Page 77 of Through the Fire
Pulling back a little, he stared at her. When she started looking puzzled, he tried to put his thoughts into order so he could explain. Normally, with her, this was easy, but everything had been stirred up inside him.
“You… This…” He waved a hand, indicating her, the bed, his whole world now that she was in it. Pausing, he sorted his thoughts and feelings, settling on something simple that didn’t even come close to the marvelous chaos in his brain right now. “I’m happy. Are you happy? With this? With me?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “I’ve never been so happy.”
When he kissed her, he could feel that she was smiling. He was, too.
Chapter 22
The next morning, Kit clomped down the stairs to the lower level of the tower, a little grumpy that she’d had to leave Wes and their warm, rumpled bed. Justice rushed to the door ahead of her—not caring about her sulk—and waited impatiently, dancing from foot to foot, as she pulled on her coat and boots.
“I don’t know how you slept through all of that last night,” she said quietly as she tugged on her gloves. “However you did, I’m grateful for it.” She smiled at the thought of the previous night, of how thoughtful and intense and perceptive Wes had been. It had been an impulsive decision, made when she was sleepy and being thoroughly kissed, but she didn’t regret it at all. The only thing she regretted was having to leave so early to get to work.
She pulled open the door, expecting a wall of snow after the previous night’s storm, but only six inches or so spread in a thick blanket over the area, with bigger drifts piled up against the tower walls…and her SUV.
With a low groan, she walked through the snow toward her vehicle and examined it in the pale dawn light. A four-foot white wall leaned against the north side of the SUV, making it look like she’d driven it sideways into a snowdrift.
“That is going to take a lot of shoveling to get out,” she muttered, crouching down to look underneath, where snow had piled up until it reached the undercarriage. Justice trotted over to sniff at the frozen wave that had swallowed her SUV. “Why did you let me park here?”
The dog looked at her, cocking his head to the side, but then his attention snapped to the woods. By the way his tail started wagging, Kit knew he’d heard someone. She straightened, turning to face the same direction as Justice, her hand automatically reaching for her nonexistent gun. Mentally scolding herself for letting down her guard, she signaled the dog to move with her around to the other side of the SUV, putting it between them and whomever was in the trees.
Everything was quiet. Even the wind had died down to nothing, and the snow added a hushed feel to the early morning. Kit scanned the wooded area, trying to see movement or a color that didn’t belong, but the low light turned the forest into a gloomy, impenetrable mass. Not for the first time, she wished she had Justice’s keen senses—or that he had a voice and could tell her exactly what he’d smelled and heard.
There was a flicker of movement, and she whipped her head to the side, focusing on the spot where she’d seen it. Narrowing her eyes, she waited, but everything had gone still again. The silence was unnerving. With the snow and underbrush, anything—or anyone—moving through the trees should have made some kind of sound, but there was nothing. All was quiet.
The motion came again, just briefly, gone before Kit could identify what was out there. Thoughts of bears and moose and mountain lions and cop-hating people with guns ran through her head, and she forced herself to push her nervous speculation aside. Her imagination wasn’t helpful at the moment.
The movement was closer this time—too close—and Kit shifted, taking a subtle defensive stance as a man in camouflage coveralls stepped out of the trees. Kit tensed even more, quickly scanning him. He wasn’t carrying any weapons that she could see—no shotgun, thank goodness—but she was still wary. He was walking toward her, but he wasn’t moving especially aggressively. When he waved—a jerky, slightly goofy gesture—she relaxed slightly, hoping that this was one of Wes’s less-hostile neighbors.
Kit stepped out from behind the SUV, still keeping Justice next to her and a careful eye on the approaching man. He stopped ten feet away, arms relaxed at his sides.
“Hi,” she greeted, and he gave her a nod. When he remained quiet, she figured any conversation was going to rely on her. “Are you Wes’s neighbor?”
“Yup.” His answer was more of a grunt, but he didn’t sound unfriendly—just not that talkative. He looked to be in his fifties, with the sun-browned, leathery skin she was starting to associate with longtime residents of Colorado who never used sunblock. “Good to see Wes found a girl.”
Swallowing a snort and a smart-ass retort, Kit limited herself to a nod and a bland smile. “I’m Kit Jernigan.”
“Murphy.” He didn’t specify whether that was a first or last name. “Nice dog. You use him for hunting?”
“Tracking.” She decided to keep her police-officer status to herself for the time being, hoping Murphy would share more with “Wes’s girl” than he would with a cop. “You don’t mind dogs, then?”
“Not unless they’re biting me in the ass.” He grinned, showing several gaps on the sides of his mouth where teeth should’ve been.
“He won’t bite.” Kit released Justice from his position next to her, and he headed straight for Murphy. “He might drown you in drool, but that’s as aggressive as he gets.”
After Murphy gave him a quick scratch, Justice trotted off to investigate some smells. Keeping half an eye on the dog and most of her attention on Murphy, she asked, “You hunt, then?” Since he wasn’t carrying a gun, she wondered what he was doing in the woods so early.
“Trap,” he said, and a light went off inside Kit’s head.
She looked at Murphy with renewed interest. “You saw the person leaving the house, the one that burned down? That was you?” Although she tried to keep the question light, as if she was simply curious, she knew some intensity seeped through, judging by Murphy’s wary glance.
“Yeah,” he said a little reluctantly.
“How close were you?”
“Dunno.” He raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “Twenty feet?”
