A Dog And A Diamond. Rachael Johns

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СКАЧАТЬ been the type of guy to sit around and twiddle his thumbs. Putting his phone and keys down on the kitchen counter, Callum pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, wondering where to start. Not wanting to overstep the mark by rifling through Chelsea’s possessions, he chose to begin with gathering up the broken glass and other damaged goods.

      He found plastic trash bags in a drawer in the kitchen and a vacuum in the cupboard in the hallway. Taking his time not to throw out anything that looked important or of sentimental value, he went through the house collecting the big bits of unsalvageable debris. On the kitchen table were a few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He glanced down and saw hundreds of other tiny pieces scattered on the floor. Collecting them back up into the box took a while and he hoped he’d found them all. Next he righted the furniture that had been upturned in the invasion and put the pieces of her computer back on her desk. As he did so, his gaze caught on a photo—miraculously it didn’t appear to be a victim of the carnage—and he realized something that had been bugging him about Chelsea’s home since he stepped inside. The one-and-only photo Chelsea had on display was of an old man sitting in a tattered armchair with a teenage girl standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his neck. To him, it seemed almost unfeminine not to surround yourself with photos of memories and loved ones; it was just something he’d taken for granted as part of the female way. Until now.

      Without thinking, he picked up the frame and stared down at the photo. The young girl had to be Chelsea, all that unruly caramel-blond hair hanging over her shoulders. Yet, although her mouth was stretched into a massive grin, her eyes weren’t smiling—instead they harbored an anxious, unsettled look, exactly the same as the expression she’d been wearing today. He frowned in response and found himself wondering what her story was. Why didn’t she have other photos? Was this man her only family? There were all these prints of affirmative quotations on the walls—All That I Seek Is Already within Me, Allow Your Soul to Sparkle, You’re Never Too Old to Wish Upon a Star—as if she were trying to create a safe happy haven, but there was something missing here. Something warm, something real.

      A knock on the open front door startled Callum from his reverie. “Hello! Anyone home?” called an overly chirpy male voice.

      Callum rolled his eyes. Exactly how many people left the door open if they went out? And if they did, well, they probably deserved to be burglarized. “Yep. Come on in,” he called, putting the framed photo back down on the desk and turning toward the front door.

      A short but very buff guy, dressed in a tight-fitting uniform stepped inside and raised his eyebrows as he looked around. “Someone sure went to town on your place.”

      Callum didn’t correct him or comment that he’d already tided up a lot of the mess. He just wanted this man to leave again. Instead, he nodded. “I need you to replace the locks on all the doors, replace the glass that’s broken and,” he added almost as an afterthought, “can you also install proper locks on the windows?” Chelsea’s current locks wouldn’t even keep out a small child, and for some reason, knowing what she did for a job, he didn’t like the idea of her living in an insecure house. Even he, a relatively levelheaded man, had felt a surge of rage toward her when she’d first “dumped him,” so he could imagine there were men out there who might get a little heavy-handed after such mortifying rejection. He didn’t like the thought of that one bit.

      “No problemo,” said the security man, dropping a toolbox to the floor and then stooping to open it. He started immediately, and although he whistled while he did so, he worked quickly and efficiently and of that Callum approved.

      While the worker changed the old locks and installed new ones, Callum continued tidying up. The noise of the security man’s machine blocked out his whistling and Callum experienced a sense of achievement when he finally switched it off and examined his progress. Callum’s mom would be proud—she always harped on about raising new-aged heroes—and Bailey didn’t know what she’d lost.

      Bailey. He was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t done him a favor. She was right—he didn’t have the time at the moment to give her what she wanted as all his energies needed to be piped into reviving the distillery.

      He simply wished she’d had the guts to tell him to his face.

      Callum sighed at that thought. His dad had done a stellar job of pretending everything was okay, but the truth had startled him when he’d finally gotten his hands on the business’s books. McKinnel’s Distillery wasn’t in dire straits but it was pretty damn close. He put this down to the fact his father refused to move with the times, despite the number of other boutique distilleries and breweries that were popping up all around them. Every time he’d raised this issue when his dad had been alive, every time he’d suggested a new idea that could raise revenue, Conall had pooh-poohed whatever the latest proposal was and reminded his son who was in charge.

      Sometimes Callum couldn’t believe he hadn’t cut and run from the family business years ago, but the truth was, he loved the distillery almost as much as Conall had. You had to wonder though whether the stress of declining business had contributed to his father’s fatal heart attack.

      If only you’d let me help, Dad. If only you’d given me the chance to prove myself.

      But Conall McKinnel had been a hard man, almost impenetrable to anyone except his wife, for as long as Callum could remember. Mom put it down to the tragic loss of his twin brother, Hamish, which had happened not long after the two had established the distillery.

      “I’m all done,” announced the security dude, appearing suddenly beside Callum in the living room and offering him a bunch of shiny, new keys. “You’ve done a good job of cleaning up here too.”

      At the other man’s tone, Callum almost expected him to give him a pat on the back. “Thanks,” he said, referring to the work done, not the compliment. He dragged his wallet out of his pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

      The man quoted what sounded like an exorbitant amount, but Callum handed over his Amex without question. “Can you give me a receipt for the insurance company?”

      “Sure thing, buddy.”

      Callum flinched at the term of endearment and bit his tongue, which wanted to say that they weren’t “buddies” at all. According to his mom, sisters and even Bailey, he had a tendency to be unnecessarily grumpy. Quite frankly, he thought much of the population had an unnecessary tendency to be jovial.

      When the workman realized Callum wasn’t the type for idle chitchat, he left, beeping his horn and waving as he reversed out Chelsea’s drive. Once again Callum found himself alone at this stranger’s house. Standing on her front porch, he looked up at the darkening sky and then down at his watch. Chelsea had been gone a few hours now and he guessed this meant she hadn’t found her mutt, but surely she couldn’t stay out all night looking. He’d called the shelters, the cops and neighbors knew the dog was missing—what more could she do?

      With this thought, he decided to go look for her himself. Callum found a scrap of paper, scribbled down his cell number in case she returned before he found her and needed to get inside her house, then stuck it onto her front door. Ensuring her house was indeed secure, he locked the door, popped her new bunch of keys into his pocket and then jogged toward his SUV. Although he’d grown up in Jewell Rock, he’d never spent much time in Bend and he’d certainly never driven around this end of town.

      He drove slowly down the surrounding streets, getting the occasional odd look from locals who wondered who this stranger patrolling their neighborhood was, but the only woman he wanted to pick up was the intriguing Chelsea Porter. A rush of blood shot south at this thought, catching him off balance. He wasn’t in the market for a hookup. All he wanted was to get Chelsea home safely, СКАЧАТЬ