Hung

“The fire was suspicious?” Pick asks, proving he can connect the dots just fine without my help.

“I worked there, as a caregiver, and I was the last person in the house before the fire started.”

“Was the owner okay?”

“Yeah. She’d gone to play Bunco over at the senior center. She always did, like clockwork, every Thursday evening.”

“Fires happen. What made this one your problem?”

This would be so much better if he didn’t insist on details. Talking is highly overrated. “Because some diamond jewelry was missing, and the police report suggested someone had turned on the gas and then used the microwave to blow the place sky high.”

I’m just grateful that the house was somewhat isolated from its neighbors. In a more crowded subdivision, there could have been collateral damage.

“I told the police about how I saw Thad that night,” I admit “I ran back for a sweater I’d forgotten, and I saw him pulling away from the curb.”

Pick doesn’t interrupt me. And he’s really listening, I realize. He hasn’t dismissed my explanation. Yet. That focus is damned sexy, too. He’s not handsome in a polished GQ kind of way. Instead, he’s all rough, hard angles, from the strong line of his jaw to the small scars and burn marks scattered over his forearms and throat. He’s not afraid to put his body on the line and that’s better than a suit and a billion dollars any day. He doesn’t even need a cape to be a hero, although my inner hussy promptly suggests that we should buy him one. He could wear it naked. I promise fun things would ensue. Personally, I think my inner hussy just doesn’t want to finish this conversation.

“Coincidences happen,” he suggests, sounding reluctant. That’s Pick, though. He’s fair and balanced. “Hell, I don’t like the man, Sarah Jo. He’s a bully and he’s clearly jonesing for some revenge, but that doesn’t make him an arsonist. You got some proof that we can use?”

“It doesn’t. I confronted him.”

Pick swears.

“And he threatened me,” I continue. “No matter what I thought I knew, he said, no one would believe me. After all, he’s the local deputy and I’m a recent arrival. One year doesn’t count for much when most everyone has known Thad since he was a baby. I’m just the newbie on the block, fresh from San Francisco with my degree in hand and willing to do anything to earn a living because I have bills to pay and college wasn’t cheap.”

“When he comes back,” Pick says, and I can’t help but note his use of when, “that will make holding him off harder, if it’s his word against yours. Have you considered lawyering up?”

“That takes money.” Pick opens his mouth and wisely closes it when I shake my head. I’m so not taking his money. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

He snorts. “Honey, you’re already standing midstream. A bridge might be a blessing.”

“I’ll handle this.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“You know that if you need help, all you got to do is ask.”

“Thanks,” I say way too awkwardly. This is my business, not his, but this are-we-in-a-relationship thing (yes Damsel in Distress and Inner Hussy scream in tandem) complicates everything.

“Uh-huh.” He shakes his head, and the bike begins the familiar ascent to Baby Bear Lodge. “Well, you change your mind, you know where to find me, okay? There’s no expiration date on that offer.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah Jo

I hear Pick humming before I see him. Okay, so I actually ogle his feet and not the entire man, but details. I can say with great authority that The Voice will not be beating down his door anytime soon—he may be super hot in the looks department, but he’s spectacularly untalented in all things musical. If I’m not mistaken, he’s performing an off-key version of “99 Bottles of Beer.” The fire camp boasts a block of plumbed showers, which puts the place in luxury territory as far as the hotshots go. Personally, I’m much more particular. Running water—particularly hot water—isn’t optional in my book. Which is yet another reason I’m clearly a city kind of girl and entirely fish out of water here. The showers are very utilitarian, all get-in and get-out, which makes it easy to spot Pick. In case I need more clues, he’s tossed his towel over the shower rod and left his clothes neatly folded on a nearby lawn chair.