Page 59 of In Her Sights
The car abruptly veered over and stopped by the curb.
She looked over at John, startled by the sudden stop. “Forget something?”
“Yeah.” He put the car into park and shoved open his door.
“What?” He’d only been at her house one night. How much stuff could he have left there? She knew she would have to watch him, or he’d have half her drawers filled with his clothes before she could blink. He was already laying claim to her bedroom, after all. It was becoming more and more apparent that John Carmondy was a nester.
“To check out the forest.” He started getting out of the car, but she grabbed a handful of his shirt to stop him.
“You’re going into the forest? Why?”
Glancing at her over his shoulder, he raised his eyebrows but didn’t try to escape her hold. “Because it’s bugging you. I can tell.”
She relaxed her grip as she stared at him, touched that he’d not only noticed, but was doing something to make her feel better. Except for her sisters and her dad, no one had ever cared enough about her to bother doing either. It was hard to believe that John Carmondy, of all people, did. There had to be another reason. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re going to go wandering around in there.”
“Sure it does.” Taking advantage of her loosened fingers, he stood and strode toward the trees. She blinked after him for a moment, the growing warmth in her chest feeling dangerously addicting, before she jumped out of the car and chased after him.
When she fell in next to him, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Now it’s my turn to ask. Where are you going?”
“With you.”
“Why?” He gave an exaggerated flex, even as his dimple appeared. “Think I can’t handle the forest beasties?”
“Forest beasties?” she repeated, unable to hold back her grin. When he just shrugged, unabashed, she turned to face the trees. Even though her unease about who could be lurking in there was still niggling at the back of her brain, more of her attention was focused on the man next to her. “You might be a big, bad wolf who’s able to handle whatever scary things lurk in the woods, but you still might need backup.” She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, but she refused to glance at him. If she did, then their eyes might meet, and who knew what would happen after that. “I have saved your bacon several times already.”
“And I appreciate your concern for my bacon.” Despite his words, he sounded more serious than usual, and she had to fight the urge to look at him again. “I’ll be fine, though. I can handle a few wannabe jewelry thieves if they’re lurking in the trees. You don’t have to worry.”
“We’re partners.” She stubbornly kept pace with him. “We have each other’s back. Bacon buddies, if you will.”
He was silent for a beat too long, and temptation got the best of her. Turning her head, she caught an expression she’d never seen on his face before. It was surprised and affectionate and tender and smoldering and a lot of other things that made her skin feel prickly and her insides melty, so she quickly focused on the trees again. It was too late, though. She knew she’d be seeing—and overanalyzing—that expression every time she closed her eyes.
“C’mon then, bacon buddy.” His voice had a softer edge than normal, and it made her shiver—and then immediately pretend that he hadn’t caused that reaction. It was no use, though. As much as she fought against it, as much as she told herself it was a terrible idea, she was starting to have feelings for John Carmondy.
A twig snapped under her heel, reminding her why they were there. “This is probably a wild-goose chase,” she said, her voice carefully low despite her words, “but thank you for doing this anyway.”
“You’re welcome, BB.” He winked at her, and Molly sighed to hide how much she wanted to laugh at his over-the-top flirting. They fell quiet as they walked just inside the tree line. Molly searched for signs that someone else had been there. All she could see were rocks, dry earth, and the first autumn leaves scattered over the ground.
Being in the forest was just as bad as looking at it from the outside. Molly was hyperaware of everything around her—from John’s almost silent footsteps to the rustle of leaves and the quiet chatter of a distant squirrel. Every sound tightened her nerves, and even John’s reassuring presence wasn’t enough to keep her calm. Although she prided herself on being relatively fearless—or at least fear-resistant—something about the shifting shadows and hushed movements of the forest made her want to grab John and run for the safety of the car.
“Is this a shoe print?” John’s voice made her jump, and she hid the movement by turning toward where he was crouched down, studying the ground in front of him. Her heart still beating a little faster than normal, Molly bent over his shoulder so that she could see the semicircle mark.
She frowned, leaning closer. “Could be. There’s no tread pattern that I can see, though.”
Making a hum that sounded like agreement, he shifted forward, still in a crouch, checking the ground for a possible trail. She did the same behind him, looking for any impressions in the dirt that could possibly be prints. After she’d fruitlessly covered twenty feet, she gave up and returned to John’s side.
“I couldn’t find anything,” she said, and he held out his hands in an I’ve-got-nothing gesture.
“Probably not a footprint, then,” he said. Despite his casual words, Molly noticed that John seemed even more alert than he normally was, and she felt a little less silly about her own jumpiness. Maybe it was just that there were too many hiding places in the underbrush, but she was relieved when they returned to the spot where they’d entered the woods.
“Would this be considered a success that we didn’t find any evidence of lurkers, or a failure?” she asked as they made their way through the scrubby weeds that edged the forest.
“Success,” he answered without hesitating. “We haven’t been shot, punched, or blown up.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “That’s your definition of success? Not mangled?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“I think… Oh, crap.” Grabbing John’s hand, she dashed the few steps back into the cover of the trees, relieved when he followed her rather than digging in his heels and demanding explanations. Hauling them behind a bushy evergreen, she peered between the branches at the black-and-white squad vehicle parked behind John’s car.
