See You at Sunset (9 page)

Holly racked her brain for something to say after he turned off the ignition, preferably something breezy that might defuse the tension between them. Unfortunately, she seemed to be all out of breezy for the night.

She reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the lift. And I apologize again for acting like an idiot.”

Micah had told her to forget it after her two previous apologies. But even his understanding attitude hadn’t lessened her embarrassment.

“Hey, hold on a minute,” Micah said. “I don’t just dump ladies off in the driveway. You know me better than that.” He smiled and started to open his door.

“I certainly didn’t act like a lady tonight,” she muttered.

“You’re always a lady. And those jackasses deserved what they got and more.”

God, he was such a good guy. She got out and tracked around the front of the Tahoe. Micah met her there, his elbow crooked in a gallant invitation. She smiled as she tucked her hand around his muscular arm, and they strolled slowly to the house and up the short set of steps to the front porch.

And with every step they took, her heart pounded harder from a mix of nerves and anticipation.

She didn’t want to let go of him. Micah was a big, utterly masculine presence by her side, making her feel protected and cherished in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. Yes, because of worry and maybe one too many beers, her defenses were definitely down. But at the moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

“I think I’m still too wired to go to sleep,” she found herself saying when they reached the front door. “Why don’t I make us a cup of coffee? If you want to stick around for a bit, that is.”

Ugh. Lame.

Under the yellow glow of the porch light, she could see Micah’s eyebrows tick up. “Uh, sure, I can stick around. I’d like that.” He paused for a couple of moments as a grin crept over his handsome features. “You make great coffee.”

She didn’t, at least not in the old drip pot in her aunts’ kitchen. “You are such a liar.”

She dug out her key, fumbling for a moment before finally getting the door open. Micah followed her in. “Glad to see you locked the doors,” he said.

“I’d never flout your orders, Deputy,” she teased, batting her eyelashes at him.

His eyebrows went up again. “Really? I’ll hold you to that.”

Oh, man. Now she was flirting with him. She obviously did need coffee to counteract the alcohol that had loosened her tongue.

“You think maybe I came on a little strong about locking doors tonight?” he asked as he followed her through the softly lit living room to the kitchen. “Folks at the Pot just want to relax and have a drink, and there I was going at them hammer and tongs about security.”

“You only spent
half
the evening buttonholing people at the bar and haranguing them about it, so you were only a PITA for part of the time.”

“Thanks for the support,” he said wryly.

“Anytime, big guy,” she said as she pulled out the giant tin of Folgers from the freezer. She was starting to miss her local Starbucks already.

Micah leaned back against the counter, looking at home in the old-fashioned kitchen. He often checked in on her aunts and spent time with them—another reason why she loved him so much.

Love.
Her mind stumbled over the word. She had to force herself to focus on what he was saying.

“Too many people still don’t take it seriously,” he said. “They think Fitz’s break-in must be just some jackass teenager looking for pain meds.” He shook his head. “But I’m not sure it was a kid or a one-off.”

Holly filled the coffee machine with water and flipped the switch. “It’s understandable though. Seashell Bay’s always been a safe place.”

“Sure, but a guy like him knows that minor thefts can’t get much attention from law enforcement. He might even think it’s open season around here.” His mouth flattened into an irritated line. “He’d be wrong.”

“But the thief didn’t actually break in there,” she said, feeling queasy at the idea of a real problem in Seashell Bay. “She left her door open.”

“True, but he might have broken in regardless. Depends on what he knew. Did he know Fitz had Vicodin? That she didn’t lock up? She said nobody knew she had the pain meds other than a couple of people at the boatyard, and they’re in the clear. Maybe the thief wasn’t looking for drugs at all. Maybe he was really after money and just happened upon the pills.”

“Didn’t she tell you she had nothing much worth taking?”

Micah frowned. “That’s why I keep thinking it had to be the drugs. It’s hard to believe he picked Fitz’s place at random, or just because she doesn’t lock her doors. Not when half the people on the island don’t lock theirs either.”

“She didn’t show up at the Pot tonight or I would have talked to her. Is she okay? It’s hard to get over something like that.”

Sometimes Holly wondered if
she’d
ever get over what had happened in Boston.

“She still seems a little freaked out. At least it looked that way to me when I dropped in yesterday to check on her.”

A tight sensation lodged in Holly’s chest. Why should she feel weird at the idea of Micah checking on Fitz? It was his job, after all. And in any case, shouldn’t she feel relieved if he was becoming romantically interested in Fitz or any other woman instead of her?

The answer should be yes. Yet it didn’t feel that way right now.

She waved him into the living room and brought in two mugs of coffee, setting them on coasters on the old mahogany coffee table. Micah settled into one of two Queen Anne wingback chairs that graced the room. Most of the furniture and decorative pieces in the house were antiques, collected during years of dedicated foraging by her aunts through little shops up and down the Maine coast.

Holly took the matching wingback at the opposite end of the coffee table. Best to keep some distance between them.

After taking a sip of coffee, Micah cocked an enquiring eyebrow. “Holly, can I ask you something?”

Uh-oh.
That sounded like trouble. “Sure.”

He ran a hand across the dark stubble on his chin. He obviously hadn’t shaved since morning, and he looked just a little rough around the edges. And a whole lot sexy.

“Every time I talk about Fitz’s break-in, you look kind of… oh, antsy, I guess. Are you really worried about someone breaking in here?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I know I’ve been riding you about being careful, but you shouldn’t give it too much thought. Even if the guy does strike again, it’s unlikely he’ll try here. This house is on the busiest road, for one thing.”

Talking about her break-in was hardly her favorite topic, but if anyone deserved to hear the truth, it was Micah.

“I hate to admit it, but yes, I am worried.”

Micah searched her eyes. “Tell me why.”

She couldn’t help a grimace. “I don’t much like talking about it.”

Though Micah’s gaze remained intense, he didn’t press her. Drew had been like that too. He never pushed; instead he just calmly waited her out when something was bothering her.

“But I will,” she said. “To you.”

He nodded.

“It happened on the Martin Luther King holiday weekend, during one of my New York…” Holly stopped before she said
weekends with Jackson
. Micah never said anything about him, but it was clear he didn’t think much of Jackson. “Anyway, when I got back to Boston, my condo had been broken into and trashed.”

He blinked in surprise. “Was the lock picked?”

“Yes, according to the cops. The thieves found the cash I kept in a tea tin in the kitchen—about three hundred dollars. My iPad, camera, and some other electronics were gone too. Fortunately, I had my laptop with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Micah said in a sympathetic voice. “You said they trashed the place?”

“Well, they—or he—the police weren’t entirely sure, did a real number on it. Every drawer and cupboard was emptied—in the kitchen, the office, the bedrooms, my bathroom. The closets too. Bottles were smashed, containers emptied. It was just a horrible, unholy mess.”

She’d gone to a hotel that night and couldn’t bring herself to return home for two days. Even then, she’d asked a friend from work to go with her. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t feel safe there anymore—though she’d never felt entirely comfortable since. It was the fact that thugs had invaded her space, pawing through her belongings. She’d found it so devastating that she’d filled a half-dozen trash bags with clothes and other things they’d handled, including most of the stuff in her bathroom. Some of the bags had gone to charity, others straight into the Dumpster.

Her friend had thought it a major overreaction and tried to talk her out of it. Holly had to admit that lack of understanding had hurt. She’d felt more alone at that moment than she had in a long time.

“The bastards do it because it’s the fastest way,” Micah said. “And the most thorough. Thieves just yank and dump so they can be in and out in minutes and not miss anything. Guys like that will be wearing gloves so they don’t leave any prints.”

“That’s exactly what the police said.”

He put his cup down and leaned forward. “Holly, I’m really sorry, but why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I hate thinking about it, Micah. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget it.” She gave him an awkward smile. “I guess that makes me a wimp.”

His gaze narrowed. “Not even close, so none of that bull. And I’m glad you told me now. No wonder you tense up whenever I talk about what happened to Fitz.”

As a cop, Micah would intellectually understand how a victim would react. But no one could truly get the sense of personal violation without having gone through it. Certainly not a big, tough guy like Micah.

“After I settled down, I read up on the emotional impact of burglary,” she said. “It seems it’s generally much worse for women. The sense of violation and helplessness and the fear that it could happen again.” She grimaced. “Or something even uglier.”

“Most people see their home as an extension of themselves,” Micah said. “If it’s breached, they feel like they’ve been personally attacked even though they weren’t there. And like you said, that’s especially true for women.” His jaw was set in a hard, tight line. “That’s why I have to nail this asshole. I don’t want anybody else in Seashell Bay to go through what you and Fitz have had to endure.”

Holly couldn’t hold back a smile. Knowing Micah, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he made the island as safe as it could be again. He’d make it his personal mission, and that gave her a good deal of comfort when it came to her aunts. The old darlings were vulnerable. They’d always been careless about security, leaving barely adequate locks on both the house and the store. Florence had always heaved dramatic sighs whenever Holly brought up the subject, as if burglary only happened on the mainland, and Seashell Bay was protected by a magical force field.

“Florence and Beatrice need to start taking security more seriously,” Micah said, mirroring her thoughts. “I’ll bet they have some meds kicking around, don’t they? With all their ailments?”

“I’m sure.” Holly knew Beatrice had been taking a couple of medications for several years to help her cope with her rheumatoid arthritis, one of which was for the pain. “I’ll check with them. And I’ll talk to them again about replacing the locks. I’d just go ahead and get it done before they got back, but Florence would probably bar me from the island forever for being so bossy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. Tell her I’ll install the new locks myself, so it’ll just cost her the price of the hardware.” Micah drained the last of his coffee and stood up. “I’m sure you’re tired, and I don’t want to wear you out. Thanks for the coffee.” He cut her a sly smile as she got up. “It was great, honestly.”

She was a bit surprised that he’d taken the initiative to leave. “Yeah, almost as good as Starbucks. But thank
you
for the ride home, Micah. It was really nice of you.”

When they reached the door, she touched his arm. “I think it was probably good for me to talk about the break-in. Especially to someone who gets it.”

She opened her arms, waiting for Micah to give her one of his usual friendly hugs.

But she got something quite a bit different. He swept her into his embrace and held her tight against his brawny chest, one of his hands spread dangerously low, fingers brushing her butt, while the other hand stroked slowly down her spine. “We were damn good together tonight, weren’t we?” His voice was a low rumble that made her shiver. “At shuffleboard, I mean.”

Oh. My. God.

He wasn’t just talking about shuffleboard. And Lord above, did he feel good wrapped around her. Better than good—it felt like what she’d been wanting for a long time. If he tried to kiss her now, Holly wasn’t sure she could resist.

And that would lead to some very bad things, especially given his clear state of arousal.

She stretched up and gave his bristly cheek the briefest of pecks.

“We were the best,” she whispered. Then she wriggled a little to let Micah know she needed to break away.

She felt a sigh move through his body before he let her go. “I’ll be thinking about that,” he said. Then he turned and strode down the steps to his cruiser.

Holly shut and locked the door. She sagged against it as she sucked in an unsteady breath. She would be thinking about it too, probably all night.

Chapter 7

A
n evening ride in Lily’s lobster boat had always been a highlight of Holly’s summer vacations. The girlfriends made it an annual event to mark the day Lily had cobbled together enough money to buy the green-and-white craft that was her pride and joy.

Morgan had met Holly at the ferry when she got back from the hospital, and the two had carried the treats Morgan had prepared to the floating pier where Lily waited with her skiff. As they motored out to
Miss Annie
’s mooring, Holly had filled them in on her aunt’s condition. Both the psychologist and the attending physician had cleared Florence to return home tomorrow, subject to one last round of blood tests. That had been a welcome piece of news.