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Adjusting his attitude, he closed down his computer with a few keystrokes, grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and headed out his office door. Seemed he was going to be spending the morning being Ally’s much-needed support system. Whether he was comfortable with the idea or not.
* * *
As she waited for Chief McCoy to arrive for their meeting, Ally stared at the blackened shell of what used to be her home. Rising from the far edge of the house, the brick fireplace was all that was still intact. Worse yet, a huge pile of charred furniture was piled in the middle of the yard, a stark, undeniable testament to the devastating effect of the fire.
Though she was standing twenty yards away from the pile of burned rubble, the scent of fire-scorched debris drifted to her on the persistent breeze.
The smell of broken dreams.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, realizing that she’d somehow hoped that maybe the fire hadn’t done as much damage as she’d imagined. But, no. Everything was gone.
She had nowhere to live, with two sweet dogs depending on her. Guess she’d be staying with Drew’s parents for the foreseeable future. And while Grace was one of the nicest women Ally had ever met, she was still a stranger. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. But her options were nonexistent, so she’d do what was necessary, as she always had.
Pressure built in her chest. God, I could really use Your help now. Please help me to deal with this crisis in my life with faith and grace....
The sound of tires on gravel crunched behind her. With a fortifying breath, she turned and saw Drew’s bright red pickup truck moving slowly up the driveway.
Great. Just great. Grace must have sent him. Honestly, he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Oh, he was pleasant enough—very pleasant, in fact. But she always felt so off-kilter when he was around.
Maybe she was being paranoid, but it seemed as if he was always watching, weighing and assessing. And he brought up the tough topics, too. Such as when he told her it seemed as if she spoke from experience about covering up versus opening up. She’d shut the conversation down—no way was she talking about her reasons; that was too painful a subject to share. With anyone. But he’d seemed interested, and that made her uncomfortable.
Not to mention that he was flat-out gorgeous. Those brown eyes and his dark blond hair...
She surreptitiously made an effort to look as if her chest weren’t caving in as he pulled the truck to a halt about twenty feet away. After a moment, he climbed out. He was dressed in black dress pants, a white dress shirt and a black-and-blue-striped tie; apparently he’d come from work. What was it about a man in a white shirt and tie, anyway? Just kill her now.
He headed toward her, all confident and strong-looking, and she couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders under his thin dress shirt, shoulders that seemed as if they could carry any load, anytime.
But not her load. She drew herself up, both literally and figuratively. She knew better than to count on anyone; an endless stream of temporary homes and parents had taught her that lesson early on. Oh, sure, he’d more than likely feel obligated to help her. But she’d seen enough “obligation” in her life to know it didn’t mean much in the long run.
The wind gusted, and she shivered as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. But she held her shoulders straight and tried to look strong. Unbreakable.
He drew near, his eyes scanning the burned-out wreckage that was once the place she wanted to call home. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his chocolate-tinged gaze full of genuine empathy that made her throat thick. Surprisingly, he reached out and squeezed her arm above her elbow. “I know how hard this must be.”
His touch decimated her backbone. She blinked rapidly several times. Crying never helped, and it always made her feel so weak, so vulnerable. She wished he’d skip the empathy; life was less messy that way.
He leaned in close enough so she could smell the faint spice of his aftershave. “You okay?”
No, she wasn’t. But she knew the part too well not to carry on as if she were holding things together. “I’ll be fine,” she said, figuring that if she acted fine, she’d be fine. Eventually. Maybe. But then again, she’d been holding onto that hope forever, and her grip was slipping.
“You look pale.” He put his hands in his pockets as his gaze drifted back to the burned shell of her home. After a significant pause, he rubbed his brow, looked right at her and said, “Listen. I’m...um, worried about you.”
His words swiped an even broader slash at her carefully constructed yet tenuous control. No one had been worried about her for a very long time. “I’m...fine,” she managed, barely, not meeting his gaze for fear of losing it. “This is just a bump in the road.” More like a giant sinkhole, but whatever.
He said nothing right away.
She looked at the scraggly grass at her feet, wanting with everything in her to run away from his concern. From those eyes. From him. He made her feel exposed. Spineless. As if she needed him. Needing him, needing anyone, wasn’t something she could allow. Too much heartache lay down that path.
“Ally, look at me,” he finally said.
Swallowing, she turned to him, drawn to his whisper-soft voice.
“Why are you putting on an act?” he asked.
Guess she wasn’t as good at pretending to be fine as she thought she was. She’d have to work on that. “I’m not—”
He took her hand and squeezed it, cutting off her words with his strong, warm grip. “Yes, you are. You’re pretending to be okay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my mom does the same thing.”
Oh, yeah. He was familiar with the move. Just Ally’s luck.
When she stayed quiet, he said, “Hey, it’s okay to let us—um, me, help you.”
“Yeah, right.” She let out a heavy breath. “I’ve heard that before,” she said before she could reel the words back.
He canted his head to the side, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
She wished she’d kept her big mouth shut. She couldn’t talk to him about how she’d trusted others to help her in the past and how those choices had been the biggest mistakes of her life. No way. Those memories were too painful—
Gravel crunched again, cutting off her thoughts, and a black SUV pulled into the driveway. The chief.
“Good timing for you,” Drew muttered under his breath.
She pretended not to hear him.
The wind kicked up again, and a light mist started falling. Figured.
He stood there, silent for a moment, then jerked his chin toward his truck. “I’m going to go get my coat. We’ll talk later.”
She watched him walk to his truck, mentally slapping her head, wishing she’d kept the “Yeah, I’ve heard that before” comment to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was arouse his curiosity about her past any more than she already had.
She’d come to Moonlight Cove to make a fresh start in her dream town and put her past behind her. She wasn’t going to trade sob stories with anyone, certainly not with Drew with his soft eyes and broad shoulders and...everything. Just the thought made her stomach pitch.
As she waited for the chief to come over, she told herself that somehow she was going to have to deflect Drew’s interest in picking her apart.
But since she was going to be staying with his parents for a while, keeping his probing questions at bay was going to be tricky.
Even for a seasoned veteran like herself.
Chapter Four
A few days after the fire, Drew stayed at the office late to catch up on some paperwork. The Sullivans’ offer had been accepted, and they were on a tight deadline. The sellers had already bought a house in Seattle and were anxious to get things rolling and through closing as fast as possible.
Well, yeah, that was one reason he was behind, he thought as he waited for the offer paperwork to print out. Frankly, his mind hadn’t seemed to be in the game since Ally had come into his life. His focus was shot; at the oddest times, he found himself thinking about the heartbreaking expression he’d seen on her face when he’d found her standing there, looking at the mound of charred debris piled in the front yard of what had been her home.
And when they’d walked through the wreckage of the house with the chief? From the desolate look on her face, Drew wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d buckled on the spot.
But she hadn’t. Not Ally. Instead, she’d put her spine of steel into action and had simply lifted her chin and carried on.
Even when it had become evident that none of her belongings were salvageable and that she had nothing left.
He admired her grit, her obvious determination to forge onward without betraying her despair. Even as he wondered about its source. There always seemed to be a sadness hovering in the depths of her eyes, just under the surface. Though it was foolish to get caught up in Ally’s life, he was curious about her.
Was her time in foster care at the root of her sorrow? What had happened? How had she ended up in the system?
Those questions nagged at him as he gathered the thick sheaf of papers and headed back to his office.
Suddenly, a key rattled in the lock of the front door. He looked up and saw Dad coming in with a wet umbrella in his hand.
For an instant, Drew considered trying to avoid him; it had been a long, busy day, and he wasn’t exactly up for a confrontation. That was how most conversations between him and Dad turned out these days. But scurrying to his own office to hide seemed silly, and childish at that. Not to mention that he was tired of walking on thin ice around his father. He’d been doing that for most of his adult life and he was beyond weary with the situation.
Guess that would end as soon as he moved to Atherton. Surprisingly, that thought filled him with disquietingly equal measures of regret and anticipation.
Dad shook off the umbrella and closed it with a snap. Then he looked up and saw Drew standing there. Dad paused, his brown eyes unblinking, and swiped a hand through the graying hair at his temples. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m finishing up the Sullivans’ paperwork for our meeting tomorrow.”
Dad set the umbrella on the reception counter. “Ah. Yes.” He picked up the messages Jan had left for him. “Heard that deal went through.”
For a heartbeat, Drew waited for a pat on the back; he’d done an exemplary job on the Sullivan deal, given how far apart the seller’s asking price and the Sullivans’ initial offer had been.
However, he was greeted with nothing but silence as his dad read the small pink slips of paper in his hands.
“You know, Dad, the deal almost didn’t happen.”
“Really?”
Drew ground his molars together until his jaw ached. “Don’t play games.”
He gave Drew a blank look.
“I heard you talking to Jan about the offer history, so I know you’re aware of how the whole thing went down.”
Dad’s face remained completely impassive.
Drew’s neck heated. “Why can’t you just give me some credit here?”
“I give you plenty of credit,” Dad replied.
Drew stared at him. “Ever since you got wind of my plans to move to Atherton, you haven’t been able to even be civil to me, let alone praise me for a job well done around here.”
“I gave you credit for years, and look where that got me,” Dad snapped.
“This isn’t about you,” Drew whipped back.
Dad slapped the messages on the counter. “But it is all about you, right?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You didn’t have to. Your actions lately tell that story.”
“My actions?” Drew snorted. “I’m just following my dream, Dad. Doing what I want. And you always reduce that to mere actions rather than anything important.”
“And what about my dream to have you take over the business I built from the ground up?” Dad gestured around. “I went from working on the kitchen table to this, and you’re just going to walk away from all of it.”
Drew felt his pulse in his forehead. “That’s just the thing. This place is your dream, not mine.”
“Yeah, you’ve made it abundantly clear this all means nothing to you.”
“Here we go with that again,” Drew replied. They’d had this conversation up, down, diagonal and sideways, and they never seemed to find any common ground.
“Yeah, here we go,” Dad shot back. “I trained you for years, ever since you started working here after school when you were sixteen.”
“You can replace me,” Drew said with a great amount of control, which belied the rancid churning in his gut.
“Moonlight Cove isn’t exactly a hotbed of real estate sales talent. Replacing you is going to be a big problem.”
Drew had heard this all before. The story never changed, which only made him want to run away faster. It was a bad dynamic, but he didn’t know how to change it. His dad was the most stubborn person on the planet. Mom ran a close second. “I told you I’d help you with that.”
“Now that you’ve had an interview, it’s too late.”
“So why didn’t you agree to have me look for a replacement earlier?” Drew had offered to start a search several months ago when he’d applied to Atherton Fire and Rescue, but Dad would have none of it. He’d actually forbidden Drew to place an ad or interview anyone.
Dad looked at the floor, then simply shrugged.
Understanding dawned. “You were hoping the interview wouldn’t work out and that I’d be forced to stay.”
“I’m only thinking of the business,” Dad said. “A business that has provided very well for our family, by the way.”
But not for the past few years. The tanking economy had put Sellers Real Estate through the wringer lately. “I get that, Dad.” It probably didn’t help that Drew had chosen to leave Moonlight Cove right now, in the midst of the economic downturn. “But as a prospective firefighter with lots of competition, I’m not getting any younger.”
He left out that he could only pretend to be happy hawking designer kitchens and updated bathrooms for so long. No sense in twisting the knife that much. Besides, his dad knew that working as a real estate agent had never been Drew’s first choice. Even if he acted as if Drew had decided to become a firefighter on a whim.
“I’m not, either.” With sagging shoulders, Dad cast his gaze around. “Who’s going to take over my legacy when I want to retire?”
Guilt prodded hard and sharp, and Drew winced inwardly. For just a moment, seeing the slump in his father’s broad shoulders did a number on Drew’s resolve to pursue his dream, no matter what the cost.
Dad spoke again. “Why don’t you let me put out some feelers. Maybe you could find a job closer to Moonlight Cove and still work for me part-time.”
Impatience tugged at Drew, hard. “Dad, none of the departments around here have any paid positions—”
Drew’s cell phone rang, cutting him off. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the caller ID. Stacy Sullivan, calling with the last bit of information for their offer. “Dad, just a sec, I have to take this.” If anyone understood interrupting a conversation for a client, it was Dad. Business had often come at the expense of family when Drew had been growing up.
He turned and had a brief conversation with Stacy, heading toward his office so he could write down the figure she gave him.
He finished and pressed End, then went out to resume the conversation with his dad, even though he was tempted to run the other way out the back door down the hall. But what was the sense in running from the inevitable? Drew had been doing that for years, and it had to stop.
