“I promise to be on good behavior.” He reached for her hand and tugged her gently inside.
The curtains were drawn. The bedside lamp was on. The bed was messy, clothes everywhere, and papers strewn about the room. He moved a briefcase from the chair. “Sit. I’ll be a minute more. I had a late night.”
“Looks like it was quite the event,” she said dryly.
He grinned and reached for a shoe. “Can’t help it. I’m a slob, from start to finish. No matter how much positive reinforcement my parents provided, I developed the habit of spreading my stuff around.”
No one would question a man lived in this room. Maybe that was the point. “Sounds like a nesting instinct.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“I noticed.” Her cheeks heated, and she regretted being so forthright.
“My sisters have nesting instincts. Not me.”
Oh, dear. She’d insulted him. “I apologize. I was thinking that in a large family, spreading your stuff around was a way to stake out your territory.”
His eyes sparked as he stuffed his bare feet in shoes. “Instead of peeing on the furniture?”
She groaned. “I’m going to shut up now.”
“I’m liking this side of you, Dinterman. You crack me up.”
She rose to leave. As long as she cracked him up, that was okay.
Her job was to make sure he didn’t crack up.
Chapter 10
Wyatt tucked the jumbo bowl of Dinterman’s potato salad under his arm and shook hands with yet another white-haired lady. This one had rushed across the open field to intercept them, her red cane flashing in the noonday sun.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Aaron,” he said.
“I don’t think much of Yankee names,” she said as she clung to his hand.
“Beg your pardon?”
“North. That’s a Yankee name. Why couldn’t your name be South?”
Though her free hand gestured with each word, it still took him a few moments to work his hand free from the death grip she had on him. Immediately, he repositioned the potato salad in front of him and gripped the bowl with both hands. “Uh, you’ll have to take that up with my parents.”
He was aware of Dinterman’s amused expression. He sent her a beseeching look.
“We need to head to the buffet table, Mrs. Aaron,” Dinterman said. “Catch you later.”
The woman tapped his leg with her cane. “You be nice to our Laurie Ann, you hear me? If you don’t, I’ll come after you wherever you go. Don’t you think I won’t.”
Wyatt heard his companion’s breath stall for a moment. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I’ll take good care of her, ma’am.”
Dinterman grabbed his arm and steered them away from the busybody. “Sorry about that,” she muttered. “You get all kinds in a small town.”
“She’s looking out for you. That’s a good thing.”
“My grandma’s bridge buddies run roughshod over me. I’m their pet project. I should have realized that inviting you here would put you in an awkward position. They think you’re my date.”
She’d be a great date. He liked what he saw, even when she was wearing her uniform. Dinterman was a class act, small town or not. “I get the same treatment from my family. Yours is just a lot bigger.”
“I never thought of them as family before. It’s always been just me and my dad. I told you he served on the force, didn’t I?”
“You may have mentioned it.” He’d looked her up. Sometimes his family connections came in handy. At twenty-eight, she was four years younger than he was. He knew her mom had been killed by a drunk driver when she was three. She’d won shooting competitions as a teen, been the salutatorian of her high school class, and had an exemplary record as a cop. But no matter what the data implied, the real woman was twice as impressive as her stats.
Her comment about his messy room had been right on target. She’d won points with him by not criticizing his habits. That counted for a lot in his book.
He also noted she didn’t run in the face of danger. She’d joined him fighting that brushfire, working beside him. He’d met many people in his line of work, but he had a feeling Laurie Ann Dinterman’s memory would stick with him. The thought cheered him.
“Don’t worry about appearances,” he said. “If folks think I’m your date, so much the better for me. I’m happy to be out of my hotel room and enjoying the coastal scenery. Having a beautiful woman to escort me is an added bonus.”
The blush under her freckles made him smile. His sisters would like her. His brothers would ask her out. Virgil would try to sleep with her, Morgan would want to take her hunting, and Clanton would write her poetry.
The thought of his brothers getting anywhere near her didn’t work. She wasn’t up for grabs. He liked her, and that should be enough.
Oops, she’d said something. He turned to her. “I’m sorry. I missed what you said. Would you mind repeating it?”
She stopped walking and dropped his arm. “Really? You’re going to make me say that twice?”
He didn’t like the distance between them. He shifted the food, put her hand back where it belonged on his arm, and started walking toward the food tables again. “I get distracted by my thoughts occasionally. It’s one of my imperfections. Not that I have many of them. But I have been called an absent-minded professor type.”
“‘You’ll turn my head with such flattery.’ There. I said it. Twice.”
She looked so sincere and a smidge overwrought. Didn’t men compliment her appearance? “I meant what I said. You are a beautiful woman. If folks around here don’t see it, they need to visit the eye doctor.”
Her laughter reached into her eyes, crinkling the corners.
“How’s it going?” a woman with eyes the color of tropical seas said as she took the potato salad container from him.
Dinterman introduced him to her friend Roxie Whitaker and her fiancé, Sloan Harding. He shook the man’s hand. “I feel like I know you. Have we met before?”
“I run Team Six Security in Atlanta, though I’ve moved my office to Mossy Bog. You’d be surprised at how little time I spend in Atlanta these days.”
“Team Six? My brother Virgil hired you guys for a band he promoted.”
“I remember. It was a sweet set-up. Your brother still working with Local Color?”
“He wishes. The band had musical differences and split a few months ago.”
“Y’all sit with us,” Roxie said. “We’ll be done setting up the food in a few more minutes.”
Dinterman shot him an inquiring look. “Fine with me,” he said. Sitting with her friends would help her to relax, and it would serve his counter mission for coming. He could study the locals and figure out which one was a firebug.
Chapter 11
“Lester didn’t show,” Laurie Ann said after they’d finished eating and were carrying paper plates to the trash. “He never misses a big feed like this. I wonder what happened to him.”
“Lester?” North asked. “Is he a friend?”
“My cousin. He’s practically my older brother because he spends so much time hunting and fishing with my dad.”
“Perhaps he’s with your dad today.”
“Could be. Daddy won’t come to church functions, so I usually take him a plate. He can’t abide the chitchat. Says he’ll eat the food as long as he doesn’t have to pay for it with his soul.”
North’s lips curled up, igniting a welcome spark in her tummy. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”
She glanced around. Most of the elders had finished eating. Everyone had dessert and coffee. She stretched the tight muscles in her shoulder, noticing that North watched her movement with frank admiration in his eyes. No matter what spin she put on their time together, today felt very much like a date.
Ever since he’d missed what she’d said earlier, he’d been listening intently to every word she said. That kind of rapt attention went to a girl’s head. Plus, it hadn’t escaped her notice how well he’d fit in with her friends. Roxie had whispered to her during lunch, asking her if this was serious. When she’d said no, Roxie had said it should be.
Possibilities danced in her head like water drops in a heated skillet. In a perfect world, did she want this to be a date? Sure, she was attracted to him. Every female at the church luncheon had sought him out, and from the determined gleams in their eyes, their concern wasn’t for Laurie Ann.
But long distance relationships were hard to maintain, and she didn’t envision driving off to Atlanta every other weekend. She had her dad to look after, and her garden, and her pets. Her ties were here. Her roots were here.
She envied her friend Roxie. Sloan loved Roxie so much, he’d moved here from Atlanta. Could that kind of lightning strike twice?
Laurie Ann felt a light tap on her forehead. “You in there?” North asked.
“Sorry. Woolgathering. Like you, I get lost in my own thoughts.”
“We’re even, then. How about a walk along the creek?”
“Sure. They’ll linger over coffee for at least half an hour.”
“You always take the final shift?”
They fell in stride together on the path to the creek. “Usually I take both set up and clean up. These functions mean the world to our seniors, and I want them to have a good time socializing.”
“You’re a good person, and I’ve enjoyed the meal and your company. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
Her good mood bubble burst. She didn’t like not knowing what was coming next. But to be fair, he’d taken her inquiries about his family and his intentions with good-natured charm. The least she could do was answer his questions.
“Shoot,” she said.
“Sometimes a community knows things without knowing them. You know what I mean?”
Was he talking about their attraction? Was it obvious to others? “Maybe.”
He touched her arm, and she jumped at the brief contact. “Relax,” he said. “I’m not trying to trip you up. I’m canvassing for information that’s widely known in the community, trying to get a feel for how this area works. For instance, is your teen pregnancy rate high?”
The sandy path turned to parallel the creek. A clump of brown marsh rack floated on the outgoing tide. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Humor me.”
“It’s about the same as other places. Higher in low income families.”
“What about young men? How do they get in trouble around here?”
“Nothing special. Drugs. Speeding. Girlfriend issues.”
“Fires?”
“Most kids today don’t mess with fires. A few smoke cigarettes, though they should know that’s a bad idea for their long-term health, but most are more interested in playing games on their phones. I bet if you put ten school kids in a sandbox with fire-starting materials, most of them wouldn’t have any idea how to make a fire.”
“All they’d need is a box of matches or a lighter.”
“Only if you want to cheat. My father taught Lester and me how to make campfires from nothing on our hunting trips.”
“Tell me about those trips.”
“We’d go camping, spending a few nights here or there. At night, we’d have a fire and cook something. That’s the best tasting food ever, the meals cooked over a campfire.”
“Sounds great. Do young adults spend their recreational time hunting and fishing?”
“Around here, hunting and fishing are king. Everybody lives, eats, and sleeps hunting and fishing.”
“And all of them build fires?”
“Sure. That’s part of the lifestyle.”
“Any of them ever get out of control?”
“Not that I know of. We take fire safety seriously down here.”
“What about burn permits? Do many folks get those?”
“That’s an area we don’t consistently enforce. On patrol, if I see a smoke plume, I check it out. Usually it’s a homeowner burning yard debris. Most folks don’t have two dimes to rub together. I can’t see issuing them a ticket when they’ve been burning their raked leaves for decades. Some of the new recruits ticket homeowners, and you wouldn’t believe the trouble that stirs up.”
“Sounds like you have a county full of potential firebugs.”
“Most people in Tidewater County have been here for generations. The newer people at the north end of the county want their property to appreciate. Both sets of people have a vested interest in a thriving community. I don’t see any of them as arsonists.”
“Someone started that fire.”
“You’re looking for a serial arsonist, aren’t you? What makes you think he passed through here?”
“There are strong similarities between the Pirate’s Cove fire and other cases I’ve worked in Milledgeville and Rome, but I don’t have answers yet.”
At last, a statement they could agree on. “It’s that way with police work, too. I can’t tell you how many times my leads fizzle. It’s frustrating not to get closure for crime victims.”
He stopped walking and leaned into an oak tree. “Speaking of the victim, I haven’t heard anything about his funeral.”
She stopped beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Far as I know, there isn’t one. He didn’t belong to a church, didn’t have any living family members in the area.”
“That’s sad. What about his body?”
“He was cremated. The county will bear the cost if no one steps forward. I was thinking of taking up a collection if someone else doesn’t do it.”
He reached for her hand and caught it. “You’re something, Dinterman.” He lifted her hand, brushing her knuckles with his lips.
Laurie Ann felt tingles in places she didn’t know she had. “For better or worse, James Brown was a part of our community. He needs to be treated as such.”
Wyatt was very close now, close enough so that she could feel his breath feathering her neck. Heat steamed sauna thick around them. His blended scent reminded her of Christmas trees growing at the seashore. She knew exactly the gift she wanted from him.
A kiss.
She thought about waiting to see his next move and rejected the idea. Instead, she closed the inches between them and kissed him lightly on the lips.
A quick taste and a strategic retreat.
Or at least, that was her plan. Instead, he snugged his hands around her waist and held her in place as he set about kissing her socks off.
She tried to be objective, tried to compare this to other kisses, but the only thing running through her head was
wow, wow, wow
. The man knew a lot about fires because every part of her was one degree away from flashpoint. Lord, she’d never thought to date a firefighter before. Look what she’d been missing. Full incineration. Hot damn.