Onion crawled across her lap and squashed Jake’s hand to her thigh. The dog laid his front paws on Jake. He rubbed his wet snout across Jake’s free hand, demanding a pet. When Jake obliged, Onion whapped Claire in the face with his wagging tail.
“Guess you can’t be all bad. Onion likes you.” She pushed down Onion’s dancing tail. Her gaze caught Jake’s.
The silence sizzled. There might be more to this man than she first thought. Maybe her body knew something her mind had yet to grasp.
She lost her train of thought when Onion’s back paws dug painfully into her stomach. He leaped down and barked at the dust cloud kicked up by two vehicles traveling the dirt road to her house. As they rolled closer, her gut tightened.
Onion barked incessantly as if his mortal enemy, the UPS truck, had pulled into her driveway. But instead of the big brown truck, Hank’s cruiser led the way for a Volvo sedan.
“Just great.” She walked down the steps. “Follow my lead.”
Hands on her hips, Claire scrutinized the trio of Layton men in her driveway. If Hank was the bossy brother and Chris the big-hearted goof, then her middle brother, Sam, claimed the title of most uptight. A history professor at Cather College, he smiled little and laughed less. It did not bode well that all three brothers had joined forces on her front lawn.
She fired the first volley. “I already told you on the phone that I’m staying here. I’ll be damned if I let this guy scare me out of my own house.”
That stopped the men’s approach. Jake remained silent on the porch. Onion, oblivious to the tension, sniffed every last scent out of her brothers’ pants. She stood her ground.
“You mean you’re staying to guard the house with the broken front door?” Sam nodded toward the few stained-glass shards still clinging to the splintered door.
“That can be fixed. I have plywood in the garage. Anyway, Jake’s staying with me.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, that is so much better. The two of you are going to stay here, with an oh-so-secure plywood front door while some…some…psychopath is out to get you?” He took a step forward. “That’s a great plan. A perfect plan. Why don’t you just let us know where your will is, so we can take care of things after this guy kills you.”
That stung. She’d always sought his approval above all others. The hurt bubbled up, her throat tightened and her stubborn streak widened at least a mile.
“Samuelson Aaron Layton, that was a mean thing to say.” Something in her quiet voice must have called out to Onion. He lopped over and sat with his body pressed against her leg. “I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it. I won’t concede victory to the Voice of Doom.”
“The Voice of Doom? What is he, a cartoon supervillain?” Sam looked heavenward. “I swear you’re more obstinate than is good for you. For once in your life, think, don’t react.”
Chris, ever the peacemaker, strode up to Claire and blocked her line of sight to Sam.
“Claire, I think what Sam is trying to say is we can’t sit by and watch you risk your life. We love you.” Chris paused for a breath. “Anyway, Mom would force-feed us nothing but steamed broccoli for a month of Sundays if anything happened to you.”
She chuckled at that. She didn’t know how he managed to do it, but Chris sucked the tension out of a situation better than anyone else in the world. God, she loved him.
Really, she loved all of them. But they had to learn she could take care of herself. She’d graduated from college, earned her MBA, had her heart pulverized and started her own restaurant, a successful one at that. Was it a baby sister thing? Was it a girl thing?
Who knew and who cared. It ended now. Today, she took care of them.
Her fingers trailed through Onion’s fur, causing his tail to thunk on the ground.
“Thank you all for coming out. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Hank, let’s get that report over with.” She glanced back at Jake still sitting on the porch steps. “My fridge is empty. Do you mind going into town to grab a pizza?”
Jake ambled over to her side. “Sure. What do you like?”
“Everything.”
The smirk returned. “My kind of woman.”
Chapter Six
Jake had no clue how he’d ended up as the pizza delivery boy. He’d started off the afternoon as the valiant protector. Now he sat in the King Pizza parking lot waiting for a large pepperoni. The scent of warm grease did little to distract him from the redhead who had somehow submarined his free will.
Claire said jump and he asked how high. And he liked it. Damn. The old man would be calling him six kinds of a wimp if he knew, but he couldn’t put off checking in with his father any longer.
“’Bout damn time you called.” The old man coughed. “Damn cigarettes. I quit two years ago, haven’t stopped hacking up a lung ever since.”
He nodded as if his father could see him. “If you quit, how come you have a pack in the freezer?”