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He found himself blinking rapidly. Because that had been nothing less than the truth.
* * *
That’s what took me so long.
Cassie felt a twinge of guilt at her earlier assumptions, that he wasn’t coming at all. She should have known. This was Jace, after all. Not her brother, who didn’t quite seem to understand what a promise was. Like his promise that this or that batch of trouble was the last one, when in fact he’d skated on the edge of trouble most of his life. Not her brother, who couldn’t even be bothered to return her phone calls.
Call Jace. He’ll come. He promised.
Cory had said it with a shrug, as if the world knew that Jace’s word was golden. And apparently, it still was. Because he’d simply come when she’d made that near-panicked phone call the night she’d seen that shadow lurking outside her bedroom window.
And then she noticed Jace was staring past her. The lighthouse photo? Was that what was making him look so...so...
Thankfully, Rafe brought them back to the matter at hand.
“The police didn’t think that was enough description?”
She grimaced as she refocused. “More that it could match any one of a dozen people on the street at any given time. Tourists come through here on their way to the national park, and a lot of them are bundled up, like Jace said.”
“But you’re sure he’s following you?” Rafe asked.
Maybe it really was all in her head. Why on earth would anyone fixate on her, after all? She wasn’t famous, she certainly wasn’t rich; the shop was barely getting by. And she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous; she hadn’t broken up with anyone recently—hadn’t dated anyone in a sadly long time—nor had she had any angry encounters with anyone, male or female. No new people or angry customers at work, where she generally kept to her office in back of the florist shop except when she had to cover the counter or made deliveries to help out. No passing contacts with people while shopping or picking up her morning coffee. The answer to every question the police had asked was no, including if she had any idea why someone might be following her.
“I know it sounds crazy, there’s no reason for anyone—”
“Sometimes all it takes is an attractive woman alone,” Jace said. Cassidy’s head snapped around. She stared at him. “What?” he asked, looking utterly blank.
She reined in her pulse, laughing at herself for the silly jump it had taken. That’s all it takes, Jace saying you’re attractive? Didn’t you outgrow that long ago?
Not, she thought, that any woman’s pulse wouldn’t jump. He was still Jace, after all. Sexy cute, with those bright blue eyes and that kind of wild dark hair that always looked a bit windblown.
Do you even own a comb?
That’s what fingers are for.
She nearly blushed at the years-old memory. He’d answered her question with a glint in his eye she’d been too young at the time to understand, and it wasn’t until much later that she’d realized he hadn’t necessarily been talking about his own fingers. She’d finally gotten it the day she’d seen him outside the gym, with Kim Clark running her fingers through that thick hair. The rather predatory social leader, the kind who sniffed audibly at studious types like herself, had set her sights on Jace the day after he’d won his first judo competition.
To his credit, Jace hadn’t fallen for it.
She’s a user, Cassie. She never even glanced at me before. Besides, she doesn’t get me.
But she did. Where most people found his quirky way of seeing things puzzling, she found it fascinating. She always had.
She found him fascinating. She always had.
“Cassie?”
She realized she was still staring at him. “Sorry. Memory bomb went off.”
He looked startled, and then he was grinning. That devastating, flashing grin that didn’t just light up his face, but the whole room he was in.
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
I remember everything about you. But “It’s still the best description ever” was all she said. Then she shifted her gaze—reluctantly—to Rafe. He was watching them rather assessingly.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” she said quickly.
“You have history,” he said simply.
Oh, yes. And I just got smacked with the fact that for me, it’s not history at all.
Chapter 3 (#u5281a46f-a79a-591b-9a97-854d3b05137c)
“How long has this been going on?” Rafe asked her.
Jace felt oddly relieved that he was bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. He wasn’t sure why—he’d known there would be memories involved, simply because Rafe had been right, they had history.
“Almost three weeks,” Cassie answered, then quickly amended, “That I’m aware of. It could be longer. I might not have noticed right away.”
“Where?” Rafe asked. “Work, home?”
“Both. At least, I think it’s the same guy. I haven’t really seen him here, only his shadow. At night.”
Jace frowned. “His shadow?”
“He—assuming it was him—was outside my bedroom window.”
Jace swore under his breath.
“That’s...when I called you. I got scared that night.”
“I would think so.”
“Where did you first notice the guy?” Rafe asked.
“Outside the shop. He was just hanging around. And he looked...”
“Sketchy? Edgy?” Jace asked.
“More...watchful. Like he was waiting for something. But he wasn’t looking at the street or sidewalk, he was looking at the shop.”
“And what did you think he was there for?” Rafe asked.
“No idea,” she said.
“But what did you think?” he asked again, gently.
Cassie looked puzzled. “Usual stuff, I guess. He was waiting for someone—we had a couple of customers inside. Or he wanted to come in and hadn’t worked up to it yet.” She smiled. “Some guys have an amazingly hard time deciding to buy flowers for someone.”
“I buy them for my mom,” Jace protested.
Cassie blinked. Looked as if something had clicked in her mind, but she only said, “That wasn’t aimed at you.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He grinned rather crookedly. “Must have been from being around you guys growing up. I never thought flowers were scary.”
“I know,” she said, and this time her voice was soft, her smile fond. “I remember you used to ask my mother what they all were called. And the lilies were your favorite.”
Now he was embarrassed. “Yeah,” he said. “I liked how they looked so delicate, but if you didn’t take care they’d mark you forever with that orange stuff.”
“Attack of the Tiger Lilies.”
He had to laugh as she quoted the old title he’d made up as a kid for a horror film starring the tiger lilies simply because he liked the name.
And yet again Rafe had to steer them back to the matter at hand.
“What else did you think or wonder about him that first day?” When she hesitated, Rafe leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Sometimes your brain processes things faster than your conscious mind is aware of. So you have a thought that seems out of the blue, or baseless, when in fact there was an entire thought process that brought you to it.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Cassidy said.
“He means—I think,” Jace added with a glance at Rafe, “like when you see a bluebird. You think you instantly know it’s a bluebird, but really it’s a process. First you see that something’s there, then recognize that it’s a bird, then that it’s blue, and then that it’s not a blue jay, and voilà, you arrive at bluebird. But you’re not conscious of all those steps.”
She was smiling by the time he was halfway through. And Rafe, thankfully, was nodding, so he’d been right.
“Okay, I get it. But—” she gave Rafe a doubtful glance “—I’m not sure how it applies here.”
“When he kept hanging around, did your thoughts about what he might be up to get worse?”
“Oh. Yes,” she said with a small laugh. “I started wondering if he was working up the nerve to steal something, or rob us.” As if she’d heard her own words, her eyes widened. “Do you think that’s what it was? That he was...what, casing our shop? That would be pointless—we really don’t have much cash on hand. Most people use credit or debit cards.”
“Assuming the shop’s cash is what he was after,” Rafe said.
“But what else?”
“Did he make you nervous?” Jace asked. “In a...personal way?”
“You mean did I feel like it was me specifically he was watching? Not then. Not until I started feeling watched around here, at home.”
“What made you think it was the same man?”
Cassie let out an audible breath. “That’s what the police asked. And since I’ve never really seen him when he’s been here, I still don’t have an answer other than odds.”
Jace knew she meant the odds that in a small town like this there would be two men hanging around the two places she frequented most. He agreed, but he wasn’t sure the clearly experienced and likely more suspicious Rafe would. But the man was simply nodding, looking thoughtful.
“Too coincidental,” Jace said.
“Yes.” Cassie sounded relieved that he understood.
“I need to ask you some questions,” Rafe said. “And some of them might seem not pertinent, maybe even impertinent.”
Cassie drew back slightly, looking at the man. “Not a word I’d dare to apply to you.”
Rafe smiled, just slightly, and Jace had the thought that it wasn’t exactly a pleased smile. And Cutter shifted suddenly, from his polite, alert posture to leaning slightly against Rafe’s knee. The man’s hand went to the dog’s head, to scratch behind his right ear, and it had the feel of an automatic gesture, done so often it didn’t require thought any longer.
It was almost like the dog had also sensed that smile hadn’t been a happy one and had moved to comfort. He remembered how his childhood dog, Max, had always seemed to know when he was sad or upset and had come to comfort him.
And remember what that cost him.
He shoved away the memory as Rafe spoke again.
“I’m sure you’ve already thought of the obvious,” Rafe said, “but I have to ask anyway. And if I ask what seems like the same thing again but in a different way, don’t feel hounded. Sometimes just a different way of phrasing can trigger different thoughts and ideas.”
Jace listened as the man asked a string of questions. Some he could have answered himself, and he nodded when she did so exactly as he would have expected. Cassie would never get into an argument at work—she was the peacemaker, probably learned from years of trying to broker peace between her brother and their parents. She had a knack for seeing things from another point of view and acknowledging it without ever conceding her own. And she had worked in the flower shop since she was a teenager, so she knew her stuff. Not to mention, knowing her, she worked harder than anybody else.
Unhappy customers? No one that stayed unhappy.
You don’t have to agree. Sometimes all people need to know is that you hear them, understand where they’re coming from. That was Cassie’s philosophy, and always had been. Nobody could stay mad at her for long.
Traffic accidents? No, Cassie was very careful.
Upset neighbors? He nearly laughed at that one. Unless she had very much changed, Cassidy Grant was who you came to if you needed a favor—your dog walked, your cat fed, your kid watched at the last minute; if she could, she’d do it.
True, he hadn’t had contact with her in years, but that was who Cassie was at her very core, and he doubted she had changed much.
Boyfriend?
Jace went still. He should have realized that one was coming. Felt silly when he realized he was holding his breath, waiting for her to answer.
“No.”
No explanation, just a flat no. He could breathe again. And he’d analyze what the hell that meant later.
“Exes?” Rafe asked.
She glanced at Jace. A quick flick of a look, but he was certain he’d seen it.
“Not...recently.”
“How long ago?”
She answered neutrally, “Nearly two years.”
Two years? How had a woman like Cassie gone two years without having guys beating down her door?
“Long time,” he said, his voice coming out a bit gruff. She only shrugged.
“How were the partings?” Rafe asked. Belatedly, Jace realized this could be exactly what they were here about.
“Agreed upon, if not amicable,” she said, her voice still betraying no emotion at all. Odd, he thought, she’d always had trouble hiding her emotions before. He found he wasn’t particularly happy that she’d learned.
