"I don't have a clue about his—" She plopped onto the sofa and forced herself to consider his words. "But of course they don't know that. Why wait a year to come after me?"
"If we knew, we'd have the answer to who did this."
"So we're back to square one and a messy office." We. Ooops. She'd been right to fear leaning on him, because it was beyond easy to think in we terms when Bo Rokowsky strutted into her life with all his quick answers and help.
Would he notice her we slip?
If he did, at least he stayed silent. He just kept those sexy baby blues pinned on her with slow blinking assessment that reminded her of the moment he'd pulled off her glasses to give her a kiss she couldn't afford to remember—but didn't stand a chance of forgetting.
Her lips parted, her lungs suddenly hungry for more air to relieve the building pressure in her br**sts tingling with the phantom sensation of pressing against the hard wall of his chest.
Footsteps sounded outside the office, halting footsteps that brought a welcome reminder she had bigger concerns than sexual frustration.
Seth poked his head around the door, leaning on his cane. "Hey, Paige, Kirstie woke up, nightmares from all this garbage going on. She needs you to tuck her in again."
Paige bolted to her feet. "Thanks, Seth." She shot a glance at Bo on her way out the door.
"And thank you for your help."
The thought of her child's cries squeezed maternal instincts hard with the reminder of the main reason she couldn't afford to shout uncle for even one weak second. Turning her back on Bo and temptation, Paige sprinted down the hall and up the back stairs toward her daughter.
Paige's speeding footsteps echoed in the empty office. Bo shoved away from the boarded-up medicine cabinet, righting a chair on his way to the door out into the reception area.
Who would want drugs and why? In spite of any other theories, the obvious answer was teenage vandalism. Connecting it to Kurt Haugen as they'd discussed was a stretch, although a part of him wouldn't mind laying blame at that bastard's feet. His mind also niggled with possibilities closer to home. He wanted to trust the people in Paige's life, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes folks hurt the ones they loved.
His eyes landed on the two Jansen men behind the reception counter, Vic shuffling loose papers back into files while Seth shoved them into the drawers. The two lumberjack-size guys wore the same face with way different personalities. Vic with his John Deere hat and stoic grief. Seth with his battered fishing cap, cargo shorts and don't-give-a-crap air.
What if the break-in was a cover up for someone closer to home? Seth was in a helluva lot of pain. Could he have helped himself to some relief? Even if he'd been off with Kirstie, he could have tipped off a friend about when the place would be vacant.
His hands ached with memories of his own recovery. There had been more than one moment when he might have sold his soul for an extra shot of mor**ine to get through physical therapy.
Bo studied the man's eyes. The pupils were a hint larger, but it was nighttime.
He shifted his focus back to Vic. It was his practice, so why trash the place if he needed something? And the guy seemed earnest in wanting to help his sister, in which case he wouldn't have stressed her with something like this.
The veterinarian stopped to study one of the folders, cross-referencing with computer data. "I keep thinking about that guy who approached Kirstie at the air show."
Was Vic trying to throw him off the trail by mentioning the air-show guy to him—and to the cops earlier? "Have you spoken to Kirstie about it?"
"Paige and I both talked to her even before this, but the kid's not coughing up any new info other than what you two saw—the back of a blond guy in some kind of repairman's uniform. The discussion seemed to scare her even more until she clammed up. We're walking a fine line here with a kid who's already on shaky ground, given what's happened over the past year." He slapped manila folders in a steady rhythm, the counter slowly reappearing from under the mess of the break-in.
"It's a reach connecting the guy." Although, the encounter still set off more than a few warning bells in his mind.
"That it is. But then, as much as I didn't like Kurt Haugen, I would have considered it a reach that he would ever sink so low." His hands slowed, his shoulder dropping. "Maybe I should have, so I could have saved my sister a load of heartache."
"He fooled people who saw him every day." Bo knelt to rake trash back into a wastebasket, not sure he wanted to follow this conversational path.
Seth snorted. "The guy was in debt up to his ass with his restaurant business. He was ripe for the picking when the mob approached him. Not that it justifies anything."
"Just trying to make sense of it all."
Seth swept off his ratty fishing hat and Frisbee-tossed it across the counter. "It sucks not knowing when the boom might smack or which direction it'll come from, a lot like falling through a barn loft at the Anderson place and busting this damn ankle of mine. Out of the blue. I wish I could be more help in holding my own and watching out for Paige and the munchkin."
Vic clapped him on the back. "Hang in there, man. Not much longer until you're in the air again."
And Bo would be out. His life would be back on track, and he would never see Paige or her kid again. Just like he wanted it. "I can bunk here, too, starting tomorrow."
Hey? Where the hell had that come from?