The Fix Is In (Torus Intercession 4)

“Or to take you to the Humane Society and you can pick out a little one that might suit you better,” I went on, seeing the interest on her face. “Maybe even a cat.”

“A cat,” she said, her face lighting up. “Jim was allergic, so we could never have one but”––she turned to her son––“I would love to go look at cats.”

He nodded quickly. “We can go today.”

Outside on the porch, now dog-free as they were all inside, I picked up my umbrella and was surprised when I turned to Benji and he was smiling at me.

“You’re not mad?”

He squinted. “Whyever would I be mad?”

I shrugged. “You were there to consult with her and––”

“Oh no, that’s not what I do,” he stated, shaking his head. “If I can help, I want to help. If she’s having trouble with her radiators and needs a furry companion as well, I’m thrilled to have that be the entire outcome.”

“Really?”

He took hold of my wrist, squeezing gently. “Absolutely. I mean, it’s far easier to bleed radiators than remove a benevolent presence from a home.”

“I’m sure it is,” I agreed.

“Oh my goodness,” he goaded me, grinning and nodding, “you almost managed to say that without sounding patronizing.”

“I’m trying,” I groused at him.

“I know you are,” he assured me, letting my wrist slip free of his grasp.

When I started down the stairs, I noted that the rain had turned into a fine mist. Weirdest weather ever. I was halfway down the cobblestone path leading to the front gate when I realized he wasn’t with me.

Turning, I saw he was still on the porch. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, I––you’re very good with people,” he commented, not moving, still standing there gazing at me. “For such a big, strong man, your manner is far more patient and gentle than I would have imagined.”

“I don’t know if I should be insulted or pleased,” I remarked, smiling at him as I closed the umbrella. I wouldn’t drown in mist.

“Be pleased,” he urged, taking the stairs quickly to reach me, slipping his hand around my bicep, taking my arm. “Now I have to go meet with Mrs. Chen, who, like a lot of people lately, is having trouble with a building she’s not using.”

“Like the last one? The lady with the annoying nephew?”

“Mrs. Fleming, yes. She has a three-car garage that’s separate from the house, and she stores a few things in there. Lately, there have been frightening noises at night.”

“Okay.”

“We’ve had lots of calls about sheds, garages, workshops no one’s using, things like that.”

“And people think they’re all haunted?” I asked, turning to face him on the sidewalk, causing him to drop his hand from my arm.

“Well, they keep checking and no one’s out there.”

“What about animals?”

“No. Nothing.”

“All right, so Mrs. Chen. What are you looking at there?”

“A free-standing workshop that belonged to her late husband.”

“What’s with all the husbands kicking off in this town?”

“You know, I’ve wondered about that myself.”

My eyebrows lifted. “I was kidding.”

He chuckled, and I liked the sound. “Yes, I know, as was I.”

I grunted. “You’re a smartass, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told once or twice,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows.

I took a breath, because it felt like he was flirting with me, and that didn’t normally happen. “Where’s Mrs. Chen’s house?”

“About five houses down,” he answered, pointing to the left.

“You’ve got a lot of business on this stretch of road.”

“Yes, but, the town’s not that big, and this is a long street.”

“Okay, I’ll drive you.”

He made a face, shook his head. “I’ll walk. I like to walk. But you should move the car so we don’t get caught in a hurricane running back to it.”

“The weather is nuts here.”

“Only always,” he teased me, and his laugh, again husky and low, sexy, I really did like. “So I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah, what part of bodyguard are you missing?” I asked him, taking hold of his bicep before he could walk away from me. “We go to-geth-er,” I explained, enunciating all the syllables in the word for him.

“You really are serious about that?”

I gave him a deadpan look.

“Fine,” he agreed, taking my arm again. “But now we’re walking.”

My options were to take a stroll that could turn out to be, on the way back, another sprint through a downpour, or throw him over my shoulder, walk him back to the SUV, and put him in the seat. Since most people I knew did not respond well to manhandling, unless it was a prelude to sex, I let him steer me down the sidewalk.

It was a short walk to the steps that led up from the street to a path that led to Mrs. Chen’s front door.

“There must be something to this bodyguarding business,” he mused playfully, inhaling the wet air, which carried the scent of the ocean and fall leaves as well as a trace of smoke. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe.”