Читать книгу The Bachelor Project - Victoria Chancellor - Страница 12

“I’m flattered I was your first 9-1-1 hug, then,” she replied as casually as possible. “And to put my thinly veiled question another way, I hope your wife doesn’t mind that you go around comforting hysterical women in the middle of the night.”

Parker laughed. “I don’t have a wife. Never have had one, although I have been close a time or two.”

“Really? There’s a story there, I’m sure, but I’m not bold enough to ask.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t answer. At least, not over a first cup of coffee when we’re supposed to be talking about getting you acclimated to country living.”

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot.” She probably shouldn’t have admitted that, she realized as she turned around and poured the coffee. Pasting a confident smile on her face, she walked the few steps to the table and placed the cup before him. “Cream or sugar?”

“No, thank you. I’ve learned to drink it black.”

“You obviously have a tougher stomach than I do,” she said as she helped herself to sweetener and powdered creamer. Thank goodness she’d remembered to pack the basics, since the grocery in Ranger Springs had closed before she’d had a chance to go shopping.

“It’s a prerequisite for law enforcement work.”

“I thought the dietary requirements included the ability to consume endless doughnuts.” She took a sip of coffee, hoping he didn’t take offense over her attempt at cop humor.

“Enough with the clichés,” he said with a short chuckle. “We have to stay a bit more healthy than a steady diet of doughnuts would allow.”

And he certainly did look healthy…and fit. She squirmed a bit in her seat, deciding she’d better change the subject quickly. “So, what animals should I expect?”

He gave her a speculative look, but didn’t pursue the personal remarks. Leaning back in his chair, he took a tentative sip of the hot coffee. “The common ones are squirrels, raccoons, opossums, rabbits and deer. You’ll probably have some foxes and coyotes visit, too, but you may never see them. They’re pretty shy of humans. We’ve even had some cougars sighted, so be careful if you’re out at night.”

“Cougars?” She barely suppressed a shudder. “I didn’t realize I was that far out in the wild.”

“Actually, we keep intruding into their territory. San Antonio has spread pretty far north, and Austin is spreading south and west. We’ve built new roads and vacation homes through the Hill Country. The animals migrate where they can find food, which is often around humans.”

“I’ll make sure they’re not finding it at my back door.”

“That’s the best thing you can do. Of course, the deer will eat anything in the yard—grass, trees, shrubs, flowers. It’s hard to discourage them. The feed store has a few solutions, but a hungry deer is more persistent than anything I’ve seen so far.”

“I didn’t know house-sitting was going to be so challenging,” she said, shaking her head.

“You’ll get used to it.” He looked at her over the rim of his mug, his expression unreadable. The unspoken part of his remark echoed between them—if you’re going to be here that long.

She didn’t know the answer to that question.

“I’ll try my best, especially the part about staying away from the meat-eaters.”

Parker leaned forward. “Don’t make the mistake of treating any of the wild animals like house pets. Opossums have more teeth than any mammal in North America, and even a squirrel can seriously injure you by biting your finger instead of whatever you’re trying to feed it. What appears cute and cuddly can quickly become dangerous.”

She wondered if his warning applied to off-duty police chiefs. “Don’t worry. I’ll limit my feeding to putting out seed for some nice, safe birds.”

“You’d be better off not putting anything out at all.”

“I like birds. I never get to feed them from my condo balcony.”

“Then you’ll also get squirrels and the rest. They like seed, too.”

“You’re not exactly a walking, talking advertisement for rural life, you know,” she complained halfheartedly, unable to suppress a smile.

Parker chuckled. “No, I suppose I’m not. As a police officer, I tend to focus on prevention. If I can’t prevent, I apprehend.”

“And answer calls from hysterical women with a raccoon problem.”

“That,” he said, placing his empty mug on the table, “was a very rare event. I doubt I’ll need to modify my job description, unless you’re planning on calling in regularly.”

She traced a cross over her heart. “I promise I’ll look for four-legged visitors first.”

He looked at her speculatively. “Will you?”

“Of course.”

His expression grew more serious, more inquisitive, reminding Robin that he was, as a law enforcement officer, a trained interrogator. “You were pretty upset—maybe not a hundred percent from the raccoons.”

She shrugged, not wanting to discuss the subject. She wasn’t sure why she’d brought it up. “New-house jitters. A change in life-style. I’m fine now.”

He didn’t look convinced, but, thankfully, didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed back his chair and rose, towering over her until she was forced to stand, or get a crick in her neck.

“I’d better let you get some sleep. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. And I really enjoyed the coffee, and the conversation.”

“I’ll have the next patrol officer drive by a few times tonight, just to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m sure that’s unnecessary.”

“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re okay.”

“I…I suppose that’s a good idea.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by angry raccoons.”

“Or held hostage by hungry deer,” he teased.

“No.” Her smile faded as the joking ended. She felt the tension building now just as surely as she’d smelled coffee brewing earlier.

“Well, then, thank you for the coffee,” he said.

He seemed to take up way too much space in the kitchen. His blue eyes, as warm and dark as the coffee he’d brewed, looked at her in a very un-policeman-like manner.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, her voice an octave lower than when she’d stood on her front porch in her sleep shirt and robe. “Thanks for fixing it.” Darn it, she’d already thanked him for that once. Did he think she was babbling? Well, perhaps she was.

“No problem.”

The silence stretched on for just a moment too long. A breathless, quiet moment that made her forget about everything but the man standing before her. But then he shifted his weight, his hand automatically resting on a holster that held a large and dangerous-looking pistol, and she remembered that he was a law enforcement officer, and that she was a new resident who’d called in with an emergency.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. Maybe she was imagining this tension between them. Or you could just be mentally exhausted and rambling, she told herself as she gripped the back of her chair.

“Thank you for coming out, Chief Parker.”

“You’re welcome. And the name’s Ethan.”

“Ethan.” A strong name. A simple, basic name—one without nicknames and unusual spellings.

He smiled at her again, then picked up his flashlight and walked toward the front door. She followed behind, a sense of déjà vu reminding her she’d walked guys to the door before. Dates…and one nice, safe fiancé. Not police chiefs she barely knew.

“By the way,” he said, pausing as he pushed open the front door, “I did come out because you called. That was duty. I stayed because I wanted to. Sitting down and sharing a cup of coffee had nothing to do with my professional responsibilities.”

She looked up at his well-defined features and Mel-Gibson-blue eyes. Her heart beat so fast, she wondered if he could see the blood rushing through her veins. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I just wanted you to understand the difference. I don’t come on to women I meet in the line of duty.”

“No hugging?” she whispered.

“No.” His eyes focused solely on her lips. She couldn’t help herself; she licked away the dryness in a nervous gesture.

“No kissing, either.” He leaned forward ever so slightly. The night noises sounded overly loud, drowning out her heartbeat as she lost herself in his eyes. But then he blinked, startling both himself and her. He jerked upright, the moment gone as quickly as a cricket’s chirp.

He started to say something, just as the dispatcher’s voice came over the communication unit. “Dispatch to Parker. What’s your 40?”

He punched a small button. “Leaving the Franklin house right now.”

“You had a call. Someone checking up on you.” Even a couple of feet away from the communication device, Robin heard the humor in the dispatcher’s voice.

Ethan smiled. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

Her? He’d said he didn’t have a wife. Then who was checking up on him this late at night?

Robin frowned, envisioning an impatient girlfriend waiting for the police chief, but apparently he didn’t pick up on her…unease. She refused to call the feeling anything else.

He seemed in a sudden hurry to be anywhere but her front porch. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, backing through the doorway. “Keep yourself safe.”

“I will.” She tried not to frown.

“Good night, Robin.”

“Good night.”

She reached for the storm door, securing it as he strode toward the patrol car. Then she folded her arms and leaned against the door facing, her jumbled impressions of the last call colliding with images of Ethan, the man, and Chief Parker, the protector. And all of it churned by exhaustion that left her longing for a thick, soft mattress and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

A few seconds later, he started the engine of the patrol car, then turned on his headlights. As she slowly closed the heavy wood door, he pulled out of the driveway onto the county road, scattering a few errant leaves and some small puffs of dirt on his way back to town.

Leaving her with more questions than answers.

THE NEXT MORNING, Ethan headed to the Four Square Café for his lunch break. He needed a simple answer: who was Robin Cummings? Why did a born-and-bred city girl move to a small town, even temporarily? His instincts told him she was the type of person who was close to her family. Who had friends who’d comfort her during an obviously trying time. She’d said her wedding was to be an expensive one, which meant money. So if she needed to get away, why had she chosen Ranger Springs, of all places?

As he pushed open the country-style door, the jingling bell announced his arrival. The smells of chicken-fried steak, French fries and sizzling bacon drifted through the high service window at the back of the restaurant. Conversations, which had been humming along as he’d entered, subsided, replaced by the clink of knives and forks placed on Texas Places of Interest paper place mats. Heads turned in his direction.

Eating lunch in a public place wasn’t really news, but as he looked into the curious faces of the diners, he half expected a headline to that effect in the Springs Gazette’s Sunday edition. Perhaps he had been going home for lunch fairly often, or eating one of Aunt Bess’s meatloaf sandwiches at his desk, but surely he hadn’t become so much of a curiosity. Surely, he hadn’t become that predictable. Boring, some might say, he thought with a frown.

“How are you, Thelma?” he asked the newspaper editor as he walked past her table. She was having lunch with the perpetually strawberry-blond owner of the town’s only beauty shop. “Good afternoon, Joyce.”

Both women acknowledged his greeting, but he didn’t pause and chat. Not when the object of his search was seated in the last red vinyl booth, picking her way through a Cobb salad, her red hair sleeked back in a no-nonsense style that matched her conservative pale yellow dress. At one time, the matchmakers in town had tried to push him toward the career-minded real estate agent. His experience with women who valued their careers more than their relationships had made him understandably shy of getting involved with her.

He passed by Jimmy Mack Branson, Ranger Springs’s hardware expert, who was eating lunch with Pastor Carl Schleipinger and banker Ralph Biggerstaff. Nodding at the men, he continued to the rear of the café.

“Afternoon, Gina Mae,” he said, creasing his hat to keep his hands busy. He didn’t want the crafty real estate lady to know he was just a tad nervous about approaching her.

“Chief Parker! How are you?”

“Fine. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. Have a seat.” She gathered up some papers she’d spread across the table’s gray Formica surface. “I was just working on a new listing. You’re not interested in a larger house, are you?”

“No, I’m real happy where I am.”

“Well, then, what can I do for you?”

“I drove out to the Franklin house last night. I suppose you rented it out.”

“Actually, the Franklins wanted a house-sitter. I thought you knew that.”

So Robin had told the truth to the dispatcher last night. “I know they’re out of the country for another two or three months. I wanted to make sure the person living there was legit.”

“They weren’t looking for rent—just someone to care for the place and the plants while they’re gone. You know how dangerous it is to leave a house vacant.”

“Absolutely. Anyway,” he said, getting the conversation back on track, “I met the new occupant. She’d been startled by some raccoons.” And upset about the wedding that hadn’t taken place to the fiancé she’d stood up at the altar. Not that he had any intention of asking Gina Mae about that particular detail. He just wanted to know more about the town’s newest resident. The one who looked really great, even late at night, and could laugh at herself with refreshing honesty.

“Ah, yes,” Gina Mae said, her sudden interest in the conversation making her push the half-eaten salad aside. “A very nice young woman from Houston. An interior decorator, I believe.”

He could hear the unspoken comment: a nice single young woman. “Miss Cummings,” he added, keeping his comments professional.

“That’s right. But you probably knew that before you went out to the house, didn’t you?”

Ethan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your aunt. That’s how I met Robin.”

“My aunt knows Miss Cummings?”

“You didn’t know? Well, yes. At least, she knows Robin Cummings’s great-aunt. They’re old friends.”

“Really,” Ethan said, his mind spinning with questions. Why hadn’t Aunt Bess mentioned her friend’s great-niece? Why had she arranged for Robin to move to Ranger Springs without letting him know?

“I hope I didn’t say anything wrong,” Gina Mae said, a frown creasing her smooth forehead. “Your aunt didn’t say any of this was a secret.”

“No, I’m sure it’s not. She probably just forgot to mention the connection.”

“Probably.”

Ethan stared at the faux marble Formica, wondering if Aunt Bess’s forgetfulness was deliberate or accidental. Maybe he should take off his police “hat” and start thinking like a nephew. Aunt Bess wasn’t getting any younger. Not only did she keep house for him, but she prepared several hearty meals a week. He’d told her time and again that she didn’t need to work so hard, that he could afford to hire help, but she’d insisted she enjoyed taking care of him and the house. She’d said she liked staying active and useful, especially since her husband’s death four years ago.

“Chief Parker?”

He mentally shook himself out of his musings. “Sorry, Gina Mae. I was just thinking about Aunt Bess.” He eased out of the booth, then retrieved his hat. “I hope I didn’t disturb your lunch.”

“No, not at all. You tell Bess hello for me, you hear?”

“I’ll do that. Have a good day.”

He walked out of the restaurant, ignoring more speculative looks that the townspeople might give him. He was sure Thelma and Joyce would find a reason to stop by Gina Mae’s booth after they finished their lunch, and that the men would try their best to overhear the conversation.

Okay by him. He hadn’t said anything that any of them could turn into gossip. After all, he hadn’t mentioned that he’d held Robin Cummings in his arms last night. Or stared at her bare legs and firmly rounded breasts. Or sat up late sipping coffee while they discussed wildlife.

Not his “wild life.” By anyone’s standards, his life-style was as tame as that of a baby animal at a petting zoo—without the petting. Again, that dreaded word—boring—insinuated itself into his mind. He pushed the thought aside.

Ethan jammed his hat on his head and walked back to his office at the municipal building. He could certainly recognize a mystery when presented with the evidence. And his own aunt held the clue.

AS ROBIN PULLED into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant on the outskirts of Ranger Springs, she was driving one of the only sporty coupes in an asphalt sea where pickup trucks and aging sedans rested like modest boats moored in a marina. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a police car in the first row, but she told herself that didn’t mean Ethan Parker was inside. One of his officers was probably taking a supper break.

While she waited in line, Robin looked around the seating area. Since she didn’t know anyone else in town yet, she searched for someone in a law enforcement uniform. Just out of curiosity, she told herself. She didn’t really expect to find the police chief having supper. But her eyes settled on the dark hair of a man with wide shoulders and perfect posture. His back was to her, and he was seated, not with a gorgeous girlfriend, but with an elderly lady who reminded her of her own great-aunt Sylvia.

“Miss? May I take your order?”

Now she jerked her attention back to the counter, where a perky blonde in bright polyester waited.

She placed her order, her glance returning to the man she thought might be Ethan Parker. He was dressed in street clothes, so she couldn’t tell without getting a glimpse of his profile.

Suddenly, the older lady caught her gaze, giving her a friendly little smile. Embarrassed, Robin smiled back automatically, then turned her attention to the plastic tray that awaited her burger and shake. She really shouldn’t ogle the locals. The man probably wasn’t Ethan Parker, anyway.

Except, how many guys in Ranger Springs could look anywhere near as good as the compassionate police chief?

A sense of traveling back in time rippled through her as she took her tray and proceeded back to the molded vinyl seats and booths. She half expected Crissy Caldwell, her best friend from high school, to scoot up beside her and ask if she’d seen that really gorgeous new hunk in chemistry class. Only this time, Robin was the “new kid in school,” and she was bound and determined not to blush when she deliberately walked by the broad-shouldered man with his white-haired companion.

Again, the older lady smiled at her. Robin slowed to get a good look at the man sitting across from the friendly woman.

“Are you, by any chance, Sylvia Murphy’s great-niece?” the lady asked.

Robin stopped abruptly. “Yes, I am. Robin Cummings.” Awareness hit, and Robin smiled with sincerity. “Don’t tell me you’re Bess Delgado!”

“Yes!” The older woman looked delighted. “I thought that was you from Sylvia’s description. She hasn’t sent a picture since you were a young teenager.”

“I suppose I have changed in fifteen years.” Robin laughed, her attention suddenly focused on the man trying to maneuver out of the booth to stand. “Please, don’t get up,” she said as her eyes traveled up the length of his jeans-clad legs, subtly plaid shirt and broad shoulders. Up to his handsome face and intense blue eyes.

She tried to keep the surprise out of her expression, but her voice sounded breathless when she said, “Police Chief Parker!”

“Hello, Miss Cummings,” he greeted her. Polite, but warm, she thought. Or maybe the warmth was coming from her. She felt her heart rate increase as the blood raced through her. Definitely high school days. She hadn’t felt this kind of excitement since the boy she’d had a crush on for years had asked her to Homecoming. She certainly hadn’t felt it for her fiancé.