The Coltons of Red Ridge

“Aren’t you worried about him getting too hot?”

“Not in this weather,” Micah said. “It’s still cool enough that when I park in the shade with the windows down he does okay. I don’t leave him alone if it’s warm outside. It’s not worth the risk.” He stretched his arm out, handing her something small. “Here. He’s usually pretty friendly, but if you give him this he’ll be your best friend forever.”

Bea glanced at the object to find Micah had passed her a dog treat. She laughed softly. “Fair enough.” She reached into the backseat, extending the gift. Chunk took one sniff and leaned forward, retrieving the biscuit from her hand in one surprisingly delicate bite. His breath was humid on her hand, and he gave her a quick swipe with his tongue as if to say thanks.

Micah climbed behind the steering wheel and started the engine. “Ready?”

Bea wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or the dog, so she answered for the both of them. “Yes.”

He put the truck in gear, then stopped and turned to her with a worried look. “Uh, you’re not allergic to dogs, are you?”

“No,” she replied.

Relief flashed across his face and he returned his attention to driving. “That’s good,” he said. “I hadn’t thought to ask you about it before.”

“I take it Chunk is your roommate?”

“Something like that,” Micah said, turning on to the main street in front of the hospital. “Mostly, though, I’m more like his servant.” He didn’t sound like he was bothered by this arrangement, and Bea smiled.

“Sounds like a good deal for Chunk.” She glanced back at the dog, who was stretched out on the seat again. He was longer than she’d expected, but then again, Bea had never been around a basset hound before.

“Trust me, he’s got nothing to complain about.”

“Except for maybe his name,” Bea remarked. “Chunk isn’t a very dignified name.”

The dog in question snorted, as if agreeing with her.

“Well, that’s more of a nickname,” Micah said. “His given name is Chase, but no one ever calls him that.”

“Too bad,” Bea said. “It’s a nice name.”

“It is,” Micah agreed. “But you have to admit, he is a little...stout.”

“That’s hardly his fault,” she protested.

Micah laughed softly. “You don’t have to defend him to me,” he said. “I love the guy. And if I thought his nickname actually hurt his feelings, I wouldn’t use it. But believe it or not, he won’t answer to Chase. He only responds to Chunk.”

The dog snorted again, confirming his master’s words.

“How long have you two worked together?” She was genuinely curious, and Micah’s relationship with Chunk seemed like a fairly safe topic of conversation.

“Almost two years. I was partnered with him right after I joined the force.”

“Did you always know you wanted to have a dog as a partner?” It wasn’t the usual career path for a police officer, but then again, Red Ridge was known for its K-9 police unit and dog training center, courtesy of her father’s money. It was one of the more unselfish things Fenwick had done, and if it hadn’t been for her mother’s insistence, he probably wouldn’t have even considered it.

Micah was quiet, and for a moment Bea wondered if he was going to answer the question. She didn’t think it was too personal, but perhaps he didn’t want to talk about his motivations for joining the K-9 squad. “I actually worked with a dog while I was in the Army Rangers. His name was Duke, and he was a German shepherd.”

“Was?” She picked up on the past tense of the word, and her stomach tightened. Had something happened to the dog? No wonder Micah didn’t want to discuss it...

“Duke was shot during an ambush. Fortunately, he survived, and one of the veterinary nurses who took care of him adopted him.”

Bea breathed a sigh of relief at hearing the dog was okay. “That must have been really difficult, seeing him injured like that.”

“Yeah.” Micah swallowed hard. “It was one of the lowest moments of my life.”

Silence fell over them, and Bea could have kicked herself for pressing for more information. So much for keeping the conversation light and easy.

Bea searched for something to say but came up empty. She wished they could go back to the easy back-and-forth of a moment ago, but she couldn’t think of another topic of conversation to try. So she remained quiet, figuring it was better to say nothing at all than to blurt out something she’d come to regret.

Micah seemed comfortable with the silence, and she had to wonder if maybe he preferred it to talking to her. After all, he’d left her once before. He probably would have been happy to carry on without her in his life, but she’d forced her way back in, if only for a little while.

The thought had her second-guessing her decision once more, and she shifted in the seat. “How long do you think this will last?”

Micah lifted one shoulder in a shrug as he considered her question. “I’m not sure. Maybe a few days. Possibly longer than that.”

Bea frowned, turning to look out the window so he wouldn’t catch her expression. While a part of her was uncomfortable with the idea of spending so much time with Micah, a larger part insisted she stay with him. It didn’t make sense, but with the rest of her world in such chaos, she wanted—no, needed—the comfort of the familiar. And even though she and Micah had spent a lot of time apart, she still felt like she knew him. He was a safe port in this storm, and she wasn’t strong enough to pretend otherwise.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he said quietly. “I know things are...different...between us, but I won’t let you get hurt again.”

“I know,” she said, turning back to offer him a small smile. “I trust you, Micah. That’s why I was so insistent in the hospital.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but apparently thought better of it. He cleared his throat, instead, leaving her wondering what he’d left unsaid.

“Micah?”

“We’re almost home,” he said, dodging her implicit question.

Bea leaned back against the headrest, knowing better than to pry. It was only natural he was quiet around her. They were still getting used to seeing each other again.

He turned onto a graveled drive, and she glanced out the window at the trees that dotted the landscape. It wasn’t until they were halfway down the drive that she realized she knew where they were headed because she’d been there before.

“This might be my concussion talking, but are we going to your aunt’s house?”

Micah gave her a fleeting smile. “Yeah. At least, it was her house. She left it to me after she died.”

Bea vaguely remembered reading the woman’s obituary in the local paper several years ago. Micah had still been deployed, and she’d meant to go to the funeral to pay her respects. But something had come up, and she hadn’t made it to the service.

“I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet a moment as they crunched along the drive. “It was rough on me, losing her. We were close, and I hated not being able to come home to see her before she died.”

Bea hadn’t known the woman had been sick until the announcement of her death. Micah’s Aunt Wanda had been a friendly yet private woman, and like many other people her age, she had had her pride. It would never have occurred to her to ask for help, and Bea felt a little stab of guilt for not checking on her while Micah was away.

“I’m sure she understood,” Bea said. “I know she was very proud of you.” Bea wasn’t just trying to make Micah feel better. She’d spent some time with Aunt Wanda when she and Micah had dated, and the woman’s love for her nephew had been obvious enough for a blind man to see. Micah’s aunt hadn’t been able to have children of her own, so she was practically a second mother to Micah, especially after his own had died when he was only twelve.

Bea reached out in the darkness of the truck and laid her hand on his forearm. He jumped, clearly startled by her touch. But a second later his hand slid over hers, large and warm and a little rough against her skin.

For a moment, Bea allowed herself to pretend they were still a couple, headed home after a nice evening out in Red Ridge. She pictured a gold band on her hand, his matching ring glinting in the moonlight shining through the driver’s side window. Their kids would be tucked into bed by now, the sitter watching something on TV with the volume down low. They’d walk into the house and Chunk would rise from his bed in the kitchen to greet them and beg for a treat. They’d pay the babysitter and check on the kids, one boy and one girl, then head to their bedroom and make love before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

It was an image that made her heart ache. How different her life would have been, if only Micah hadn’t changed his mind. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why, but the idea of having that conversation was overwhelming, especially with her current headache.

A moment later, Micah pulled into the paved driveway and parked the truck under a large carport. He killed the engine, then turned to Bea. “Wait here,” he said softly. “I’ll come around to help you out.”

Bea nodded, grateful for his offer. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, and it bothered her to feel so weak. Her doctor had assured her it was normal, and told her the sensation would soon pass. Bea hoped he was right—she couldn’t very well spend the next few days literally leaning on Micah whenever she needed to walk somewhere.

Micah hopped out of the truck and opened the back door. Bea heard a scraping sound and looked back to see he’d dragged a small ramp across the concrete, fitting it against the seat. Chunk waited until his master pointed to the ramp and then scampered down with slightly more grace than Bea had expected. Once his paws hit the ground, Micah pulled the ramp away from the truck and shut the door.

Man and dog rounded the hood together and came to stand by the passenger door. Bea felt a little self-conscious being the focus of so much attention, but as soon as Micah touched her hand the sensation fled. He helped her slide out of the truck and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they started down the short walk to the front door. Chunk fell into step on Bea’s other side so she was flanked by the two males. Even though Chunk’s head only came up to her knee, Bea knew he would do everything in his power to help keep her steady, and she felt a surge of affection for the dog. She’d never really considered herself an animal person before, but she might have to make an exception for Chunk.

The house was orderly, but a thin veneer of dust on some of the tables was a testament to Micah’s workload. He led her down the main hallway to a bedroom in the back of the house and indicated a chair in the corner of the room. Bea sat, Chunk at her feet, while Micah quickly stripped the bed and put on fresh linens.

Bea glanced around, trying to determine if this was Micah’s room or simply a guest room. She wasn’t about to displace him from his own bed.

She didn’t see any personal effects in the room, but Micah had always been tidy, and his time in the army had probably reinforced the habit. A few pictures hung on the walls, framed shots of sunrises and sunsets in a desert, the sky a kaleidoscope of oranges and pinks and reds that looked too intense to be real. “These photos are gorgeous,” she said.

Micah glanced up and smiled. “Thanks. I took them while I was on deployment. Photography was kind of a hobby for me then.”

“What about now?” Bea was no art critic, but based on those shots it seemed like Micah had real talent. It would be a shame for him to let it lie dormant.

He shrugged as he folded an extra blanket and placed it at the foot of the bed. “I don’t get out with my camera as much as I used to. There just hasn’t been time.”

“That’s too bad,” she remarked. “Hopefully after you close the Groom Killer case your schedule will go back to normal.”

“That would be nice,” Micah said. “You’re all set in here. Let me show you the bathroom, and I’ll grab a spare T-shirt and some flannel pants for you to sleep in tonight.”

For the first time, Bea realized she didn’t have any of her clothes or toiletries. “Do you think we can stop by my place tomorrow so I can pack a bag?” she asked as she followed him down the hallway again.

“No problem.” Micah showed her the bathroom and placed some clean towels and a few sample containers of soap, shampoo and toothpaste on the counter, along with a travel-size toothbrush that was still in its original wrapper.

“Thank you,” she said, touched by his willingness to welcome her into his home. Would she have been so gracious if the shoe had been on the other foot? “I’m not staying in your bedroom, am I? I don’t want you to give up your bed for me.”

Micah shook his head. “You’re in the guest room. I’m just down the hall, across from you.” He studied her face. “You look tired.” It wasn’t a compliment, but his voice was kind. “Are you hungry? I can fix a sandwich or heat a can of soup if you’d like something to eat.”

Bea hadn’t eaten since lunch, but the thought of food made her stomach roll. “No, thanks. I think I’d rather just wash up and go to bed, if that’s okay with you.”

The corner of Micah’s mouth curved up. “You don’t have to keep me entertained,” he said. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Holler at me if you need anything.” He and Chunk backed out of the room and into the hall.

“Thank you,” Bea called out. He acknowledged her words with a wave of his hand as he and the dog walked toward the kitchen. Bea closed the door and turned to the sink, wincing as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

A large bandage dominated her forehead, a few spots of red bright on the white gauze. She poked gingerly at the area, but it was still numb from the injections the doctor had administered before he’d stitched her up.

“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” she muttered. And it wasn’t going to be pretty, either. But she’d take a gash on the head over being dead any day.

It didn’t take long to carefully splash water on her face and brush her teeth. A few minutes later, Bea stepped out into the hall and made her way back to the guest bedroom.

A folded shirt and pair of pants had been set on the bed, and for a moment, Bea could only stare at them. She had no doubt they’d fit her—actually, given Micah’s size, his clothes would be quite large on her. But the idea of wearing his shirt gave her pause. It was such an intimate act—the kind of thing lovers did without a second thought. Once upon a time, she would have slipped on his shirt without hesitation. Now she wasn’t so sure...

She didn’t have many other options, though. She couldn’t sleep in her clothes; she had to wear them again tomorrow and didn’t want to wrinkle them too badly. And sleeping nude was out of the question. With her luck, the smoke alarm would go off in the middle of the night and she’d spring from bed, forgetting her lack of clothes.

There was no help for it. She was going to have to wear Micah’s shirt.

Bea undressed and draped her clothes across the back of the chair. Then she tugged the gray shirt over her head.

As she’d thought, it was large on her, the hem falling midway to her knees and the sleeves ending past her elbows. It was also incredibly soft and smelled strongly of Micah’s detergent. She took a deep breath before she could stop herself, savoring the scent she’d always associated with him.

The sheets were cool as she slid into bed, and for the first time since her attack, Bea’s body relaxed completely, sinking into the embrace of the soft mattress. Bea normally had trouble falling asleep in a new place, but that wasn’t going to be a problem tonight. She turned onto her side and wrapped her arms around herself, breathing in the comforting scent of the man she loved as exhaustion claimed her.

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