Safely Home (14 page)

“Lose something, Crescent?”

Only her dignity and her dog. “I’ve got it covered, Counselor.”

“Uh huh.”

His eyes laughed down at her as she headed up the drive. His glance noted her empty hands. “And how are you planning on getting him back home?”

No leash. No rope. No—

Grr…

Alex laughed out loud, reached out and tugged her close, then surprised them both by planting a kiss to her hair, while his blonde bimbo sat on the ground petting a good-for-nothing shaggy farm dog with bad breath.

Alex
held her alongside as he made introductions. “Cress, this is Cara Radcliffe, my cousin.”

“Your
… cousin.”

“Her mother is my mom’s sister,” he explained, his look saying he’d caught her assumption and thought it hilarious.

Jerk.

“I love dogs.”
Cara looked up, her disingenuous expression totally approving both the dog and Cress’s presence. “And this guy is so sweet. So friendly. Do you live up here?”

“Down below.”

“Ah.” Cara nodded, still kneading the traitor dog’s coat. “You’re the cop.”

Alex
straightened.

Cress bristled.

Cara eyed them both from below. “No need to get yourselves into a stew, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like half the world can’t see the sparks hoppin’ between y’all like fireflies on a hot June night. Get serious. I will never understand Northerners and the way they make everything so dog-gone difficult.”

“
Cara’s from Mississippi.”

“I hear that.” Cress slanted her gaze down. “What brought you north?” Cress could have enumerated a hundred reasons why the blonde might have come north, most of them male, but the girl’s answer surprised her.

“I do accounting for CBA, Incorporated, the…”

“
Largest manufacturer of software for the Pentagon’s defense systems.”

Cara
laughed and pushed a stray hair back, behind her ear. “Among more mundane things, yes. I’m a pencil pusher.”

Something in the casual way she framed the words told Cress she was way more than a simple numbers cruncher. The gorgeous house behind her added credence to the supposition. “Nice house.”

Cara slanted a quick glance back, then up. “A good investment. Or so I’m assured.” Now she flashed a look to Alex. “Bein’ a simple, Southern girl, I’d have been happy in somethin’ smaller, but Alex had this model available at a great price so I jumped in, both feet.”

The canny brightness of
Cara’s gaze belied the simple, Southern girl depiction, but Cress understood what it was like to be a smart girl in a man’s world. Sometimes it paid to be Jessica Simpson and sometimes a girl needed to flash a little more Eleanor Roosevelt. The trick lay in figuring out when to do what. From the looks of things, Cara had that part down.

“We’re just gettin’ ready to do supper.” 
Cara shifted her gaze from Cress to Alex and back. “Stay and eat with us. There’s plenty.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly, I…”

Alex held tight when Cress tried to ease away. “Have you visited the horse already?”

Drat that he knew her schedule as well as he did. “Yes.”

“And Gran is with Dumereses.”

“How do you know that?”

He feigned a look of surprise. “I’m paid to know these things. Just like you.”

“Hmm.”

“So.” He pulled her closer, his eyes, his gaze daring her answer. “The dog’s obviously happy here.”

“So it would seem.”

“And we’ve got plenty,” Cara attested. “We expected the neighbors over but their little boy went and got sick so there’s food for four and just us two.”

“It would be wasteful to say no,”
Alex went on. “And possibly rude.”

“Unless you have a prior commitment.”
Cara gazed up at her, eyes crinkling amusement. “A date or something.”

“Yeah.”
Alex grinned down at her, his eyes saying one thing, his voice another. “You got a date tonight, Cress?”

Those eyes. Warm. Dark. Soothing, even when humor-filled.

Kind of like the dog’s.

No wonder Gran liked them both.

“Say yes, Crescent, save us all the argument. You know you want to.”

She did want to. More than she should, especially after what she’d recently walked away from. The thought of hanging out with friends, with
Alex, having a normal Sunday afternoon dinner in a pretty yard, nicely landscaped.

Stuck smack dab in the middle of the hay field she helped cut and bind as a girl at Grandpa’s side, making sure the forage dried just enough but not too much, knowing musty, moldy hay was bad for horses.
No wonder Gran stayed at Alex’s beck and call despite a land deal that had obviously treated his bottom line a lot better than hers, but Cress refused to be fooled. Well, unless he was kissing her, but that was a whole other thing entirely.

“Sorry. Can’t.”

“Won’t.”

“I’ve got things to do.” Cress didn’t meet his eye, certain he’d read the lie.

“Like?”

“Gran’s got a barn full of stuff we need to go through. Sort out. Before the weather turns cold.”

She chanced a glance up. Alex’s expression said he wanted to argue, but he caught himself. He nodded, then released his easy grip around her waist. “I’ll get you a hank of rope so you can lead Shep back.”

Within minutes
Alex had a sturdy length of rope tied to Shep’s collar. He bent and petted the old dog, then stood and squared his shoulders. Cress found herself hoping he’d urge her to stay, press her to reconsider.

He didn’t
.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll get the grill going,
Cara.”

Cara
sent a look from one to the other, her expression saying Northerners were about the most stupid creatures roaming the planet. About then, Cress was pretty sure she was right.

“Nice to meet you, Cress.”

Cress took the offered hand, holding tight to Shep’s rope with her left. “Yeah, you too.”

“Feel free to stop up anytime,”
Cara offered. “I don’t know too many people around here and I’d like to change that.”

The offer surprised Cress. She didn’t count too many women among her friends in Minneapolis. Why was that, she wondered? Why were most of her friends guys? Other people on the force?

Because James never had a good word to say about any of your friends
, a voice cautioned her
. He picked at them like crows peck road kill and you never did a thing, never once stood up for them, thinking he was right, that they weren’t smart enough for you, good enough for you…

Dumb, Cress.

But not anymore.

Cress actively
pushed the negative voice aside.

She was making the decisions now, calling the plays. She gave
Cara’s hand an extra shake. “I’d like that. Alex has my number.”

“I’m sure he does.”

She’d left herself wide open for that one. Cress nodded but refused to look toward the house where Alex had stepped through the garage onto a deck beyond, moving a good-sized grill away from the deck wall. “Call me. I’d like to get together.”

Cara
gave her a genuine grin and leaned forward under the guise of petting Shep’s head. “We can talk about boys.”

Cress laughed out loud. The term ‘boys’ sounded exactly right when rolling off a thick Southern drawl. “Sounds good.”

She headed down the drive, emotions warring.

He’d wanted her to stay.

She’d wanted to.

But didn’t because she was chock full of mixed emotions and anger issues that might need some kind of therapy since she was doing a pretty poor job of working through things on her own.

Grill-fire coals scented the air, the wind just right to waft the aroma her way, teasing her with the thoughts of grilled meat and potato salad, very all-American.

She went home and opened a can of tuna which she proceeded to eat dry, over the sink, right out of the can, refusing to examine how pathetic that was.

Chapter
Twelve

Brandywood whickered softly as she entered the barnyard the following Sunday. He tilted his head once, eyed her, then headed her way, boldly nudging the two ladies aside as if to stake his claim on Cress.

“Nice improvement,” Audra noted from the rail.

Cress nodded, voice easy, keeping eye contact with the gelding. “Very nice. Although he likes Alex better.”

“Better than you or better than you like Alex?”

Cress stayed silent.

“Aha.”

“Enough with the ‘aha’s. Seriously. Give it a rest.”

“Oh I have been,” Audra countered. She eased a leg up and over, then perched on the top rail as Cress courted the horse into submission. “You have no
idea how much I haven’t been saying. And your leg seems better, by the way.”

“It is. Much.”

“But that’s a problem, isn’t it?”

Cress sighed as she crooned senseless words of love to the horse who ate them up like lumps of sugar. “Why do you know so much?”

“Lucky, I guess. What are your options?”

“Go. Stay.”

“Stay.”

Cress smiled against the horse’s neck. “I wish it was that easy.”

“It is that easy. You make things difficult.”

Funny, she’d thought the same thing that morning, sitting in church, listening to their sweet pastor talk of simple things. Simple gifts. Simple choices.

The words spoke to her, a comfort. A blessing.

But then life intervened and she got confused all over again. Why?

She had no idea.

James’ cryptic message about Carl was part of it. After receiving his morning e-mail, she’d set up a block so he couldn’t get through, a move she should have made weeks ago.

Why hadn’t she?

And that’s where the complications set in. He wasn’t just her old lover, the other part of a bad relationship turned abusive.

He was her commander, her boss. Her dedication to her job, to her partner made sorting through his separate roles rough.

Only because you let it.

The inner voice tweaked her, drawing her back to Pastor Gates’ gentle words, his advice about finding a quiet center, a place of peaceful satisfaction. The whole take-time-to-smell-the-roses thing.

Cress had never had a quiet center. Not once. Not ever.

Why?

No clue.

Now she yearned for one, but at what cost? Her career?

Already tanked.

Her life in Minneapolis?

Guttered. Sullied. Soiled. Take your pick.

Audra’s rooster picked that moment to crow, heralding the mid-day much like he did the morning.

Day followed day.

Night followed night.

The old bird crowed, regardless.

Maybe it was a birdbrain notion, but perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was something as simple as trusting the day to follow night in a simpler way.

The young gelding pushed his cheek into her hand, wondering why she’d stopped rubbing. She smiled and continued the ministrations to his neck, his flank, murmuring words of love.

When had she last felt this peaceful, this calm?

Early visions swam up, filling her head with a younger Cress, headstrong and assertive, riding the hills carefree and able, preferring the company of horses and trees to people.

Why was that? What made her feel left out? Sidelined? Her mother’s death. Her father’s decline into an alcohol-induced stupor. And by the time he climbed out from the pit of despair, she’d already written him off as mostly useless, negating a decade of nice fatherly behavior. The assessment seemed harsh and childlike in retrospect. She’d moved beyond needing him, seeking solace in Grandpa’s pastures, the barn, working all she could to make her own bit of change, take care of herself, so that by age sixteen she was essentially independent.

And snotty.

She’d lost something in those years, an invisible essential. Her faith? Her soul? Both?

Examining her relationship with James, it was easy to track how simple she’d been to manipulate. Her lack of self-esteem around other people made it easy for James to separate her from a support network. He’d applied his guise to her intelligence, making it seem like her thoughts, her decisions, when in reality she’d been reflecting his.

For the first time in a long time the sun felt good upon her face, her hair, the cool September breeze making her glad she’d grabbed a hoodie.

While Audra busied herself cleaning the yard and tending the other animals, Cress applied the saddle to the gelding’s back. Once ready, she nodded to Audra, mounted the horse, and headed him out of the paddock at an easy walking pace, allowing him time to know the feel of her on his back.

Yes, her leg was better. The response to continued therapy was obvious. It didn’t kick out from under any more, or go numb at inopportune times which meant she’d be able to physically return to service soon.

But did she really want to?

That was the question of the hour.

*

“Hey, did you guys see Kiera Dietrich’s new ad campaign?” Alex wondered that afternoon. He tossed Aiden the football, and grinned approval when the boy jumped and snatched the ball from mid-air, then hugged it to his chest. “Well done.” He shifted his gaze back to his brother and Mac on the deck behind him. “Padded.”

“What are you talking about?” Cruz glanced up from his task at hand, re-centering a tricycle wheel assembly that had worked loose.

“I’m not following you, either.” Mac added from where he was scouring green-and-gold permanent marker from Nick’s cheeks. The kid was a true fan in the making.

“The pants are padded.”
Alex met their confused looks and made a rounded apple shape with his hands. “In the butt.”

“You’re kidding. Women do that?”

It made no sense to Alex either, hiring whisper thin models with Barbie doll figures, then pad their behinds to make them look like girls. Whatever. “Kiera’s got no hips. Mostly leg.”

“And you might want to explain how you know that before I clean up the ground with you in front of two impressionable kids.”

Alex refused to miss a beat. He was already pretty certain that wherever he went, trouble followed. Seemed like God was on that very same page where Cress was concerned. He turned and pegged her the ball, not soft and easy, either. He nailed her with a straight-to-the-numbers-chest-check, total quarterback under pressure bullet.

She caught it, no problem.

He knew she would.

A big part of him wished he didn’t know her so well. Th
en he could walk away from this attraction that refused to leave him alone. Heaven knows he didn’t need or want to be drawn to an in-your-face cop with attitude problems.

But he was.

Wishing he could swear, he smiled instead. “Nice catch.”

She paused an extra beat, meeting his gaze, looking way too cute
in shorts and a tank-top for his own good, then shifted a brow up and tilted her head. “Good throw.”

Uh, oh.

She was playing nice.

Spunky he could handle. He could thwart spice and sass.

But nice?

Nice d
id him in every time. Probably because he knew the effort involved. He grinned. “This is becoming a habit of yours. Tracking me down on Sunday.”

Color stained her cheeks, remembering their last encounter at
Cara’s. She paused, then nodded. “It would seem so. Although you didn’t have to make yourself scarce while we tackled that barn.”

Mac
sent her a look of commiseration. “Not the barn.”

“Oh yes.” She walked into t
he yard and moved up the steps. Her dark auburn hair brushing her back, hiding the little mole Alex had spotted during the bloody nose incident.

He’d avoided Gran’s on purpose. And he’d gone to a different church service that morning. He was determined not to chase her. She knew where he was, who he was. And it was pretty plain what he wanted.

Her.

But
Alex didn’t beg or grovel. As a boy he’d seen his mother do both at the hands of his father, begging him to leave the boys alone, take his anger out on her. And he had, numerous times.

Alex
had been powerless then.

He had complete control now.

Cress turned his way, waving a container. “Cookies from Gran.”

“Just Gran?”

Did the flush deepen?

Yup.

He fought a grin and pushed aside foolish notions of control when a tiny smile of remembrance softened her eyes, her jaw. “I put in the sugar.”

He laughed out
loud and moved forward, ignoring the appraising looks of both Mac and Cruz. He took the cookies and scraped an easy staking-his-claim kiss to her mouth. “You know the little boys will be eating these, too? Any attempts at bodily harm amount to child abuse.”

She grinned at the words or the kiss, he wasn’t sure which, and didn’t really care. Or maybe hoped it was both. “And I actually like kids, Counselor.”

Thoughts of his big house rolled in, filled with the noise of little feet, slapping doors and Christmas trees. It was all there in her eyes, the ivory points of light beaconing the way if he chose to follow their path.

“Cookies!” Aiden broke the spell by barreling through them, planting himself at Cress’s feet. “Can I have some?”

“Aiden.” Mac stood. His raised brow offered silent instruction.

“May I have some please?”

Cress cocked her head and looked down. “Marked improvement, little man. Yes. Help yourself.” She pried off the plastic lid and held the tub out. “Two?” Looking up, she angled Mac a questioning glance.

“Two’s good.”
Mac came forward and helped himself while Nick continued scrubbing. “Chocolate chip. My favorite.”

“Mine too.”
Cruz moved closer, helped himself to cookies before addressing Cress. “Any progress on your detective work, Cress?”

“On your…”
Alex eyed her, then Cruz. “What detective work?”

“The kid on County Road Eleven.”

“The kid you saw?” Alex looked right at her. “You didn’t go out there, did you?”

“I’m not stupid.”

Alex refused to get tangled in words. “I mean it, Cress. Leave it to the locals. You gave them the heads up. They’ll get it done. Won’t they?”

He looked at
Cruz, a brow thrust up. Cruz stepped back. “Not my jurisdiction, guys. I only got filled in because they didn’t want Cress to get hurt.”

“
So your job was to talk some sense into the pretty little thing.” Alex met his brother’s gaze and didn’t wonder why that thought bothered him so much. “She’s a detective, Cruz. A good one. Why downplay her instincts?” The fact that he was defending a cop, even a good one, surprised him, but felt good, like it was the right thing to do. Talk about a turn-around.

“I can defend myself, Counselor.” She offered him a look of mixed amusement and frustration. “But he’s right,
Cruz. I’m good at what I do. Damn good.”

“See!” Aiden waved a hand, cookie crumbs dotting his mouth and fudging his words. “I told you she says bad words, Daddy!”

“Oops. Sorry.”

Mac
nodded. “Apology appreciated. Back off, Aiden. You’re not supposed to be listening to grown-up conversations anyway.”  They waited until the boys took off for the far corner of the yard, in sight but out of earshot.

Cruz
kept his look trained on Cress. “I don’t doubt your abilities for a minute. I checked with MPD. Your history is solid. But right now you’re on injury leave and recuperating.” He dipped his chin toward her bad leg. “What if that gives out on you unexpectedly while you happen to be on a back country road, alone, checking out a perp we’ve got nothing on.”

“So you’ve checked h
er out?”

He nodded, grim. “Other than a twenty year old record of aggravated assault, we’ve got nothing.”

“Exactly what my friend Felix told me.” Cress took a deep breath. Alex tried not to notice how her tank top rose delightfully with the movement, the soft shade of rose saying she could wear any shade of pink she wanted and look really, really good.

Although she looked totally hot in dark green too, so maybe it wasn’t the color as much as the girl that caught his eye.

“You’re checking him through MPD?”

Cress made a face, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.”

She sent him a look of surprise. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Cruz leaned in. “Believe it. My gut tells me you’re right, that something’s amiss, but we can’t do a thing until we have something to go on. There’s no reason to get Social Services involved because the old lady’s done nothing to warrant that and the wrong move right now could end up with a dead kid.”