wanted him fiercely, with a dark, chill fury that was more vendetta than justice. He shouldn’t feel this way—his law enforcement training should have kept him from the brink. He hardly knew Abigail, and the fact she’d stolen his truck didn’t make her domestic abuse issues his problem.
But somehow they were.
He felt her tears soaking his shirt, her sobs shaking her body, and stared over her head toward the tea-dark river where something had taken the lure on his fishing line and was merrily dragging his pole down the sandy bank into the water.
Aw, hell. You know it’s bad when I choose a sobbing woman over the best reel I own. Goodbye, pole. Hello, trouble.
Chapter 4
T hat twice-damned button.
It had gotten her into this whole mess, rolling under Cade Latimer’s pickup in the convenience store’s parking lot. Now its lack had made things worse, revealing all the things she had struggled to keep hidden from this observant, determined, fierce man. In her urge to help right at least part of her wrongdoing by tending his head wound, she had unwittingly exposed herself, not to mention Marsh’s crimes.
The shame she had felt in all the months before was nothing compared with the burning furnace of shame she felt now as her weakness was revealed.
Yet, in that scorching shame burned the relief that someone else knew at last.The tears flowed in earnest and she began to tremble.
She struggled not to give in to the comfort Cade Latimer was offering. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t done .... She couldn’t just weep on a stranger’s shoulder. Especially not a stranger whose truck she had stolen. She sank stiffly onto the bench when he tugged her to sit. She fought against his encircling arm—it was just another trap, another trick, another ploy to get her to tell more than she should. He only wanted the lurid details. He didn’t want to have to understand, or judge, or help.
It would give him power over her. She could never permit that again.
“Where’s your shadow?” Judy asked.
“Looking for a beer.”
“Nice of you to bring him.”
“Thanks for inviting me. Us. It’s good to get out of the house. I haven’t seen my friends enough lately.”
She felt rather than heard Marsh approach out of her line of sight. He stood behind her, a companionable hand over her left shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Good to see you smiling,” Marsh said.
The reminder of Gary made her smile falter. Marsh squeezed her shoulder again and spoke to Judy. “Abigail tells me your husband’s a mechanic. He any good with imports?”
“Japanese, mostly—but he’s right over there with the grill. You could just ask.” Judy turned her attention back to Abby. “We should do a girls’ night out. What are you doing next week?”
Abby opened her mouth to reply, but Marsh’s hand squeezed her shoulder again. “We’re working on that wheelchair ramp to the back patio,” he said.
“But that won’t take every night next week,” Judy said, smiling.
Abby smiled back. “We could maybe—”
“Things are tight,” Marsh interrupted, and this time Abby realized the pressure of his hand was meant to quiet her, to let Marsh take the lead in the conversation. Startled, she lapsed into silence and was rewarded with a gentle rub over her shoulder blade. “We probably should head out. Seven o’clock comes early.”
Abby ducked her head and nodded. She really hadn’t meant to let Judy know how things were with Gary gone. Marsh set down his beer and she knew he meant for them to leave now. With her evening suddenly soured, she wanted nothing more than to be at home with the covers pulled over her head and maybe the blessed oblivion of a sleeping pill. She gave Judy a quick, embarrassed hug, nodding when Judy said quietly, “Call me. I miss you.”
She had simply given the power into Marsh’s hands without a second thought.
Abby fought against the bliss of comfort for another minute, but the softening of Latimer’s hold was
But somehow they were.
He felt her tears soaking his shirt, her sobs shaking her body, and stared over her head toward the tea-dark river where something had taken the lure on his fishing line and was merrily dragging his pole down the sandy bank into the water.
Aw, hell. You know it’s bad when I choose a sobbing woman over the best reel I own. Goodbye, pole. Hello, trouble.
Chapter 4
T hat twice-damned button.
It had gotten her into this whole mess, rolling under Cade Latimer’s pickup in the convenience store’s parking lot. Now its lack had made things worse, revealing all the things she had struggled to keep hidden from this observant, determined, fierce man. In her urge to help right at least part of her wrongdoing by tending his head wound, she had unwittingly exposed herself, not to mention Marsh’s crimes.
The shame she had felt in all the months before was nothing compared with the burning furnace of shame she felt now as her weakness was revealed.
Yet, in that scorching shame burned the relief that someone else knew at last.The tears flowed in earnest and she began to tremble.
She struggled not to give in to the comfort Cade Latimer was offering. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t done .... She couldn’t just weep on a stranger’s shoulder. Especially not a stranger whose truck she had stolen. She sank stiffly onto the bench when he tugged her to sit. She fought against his encircling arm—it was just another trap, another trick, another ploy to get her to tell more than she should. He only wanted the lurid details. He didn’t want to have to understand, or judge, or help.
It would give him power over her. She could never permit that again.
“Where’s your shadow?” Judy asked.
“Looking for a beer.”
“Nice of you to bring him.”
“Thanks for inviting me. Us. It’s good to get out of the house. I haven’t seen my friends enough lately.”
She felt rather than heard Marsh approach out of her line of sight. He stood behind her, a companionable hand over her left shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Good to see you smiling,” Marsh said.
The reminder of Gary made her smile falter. Marsh squeezed her shoulder again and spoke to Judy. “Abigail tells me your husband’s a mechanic. He any good with imports?”
“Japanese, mostly—but he’s right over there with the grill. You could just ask.” Judy turned her attention back to Abby. “We should do a girls’ night out. What are you doing next week?”
Abby opened her mouth to reply, but Marsh’s hand squeezed her shoulder again. “We’re working on that wheelchair ramp to the back patio,” he said.
“But that won’t take every night next week,” Judy said, smiling.
Abby smiled back. “We could maybe—”
“Things are tight,” Marsh interrupted, and this time Abby realized the pressure of his hand was meant to quiet her, to let Marsh take the lead in the conversation. Startled, she lapsed into silence and was rewarded with a gentle rub over her shoulder blade. “We probably should head out. Seven o’clock comes early.”
Abby ducked her head and nodded. She really hadn’t meant to let Judy know how things were with Gary gone. Marsh set down his beer and she knew he meant for them to leave now. With her evening suddenly soured, she wanted nothing more than to be at home with the covers pulled over her head and maybe the blessed oblivion of a sleeping pill. She gave Judy a quick, embarrassed hug, nodding when Judy said quietly, “Call me. I miss you.”
She had simply given the power into Marsh’s hands without a second thought.
Abby fought against the bliss of comfort for another minute, but the softening of Latimer’s hold was
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