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“Dede, it was a pleasure to see you again,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” her mother replied. “Alanna’s usually much better behaved.”
Sully rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder for a moment, then straightened and walked toward the door. He was surprisingly imposing with the tool bag slung over one shoulder and his sweat-dampened shirt outlining taunt pecs.
Their eyes met again, and Alanna saw glaciers in his gaze. He came closer. She stood frozen half inside the bedroom door. Then, he was in front of her, his rigid body just inches from hers.
She looked away.
He brushed by her without a word, leaving a lingering scent of pine-scented aftershave mixed with the sweat of hard work.
What had she just done?
“Oh, Alanna.” Her mother’s voice was a miserable sigh.
Alanna’s heart filled with instant regret, but her cowardly lips remained sealed as she watched Sully disappear down the stairs.
Ch. 24 Sully
Sully’sangerdidn’tburnhot. His anger was a cold thing. As he drove from Dede’s house, icicles formed in his chest, growing longer by the second.
What in the hell had just happened?
One minute Dede had been regaling him with stories about raising two rambunctious girls on pennies, and the next Alanna had swept into the room like a ruby-lipped Sharknado.
The look in her eyes was lightning ready to strike. He replayed the accusations she’d thrown at him. The icicles in his chest grew so long they threatened to pierce into his guts. The worst of it was that she’d been right. A single spark from his tools could have ignited an explosion. He could have brought down the entire house with himself and Dede inside.
The thought quaked through his body.
Why hadn’t he smelled the gas? Why hadn’t—
A streak of orange and white dashed in front of his car.
“Fuuuuuuu—” Sully slammed the brakes and twisted the wheel. Tires squealed. His SUV smacked hard into a curb. Sully jerked forward, his seatbelt tightening across his chest. The car rocked once then came to a halt as the smell of burnt tires assaulted his nostrils.
“uuuuuck,” Sully hissed under his breath. The icicles in his chest were gone, vaporized by the heavy hit of adrenaline now coursing through his veins. With trembling hands, Sully carefully turned the wheel pulling up alongside the curb. He got out and stared at the road.
Had he hit the animal?
His memory served up a replay of a poofy orange tail disappearing into the brush on the other side of the road. He hadn’t killed it, thank God. What had it been? Possums and raccoons weren’t orange, right? He vaguely remembered pointy ears and bushy fur.
A cat. Definitely a cat.
Had he injured the feline? It’d all happened so fast. The animal had made it across the street, so it was probably fine.
Probably…
Sully groaned. No way would his conscience let him leave the scene without making sure. Not if the animal was in pain or possibly dying. Dragging in a deep breath, Sully waited for another car to pass before jogging across the street. A row of privacy hedges lined the yard of a small, tan house. He knelt in front of the tangle of brush and peered inside, silently praying he wouldn’t find a mangled cat corpse.
Instead, his gaze landed on a pair of blue eyes set in a furry face.
Sully let out his breath. At least the thing was alive.
“You okay, kitty?” Cautiously, he reached his hand into the shrub. A deep, throaty growl warned that his fingers might not stay attached to his hand much longer. Sully jerked his hand back.
“Fine,” he snapped. “But, just so we’re clear, you’re the one who ran out in front ofmycar. If you don’t want my help, no problem.” The icicles were back, hardening along his ribs. Sully stood and recrossed the street. A quick visual appraisal of the Mazda CX-9 showed that she was none the worse for her little kiss with the curb.
Small favors.
