Airman To The Rescue. Heatherly Bell
down. Shackles came right up to him, sniffing. “I would have taken him except for my old landlord. No pets allowed.”
“He likes you.” Who wouldn’t? She imagined all pets and children would find him approachable. He looked so safe, so solid and...solid. She swallowed.
“I didn’t think you’d want to take him in since you’re moving.” He scratched between Shackles’s ears and her dog melted into Matt, rubbing against his leg.
“We have dogs in Colorado, too.”
“Right, of course you do.” He gave Shackles one last pat and then straightened to his full height. “And this lucky little guy gets to go back with you.”
It had to happen sooner or later and had been the plan all along. She had to go back to Colorado. Even though she’d enjoyed her freedom out here, with Mom safely back home where she’d learned she wouldn’t die if her daughter wasn’t a thirty-minute drive away. But Sarah was a freelance forensic artist with a nice regular gig in Fort Collins. She was supposed to get back to all that at some point. Back to her life, which, even if it was a little boring, was at least stable. Certain.
When Matt went back to the flooring, Sarah followed Shackles outside again and this time made her way to her father’s garden shed. She unlatched the hinge and stepped inside, clicking the overhead lightbulb. Out here, she’d stored all of her father’s mementos right alongside the old lawnmower and rusty garden tools. These were all the items she wanted to keep. Maybe it didn’t make sense to anyone else, surely not to Stone, who’d called most of it junk. And she had to admit, none of it had been exactly what she’d been searching for. An old fishing pole, a worn-out set of skis and poles, a broken snowboard. Numerous model airplanes. A framed velvet picture of Dogs Playing Poker. She smiled, remembering when Stone had requested to be able to keep the picture, in front of Emily. The poor girl’s eyes had widened in horror but she’d smiled and agreed until Stone told her he’d been joking. Emily was too nice sometimes.
Not like Sarah. Back home, she’d been called “prickly” and that was the nice word for her. Another more common word rhymed with witch. Behind her back, she understood coworkers feared her, and not just because they were afraid she had the power to make the likeness of their face appear on a forensic sketch of a criminal suspect. As if she would ever be that unprofessional. Please.
The plain truth was that it wouldn’t hurt her to be nicer and more open. Less bitter and prickly. She was working on it.
Her recent sketch work was in a corner next to the easel. All she’d worked on in the months she’d been here. Mostly landscapes, because far be it from her to get too personal. Anyway, she’d had her fill of portraits. Wide eyes, narrow eyes, threatening eyes. Thin lips. Thick lips. Pug nose. Crooked nose. Shaggy-haired strangers. She was sick of drawing alleged criminals based on a witness’s description. They almost never got the eyes right, which meant Sarah never got them exactly right, either.
Still, she’d been one of the best sketch artists in Fort Collins. Once caught, the suspect’s actual photo would be almost a duplicate of her sketch, except for the eyes. So she got criminals almost right time and again. Unlike men in her personal life. Her handful of friends would say it was because she was too picky. Sarah would say it was because she no longer believed in fairy tales. At thirty, all she wanted was a grown-up relationship between two consenting adults who could bring each other a little bit of pleasure. She didn’t need long-term.
And, at least for the short time she had left here, she wondered if maybe Matt would be game for a little harmless fun.
THE NEXT MORNING, Matt made sure to be out of the house as dawn broke over the horizon. He wanted zero chance of running into Sarah in the hallway, half-dressed and stumbling into the bathroom. The underwear had been bad enough. He would have never guessed straitlaced Sarah owned sexy underwear, but thanks to the Pantie Gods she did. Holy crap she did. Barely-there thongs and bras in red, black and pink that he had a good feeling were going to headline a few fantasies in his near future.
The wild look in her eyes as she’d tried to hide them from him had him caught between wanting to laugh and the raw desire to haul her off and kiss her senseless.
Didn’t bode well for keeping it friendly.
He arrived at the airport early enough so only Stone was in the office. “Mornin’,” he mumbled and helped himself to the coffee in the carafe.
“Hey,” Stone said as he looked up from his desk. “I’m filing a few flight plans. What are you doing here? First flight isn’t till seven thirty.”
“I have to head out of here around noon for a meeting at the high school.”
Stone looked over the schedule. “Yeah, that’s cool. You should be back by then. Meeting at the high school, huh? Do they want to erect a statue of you?”
“Ha, ha. Good one.”
Stone hadn’t grown up in the Bay Area, but he knew Matt had. His reputation in their small bedroom-community town went far and wide...which is why Matt had been particularly outraged when Joanne suggested he wear his service dress uniform. He’d attended Fortune Valley High School, where most everyone knew he’d joined the Air Force right after graduation. It wasn’t something he could hide, nor would he, but he certainly wouldn’t use it as an advantage.
“Uh-oh.” Stone looked up and met Matt’s eyes. “It’s about the kid. Isn’t it?”
Matt nodded. His kid. His troubled son. It was hard to think about, much less say out loud. Hard not to believe it was somehow all Matt’s fault his son was acting out. “Hunter seems to think a brown fence is boring and needs some color.”
Stone laughed. “You would have never been caught.”
True enough. He had his father to thank, who’d been scarier than any high school principal. When Matt considered his father’s example, he realized he had to fall somewhere between his father’s hard-ass tough love and Joanne’s enabling.
He guzzled the coffee, hoping it would wake him up. He hadn’t slept easy last night, thinking of Sarah in the next bedroom. They’d had a light dinner together, and later she’d sweetly come to say good-night to him and thank him again. She apparently had no idea of the effect she had on him, which was good. Meant he’d done a bang-up job of hiding it. He just had to keep it up for another two months. Piece of cake.
“Meant to tell you, too, finally got out of my lease. I have a new address.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
Tread lightly, Matt. Easy does it. “It’s temporary. You know the place. Your father’s house.”
Stone’s forehead wrinkled. “With Sarah?”
“I’m sure you heard about her situation.”
“Emily mentioned something. Her contractor got arrested on national TV? Why do I always miss all the good shit?”
“Consider yourself lucky. She was a mess.”
“Heard that, too.”
Matt waited a beat. He wasn’t sure how much he should tell Stone, best friend or not. He’d warned Sarah repeatedly not to get in over her head with their father’s home, and knowing Stone he too might feel responsible for her situation.
“Doesn’t sound much like her.” Stone squinted. “Why was she so upset?”
“There’s a little more to it than losing one contractor.”
Stone covered his face in his hands. “Aw, man. Don’t tell me.”
“I won’t tell you. Just so you know, it’s taken care of. Covered.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Don’t mention it.”