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She didn’t have to give him directions to her house. He remembered it from when he’d dated Chrissy in high school. He pulled into the driveway minutes later.
It was a small cottage with peeling paint and a bright royal blue front door. “That door was yellow the last time I was here,” he said.
“That was twenty years ago,” Shelby said. “I painted it when I took over the mortgage from my mother. I will have it paid off in a few years, and then it will be all mine.”
“I like the blue,” he said.
“I haven’t had time to strip the old paint and repaint the rest of the house. But I will.”
She didn’t add the words by myself, but Remy could feel them implied.
Shelby stared at the cottage. “This was the only house my mother could afford after she and my father divorced. It wasn’t the fanciest home in Bayou Mambaloa, but there are a lot of good memories in that house that I share with my mother and sister.” She shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
Remy shifted into park, turned the key, killing the engine, and pulled the key free. Before he could get out of his seat, Shelby was already opening her own door.
He jumped down and ran around to the other side of the old truck, arriving in time for Shelby to slide out of her seat. When her feet hit the ground, she would have fallen if not for holding onto the door.
Remy reached out to steady her.
She shook her head. “I can do this on my own.”
“I’m sure you can,” Remy said. “But it’s easier to pick you up from a standing position than dragging you up off the ground.”
He didn’t wait for her to protest. Instead, he swept her into his arms and marched toward the front door.
“Seriously, I’m capable—”
“Shh,” he interrupted her. “I’m concentrating on not dropping you.”
“If I’m that heavy, put me down,” she said.
“You’re not heavy,” he said. “You’re talking too much. Now, hush while I negotiate these stairs.”
She frowned heavily but shut up while he climbed the rickety stairs to the front door.
“Do you have a key to the door?” he asked. “Or do you hide it under a flowerpot?”
Her lips twisted. “Put me down.”
He complied. Without a key, he couldn’t go further. But he kept a hand around her waist in case her knees buckled again.
Shelby reached over the doorframe and came away with the key in her hand.
Remy’s heart dropped into his belly. “Oh, sweetheart, you can’t keep the key there anymore.”
“Yeah,” she said with a grimace. “I know. It sucks, though. I used to think this town was a safe place to live.”
“You’ve been a deputy here for how long?”
“Seven years.”
“And you didn’t deal with any crime during that time?” he asked.
She slipped the key into the lock and twisted. “Nothing directed at me, personally.”
“Well, things change.” He studied the door lock and nearly had a coronary. The lock on the doorknob was the only lock. No deadbolt. Holy shit. How did she stay safe? “While I’m here, we’ll work on the lock situation.”
“I already have,” she said, holding up the key as she pushed the door inward.
