Page 43 of Let Me Be the One
But they both heard a noise.
Honest to God, her breath stalled in her lungs, especially when Tanner pointed to one open window and the bent screen now on the floor.
Keeping his gaze on the room, Tanner reached back, his hand landing on her hip. He pressed her to the hallway with the silent command for her to wait there.
Right. She could do that. Gripping the doorframe, she peeked in to watch him.
He stepped forward and listened again, his attention jerking to the closet where a quiet rustling sounded. The closet door was ajar.
She badly wanted to grab Tanner and make a run for it, but she was living independently now—sort of, or rather, just barely—and she supposed that meant she—or rather he—should check on anything out of place. This time, anyway.
Next time, she’d know what to do.
Next time, she’d damn well lock her doors and windows.
When he swung open the closet door, an enraged raccoon shot out, snarling and hissing, and even barking like a dog.
Tanner quickly backed up, giving the vicious critter a little room. It lunged at him but didn’t make contact. “Get me a broom or something,” he said quietly.
She raced off to the kitchen, located a broom in the pantry, and sprinted back.
Tanner now stood in the hallway with the bedroom door mostly closed. He took it from her with an offhand “Thanks,” and an order to “Wait here.”
Yeah, this time she wouldn’t argue. “Be careful.” Keeping one hand on the doorknob, she listened.
“Yah! Go on. Out you go.”
To which the raccoon offered more threatening sounds…and finally it was quiet. The thud she heard was, she hoped, the window closing. Peeking in, she saw Tanner checking the closet again, top and bottom, and he even used the light on his phone to look in the dark corners. With that done, he set the broom aside and closed her other window.
The second he turned to her, she held up her hands. “Lessons learned. No unlocked doors or open windows.”
He gave her a frown and stepped past her. “Raccoons are predators and they consider chickens an easy meal.”
Horror froze her to the spot as she envisioned slaughtered chickens filling the yard she’d only cleared today. Tanner had reached the kitchen before she ran after him. She’d gotten in more running today than she usually would in a month.
He flipped on the outside lights and opened the door.
Holding her breath, Callie followed him out.
The yard was quiet and still, and that scared her even more. Were all the chickens murdered? She’d already gotten accustomed to them milling around, occasionally making faint clucking sounds that, to her, sounded quite pleasant.
When a goat suddenly screeched, so did Callie, and she startled Tanner.
He turned on her with a glare. “Don’t do that!”
A nearly hysterical laugh bubbled out, even as she clutched his arm. Before this very moment, she never could have imagined badass Tanner Patrick jumping like that. “Where are the chickens? Please,pleasetell me they aren’t all dead.”
Rolling his eyes, he drew her close and put his armover her shoulders, which made her feel better as they crossed the yard. “Settle down. They’re likely in their coop.”
“They…what?” She would have halted but he kept them moving. “I thought you said—”
“They’ll go in on their own.” With a squeeze, he reassured her. “But you need to make sure the door is securely latched. Raccoons are clever about opening everything. Their little hands are stronger than you could imagine.”
While another horrific scene flashed in her brain, one of stealthy raccoons opening doors and latches, she released him so he could peek into the coop first.
After sticking his head inside, he said, “They’re in there.”
Her panic receded, the relief so great that her legs went wobbly.
