Fan the Flames (22 page)

“Whoa, and I thought my parents were crazy, with my homicidal stepfather and all.” Lou winced. “Sorry for calling your parents extra-crazy. Didn't I warn you about my whole ‘talking' thing?”

“It's fine.” Although she wanted to reassure Lou, Rory couldn't manage a smile. “I know they were nuts. It was pretty obvious when they—” She bit down hard on the next words, not letting them escape. As friendly and easy to talk to as Lou was, there were things too private, too painful, to share.

“Well,” Lou said when it became clear that Rory was not going to finish her sentence, “if it's any consolation, my mom encouraged a creepy family friend to stalk me.”

“Really?” Although she'd known about Lou's stalker burning down her house, and her stepdad trying to kill her and Callum, Rory hadn't known about Lou's mom's involvement. “That's…not right.”

Lou laughed, although it had a hard edge of recent hurt. “Definitely not right. Okay, enough serious talk. Tell me more about guns. I want to bring Callum to your shop and blow him away with my extensive knowledge.”

“I can do that.” Rory felt her shoulders lower as she relaxed. She'd hadn't even noticed how tensely she'd been holding herself during the conversation. “What do you want to know?”

* * *

Although their gazes often strayed to the building in front of them, the time passed fairly quickly, considering. Lou was a quick study, as Rory had noticed during the other woman's visit to the shop, and she picked things up easily. The sun was out, warming the inside of the SUV, and talking about guns soothed Rory almost as much as handling them.

“Shoot,” Lou muttered, glancing at her watch. “I'm going to have to leave soon, or I'll be late for work. Ivy's not a pleasant person to deal with on the best of days, so she's a real b—uh, bear when I'm not on time.”

Rory cocked her head curiously. “Why doesn't anyone want to swear in front of me? Ian corrects himself, too, and Steve hits the guys—Junior, mostly—when they curse while I'm in hearing range.”

“I'm not sure.” After regarding her closely, Lou said, “I think it's because you have this young, sweet, and innocent look going. You know, since your eyes are so big and the rest of you is so small. It makes me feel like I'm swearing in front of a kid.”

“Thanks?”

“I can swear if it makes you feel better—darn, crap, suck.”

Shaking her head, Rory felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Those don't count.”

“I know. I just couldn't do it. See if Ian'll talk dirty to you.”

That brought the flaming blush back with a vengeance. “He doesn't…we wouldn't…I mean…argh!”

“Sorry!” Lou laughed. “You're just really fun to tease.”

“Did you want me to take you back to the coffee shop?” Rory asked, desperate to change the subject. She didn't want to leave their vigil, but Lou had been kind enough to stay with her in the SUV all morning. The least she could do was make sure she got to work on time.

Glancing at her watch again, Lou bit her lip and looked at the sheriff's office. “Let's give it a couple more minutes, and then I'll really need—hang on!”

One of the main doors was opening, but the sun reflected off the glass, making it impossible to see who was emerging. The tall, skinny form of North came out first, his head turned so he could talk to the person behind him over his shoulder. Rory held her breath as she watched the second man step outside—it was Ian!

She was out of the SUV and half running, half sliding across the parking lot toward the men before she even realized what she was doing. Self-consciousness set in when she was five feet in front of them, and she tried to stop, but her boots couldn't find traction on the ice. She tipped forward, the ground rushing toward her face, and she braced for the impact. Instead, a hard hand latched around her upper arm and hauled her back to her feet.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly, staring at Ian. He still held her arm, although his grip had softened.

“No big hug and kiss for your favorite man fresh out of the slammer?” he teased, grinning.

The ever ready blush reemerged. “Not now that you made it all weird,” she muttered, making him laugh. “Are you out for good?”

“All charges dismissed,” North said cheerfully. “The evidence against him was pretty tenuous, and the picture helped immensely, Rory. Nice work. I got the impression that the sheriff wouldn't have even made the arrest if he hadn't been getting so much pressure to make headway in the case.”

“I don't want to break up this get-out-of-jail-free party,” Lou called from where she was hanging out of the SUV window, “but if I don't get to work right now, Ivy is going to carve designs in my skin with a razor blade and then shove me into a vat of salt water.” When the other three just stared at her in horror, she made a move-along gesture with her hand. “Let's go. Nutter Butters, you're staying at the coffee shop with me. Between attacks of caffeine-deprived hordes, we'll catch up. Do you have a vehicle here, Ian?” When he shook his head, she waved him forward. “Rory's truck is at The Coffee Spot. We'll take you there, and you can ride off into the sunset or find a place to celebrate your newly regained freedom or whatever. Right now, though, I need you all to
move
!”

They hurried to the SUV as fast as the slick parking lot surface would allow. When Ian slid into the back seat with Rory, she glanced away from him, feeling suddenly and inexplicably shy. Apparently, he didn't suffer from the same reservations, since he immediately reached over and took her hand.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and she bobbed her head in acknowledgment, still not making eye contact. “I mean it. North told me how hard you worked to get me out of there.”

With an awkward shrug, she said, “Lou got North here. That was the biggest thing. The guys at the station really came through, too—Soup was the one who remembered the photo.” She risked a glance at his face, and was even more flustered by his serious expression, so she babbled onward. “Next time the guys want to take a half-naked picture of you and hang it up at Station One, don't give them a hard time about it. It might come in useful.”

His laugh was more of a snort. “Apparently.” He squeezed her hand, pulling it into his lap. “And you were the one who brought it all together. Did you have a chance to call Carrie?”

“Yes.” At the mention, she dug her cell phone out of her coat pocket with her free hand. “I should call her. She'll want to know that you're out.” Finding Carrie's number in her recent-call list, she tapped the screen and held the phone to her ear.

“You have Carrie's number on your cell?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she answered distractedly as she waited for Carrie to pick up on her end. “She's nice. We bonded.” Carrie's voice mail kicked in, and Rory left a brief message, letting her know that Ian had been released and the charges against him dropped.

“We bonded too!” Lou called from the driver's seat. “Rory and me, I mean, not Carrie. I don't think I know Carrie.”

“You've been busy in the past twenty-four hours,” Ian teased. “Proving my innocence, finding me a lawyer, female bonding…”

“Plus, I cleaned the storage room at Station One.” Rory dropped her phone back in her coat pocket.

His eyes widened. “
The
storage room? The one that looks like a tornado blew through it?”

“Not anymore.” She gave a satisfied smile. “It would've been better if I'd had a label maker, but it's still much improved. You can actually see the floor now.”

“What'd the chief say?” he asked, scratching his jaw with the hand that wasn't holding hers. His two-day stubble highlighted the hard angles of his jaw and cheekbones. Just when she thought he couldn't be any more handsome, Ian managed to surprise her.

She moved her gaze away from his face. Looking at him was too distracting.

“Um…I left this morning before he arrived, so he hadn't seen it yet.”

Ian groaned, but it sounded amused. “That'll be interesting.”

Pulling into the coffee shop parking lot, Lou glanced in the rearview mirror at Rory. “Callum will kiss you on the mouth when he sees that storage room. The mess was making his soul itch.”

“He will not,” Ian said, his words clipped, his grip tightening.

“Ow,” Rory said mildly.

He looked at their joined hands and instantly lessened the pressure. “Sorry.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss on the back of it. As he opened the door, Rory stared at him, her mouth slightly open. She stayed frozen until he gave her hand a tug, pulling her out of the SUV after him.

As she straightened, she saw Lou was grinning at her. “Yeah. You're totally the reason.” After that cryptic statement, she hurried toward the front door of the shop, towing North behind her.

“What does that mean?” Ian asked, still keeping hold of Rory's hand as they headed for her pickup.

“No clue.” That might have been a lie. Rory had a
slight
clue what Lou meant, but there was no way she'd manage to explain without completely dissolving into a stammering, bright-red mess. Changing the subject seemed like the best tactical decision at that point. “Did you want to stop by Station One to let the guys know you're out?”

“No.” He finally released her so he could circle to the passenger side of the truck. “You drive, and I'll call.”

“Where are we going?” Rory dug her keys out of her coat pocket.

“Your house or mine, I don't care.”

After a moment of consideration, she left the lot and headed toward her house. She needed to spend more time there, to reclaim it as hers. Plus, if she didn't open the shop soon, her customers would think she was closed for good. Who knows what rumors were currently being ground by the Simpson rumor mill?

Since Ian was busy calling people and spreading the good news, Rory was able to stay quiet. She appreciated not having to make conversation, since that slight edge of tension had returned now that they were alone. Instead, she concentrated on driving, letting the familiar route home soothe her nerves. When she stopped at the locked gate, Ian extended his hand for the keys. Once she pulled them out of her pocket and handed them to him, he hopped out of the truck.

Jack was waiting for them, quivering with excitement as Ian unlocked and opened the gates. As soon as there was an opening big enough for him to squeeze through, Jack hurled himself at Ian, twisting and wriggling as he tried to get as close to the man as possible. Laughing, Ian paused with only one side of the gate open so he could affectionately ruffle the dog's coat.

Stacking her hands on top of the steering wheel, Rory rested her chin on her hands and watched the two, smiling a little. For some reason, Jack was positively in love with Ian. Her smile slipped away as she studied the object of her dog's affection. She couldn't blame Jack, really. Somewhere along the way, her childish crush had morphed into something else, something so big it scared her when she thought about it.

With a start, she realized that Ian had opened the other side of the gate and was watching her with an amused expression, waiting for her to drive through. She checked for Jack's location and spotted him curled around Ian's legs, so she eased the truck through the opening. Instead of waiting for him to climb back into his seat, she continued to the pole barn. The time it took to store the pickup and secure the building allowed her a moment to collect her unbalanced and frayed thoughts.

Ian and Jack both waited for her on the back porch. The upward curl of Ian's mouth made her wonder for a panicked moment if he could read her mind. She gave herself a sharp, mental reprimand and regained some of her composure.

He didn't say anything as she unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm. The silence continued as they shed their outerwear and left it next to the back door. His coat hanging next to hers, and his boots lined up by her much-smaller pair made a homey, comfortable picture, a startling contrast to her normal, lonely life. Once again, she was forced to talk firmly to her brain, reminding herself that she liked her life as it was—no Ian required.

When Ian remained quiet while she moved the bookshelves and opened the steel door, she felt tension creeping in ropes up the back of her neck. Her fingers fumbled as she relocked the door. He was standing much too close to her, and she didn't know if she could actually feel the heat from his body warming hers, or if that was her imagination. No matter how many stern talks she was giving her brain, her thoughts flew out of control.

At the base of the stairs, she couldn't take another second. After flicking on the lights for the living area, she turned to glare at him. “What?”

He just raised an eyebrow in question.

“You haven't said anything to me since we started driving here. What's the deal?”

“I knew if I opened my mouth,” he said, “I was going to say things I don't think you're ready to hear.”

She blinked, started to speak, and then closed her mouth again. After a long pause as they stared at each other, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

His laugh filled the space. “Yes. Starved.”

“Sit.” She jerked her chin at the kitchen table. “I'll cook.”

Ian did not sit. “I can help. I'm not much use in the kitchen, but I could, I don't know, chop stuff or something.”

With a huff, she rested her fists on her hips. “You are hopeless at following orders. I'm not picking you for my partner for the next zombie-invasion drill.”

Although he laughed, he did pull out a kitchen chair and lower himself into it. “Happy?”

“Yes.” She wasn't thrilled with how he was smirking at her, but at least now she had the run of the kitchen without worrying about bumping into whatever rock-hard part of his body was blocking her way. Rory was wound up enough without adding unintentional contact to the mix. Digging in the freezer, she pulled out some beef stew and a loaf of bread. “Stew and bread sound good?”