, and Dylan followed after one last look at the reporter who stood sideways, speaking into his little voice-activated recorder before stomping toward the car Dylan just now noticed parked two houses down.

Once inside, Dylan shut the door behind him. “He looks familiar.”

Her eyes drilled into his and he raised a brow. She asked, “Where have you seen him before?”

“I think he was the guy standing outside your hospital room earlier.”

“What guy?”

Dylan thought she looked pale, and he wondered if it was from the pain in her head or the thought of the reporter. She definitely hadn’t been interested in any media attention at the hospital. He couldn’t help it that a small part of him wondered if maybe she
did
have something to hide. His gut twisted at the thought. “When I came to see if you needed a ride earlier, there was someone standing outside your door. I asked him if I could help him and he said he had the wrong room.”

She stood perfectly still, thinking hard about something. Dylan wondered what was going on inside her head.

“What did he look like?”

Shaking his head, Dylan squinted as he thought. “I’m not sure. He had on jeans and a green polo shirt. A ball cap covered his head and face. I didn’t get a good look at him.”

Paige’s eyes met his and he could tell she was processing this information. “That guy had on jeans and a green polo shirt but no ball cap. I’m willing to bet that’s not a coincidence.”

Dylan shook his head. “He was probably hoping to catch you alone in the hospital to try and get a story out of you.” Shrugging, he gave her a smile. “Anyway, I’m relieved you’re not interested in doing the story for that reporter.”

“It’s no problem. I’m not into that kind of thing.”

“You’re right about Will. He has been through enough.

He doesn’t need all the excitement a story and pictures in the newspaper would bring.”

She smiled. “Then I’m glad I told him no.”

Dylan pulled his gaze from the beautiful woman in front of him, put the reporter out of his mind and glanced around. They were in the family room. A breakfast nook and kitchen lay to the left. “Nice place. You haven’t decorated much, but it’s a very functional, open layout.”

She laughed. “No, I haven’t gotten to the decorating part yet, and I just thought the layout was cute.”

“Well, that too, but real men don’t use the word
cute
in reference to a house.”

Another laugh, followed by a wince. “Don’t. It hurts to be amused right now.” She settled on the couch and leaned her head back.

“You need to be resting and can’t do that if you’re hurting. Where are the pain pills the doctor prescribed? I’ll get them for you.”

“In my purse, but I can get them.”

“You just stay put, I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter where it had landed after her careless toss. Walking over to the couch, he handed it to her.

“Thank you,
darling.”

He jerked at the familiar term then caught the teasing glint in her eyes and the impish smile on her lips. Another flush worked its way up his neck, and he shook his head as he realized how his actions had come across. “Sorry, I don’t mean to act so …”

“Husbandly?” The word hung between them, then Paige groaned. He noted her red cheeks as she opened the purse. She said, “Okay, I obviously have brain damage. Or am in desperate need of some sleep. I’m going to take some medicine and get some rest.” He watched her cover her
embarrassment by rising from the couch, and heading for the kitchen. She kicked off her shoes in the middle of the room and gave them a halfhearted shove as though to move them out of the way.

Dylan heard her rummaging in the refrigerator and thought about that word.

Husbandly.

Pain kicked him in the heart. He’d almost been a husband. And then he’d gotten custody of Will. Erica, his fiancée, had decided she didn’t want a package deal and dumped him the day Will came to live with him. The day after the fire.

He focused on Paige. “Do you need any help? Anything to eat?”

She came to the door of the kitchen looking incredibly cute—he felt fine using that word in reference to her—with her bare feet, hair around her shoulders and not a touch of makeup on. He finally noticed her height. She was about five inches shorter than his own six foot two. She offered him a water bottle and he took it.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry right now. I’ll get something when I wake up.” Popping a little white pill in her mouth, she took a swig from her bottle and motioned him into the den area. As she headed that way, she stepped on one of her shoes and almost tripped.

Moving fast, Dylan caught her by the upper arm and pulled her against him. Water sloshed from the bottle and caught him on the chin. Wide, green eyes blinked up at him. “Oops. I’m so sorry!” She glanced at her shoes. “That’ll teach me not to pick up after myself.” A warm hand reached up and wiped the water from his chin.

Dylan swallowed hard as he found himself entranced, speechless and very aware of the warmth of her. His gaze
dropped to her lips and, for a brief second, he considered seeing what she would do if he kissed her.

She caught her breath and stepped back. His arms dropped. Then Paige wiggled her fingers at him and said, “I think you need a towel. I’m not doing much good.”

Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “I’m fine.” He wiped his chin on his shirt and smiled at the flush on her cheeks. So, these feelings catching him off guard weren’t one-sided. That was good to know.