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Fatigue began to weight my limbs, and the stairs seemed impossible. Maybe I should have stayed on the couch.
He scooped me up and smirked down at me. “Ready for this, Red?”
“What do y—”
I gasped as he bounded up the steps two at a time. Strengthening my grip around his neck, I pulled myself closer to him.
“I’ve got you, Scarlett.” He laughed when he reached the top of the stairs and carried me into my room.
“I told you no Rhett Butler shenanigans!” I laughed through the scolding.
“I couldn’t resist.” He laid me on the bed and ran his hands up my forearms, keeping my hands latched around his neck. “If it bothered you, you could always have called black.”
He was so close that my mind seemed to scramble. “I wasn’t afraid.”
“No?” He pulled my arms free and laid them next to me. Hovering above me, his mouth curving wickedly, he was every bit the villain—one who scorched me to my core. “You should be.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“NO, THAT’S SUGAR.” I laughed as Garrett stared at the measuring scoop in his hand with a confused expression.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I pointed to the next large jar on the counter. “That’s the flour.”
He plucked the red lid off and stared down into the contents. “This looks just like the one I picked.”
“No it doesn’t. Flour is powdery. Sugar is grainy. All in the consistency. Did you never take a home economics class or even watch your mom cook?” I flipped the eggs and eyed the crisping bacon.
It was our fourth morning together after Bonnie brought groceries. Teaching Garrett how to cook had proven more difficult than I’d first thought, but he’d learned how to make an omelet, broil meat until it was done, and whip up a decent chicken salad.
“No. I was busy.”
“Doing what?” I scooped the bacon onto a plate covered with paper towels.
“Chasing girls, I guess.” He shrugged.
I arched an eyebrow as he leveled a scoop of flour and dumped it into a mixing bowl. “Literally or figuratively?”
He smiled. “A little of both.”
The more time we spent together, the more I saw the version of him that existed before Joan, before Lillian, and before everything that seemed to trap him at Blackwood. It scared me how much I liked him, the real him. He hadn’t slept with me again after that first night. I didn’t ask, though I wanted to keep trying to break down his walls. As he cracked an egg into the flour and started digging out the pieces of shell, I realized I was breaking them down. Cooking with Garrett seemed an impossibility only a week ago. Now we worked in the kitchen like a team, easy with each other in a way that should have seemed peculiar but didn’t.
“You get all the shell?” I peeked around him as he flicked a jagged piece into the sink.
“Think so. What now?”
“Buttermilk.” I pulled open the fridge and handed him the carton.
“How much?”
“Pour. I’ll say when.”
He opened the container, his large hands making quick work of the cardboard. I let my eyes wander up his sinewy forearms to the ink at his elbow. Other than some looks that could melt a glacier, he hadn’t touched me or made a move. The tension built, invisible but so thick it was almost tangible. I had to force myself to stay in my room at night instead of creeping to his.
My leg had healed since my run, the wounds sewing together faster the second time. My limp was all but gone, and I intended to restart my investigation in the next few days.
“That much?”
I snapped out of my gawking at his arms and looked in the bowl. He’d poured almost all the buttermilk because I hadn’t said “when.”
“When!” I put my hand on his wrist. “My bad.”
“Daydreaming over there?”
“No, I was, um… Just stir the batter and add another cup of flour. That should sort it out.” I returned to the stove and slid the eggs onto a plate.
We wound up making enough pancakes to feed all of Browerton, but the food was good, and we enjoyed each other’s company as we ate.
When I’d cleaned my plate and rubbed the food baby growing in my stomach, a grating noise from outside caught my attention. I turned to stare out the dusty dining room window. “What was that?”
He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and rose. “Special delivery.”
“Of what?”
“Come and see.” He smiled and held out his hand.
I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. In all the time I’d been at Blackwood, only Bonnie or the sheriff ever visited. I couldn’t imagine what a “special delivery” entailed.
We walked down the middle hallway and out the front door into a bright, cold morning. A large white truck idled in the driveway, a flatbed trailer attached to the back. Two red ATVs sat on the trailer, their new chrome shining in the sun.
Garrett hopped down the front steps as a man opened the truck door and stepped out.
I peered at the trailer. “What’s that?”
“What’s it look like?” Garrett called over his shoulder.
I slid on my sneakers and walked out behind Garrett. My t-shirt and jeans did nothing to keep the chill at bay, but my curiosity overcame the temperature.
“Mr. Blackwood?” The man tipped his camouflage ball cap at Garrett.
“That’s me. You Gene?”
“Yes, sir.” He paused for a second, then continued, “This may sound odd, but man, nice beard. I been trying to grow mine out.” Gene rubbed his graying patches of scruff.
“Thanks, I’ve had it for about two years. Low maintenance.” Garrett shot me a sly smile. “Most women seem to like it.”
The beard had grown on me, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Garrett, so I said nothing and walked past to look at the ATVs. They had every bell and whistle imaginable, and I could cover a lot of ground on one of them.
“If the missus saw you, she’d be all for the beard. Me, though.” Gene shook his head and shrugged. “I’ll probably be back to shaving in a few days. Anyway, these are the ones you paid for. Top of the line, brand new, and fast as lightning. I just need your John Hancock.”
Garrett took a clipboard from Gene and signed a sweeping signature.
I leaned forward on the trailer and stared at the nearest vehicle, disbelief almost overwhelming the gratitude that welled up inside me. Had he really done this for me?
“You like them?” Garrett walked up to my side, our arms touching lightly.
I stared into his eyes, their blue tinted lighter by the bright sky. “Are they for me?”
“Well, one of them is, but you can have both if you want to get greedy.”
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate on my lips.
He didn’t seem to notice the shortcoming, because he smiled, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy. “You’re welcome.”
“No, I mean it.” I covered his hand with mine.
He looked at my hand, then locked eyes with me again. “It’s my pleasure.”
“This is too much.”
Gene unfolded the back of the trailer with a clank and rolled the ATVs down onto the driveway.
“I don’t want the liability of you falling in the woods or getting attacked by wild boars again.” Garrett ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Insurance rates and all that could be a real pain with you wandering around the property. That’s why I got these.”
“That’s the only reason? Liability?” I walked over to the nearest ATV and tried to fight back my smile. The smile won.
“Give her a try.” Gene patted the ATV. “Key’s in the ignition.”
I threw a leg over and settled onto the black leather seat. “It’s really big.”
“I’ll be sure and tell the missus you said that.” Gene winked and lifted the back gate of the trailer into place.
The rumble of an engine filtered through the trees. I glanced to Garrett, but
his eyes searched the expanse of woods around the driveway.
“Something else?” I followed his stare.
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, I’ll be off then.” Gene tipped his hat at me. “Keys are there, and if you have any issues, you know where to find me.” Gene shook Garrett’s hand and gave me a smile before climbing into the truck.
He cranked the engine and pulled to the back of the house to turn around. The source of the other engine noise appeared on the driveway—a muddy SUV emblazoned with the sheriff’s logo.
“Whoa.” I stood and watched as my car approached behind the SUV. It looked none the worse for wear. How did he find it?
“What is it?” Garrett kicked the tires on the other ATV.
