Читать книгу Military Grade Mistletoe - Julie Miller - Страница 9
ОглавлениеDear Daisy,
Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa.
Daisy Gunderson stared at the gift tag, dotted with sparkles of glitzy snow, in the top right drawer of her desk and wondered who hated her enough to wage this terror campaign against her. This should be the happiest time of year for her, with the holidays and her winter break from school coming soon. Either somebody thought this sick parade of presents left on her desk or in her mailbox in the faculty work room was a clever idea for a joke, or that person intentionally wanted to ruin Christmas for her.
Typically, she made a big deal of the holidays, as evidenced by the greenery and ornaments decorating her classroom, and the hand-carved menorah and colorful Kwanzaa mat she had on display that had been gifts from former students. But the red glass candy dish filled with rat poison, the decapitated elf ornament and the X-rated card that had nothing to do with holiday greetings hidden away in her drawer were disturbing signs that not everyone shared the same reverence for celebrating this time of year.
The gifts were an eerie reminder of the tragic mistake she’d made three years ago that had cost her so dearly. But Brock was locked up in a prison cell, and would be until her roots turned gray. Daisy had already called the prison to confirm Brock Jantzen hadn’t escaped or been accidentally released. These gifts couldn’t be his handiwork. Men in prison who’d tried to kill their ex-girlfriends didn’t get to send them cards and presents, right?
Daisy inhaled and let the long exhale flutter her lips. Of course not. These gifts had nothing to do with Brock. Or losing her father. Or even losing her mother, in a way. They had nothing to do with the scars on her chest and belly or her missing spleen.
Deciding that her thinking made it so, Daisy adjusted her purple-framed eyeglasses at her temples, spared a glance for the lone student muttering at the laptop on his desk, then looked up at the clock on the wall to wonder how much longer it was going to take Angelo to finish his essay before they could both go home for the day. Since she’d promised to give the teenager all the time he needed to complete his work, Daisy closed the drawer, picked up her pen and went back to grading papers.
But her thoughts drifted to the small stack of letters she’d locked away in a keepsake box under her bed at home. Letters from a Marine overseas. Short, stilted and impersonal at first. Then longer, angrier, sadder. Master Sergeant Harry Lockhart yearned for quiet and routine just as much as he longed to complete the job he’d been sent to the Middle East to accomplish. She could tell he loved serving his country. That he loved the military dog he worked with, Tango. That he grieved the young men and native soldiers he’d trained and lost. She’d grieved right along with him when he’d written to say that Tango had been killed. Those letters had been part of a class writing project she’d initiated last year, with help from a friend at church, Hope Taylor, who had connected Daisy to her brother and his unit. She’d give anything to hear from Harry Lockhart again, even one of his short missives about the heat or the sand in his bunk. But sadly, those letters had stopped coming months ago. She hoped the unthinkable hadn’t happened to her Marine. More likely, he’d simply tired of the friendship after the class had ended and those students had stopped writing the servicemen and women with whom they’d been pen pals.
Now the only notes she received depicted graphic sexual acts and violence. All under the guise of a friendly game of Secret Santa.
She’d reported the gifts to her principal, and he’d made a general announcement about the appropriateness of everyone’s anonymous gifts at the last staff meeting. And, she’d alerted the building police officer, who promised to keep an eye on her room and try to figure out when the gifts were being left for her. But, short of canceling the faculty party and gift exchange, and ruining everyone else’s Christmas fun, there was little more she could do besides staying alert, and doing a little sleuthing of her own to try and figure out who was sending them. Daisy wondered if the wretched gifts might even be coming from someone who hadn’t drawn her name in the annual gift swap—a disgruntled student, perhaps. Or maybe there was someone else in her life who thought this terror campaign was a cute way to squash her determination to make the most of every holiday celebration.
If that was the case, she refused to give in and take down one tiny piece of tinsel or play her Mannheim Steamroller music any less often. She already had enough reasons to mourn and resent the holidays. The Scrooges didn’t get to win. If grief, abandonment and solitude couldn’t keep her from saying Merry Christmas every chance she got, then a few morbid trinkets from a disturbed mind weren’t going to make her say, Bah, Humbug, either.
“Finished. Five hundred and two words.” A small laptop plunked down in front of her on her desk. “Before the deadline.”
Daisy smiled up at Angelo Logan, a favorite student with as much talent as he had excuses for not doing his work. She knew no one in his immediate family had gone to college. And since that was a goal of his, she didn’t mind putting in some extra time and pushing him a little harder than some of her other students. She skimmed the screen from the title, The Angel and the Devil, down to the word count at the bottom of the page. “Wow. Two words over the minimum required. Did you break a sweat?”
“You said to be concise.” A grin appeared on his dark face.
“Did you map out why you’re deserving of the scholarship?”
“Yeah. I talked about my home life, about being a twin and about what I can do for my community if I get a journalism degree.”
Daisy arched a skeptical eyebrow. “In five hundred and two words?”
Angelo tucked the tails of his white shirt back beneath his navy blue sweater and returned to his desk to pull on his blue school jacket. “Can I have my phone back now, Ms. G?”
“May I?” she corrected automatically, and looked up to see him roll his deep brown eyes. The standard rule in her class was “No cell phones allowed,” and anytime a student entered her room, he or she had to deposit their phones in the shoe bag hanging beside the door. Getting a phone back meant the student was free to go. Daisy smiled at the seventeen-year-old who looked so put upon by grinchy teachers who held him accountable for procrastinated essays and college application deadlines, when he probably just wanted to take off with his buddies for some Thursday night R & R. “You’re too good a writer to miss this opportunity.” She turned the laptop around. “Email me this draft and I’ll get it edited tonight. I can go over any changes that need to be made with you tomorrow. Then we can send the whole thing off before Monday’s deadline.”
Angelo zipped back to her desk and attached the file to an email. “I’ve got basketball after school tomorrow. I won’t be able to come in. Coach will bench me if I miss practice two days in a row.”
Ah, yes. Coach Riley and the pressure he put on his players, despite the academic focus of Central Prep. “Can you do lunch?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed to the shoe storage bag hanging by the door. “Grab your phone. Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
But he didn’t immediately leave. He exhaled a sigh before setting his backpack on the corner of her desk and digging inside. He pulled out a squished plastic bag with a red ribbon tied around the top and shyly dropped a gift of candy on her desk. “Thank you, Ms. G.”
An instinctive alarm sent a shock of electricity through her veins. But then she saw the blush darkening Angelo’s cheeks and realized she couldn’t be paranoid about everything with a gift tag this time of year. Plus, the smushed present didn’t look anything like the carefully prepared gifts she’d received from her Secret Santa. She feigned a smile before genuinely feeling it, and picked up the gift. “Are these your grandmother’s homemade caramels?”
“Yeah. She wanted to thank you for the extra hours you’re putting in on me.”
Daisy untied the bow and pulled open the bag to sniff the creamy brown-sugary goodies. This present was safe. She’d seen it delivered, and there was nothing hinky about the candies wrapped in this modest bag. She could let herself enjoy it. “I love her caramels. She made a special batch without nuts for me?”
The blush faded as the grin returned. “I don’t know why you want to eat them without the pecans, but she remembered that was the way you like them.”
Daisy pulled out one of the individually wrapped caramels and untwisted the waxed paper. “Hey, between her and me, we’re going to get you into college.”
“Yes, ma’am. Um... I wanted to...”
Wondering how long Angelo was going to stand there before he said whatever was making him shift back and forth so nervously, Daisy popped the caramel in her mouth and started to fill the awkward silence. “These are the yummiest—”
She almost choked on the chewy treat when a sharp knock rapped on her door. “’Lo. You coming or what?” Although the baggy jeans and sideways ball cap were a vastly different look than the school uniform Angelo still wore, Albert Logan shared his twin brother’s face. “Just because you got in trouble with the teacher doesn’t mean I have to be late.”
“I’m not in trouble,” Angelo insisted.
“I don’t care. I just know I have to drive your sorry ass home before I meet the guys.”
“Granny’s going to kill you if you skip dinner again.”
“She ain’t killed me yet.” Albert jerked his head down the hallway toward the exit. “Move it.”
“Hey, Albert.” Daisy stood and offered a friendly greeting.
“Hey, Ms. G.”
Despite looking alike, the two brothers couldn’t be more different. “You know, my offer to stay after school and work with students who need extra help extends to you, too.”
“I ain’t in your class no more.”
“You aren’t anymore,” she corrected. “I’m here with Angelo. I could easily tutor you, too. Get your grades back up so you can be on the basketball team again.”
“Whatever.” He turned down her repeated offer to help him raise his D’s and F’s into acceptable grades and pointed to his brother. “My car leaves in five. Be in it or walk home.”
Although she was already plotting different arguments to convince Albert to get the help he needed, Daisy trained her smile on Angelo while he zipped his backpack and hurried to grab his phone. “Be sure to thank your grandmother for the caramels.”
“Bye.”
Once the teens had left her room, the silence of an empty school long after classes had ended closed in on her. Shaking off the instant sensation of loneliness before it could take hold of her, Daisy packed up her pink leather shoulder bag. She jotted a note to Bernie Riley, the boys’ basketball coach, asking him to have a chat with his former player to encourage Albert to take her, or someone else, up on the tutoring offer. Without sports to keep him interested in school, she feared he’d wind up dropping out without a diploma. Then she grabbed her scarf and wrapped it around the neckline of her tunic sweater and pulled her coat from the closet before shutting off the lights and locking the door.
She’d make one quick stop at the faculty lounge to drop off the note, then head out. Besides hurrying home to let out her three dogs to do their business, she needed to get the place tidied up before showing the upstairs suite to the potential renter who’d answered her ad in the paper. Her friend Hope’s husband was a KCPD cop, and he’d done a routine search on the guy and a couple of other tenant prospects to ensure they didn’t have a criminal record or pose any obvious threat to her.
Having the dogs with her eased her concerns about living alone. But with the advent of the creepy cards and gifts, she’d decided that having a man on the premises, preferably an older one who reminded her of the security her father had once provided, would scare away whoever was threatening her. Besides, one of the hazards of living alone in the two-story 1920s Colonial her parents and grandparents had once lived in was that she was spending a small fortune renovating it. With taxes due at the end of the year and her savings already tapped out, thanks to the new HVAC system and roof she’d been forced to install, she could use the extra income of a tenant to get through the expense of the holidays.
Her steps slowed on the hallway tiles as her imagination surged ahead of her logic. Of course, the idea that her tenant might wind up being a serial killer, or even the sicko who was sending her that crap, was more than a little unsettling.
But no, Officer Pike Taylor had vetted this guy, so he couldn’t be a danger to her. She sifted her fingers into the wavy layers of her hair and shook it off her shoulders. “Stop imagining the worst, Daisy Lou, and go home.”
Her stop in the faculty lounge and work room revealed that she wasn’t the only staff member working late this evening. “Hey, Eddie.”
Daisy dropped her bag onto the chair beside one of the school’s science teachers. It hit the seat with a thunk and Eddie Bosch laughed. “Taking a little work home tonight?”
“Just some papers to grade. And my laptop.” Plus all the items a woman would keep in her purse, along with a few emergency snacks, a stash of dog treats and an extra pair of shoes in case the knee-high boots she wore got too wet with the snow outside and she needed to change before her feet froze. Daisy shook her head as her friend in the loose tie and pullover sweater grinned. “I guess I carry my life in there, don’t I?”
“Well, you won’t have to go to the gym and work out if you keep lifting that thing.” He closed the laptop he’d been working on and pointed a warning finger at her. “Now about that chiropractor bill you’ll be getting...”
“Ha, ha.” Squeezing his shoulder at the teasing remark, she circled around him and went to the wall of cubbies that served as the staff’s mailboxes and searched the alphabetized labels for Bernie Riley’s name.
She was glad Eddie had gotten to the point where he could joke with her. When they’d first started at Central Prep together, he’d had a sadness about him he wore like a shroud. He’d been new to Kansas City, had moved there for a fresh start after losing his fiancée to a long illness. Daisy had made it her personal mission to cheer him up and make him feel welcome. Now, he often made it feel like she was working with the teasing big brother she, as an only child, had never had.
But the comfortable camaraderie quickly ebbed as her gaze landed on her mailbox. She backed away when she saw the corner of a red envelope lying there.
Daisy startled at the hand that settled between her shoulder blades. “Don’t worry.” Eddie reached around her to pull the red envelope from her box and hold it out to her. “It’s the teacher appreciation gift from the school board. A gift card to your favorite coffee shop. We all got one.”
Taking the envelope, she clutched it to her chest, nodding her thanks. Eddie and a few other teachers were close enough friends that she’d shared some of the weird messages she’d been receiving. They’d all agreed that none of the staff could be responsible, and were now on the lookout for any signs of a disturbed student who might be sending the gifts. She appreciated that Eddie and the others were protective of her.
He pointed to other red envelopes still sitting in the mailboxes of teachers who’d already gone home, to confirm his explanation. “It’s nice that they remember us each year. Although I’d trade gourmet coffee for a bump in salary if it’d do us any good.”
Daisy agreed. “I hear ya.”
He nodded toward the paper in her hand. “Is Riley giving you grief about keeping Angelo out of practice again?”
During basketball season, Bernie Riley gave everyone grief. “I think we’ve reached a mutual understanding.”
“You mean, you’ve agreed to do things his way.”
“Bernie and I both have the students’ best interests at heart. He let Angelo stay with me today, and I’ll adjust my schedule tomorrow.” She held up her message about Angelo’s brother. “Actually, I’m hoping he’ll help me with Albert.”
“Albert doesn’t have half the brains Angelo does.”
She was surprised to hear the insult. “Maybe we just haven’t found the right way to motivate him yet.”
“Uh-huh.” Eddie pulled away and opened his satchel to stow his laptop. “Deliver your note and I’ll walk you out.” He nodded to the window overlooking the parking lot and the orange glow of the street lamps creating pockets of light in the murky evening air. “I hate how early the sun goes down this time of year.”
Smile, Daisy Lou. Don’t let anyone bring you down.
“Me, too.” Daisy stuffed the note into Coach Riley’s cubby and put on her insulated coat and gloves while Eddie pulled on a stocking cap and long wool coat. “Although, I do love it when the sky is clear at night, and the moon reflects off all the snow.” She pulled the hood with its faux fur trim over her head. “In the daylight, the city snow looks dirty, but at night it’s beautiful.”
“You’re a regular Pollyanna, aren’t you,” he accused with a smile, holding the door open for her. “It’s twenty degrees, it’s dark and I’m tired of shoveling my driveway.”
“Scrooge.”
“Nanook.” He followed her out the door and walked her across the nearly empty lot to her car. “Are you expecting a blizzard I don’t know about?”
She fished her keys out of her bag and unlocked the doors. “Fourteen degrees? That’s plenty cold enough for me.”
Eddie swiped his gloved hand across her windshield, clearing a swath through the blowing snow that had gathered there. “Want me to scrape this off for you?”
“You’re a scholar and a gent, Mr. Bosch.” Daisy thanked him for his gallant offer, but shooed him back to his own car. “The windshield wipers will take care of it. Go get warm. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See ya. And hey, I didn’t mean to sound flippant earlier. If there’s anything I can do to help you with Albert, let me know.”
“I will. Thanks.” With a smile that no longer felt forced, Daisy climbed inside. Once she had her car started, he waved and trudged away to his own vehicle.
Daisy locked her doors and shivered behind the wheel, waiting for the wipers and defroster to clear her windows. Allowing the engine time to warm up, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes. She took on a lot this time of year, and she was tired. The stress of dealing with her Secret Santa, and the mental battle not to compare his gifts to the terror campaign Brock had waged against her three years ago, were taking their toll, as well. It was a challenge to get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep when every sound in the old house woke her. She made up for the fatigue by stealing short naps when she could. Like right now. Just a few minutes to rest before...
Daisy’s eyes popped open as a sixth sense nudged her fully awake.
Someone was watching her.
She wiped the condensation off the inside of her window and peered out. Her gaze first went to Eddie’s car. But he was busy brushing the thin layer of snow off the windows and top. His back was to her until he tossed the scraper into the back and climbed in behind the wheel. Then he was on his cell phone, chattering away in an animated conversation as he backed out of his parking space.
She pulled her glasses away from her nose to let the foggy lenses clear before sliding them back into place and scanning the rest of the staff parking lot. There were only four vehicles left. Coach Riley and the girls’ basketball coach had both parked near the gym entrance while they finished with practice. She recognized the truck and van driven by the school custodians, as well.
The uneasy sensation of being watched crept beneath the layers she wore, making her shiver as if a cold finger was running along her spine. But a check of her rearview mirror revealed no one. Not one visible soul. Certainly no one spying on her.
Unless that person was hidden.
Behind one of the Dumpsters. Or around the corner of the building. Or peering out from the shadows of a dark room in the nearly empty school.
“Really?” Daisy smacked the steering wheel and pulled on her seat belt, irritated with the way her tired mind could play tricks on her. Those stupid gifts had spooked her more than she’d realized. “You are perfectly safe,” she reminded herself, shifting the car into gear. Turning on her lights, she drove out of the parking lot. “The bad guys don’t get to win.” If she lived her life like a paranoid mouse, they would win. And she wasn’t about to let that happen. She turned on a radio station playing Christmas music 24/7 and belted out rock anthems and traditional carols all the way home.
Daisy was a little hoarse from the songfest by the time she pulled into the detached garage behind her home. She pushed the remote button, closing the door behind her before unlocking her car and climbing out. Night had fallen, so she flipped the switch to turn on the Christmas lights lining the garage roof and fence, knowing they’d cast enough light to illuminate her path across the sidewalk to the deck and backyard entrance to her home. She smiled when she opened the door and looked out into the fenced-in yard. Beyond the edges of the walkway and deck she’d cleared, the red, green, orange, blue and white lights reflected off the snow like the warm glow of a sunset.
After pulling her hood up over her ears, she shut the door behind her and locked it. The damp bite of wintry air chapped her cheeks and hurried her steps past the gate and up onto the deck where the motion sensor light over the back door popped on, turning a small circle of night into day.
“Daisy? Is that you?”
Startled by the voice in the night, Daisy spun around. Once she’d identified the disembodied voice, she drifted beyond the edge of the light to bring her neighbor to the north into focus. “Good evening, Jeremiah.” Although Jeremiah Finch’s balding head was little more than a balloon-shaped shadow above the hedge on his side of the fence, she recognized his little Chihuahua in a pink and black sweater underneath the hedge where the snow wasn’t as deep. As much as her neighbor loved his little princess, he liked to keep his yard in pristine condition, and would either immediately clean up after the dog, or hook her onto a leash and lead her to the bushes as he had tonight. “I see Suzy is bundled up against the cold. New sweater?”
“Knitted it myself. Are you coming down with a cold?” he asked, no doubt hearing the rasp in her voice.
“I’m fine. Just a little too much singing. And you?”
“I’m well. Suzy and I will be going in now. Good night.”
“Good night.” As formal and shallow as their conversations might be, Mr. Finch had proved himself to be a good neighbor. Besides maintaining a beautiful home, he didn’t mind picking up her mail and watching over her house when she had to leave town. And she often returned the favor.
After he and Suzy had gone inside, Daisy slipped her key into the dead bolt lock.
One sharp, deep bark and the excited sound of yapping dogs told Daisy her furry family already knew she was home. She peeked through the sheers in the window beside the door and saw her beloved trio gathering in the mud room with tails wagging to welcome her before pushing open the door. “Yoo-hoo! Mama’s home.”
Muffy, her little tiger of a Shih Tzu led the charge out the door. A silver-and-white-haired boy cursed with a girl’s name by the elderly owner who had to surrender him when she moved into a nursing facility, Muffy often made up for the insult by being the toughest and loudest guard dog he could be, if not the most ferocious-looking. Patch, her deaf Jack Russell terrier mix, took his cues from the other dogs, and followed right behind the smaller dog, no doubt barking because Muffy was. Both stopped for a friendly greeting and some petting before dashing out into the snowy yard. Patch, especially, loved being outside, leaping from snow bank to snow bank and snuzzling through the drifts as though feeling the cold against his skin made him giddy.
Her senior dog, Caliban, hobbled out the door on three legs. Daisy got the feeling that when her biggest dog stopped for a scratch around the ears, the Belgian Malinois was humoring her rather than seeking her affection. Poor guy. He’d spent a career at KCPD before the cancerous tumor that had led to the amputation of his left front leg forced him into retirement, and then he hadn’t been able to live at his handler’s home because the K-9 officer’s child was allergic. Daisy reached inside the door to grab one of the rope toys that seemed to be the tan-and-black dog’s only joy and tossed it out into the snow. As she watched him trot down the two steps into the yard, Daisy’s heart squeezed in her chest. The experts who claimed that dogs didn’t feel emotions didn’t know Caliban. That dog was sad. He’d lost his job, lost his favorite person, lost his home and routine. When Pike Taylor had asked if she could take the dog for the last year or so he had left, Daisy had willingly opened up her home and her heart. Muffy and Patch had welcomed the older dog, although the two little spitfires made him cranky at times. Caliban had a good home here, but Daisy was still looking for the key to breaking through that reserve of his.
Smiling at the distinct personalities of each of her children, Daisy crossed to the railing to watch her three charges. Muffy was all business, inspecting the perimeter of the yard and trees along the back fence. Caliban was nosing around the gate and garage, avoiding the snow as much as possible. And Patch...
“Patch?” Daisy hiked her purse behind her hip and leaned over the railing. Where had he snuck off to? He wouldn’t answer her summons unless he was looking right at her or following one of the other dogs. “Where did you go?”
Daisy looked down to see the clear impression of man-sized boot prints in the snow. The security light created shadows through the deck railings that had obscured them earlier. But there they were, a messy set of prints circling around the deck to the gas and water meters on the back of the house. She spotted Patch, his muzzle and jowls white with a snowy beard, following the tracks past the meters to the dormant lilac bushes at the corner of the house.
That wasn’t right. Goose bumps pricked across Daisy’s skin. She crossed to the side railing and squinted into the darkness beyond her porch light. Between the blowing snow and the shadows, she couldn’t make out whether the tracks ended at the side of the house or if they continued into Mr. Finch’s yard next door. Or maybe they’d originated from there? Maybe Jeremiah had spotted something that concerned him in the backyard. Still, she couldn’t see the fastidious gentleman climbing over the chain-link fence when there was a perfectly good gate between the house and garage that granted easy access to the yard. It would be hard to tell exactly where the footprints led unless she went out in the knee-deep drifts to look with a flashlight. And as much as Daisy wanted answers, she wasn’t keen on being anywhere alone in the dark.
She swallowed hard, trying to come up with a logical explanation as to why someone would be wandering around her backyard. She’d had the same utility worker from the city for years. He knew his way around her backyard, and didn’t mind the dogs when they were out. Maybe he had a substitute walking his route, someone who didn’t know there was only one gate. Patch spent a lot of time snuffling around in each footprint until he lifted his leg and peed in one. Why were there so many tracks? Had more than one person been in the backyard?
“Muffy? Caliban?” She put her chilled lips together and tried to whistle, but she doubted even a dog could hear the wimpy sound that came out.
Then she spotted Caliban’s white muzzle as he carried his toy back up the steps to dutifully sit beside her. “Good boy.” Had he sensed her fear? Did he just have impeccable timing? “Good, good boy.” Daisy scratched around his ears and rewarded him by pulling on one end of the rope and letting him enjoy a gentle game of tug of war. But the game ended quickly when Caliban released the toy and spun toward the back door. A split second later, Muffy zipped past her, barking like mad. That response could mean only one thing. They’d heard the doorbell at the front of the house. She had a visitor.
Although she was hardly prepped for company, she was more than ready to go inside. She caught Patch’s attention and gave the signal for him to come. He dashed through the doorway in front of her.
The doorbell chimed again while she bolted the back door. The dogs raced ahead of her, yapping and tracking snow across the long, narrow rug and refinished oak of her hallway floor. Patch leaped over the two plastic tubs of Christmas ornaments she’d stacked beside the stairs, waiting for the tree she planned to get this weekend. Daisy hurried after them, dumping her purse on the bottom step of the staircase leading up to the second floor, pulling off her hood and stuffing her gloves into her pockets.
She pushed her way through the semi-circle of barking dogs, put Caliban and Patch into a sit and picked up Muffy, her brave boy who had the most trouble following orders and greeting an unfamiliar visitor. If this was the potential tenant Pike Taylor had okayed for her, she wanted time to explain that her pack of dogs were looking for treats and tummy rubs, not the opportunity to take a bite out of a stranger. Daisy flipped on the Christmas lights over the front porch and made sure the dead bolt was engaged before peering through the window beside the door.
“Wow.” She mouthed the word, fogging up the glass.
The man standing on her front porch was hot, in a rugged sort of way. He stood six feet tall, give or take an inch. He wore a black stocking cap fitted tightly to his head and a beige coat that pulled at his broad shoulders and thick arms. With his hands down at the sides of his jeans and his legs braced apart, he stood there, unmoving. If it wasn’t for the puffs of his warm breath clouding around his gray eyes, she’d have thought him a statue, impervious to the cold. Daisy’s throat went dry at the inverse response of heat that could be nerves, or something decidedly more...aware...that he triggered inside her.
Not the fatherly figure she’d been hoping for. His face was a little too craggy to be handsome. The scars that peeked above the collar of his sweater and crept up his neck to the edge of his mouth and cheek to circle around most of his left eye, coupled with the stern set of his square jaw, added to his harsh look. She was certain Pike wouldn’t send her anyone she wouldn’t be safe with. Still, safe was a relative term. This guy didn’t project calm reassurance so much as he looked as though he could scare off anyone who glanced crosswise at him. Although he would fulfill the purpose of having a tenant, she wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable having a man like him in the house.
Still, if Pike said he was okay, she’d at least interview him.
She startled when his head suddenly tilted and his gaze shifted to her silhouette in the window. He’d caught her staring at him. He didn’t smile, didn’t wave an acknowledgement, didn’t react, period. He simply locked his gaze onto hers until she muttered, “My bad,” and hurried to atone for her rudeness. Muffy whined in her arms, and Daisy unbolted the door and opened it, leaving the steel-framed storm door secured between them.
The rush of heat she’d felt dissipated with the chill that seeped through the glass. “Hi. Are you here about the room to rent? I thought we weren’t meeting until after dinner.”
“Master Sergeant Harry Lockhart, ma’am,” he announced in a deep, clipped voice. “Are you Daisy Gunderson?”
Recognition and relief chased away her trepidation and she smiled. “Master Serg...? Harry? Pen pal Harry?” She plopped Muffy down between the other dogs, then unlatched the storm door and pushed it wide open. “Harry Lockhart! I’m so excited to finally meet you.” The dogs followed her out onto the brick porch and danced around their legs. Daisy threw her arms around Harry’s neck, pressed her body against his rock-hard chest and hugged him tight. “Welcome home!”
