Page 18 of Lone Star Country Protector
A person like her deserved more than he could give. So he wouldn’t push the issue or attempt to break down those walls around her heart again.
He finished making the coffee, which wasn’t much more than setting a clean cup under the spout, loading a pod and pushing a button. He had a French press at his apartment that he used on his days off. There was something about the routine of loading fresh beans into his hand grinder, heating water and going through the rest of the steps that relaxed him. On workdays, he grabbed a cup from the small coffee shop on the corner on his way into work. On days he was traveling for an assignment, he did the same. It was important to have a day-off ritual that signaled a change in the lineup. Otherwise, the days ran together in a sea of sameness.
Damn.Wasn’t he getting philosophical?
“Here you go,” he said to Bethany, serving her a fresh cup of coffee. At this rate, he might change his job description to barista.
“What?” Blakely asked, studying him.
He shot a look to indicate he needed more information if he was going to answer her question.
“You just smiled,” she said. “And I wanted to know what put it there.”
“Internal joke,” he said.
“I could use a good laugh,” she continued.
“I doubt it would translate,” he said.
“Okay,” she said with a hint of disappointment in hertone. He should probably feel bad except that she wasn’t the only one who could keep things to herself. “How about food. Is anyone hungry?”
“I doubt I could eat,” Bethany said with a frown.
“What about something calm, like yogurt?” Blakely asked her sister, ever the protective one. The fact they were twins struck Dalton as odd since Blakely took on the role of older sister, and Bethany seemed content to be taken care of as the baby of the family.
“I’ll try,” Bethany conceded.
Blakely served her sister before turning to Dalton. “How about an omelet?”
He remembered the one she’d made for him in Galveston. His mouth watered at the thought of another. “Only if you’ll allow me to help.”
“You’ve been serving up coffee,” she quipped. “Your job is done.” She motioned toward the spot where she’d been sitting moments ago. “Take a load off.”
“I’ll take a walk around the perimeter instead,” he said, thinking whatever he’d chased last night might have returned.
The reminder of them being in danger struck Blakely like a jab. She straightened her back and moved toward the fridge.
He had a few minutes before breakfast would be ready, so he headed out the back way to investigate the commotion from last night more thoroughly. The sun was shining. Wind had enough of a chill to make him wish he’d worn a jacket. He’d be fine. It would take more than cold temperatures to make him turn around. Jogging helped get his blood moving.
Deer tracks didn’t surprise him. He backtracked as best as he could.
Found human prints. Large. Men’s.
* * *
Blakely plated halfof the omelet, placing it next to sliced tomato, then walked toward the back door. As she neared, it opened, and Dalton filled its frame. Her heart gave a traitorous flip at seeing him. The wild look in his eyes sent her pulse racing. “What’s out there?”
“Footprints,” he said. “It was too dark last night to easily pick them up, and I stomped all over a couple when I chased what I thought was a wild animal away from your backyard.”
Blakely brought her hand up to cover a gasp. “You didn’t mention it last night.”
“Didn’t see the need,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t investigators use their flashlights to check the area?”
“My guess is the attack was initially believed to be random,” he said. She’d sat on the bench through too many cases where a beat cop missed important evidence to dispute Dalton’s reasoning. Instead, she gave a slight nod.
“Come eat before the food gets cold.” Blakely never considered herself much of a cook. She could follow a recipe okay. But she wasn’t exactly someone who “created” in the kitchen. Most of the time, she ordered prepackaged meals from a service. That way, all she had to do was toss it in the microwave, hit a button and, wa-la, dinner. Omelets on the weekend were a good way to change things up. Most of the time, she cooked them for brunch before curling up with a good book or hitting her playlist. Unless, of course, Chase was sleeping over. Then, the tent forts came out.
