Hold Your Breath (Search and Rescue) (20 page)

“No.” He started to smile. “I’m curious now.”

Groaning, she let her head bump the wall behind her. “You’re going to think I’m…I don’t know, insensitive. Crass, even.”

He laughed. “Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but almost every single person working as a first responder is insensitive.” Raising a mocking eyebrow, he parroted her, “Crass, even.”

When she thought about it, it did seem to have a ring of truth.

“We have to be,” he continued. “You can’t see bad shit over and over without throwing up some defenses. It’s either that or burn out. Some of the jokes the deputies tell…” He shook his head, although a smile tucked in the corners of his mouth.

“Headless Dead Guy,” she said in a small voice, peeking at him to see his reaction.

Derek blinked. “The guy from the reservoir? Is that his nickname?”

“Maybe. But that’s just between me and you. And Callum, of course.”

“Ah.” He leaned back, twisting his stool until he faced her. “Of course. So, the two of you
are
knocking boots, then?”

“No!” Grabbing a plastic coffee stirrer, she tossed it at him. Although it fluttered down harmlessly between them, Derek ducked as if she’d hurled a pot of hot coffee at him. “Not yet.”

His eyes widened as he sat up straight, and she instantly regretted letting the words slip. “So, there’s a plan to knock boots in the future then? The
immediate
future?”

As hot as her cheeks were, she knew her face had to be bright red. She lifted her hands to cover them, closing her eyes with an embarrassed groan. The sound of the sleigh bells made her eyes pop open again.

When Callum walked into the shop, she held back another groan at Derek’s delighted grin. Callum raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Hi?” she said, not sure why she raised her voice in question.

“Hi.” Looking hard at Derek—who looked ready to burst into gales of laughter—Callum hesitated, then abruptly crossed the shop until he stood in front of her. Before she had any inkling of his intent, he leaned in and kissed her. It was short but hard, leaving her staring at him with startled eyes and tingling lips.

He turned toward Derek, although he stayed so close to her that he would just need to move a half inch for them to be touching. Lou blinked. How had they gone from three abbreviated kisses to full-on PDA?

“Derek.” Callum lifted his chin in greeting.

“Hey, Cal.” Derek’s beaming smile did not dim at all at the other man’s cool welcome. He opened his mouth to say something else, but whatever outrageous thing that was going to emerge was cut off by the sheriff’s entrance.

“Rob!” Lou knew she sounded much too excited to see him, but she was dreading Derek’s next quip. Whatever he was going to say, it was guaranteed to be embarrassing.

“Lou.” Rob took her overeager greeting in stride. “Is now a good time to finish our discussion?”

“Sure.” The shop was empty except for the four of them. “See you later, Derek?”

“You know it.” His grin was still in place as he stood. “We have a discussion of our own to finish.”

“No, we don’t,” she said quickly—too quickly, judging by the way Callum’s head snapped around. Grimacing, she mouthed, “I’ll explain later,” at Cal, who, after a stiff pause, nodded. Derek was practically chortling as he pushed open the door, exiting the shop with a final wave. Sighing, Lou poured Cal’s coffee into a to-go cup.

The sheriff eyed Callum, who returned his stare for a long second before turning to Lou and trading the coffee for a five-dollar bill.

“I’d better get back,” he said reluctantly. When he leaned in this time, Lou was prepared, turning her face so his lips met her cheek instead of her mouth. She met his glower with a stern look of her own. PDAs required a prior discussion and agreement by both involved parties. He couldn’t just go throwing his testosterone around because there were other males lurking nearby.

His irritated look slipped into his usual expressionless mien as he turned toward the sheriff.

“See you, Rob,” he said before moving toward the door. “I’ll talk to you later, Lou.” That short statement was filled with all sorts of implications. She just smiled at him, although she probably looked like a pissed-off tiger with the way her teeth were set. His mouth softened into a barely there smirk right before he stalked out of the shop.

“It’s getting serious, then? The two of you?” Rob asked, bringing her attention off the door and back to the sheriff’s curious face.

“Is it Ask-Lou-About-Her-Relationships day or something?” she snapped, but immediately softened. “Sorry. Long day. Long week, actually.”

“My fault,” he said. “None of my business. I’d just been considering… Never mind.” His voice turned brisk, and her curiosity ramped up to cat-killing levels. “I just had a couple more questions for you.”

Rob covered some of the same ground they’d been over before, about Lou’s relationship with Brent. She snorted a laugh.

“Guess it
is
Ask-Lou-About-Her-Relationships day,” she explained, when Rob raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Never mind. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but my parents were so happy when I started dating Brent that I just went along with it. When I was in college, I’d try to end things with him, but he’d get really angry.”

Rob frowned. “Was he abusive?”

“Not physically.” She dropped her eyes to the counter. “He’d yell and threaten and throw things, but he never hit me. It was scary, though, and my parents would always push me to take him back, so it was just easier to be officially together and avoid him as much as possible.” Lou cringed at how spineless she’d been. “I’d even find excuses to skip the twice-a-year family trip to Barbados because my parents invited him along.” When Rob looked surprised—well, as surprised as the sheriff ever allowed himself to look—she nodded. “I know. Mom and Dad love this guy—probably more than me at this point. But I got to where I didn’t want to be around him, to the point of giving up opportunities to scuba dive.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’ll get plenty of chances now that you’re on the dive team.”

“Yeah,
cold
-water diving.” Lou made a face. “Somehow, it’s just not as fun as diving in a bikini with the tropical fish.”

That brought an actual smile. “Guess not.”

Afraid that her complaint made her sound like a spoiled princess, she hurried to add, “The dive team is awesome, though. Helping to save people’s lives is in a whole other realm than paddling around, looking at sea life. It’s worth the cold.”

“I get that,” he said seriously. “That’s why I do this job.”

“Oh? It’s not for the thrill of moving cattle off the highway?”

He grimaced. “Or getting to deal with the state investigators.”

“Is the measuring contest still ongoing?”

His eyebrows flew up. “Did I mention that to you?”

With a grin, she shrugged. “I think you’d just come from the scene, so the annoyance was fresh in your mind.”

“Probably.” Glancing down at his notebook, he switched back into cop mode. “Tell me about any encounters you had with Mr. Lloyd since you stopped dating him.”

Although there was little to tell, she did her best to comply with his request. They were interrupted a few times by customers, but the presence of the sheriff had all of them taking their coffee and hustling for the door.

“You can really clear a room,” Lou said, putting the milk back in the small fridge after the third person practically ran out of the shop.

He looked a little uncomfortable. “Part of it’s the uniform, and part is just me. I guess I tend to be…off-putting.”

Cocking her head to the side, she considered him carefully. “You do have an air of authority. I think it’s more that you’re intimidating rather than off-putting, though.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Sure.” She laughed. “I’d much rather be intimidating than off-putting.”

The door opened again, this time admitting Tyler Coughlin.

“Hey,” he said to both of them before turning to Lou. “Heard your house burned down. That blows.”

“How did you…?” Rob shook his head. “School. Gossip. Got it.”

“It’s Friday, Dad,” Tyler said with exaggerated patience. The Simpson schools were set up on four-day weeks. “But I don’t have to be in school to hear about it. The whole town is talking.” He sent Lou a sly look. “About the fire…and
other things
.”

“Tyler,” the sheriff barked.

The teenager’s head dropped as he muttered, “Sorry.”

Despite her blush, Lou waved it off. “It’s fine. It’s not news to me. Everyone and their brother has been in this afternoon, asking about the fire and…other things. Want something to drink?”

“Mocha?” he suggested, sending his dad a sideways look.

“Hot chocolate,” Rob corrected, making Tyler roll his eyes but give in with a shrug.

“So who did it?” Tyler asked as she mixed chocolate with the steamed milk for his drink.

The sheriff cleared his throat.

Ignoring the wordless reprimand, his son continued, “I heard you, like, got trapped inside and almost died. Bet it was freaky in there. Did you get any burns?”

“Tyler!”

Shaking off the horrifying images the boy’s questions brought back to her mind, she handed Tyler his hot chocolate.

Repressively, Rob said, “I’ll see you at home.”

Tyler snorted. “Right. Because you’ll be home before I’m asleep.”

“Tyler,” Rob said, sounding tired and guilty and frustrated and…all kinds of emotions Lou couldn’t identify.

“See you, Lou,” Tyler said, ignoring his father as he pushed open the door.

“Good night, Tyler,” she called as the door swung closed behind him.

“Excuse me a moment,” Rob said, following his son outside.

Lou could see them in front of the shop, although she half-heartedly tried not to watch their interaction. When Rob turned back toward the door, Lou hurried to busy herself, restacking plates that really didn’t need restacking.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Rob said as he returned. The professional mask was back in place, worried single father hidden again. His deeply tired look remained, though, and Lou had the same urge to help him as she’d had before. Something about the lost father-and-son pair brought out her nurturing side.

“No problem. Any more questions for me?”

Consulting his little notebook, Rob finally shook his head. “Not right now. I’ll call if I think of anything else. You’ll be staying with Callum at his house for a while?”

She nodded, feeling a little awkward admitting that.

“Good.” He tucked away the notebook. “He’ll notice if anything is wrong.”

Making a face, she couldn’t resist asking, “And I won’t?”

“Sure,” Rob said, although his expression didn’t exactly agree. “It’s always good to have a second pair of eyes, though.”

“True.” Plus, Lou had to admit that the idea of hanging out with Callum at his house was considerably more appealing than the thought of staying somewhere alone. Just the thought made her shiver. This, in turn, made her angry, since she’d been by herself and happy for over seven months, and Brent ruined that for her. At the thought of Brent, her hands tightened into fists. “Any luck finding him?”

“Not yet,” Rob admitted. “But we have some solid leads we’re following.”

“Good.” She hesitated to ask her next question, since it somehow felt as if she was admitting she was afraid. “Will you tell me? When he’s in custody, I mean. So I know he’s not running around somewhere.” The idea made her glance out of the window into the approaching dusk.

“Of course,” he said. “And, with a little luck, that will be sooner rather than later.”

“Good.” Lou glanced through the window again, hating that this ordeal was turning her into someone who flinched at shadows. Straightening her spine, she resolutely turned her back on the window and any watching stalkers. “Would you like something to drink for the road?”

Callum was acting…different. For almost two hours, while he’d sat on his usual stool, she’d been trying to put her finger on what was making him seem odd. Finally, after she’d closed the shop and climbed into his truck, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?” It probably wasn’t the most diplomatic leadoff to a discussion, but she was tired and tense and ready to get home—his home—and change into flannel pajama pants—her only pair now—and his weirdness wasn’t going to allow her to get comfortable, warm pj’s or no.

“You and Derek are friends,” he stated. Since he hadn’t really asked a question, she waited for him to continue. When he was silent for too long, she decided to give him a verbal prompt.

“Yes.”

“And…?”

She turned in her seat so she could stare at him. “And what?”

His lips tightened in annoyance. “Are you…anything more?”

“More?” It was a little like having a conversation in pig Latin. She could pick up the gist, but it was maddening and made her want to smack him. “More than friends, you mean?” At his short nod, she blew out a breath. “No. Even if hell froze over and he broke up with Artie, I’d never be tempted. He’s like the brother I never wanted. How could I date that?”

Although he didn’t smile, at least his mouth relaxed slightly. “Rob.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete, just spit it out! What about Rob?”

That slight easing of his tension was gone. “Are you interested?”

“In Rob? Romantically? No. Sure, he’s hot in a sexy-but-damaged kind of way, but there’s no zing between us. And can you imagine me as a stepmother to a teenager? The poor kid would be traumatized.” With a mock shudder, she purposely did not mention that the sheriff had implied his interest. Sharing that would not be helpful during the current discussion—or any discussion with Callum, actually. Instead, she asked, “What’s with the line-up of possible love interests?”

Adjusting his baseball cap, he stared through the windshield with more attention than the mostly cleared road required. “I’m trying to understand,” he finally said.

“Understand…?”

He flashed her an irritated look, which made her realize how few of those he’d been sending her way recently. Honestly, she hadn’t missed them. “You.”

“What about me?”

“Earlier, at the coffee shop…” He lifted his cap again and resettled it on his head. The amount of fidgeting was a sure sign he was off balance. “You didn’t want me touching you.”

“Is that it?” Flopping back against the seat in relief, she turned her head and grinned at him. “Jeez Louise, I thought you were breaking up with me or something.”

“Break up with you?” He frowned. “I’m not the one turning away when
you
try to kiss
me
.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one using PDA to mark his territory.”

“What?”

“The only reason you kissed me was to prove a point to Derek and Rob.”

“That wasn’t why,” he grumbled.

Ignoring that, she continued, “We haven’t even really talked about it. What we are, I mean. We’re basically living together, but we haven’t even dated.”

“We’ve gone on dates,” he protested, totally missing the point. “We went to Levi’s.”

“Fine. We’ve gone on one date.”

“Plus, we went to the bar together.”

“Uh, that was to talk to the coroner about a dead person.”

“Still counts.”

“Does not.”

“Does.”

“Whatever. Two dates then. So, we’re dating?”

“Yes.”

“Are we exclusive?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then.” She smiled at him. “Are we good?”

Finally, he smiled back. “Yeah. We’re good.”

* * *

Lou decided that Callum’s cooking more than made up for his lack of communication skills. After dinner, though, she couldn’t settle. She did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen just for something to do. When Callum discreetly checked the cleanliness of the countertops before wiping them down again, she rolled her eyes and wandered around the living area.

He watched her over the breakfast bar as she roamed the space. Lou sat on his very comfortable couch and almost immediately popped back to her feet. Watching television was not going to happen. She was much too twitchy to sit still. If she stayed in one place too long, then she would start thinking about how someone—Brent—hated her enough to try to kill her. That would just lead to being petrified and sad, so she decided the solution was to keep moving.

Her gaze stopped at the woodstove, and she headed in that direction. The fire didn’t really need attention, but she figured that poking at it would allow her to pretend to be useful.

“Stop,” Callum ordered. “The fire is perfect. Do not mess with it.”

Months of obeying that commanding tone during trainings and on calls made Lou stop in her tracks. “Sorry. I’m being irritating.”

“I’m just not used to people being in my space.” He looked relieved that his fire was no longer in danger of being assaulted.

She pivoted away from the stove, and the whiteboard caught her attention. “Can we talk about HDG? I just need to do…something.”

“I can think of something to do.”

It took her a moment of staring at him to realize he was flirting. “Oh! Um, better not right now. That’s not very calming.”

He stalked—actually stalked!—around the breakfast bar toward her. “We don’t have to be calm.”

“I…uh.” Her mouth was suddenly dry, making it hard to swallow. She backed up as he advanced, and the image of an antelope being hunted by a mountain lion popped into her head. When her legs bumped into the back of the couch, she jumped, startled. He was just inches away from her, and he put both hands on the top of the couch, trapping her and reminding her of their kiss in her kitchen the night before. The memory brought back the reason that kiss was interrupted, and her hand flew to his chest, stopping him as he leaned closer.

When he went still, looking at her with an unreadable expression, she studied him, taking in the hard planes of his face and the concern in his eyes. Despite his predatory advance, it’d taken only the smallest amount of pressure against his chest for him to stop. It made her feel powerful and safe and so incredibly turned-on that she closed her hands, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt so she could yank him toward her.

A rare look of surprise crossed his face before her lips crashed into his. It didn’t take him long before Callum’s stunned moment passed and he took over the kiss. There was no teasing this time, and little finesse. Their embrace was sheer raw need that had been building since their first real kiss in her kitchen.

She fumbled for the buttons on his flannel shirt, wanting to skip the fastenings and just rip and tear until he was naked. Her teeth closed on his lip, and he jolted. For a second, she felt guilty, worried that she’d been too rough, when his fingers threaded through her hair, and he yanked her closer.

Groaning against his mouth, she sank into him. She needed him, needed this, needed the sensations crashing through her body to prove that she was still alive. Even as she fell deeper into the kiss, however, Cal eased back, his hands slipping to her shoulders and gently holding her away from him.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was still husky from smoke and want. “Is your phone ringing again?”

“No.” He moved his hands to cup her cheeks. “But I don’t want to take advantage. You’ve had a rough few days. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she dropped her gaze to his chin. “Maybe?”

Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to her temple and then stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. “We’ll wait until you’re sure.”

Now that her desire for him was settling back to its usual simmer, Lou knew he was right. It was too soon. She shifted awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Cal, much too aware that she’d just jumped the poor guy. “So…what would you like to do instead?”

His exhaled sigh was resigned. “Want to talk about the dead guy?”

“Can we?” she asked hopefully, her gaze returning to him.

He gestured toward the whiteboard, creating an opening for her to escape his too-tempting nearness. She took the out gratefully, hurrying over to the board and focusing much too intently on choosing a marker color. Magenta pen in hand, she looked over at Callum, who was still standing where she’d left him by the back of the couch.

“So,” she said, underlining Ian Walsh’s name. “Should we tell him about the evidence that might implicate his motorcycle club?”

Callum looked at her for a long second before circling to the front of the couch and sitting. “What do you think?”

Tapping the end of the marker against her pursed lips, she considered the question. “I want to tell him,” she finally said, “especially after last night. My reasons are more emotional than logical, though. I mean, he braved a burning building for us. It just strikes me as wrong that we’re keeping this vital information from him, you know?”

Leaning back against the sofa cushion, Callum looked thoughtful. “What are the cons of telling him?”

She turned toward the whiteboard, picking an empty corner and writing “pros” on the left and “cons” on the right. Under pros, she put
Need to look out for fellow rescuer.
After a short hesitation, she added,
Ian risked life for us—should treat him with equal respect.

“Okay,” she said. “Cons.” She scribbled,
Sheriff warned Lou to keep her big mouth shut.
and
Do we want to give MC this info (especially if they did it)?

Taking a step back, she eyed what she wrote before turning to Callum. “I care more about the second con than the first. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not very good at following orders.”

His lips twitched. “I’ve noticed.”

She grinned at him. “So, we’re basically looking at whether we want to risk indirectly sharing this information with the club, then.”

With a nod, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “What could they do, if they did know?”

“You’re being very Socratic-Methody tonight with all these questions,” she observed, tilting her head to the side as she eyed him.

The lip twitch turned into a small grin. “Just trying to help organize your brain.”

After considering this for a moment, she gave him a nod. “Actually, it is helping. Thank you.” She paused. “What was the question again?”

“I can tell it’s helping,” Callum said dryly. “The question was, what could the MC do with this information if they did have it?”

“Ooh, good question. They could make the evidence disappear.”

He changed an amused sound into a cough when she narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’re brainstorming,” she said sternly. “There’s no laughing allowed in brainstorming sessions.”

“Sorry.” He gave her an impressively somber nod. “The evidence is safe in the state lab. I don’t think this small, local MC has the reach to make it”—he cleared his throat—“disappear.”

“Okay.” She tapped the marker against her lips again, stopping when Callum gave her an odd look. “What?” Glancing down, she realized she had the marker upside down, and there was probably magenta ink all over her face now. “Shoot. Oh well, at least it’s not a permanent marker. So, if the club has prior knowledge of the evidence, they’ll be prepared when Rob interrogates them about it. That could mess up the case.”

“It could.” He didn’t sound too convinced. “It’s a stretch, though. They’ll already know something’s up, just because the sheriff’s bringing them in for questioning.”

“But they won’t know what, specifically, he has on them, unless we spill the beans to Ian.”

“Will that actually affect the outcome of the interview?”

Opening her mouth to answer, she closed it again to reconsider. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “They could have excuses prepared, I suppose. It’s all so hypothetical, when the reasons I
should
tell Ian are so visceral.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Tell him.” It just popped out of her mouth without her having to think about it.

After considering her for a long moment, Callum nodded. “Do it.”

With a little bounce of excitement, she asked, “Now?”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s pretty late, and you probably want to do it in person?” She nodded. “Tomorrow morning, then.”

“Okay.” Looking at the whiteboard, she said, “I think I’m going to start calling the diabetes and amputee support groups tomorrow, too. Unless you think I should visit in person?”

“No.” Standing, he stretched his arms toward the ceiling. Distracted by the play of muscles visible even under his shirt, Lou temporarily forgot the question she’d just asked until he continued. “More snow’s coming, and it’s too dangerous to be driving that far. Most of the towns where the groups meet are over an hour from here.”

Frowning, she replaced the cap on the marker. “Plus, I’m currently truckless.”

He walked to where she was standing and rested a hand where her neck and shoulder met, massaging the muscles there. “Did you hear anything from your insurance company?”

“Not since I called them this morning.” Leaning into his touch, she closed her eyes as his fingers dug into a particularly tight spot.

“Things will get settled quickly,” he assured her, but she was too blissed-out to really listen. “I’ll help you shop for a new truck.”

When that penetrated, her eyes popped open. “That’s okay,” she said, slipping out from underneath his hand. “You’re busy. I can do it on my own.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Callum gave her a heavy frown. “What’s the problem?”

“No problem.” She rubbed at a pink smudge the marker had left on her hand so she could avoid looking at him. “It’s just that I can shop for my own truck.”

He was quiet long enough that she gave in and met his gaze. It gave nothing away. Stubbornly, she stayed silent in what felt like an extremely awkward round of the quiet game.

“Are you regretting it?”

“What?”

“What we talked about earlier.” He ran his hand over his shorn head, as if he were reaching to adjust his baseball cap and was surprised to find it missing. “Us.”