Page 8 of Kissing Her Rescuer

“Are you allowed to have her in the car with you? I didn't see your truck out there.”

Dewey absently ran a hand over Carrie's head, totally natural. “I keep a total of all personal miles driven, reimbursing the County. That makes the trip to Ms. Iris a devastating four cents or something. Besides, she can't ride in my truck. The passenger seat belt doesn't work, and the center seat only has a lap belt.”

“If you were in high school, I'd assume that was some trick to force your date to sit beside you.”

His hazel eyes narrowed a touch. “Since when do you think I need a trick to make that happen?”

Heat flared in her cheeks. Why had she even said that? If she had it her way, she'd crawl right up beside him in a heartbeat. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes until her appointment. Going against every instinct to protect herself from relying on him, she nodded. “Fine. I'll head home to change.”

“Dang! Good job, cuz,” the kid in the back of the holding cell called. “You run game like a pro.”

Dewey looked like he might throttle the kid but restrained himself. Dimples appeared in Carrie's cheeks. “I love games.”

“Good,” Dewey said as he led her out the door. “We can play I-spy on the way to Ms. Iris's house.”

Cameron set a hand on Eliza's shoulder. “Wear pants.”

Hoping to appear natural, since Cameron missed the undercurrent of that conversation with Dewey, she ran a hand over her hair, twirling the end of her ponytail once before letting it drop. “Does this mean I get to tell you what to wear for your job? If so, I have an adorable skirt that would highlight your legs.”

“No.”

“Then don't tell me what to wear,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the office.

Dewey grabbed Carrie’s booster seat from the car and put it in the back of the patrol car, the entire time Carrie chatting right beside him. His blanket of seriousness disintegrated. Dewey started telling her jokes, making her laugh as he buckled her into the seat.

“He's good with her,” Cameron said, following her out the door. “You don't have to worry. I trust him completely.”

“I'm not worried.” Jealous. Why couldn't he be like that with her? Funny. Goofy. The way he could be with everyone else. Not that she was a glutton for punishment.

“I was serious about not wearing a skirt, Eliza. I feel gross saying this as your cousin, but you're very attractive. You don't need to give the men at the prison a reason to act or say anything toward you. I wouldn't want you exposed to that.”

After her time at various biker bars, hustling money playing pool, she'd heard the nasty jokes and comments men could throw her way. But the full extent of her history could stay in the past. “Your concern is noted.”

She drove to her dad's house to change into something professional. After raiding Juliana's closet for a pair of pants, she headed out to do her interview, feeling more like an impostor than a real journalist.

4

Wednesday night, and here he sat, waiting for Eliza to arrive at Rhonda's like some damn love-sick puppy. Not that anyone else knew why he'd shown up. No one except Rhonda. But not even a busy body like Rhonda knew the truth. Or the history between them. A past that wouldn't repeat itself. If they ever became more than distant friends again, his heart would stay the hell out of it this time around.

He took a sip of beer and watched the door. Even though he couldn't go through the rejection again and run headfirst into a relationship, he'd stick around and make sure she was safe. Protected.

He wouldn’t deny it. He still loved her, but he’d learned his lesson when it came to Eliza. She did whatever the hell she wanted to do without a second’s concern for anyone else’s feelings. Twice in her life, she’d run away from the people who loved her.

“She'll show,” Rhonda said, wiping down the counter. With her gray hair teased high and silver glitter blouse cut low, she looked ready for a disco party, not the owner of a bar. “She'll be disappointed, though. I heard George and the gang went on a cross country road trip.”

“Maybe she'll find some other friends to hang out with.” Or turn around and leave.

“George isn't so bad. There are worse guys to hang with.” Her eyes cut to the side booth, and she shook her head.

She didn't need to say anything. Becky's ex-boyfriend, Tommy, sat there, eyes already looking a little glassy. Drunk. Dewey took a sip of his beer, wishing he was on duty so he could pull him over when he was dumb enough to drive himself home. Although the last time he'd pulled Tommy over, he couldn't pin him with a DUI. But he did cite him for an open container. It was only a matter of time before he got caught driving drunk enough to arrest.

The door opened, letting in a burst of June heat and late afternoon sunlight. Right on time, Eliza waltzed in, looking far too comfortable alone in the bar. Did she never think of the dangers around her? He'd called the warden at the prison yesterday afternoon, confirming that Eliza had made it there.

And he got an ear full about how the inmates reacted when she took a tour.

At her request.

The woman didn't have one thought for her safety.

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