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Claire put a hand on Mindy’s slender arm. “You don’t have to go. I can help you.”
Mindy chewed her lip, her young face pale, scared. Indecision shone in her blue eyes.
“Mindy!” Tyler’s demand made the girl jump.
“Don’t go,” Claire implored.
The puppy squirmed in her grasp and she loosened her hold. Mindy twirled her long, dirty brown hair around a finger, gave Claire an apologetic grimace and scurried after Tyler.
As Tyler’s arm settled around Mindy in a gesture that Claire knew all too well, heaviness descended on Claire’s shoulders. Billy had possessed her like that. Made her his property. She shuddered and repressed the memory. She was never going to allow herself to be that needy again.
“Lord, please protect Mindy,” she murmured the prayer aloud.
Claire snuggled the puppy and turned to thank the stranger, but he’d walked away. His long legs carried him in the opposite direction of the teens, toward the parking lot at the east end of the park. The pocket-size Bible sticking out of his back pocket snagged her attention. Interesting.
She hurried after him, not wanting him to disappear without thanking him. In this day and age, not many people would have come to her aid.
“Hey, wait,” she called.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. When she caught up to him, he arched a black brow. His expression was less intimidating now, more playful. She swallowed.
Her first impression that he was good-looking had been marred by the anger hardening his features. She realized he was beyond good-looking and sliding straight toward gorgeous. Everything inside went on alert, like the quills of a porcupine sensing danger.
He raised both brows. Heat crept into her cheeks. “I wanted to say thank you.”
“No big deal.”
The soft rumble of his voice vibrated through her, sending tingles along her nerve endings.
He started forward again and she doubled her steps to match his lengthy stride. “But it was a big deal to this little guy…and to me.”
One corner of his mouth kicked upward in an appealing way as he scratched the dog behind the ear. “You two take good care of each other.”
Claire watched that big, strong hand stroke the yellow fur and envy flooded her. It had been a long time since a man had run his fingers through her hair. A long time since she’d allowed anyone close enough to touch her at all. But this was the wrong man to want that from.
She pushed aside her need for physical contact. “Where are you from?”
“That obvious, huh?”
She grinned. “Most Oregonians don’t have an accent.”
Both brows rose again. “Sure you do. You just don’t hear it.”
She pulled her chin in. “Really?”
He laughed and the sound warmed her all over. “Yes, really.”
Bemused that she sounded as different to him as he did to her, she probed, “And you’re from…?”
“Long Island.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
His ebony eyes took on a faraway glaze. “Yes. A long way from home.”
The loneliness in his voice plucked at her. “Where are you staying?”
His gaze came back to her, those dark eyes alight with an unidentifiable emotion. “I’m not.”
Curiosity gripped her. “Where are you headed?”
He shrugged again.
A drifter. A twinge of sadness weaved through her curiosity. Did the pain she’d seen earlier drive him to keep moving, to drift through life? Looking at his tall, lean frame, she wondered when he’d eaten last. The familiar urge to help, to do something, rose within her.
“Could I make you lunch as a way of saying thanks?” She pointed to the gray two-story building at the north end of the park. “I live there.”
He stopped, tilted his head to one side, and studied her. She gave him a smile of encouragement and tried to slow the pounding of her heart. This man with his dark good looks and bad-boy image was just the kind of guy to turn her crank. But she wasn’t going to let her crank be turned again only to be left idling on the side of the road. Her smile stiffened.
“Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk to strangers, let alone invite them in?”
She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She’d heard similar warnings from all the well-meaning people of Pineridge who thought she shouldn’t open her heart and home to the teens.
Granted, this man was far from a teenager. But he posed a threat on so many levels that she would be wise to heed the warning. Wisdom was something she was still working on. “I run a shelter. Inviting strangers in is part of what I do.”
“A shelter?”
“A teen shelter, to be exact.”
“Why?”
She sighed. The infernal question seemed to be at the top of everyone’s list of questions and asked in the same wary, derisive tone, though his held more edge to it. “The stigma of runaway teenagers is that they’re crazy and out of control. But they’re still just kids. Yeah, they’re rough and tough and act horribly at times. But deep down most are scared, confused and need help.”
“But why you?” He seemed genuinely interested.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the unvarnished truth. Why she felt compelled to make him understand was a mystery. So instead she settled for her pat response. “I remember the anxiety and chaos of those teen years. If I can make a difference in someone’s life, I know I was put on this earth for a reason.”
“That’s admirable.”
His compliment pleased her, as did the almost wistful look on his handsome face.
“But woefully misguided.” His expression hardened. “Thank you for the offer, but I should be heading out.”
“Why are you in such a hurry, if you don’t know where you’re headed?”
He leaned toward her, his jet-black eyes probing and his decidedly masculine scent, full of leather and the outdoors, engulfing her senses. “You’re tenacious.”
Her spine stiffened and she lifted her chin. “Persistence is a virtue.”
Amusement danced in his gaze. “Patience is a virtue.”
Her cheeks flamed at being corrected. “I consider both to be virtues.”
That appealing half-grin flashed again. “Both are admirable traits.” His tone dropped to a deep and husky timbre that she found fully alluring. His accent rasped along her skin like a velvet caress. Her knees wobbled and knocked together. “We’ve established you have persistence, but do you have patience?”
Oh, yeah, she had patience. Hard-won and, at the moment, stretched taut.
Every instinct warned her that this man could endanger her vow to be self-sufficient with nothing more than his smile, let alone how his voice lulled her senses, and threatened to impair her judgment. He could make her want to lose herself in those dark eyes with one glance.
She didn’t need or want a man in her life. Never again would she allow herself to be vulnerable to the whims of a guy, to be used and abandoned, forgotten.
She stepped back, needing to put distance between them. She’d offered help. He’d said no. She needed to accept that. Time to stay focused and in control of her own responses.
“Be safe.” Her voice sounded breathless. And she didn’t like it.
This time there was no half-grin, but a full-blown, toe-curling smile that sent her blood zooming. He saluted and then sauntered to a low slung, shiny chrome-and-black motorcycle with the unmistakable winged insignia of a Harley.
He threw one long, lean leg over the seat, looking at home on the bike. He plucked a black, sleek-looking helmet from where it hung on the handlebars and put it on. A second later the bike came to life with a thundering rumble.
“Hey,” she yelled over the noise of the engine and stepped closer.
He gave her a questioning look.
“What’s your name?” She didn’t know why it was important, but she needed to know.
His eyes widened slightly, then a slow smile touched his lips. “Nick.”
His smile made her heart leap. He’d stormed into her life like a knight of old and performed a heroic deed, all the while putting her female senses into overdrive.
He flipped down the visor on the helmet and rolled away. She watched him turn the corner toward downtown Pineridge and then disappear from sight. It was a good thing he’d roared out of her life before she’d lost her head and done something embarrassing like drool.
“Well.” She stood rooted to the ground for a moment as her heart resumed its natural rhythm. She held the puppy up and stared into his sweet little brown eyes. The puppy licked at her face. She laughed and hugged him close. Gwen was going to just love the little guy.
“Well, little Nick, you want to come home with me?”
Nick Andrews couldn’t get the pretty blonde out of his head. The woman’s heart gleamed in her baby blues and every subtle and not-so-subtle expression that had crossed her face.
Oh, she had courage, he’d give her that. Not many women—let alone men—would have stood up to those punks. She cared for those street urchins. But she might as well have worn a sign that said “Heartache Welcome.”
She talked a good game, how they were just kids in need of some help. He didn’t believe it.
Thankfully she wasn’t his problem. No matter how attractive the package or how much he admired her spunk, he had enough to deal with. He wasn’t exposing his heart to the pain of loss again.
He gunned the engine and took the exit out of Pineridge that dropped him onto Interstate 84 headed west toward Portland. As he jockeyed for a position in the traffic, a sharp urge to turn back assaulted him.
He frowned, convinced he was being paranoid.
Yet he couldn’t shake the image of Tyler’s slicing gesture.
Nah, the kid didn’t have the guts to do anything serious. Just throw a defenseless animal around, a tiny voice inside reminded.
Nick’s jaw tightened.
The kid was a bad seed. Nick had seen eyes like that before. The eyes of a killer.
Man, he’d have pulverized that kid in the park, would have gladly exorcised two years of bottled rage on the punk, if the blonde hadn’t restrained him with her gentle touch.
He hadn’t even asked her name.
Not my problem.
But yet…
He wove around a slow-moving truck. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the nagging feeling he should turn back. Serena would have said it was God’s nudging, but God had been quiet two years ago when a nudging could have saved her life.
So why would God start communicating with him now?
Twenty miles ahead the freeway split. He could either take the interstate exit for I-5 North heading toward Washington State and on up to Canada or he could take I-5 South toward California.
He was at a fork in the road, literally. Which way to turn? How far could he go to outrun the past? Where would he find peace? What had he done to deserve such punishment? How could he leave the blonde so unprotected?
“She’s not my problem!” he shouted.
The words swirled around inside his helmet until they were sucked out by the rushing wind.
Chapter Two
“Here you go, little Nick.” Claire set a plastic bowl full of water on the linoleum floor in the kitchen area. “Nick?”
The puppy had been sniffing around the kitchen floor moments ago. Now the little scamp was out of sight. Claire walked into the open area of The Zone. She looked under the Ping-Pong table that the Jordan family had donated, and behind the brown corduroy sofa she’d found at Goodwill. “Nick, here boy. Where are you?”
She wasn’t equipped to care for a puppy. She needed dog food, a collar and a doghouse. Whew, the list was endless and could be expensive. She shrugged. Whatever was needed, she’d find a way to provide. She couldn’t turn the dog out any more than she could a human.
“Ah, there you are.”
The little fluff ball was snuggled up against a bright yellow beanbag chair. Claire scooped him up and he licked her chin. “Thank you for the kiss. I wonder who you belong to. I’d sure be upset if I’d lost such a cutie.” She snuggled her cheek into his soft fur. She’d have to make flyers and post them around town. Surely Nick’s owners would be looking for him.
And if no one claimed him?
She would keep him.
She carried him back to the kitchen and set him down in front of the bowl. His black nose sniffed at the plastic rim and then, apparently deciding it was okay, he lapped at the water.
“Thirsty boy.” Claire smiled at the ball of fur. Tenderness tightened her chest. She’d never had a dog before. She was excited by the prospect, but her internal monitor quickly warned not to expect to keep him. Somewhere out there were the little guy’s owners.
She found a blanket in the closet under the stairs and made a cozy bed on the floor in the kitchen.
“Here you go, Nick,” she said, picking up the puppy and setting him on the blanket. He walked in a circle, sniffing at the material.
