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As much as I’d convinced myself I wasn’t in the market, or this isn’t the right time to pursue anything more than friendship, I sure as hell am ready for him now.

I’m in the kitchen, plugging in my electric kettle to make some tea or hot chocolate, when I suddenly see Rick coming around the side of the house.

I just started the old washing machine, taking care of some laundry, and the thing is pretty loud, so I didn’t hear him pull up.

He’s carrying a soft-green Adirondack chair, setting it next to an old, rusted firepit I hadn’t really paid much attention to before. Then he disappears again, only to return a moment later with an identical chair, placing it next to the other one.

This time I stick my head out the sliding doors.

“What are you doing?”

He looks in my direction, grinning. “Building us a fire. We’re having dinner out here. Put on a sweater and come out.”

Bossy, and I don’t mind one bit. Who’d have thought the broody man who would sit at the end of the bar regularly, staring into his beer most of the time, would be hiding so many interesting layers?

Dinner by campfire? I’m there for it.

I’m so ready for him.

“Be right there!” I call back. “I’m making tea, or would you prefer something else?”

“Tea is fine.”

By the time I join him outside, carrying two travel mugs, he already has a small fire going in the firepit. A pile of cut logs is stacked beside it, and a paper bag printed with the Curbside Spuds logo is sitting on the wide armrest of one of the chairs.

“Where did you find these?” I ask, running a hand over the smooth, painted surface of the sturdy wooden chairs.

“The General Store. Mabel happened to have these but used them for display. At first, she wasn’t going to sell them to me, until I told her they were for you.”

I curb my natural instinct to ask what I owe him for the chairs. He bought those for me and, my guess is, he’d be insulted if I did. Accepting gifts is as tough for me as it is accepting compliments, but I try anyway by setting down the travel mugs and walking over to Rick.

Slipping my arms around his neck, I lift my face to thank him with a kiss.

Chapter 14

Rick

* * *

“Pops beat you to it.”

I don’t miss the little smile that follows her statement. I’ve been watching the glow of the flames dancing across Dana’s animated face while she’s been talking about plans for the house. Her comment was in response to my suggestion she put some security on her list of priorities as well.

“He did, did he?”

“Yup, and he’s not wasting any time. I already got a call from Roy Battaglia this afternoon; he’s coming by tomorrow.”

Battaglia owns a local company providing a variety of security services. Roy is a good guy, I know he’ll look after her.

“That’s good.”

She’s here without any protection tonight though and, after what I found out when I checked in with Tessa this afternoon, I don’t feel good about leaving her by herself. Call me paranoid, but some of the stuff I see in my line of work makes it hard not to be.

Tessa reported she was back up at the quarry with a couple of deputies, after getting her search warrant signed, and had found proof of recent activity inside the office building. Not only that, they discovered an ATV parked inside the storage space with blood evidence clearly visible in the cargo basket mounted on the back. That all but confirms our theory Severin was murdered there, loaded up and transported to the dumping site, just off the trail running from the quarry and ending right here, in Dana’s backyard.

So, I’ve been trying to think of a valid excuse for me to stay over without spoiling her first night in her new house with talk of murder. Of course, there is always the option of taking her to bed which, given her response to me tonight, seems a reasonable scenario, but that doesn’t feel right either. I don’t want anything about our first time together to feel artificial or staged in any way.

“You know what else would be good here?” I prompt. “A dog. I’ll bet you Buck Wilson would be able to find you a suitable guard dog.”