For the Love of a Fireman. Vonnie Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ show me the spot the attempted abduction occurred.” He stood and followed the officer outside. The rain had stopped and the humidity hovered over the area like a cloud of steam. George slipped his flashlight from his belt. “How long have you known Miss Devon?”

      “Just met her tonight at Walgreens. We got to talking and I asked her out for coffee.”

      “Damn, son, you don’t waste any time.”

      “Well, seems my charm didn’t do anything for her. She turned me down in a damn big hurry. I noticed the old bruises on her neck and arm, her jumpiness whenever someone came in the store and the way she glared at me like I was scum. Just figured she was skittish around men. I mean, I poured on the charm and she shook it off like a duck shakes off water.”

      The officer chuckled. “Smart girl, you old horn toad.”

      Barclay stopped at the rise in the sidewalk. “Here’s where she tripped when she was running. Between the downpour and the dark, she couldn’t see the uneven cement.” He retraced her steps until he found the red rope. “Here’s the rope he had tied around her wrists. So his old Blazer was parked in this spot. I pounded on him pretty good after he got behind the wheel and threatened her again. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”

      “You always were the hot head. You got a temper in you that can’t be tamed, yet you also got a soft spot for stray dogs, kids in trouble and damsels in distress. See why folks label you a complex conundrum.” George flashed the beam of his flashlight around the area and slipped a plastic bag from his pocket. “Roll that rope up, son, and shove it in this bag.”

      Evidence bag in hand, George ambled back to the squad car. “Have you asked yourself what would make a man drive all the way from Colorado to our little town in Florida just to bring back an old girlfriend?” The officer grunted. “Hell, there’s plenty other fishes in the sea. I got a feeling there’s more to this story than we know. Better head back to the station. By the time I fill out the paperwork on this incident, my shift will be over.” George opened the door to the squad car. “You be careful. Don’t let your pecker rule your head.”

      The officer drove off, Barclay stepped back into the diner and stilled. Molly had pulled the rubber band from her hair and was running her fingers through the wet strands that came to her elbows. God, what would it feel like to wrap it around his wrists and hold her head in place while he kissed those soft lips?

      Good thing she would only be in Indian Rocks Beach for a few weeks. With his attraction to her growing stronger by the minute, he’d be in big trouble. Since he and Yvette split up, he tended to keep his relationships short and shallow. He’d seen firsthand the damage the so-called emotion, love, could do to a person’s life.

      He slipped back into his seat. “I’ll drive you to the police station tomorrow. I’m on vacation for another day. Some of the guys from the fire station are coming to paint the cabins. I can sneak away while they work.” He smiled and reached to rub his thumb over her knuckles. Then in a self-preservation move, he pulled his hand back and wrapped it around his coffee mug. “The place you’d mentioned your family always stayed. That was my uncle Vern’s five cottages, wasn’t it?”

      She nodded. “My parents stayed there on their honeymoon back in eighty-two and came back every February for their anniversary. I was conceived there twenty-five years ago, or so my mother claimed. It was a second marriage for both of them and I was what old wives called a change of life baby.” She swiped at a falling tear. “Mom was killed in a car crash nearly three months ago on November twelfth.”

      An old pain of loss and devastation charged into Barclay’s body and sprinted toward his heart. His mother had died just as suddenly two years ago, although bits of her emotions had been killed with every beating his bastard father had given her. Yet his abusive parent had bawled at her funeral, blubbering over and over about how much he’d loved his Carol. Drunk, abusive bastard.

      “I’m sorry to hear that, Molly. You have my sympathies. My mother’s gone too. It leaves a big gap, especially when your siblings live in other states. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

      She shook her head and woeful eyes rose to meet his. “Life changes in an instant, doesn’t it? A tractor trailer hit a patch of black ice and lost control. He rammed right into her little compact. Neither my father nor I have been the same since. Dad’s grieving so badly, I don’t know how much longer he’ll last. I can barely get him to eat a proper meal. He’s been living on junk food. He’s under medication for early signs of dementia.”

      Damn, she had her problems.

      “Somehow, from picking up our rental car at the airport, Dad lost his wallet with most of our money and credit cards, my briefcase holding my laptop and my carryon of clothes. I’m a website designer back home, so I need a computer to keep my business afloat.”

      “So that’s why you’re working instead of vacationing?”

      She nodded again, the fall of her dark hair hiding part of her face. “I work the morning shift here and a few evenings at the drug store. I bought a new laptop on my credit card, but I don’t want to max it out. We’ll need it in case of emergencies and for our travel expenses from the airport in Denver to home in Breckenridge.”

      “I’ve got what used to be the apricot cottage just about finished inside. It needs both interior and exterior painting and furniture moved in. Would your dad be more comfortable there? It has a new deck that backs onto the beach.”

      A wistful expression kissed her battered face. “That’s the one we always stayed in, but until I get some customers to pay their bills and the replacements for dad’s credit cards, we can’t afford the security deposit or the rent.”

      God, he wanted her to have the place for the time she had remaining here. The why of it escaped him; he just had this innate need to help, which hadn’t been a part of him since he lost little Bella Marie. How the hell was she going to work with her ankle and foot all banged up? No one ever claimed he was going to make a good businessman, besides he had the income from his job at the station. “If you want the place, it’s yours. No security deposit. No rent. Just clean it good before you leave.”

      “You can’t do that. Isn’t the object of fixing them up to have rental income?”

      He nodded and tucked into the piece of pie in front of him. “To a degree. I’m living in the cottage next to it. The aqua one.” He shook the fork at her. “You know, I’m also going to need a website under the new name. We could trade services.” He grinned at her and hoped she’d take him up on his offer.

      “Now that’s a deal I could handle. I wasn’t raised to take charity, but if I can work part of our obligation off that would be great. Dad’s a retired carpenter. He might be able to help you a couple hours a day, but you’d have to keep a close eye on him. One minute, he’s on track and, the next, he can’t recall what he was about to do. Do you have a webpage reserved in your name?”

      “It’s in Grey’s Cottages’ name. Not much to it, Sugar, I did it myself so it’s pretty lame.”

      “I’ll get started on it tomorrow. You’ll have the best website I can create. One thing though…”

      His fork stilled halfway to his mouth. “What?”

      “Don’t call me Sugar.”

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