“Katie? Are you all right? Open up!”
Sure. Why not be Aiden? He’s clearly what the situation was lacking. I needed another man who thought I was a worthless idiot.
Chaucer ran to the door, giving a happy bark. I stumbled behind him, my head pounding while my brains leaked out. I wiped at the tears on my face and took a deep breath.
Pound. Pound. Pound. “Katie?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I mumbled. I opened the door to find tall, dark, and dickish with his hands on his hips, apparently pissed off I hadn’t moved faster.
“Why did you scream? And what took you so long to answer the door?”
See? “I’m having a prob—wait! Yes.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. I circled behind and pushed him toward the kitchen. He didn’t move. I kept pushing but had no traction on the slick wooden floors. My feet slid out from under me. I was not going down twice inside three minutes. I grabbed his waist and held on, finally able to right myself.
“Can you please take your hands off me, Katie?”
Pointing around him toward the kitchen, I said, “Protect and serve. Get in the kitchen and protect us from whatever huge snarling beast is in there and then serve us by getting rid of it.”
I had no idea what he was thinking. His large back was better at looming than conveying thoughts. Tentatively, I reached out and tried one more shove. His hand whipped back and grabbed mine, pulling me around to stand in front of him.
“Hey! You’re the cop. You have the gun.” I scampered around behind him again and shoved with both hands. Nothing.
“Woman, if you push me one more time, I’m arresting you.”
“If you’d just move, I wouldn’t have to push.”
Chaucer scratched at the pantry door again.
“Please, can you help us?” I whined. I kind of hated him for making me whine.
He moved forward. “Was that so difficult?” He stopped by Chaucer, patting the dog’s head and then pushing him aside.
I stood in the kitchen doorway, ready to make a break for it. “So I have to beg before you’ll do the decent thing? You’re all the same,” I mumbled.
He shook his head and pulled his flashlight from his belt.
“Don’t forget your gun! Whatever’s in there is huge.”
He opened the door a crack, his foot braced against it opening farther. He shone the light through the divide, turned back to me, rolled his eyes, and flung the door open.
“Careful!” I half hid around the doorsill.
Aiden crouched down. “Hey,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ll get you out of there.”
I leaned forward, trying to see around him.
He stood, carrying something toward the back door. “You want to open the door so I can let the vicious beast out?”
I ran forward to do as he’d asked and looked in his arms. A baby raccoon. It looked at me and hissed as he carried it past.
I closed the door and leaned against it. The band was back, squeezing my chest. Damn. The door opened, smacking into the back of my already-throbbing head. I stood a moment, absorbing the pain.
“You need to take two steps forward so I can open the door enough to enter.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, I shuffled forward to sit and dropped my head to the table. I’d hurt a baby raccoon. My husband, the man who pledged to love me forever, thought I was a sad piece of crap, one he couldn’t scrape off the bottom of his shoe fast enough. The house was infested. My body hurt from sleeping in that chair. I couldn’t afford an exterminator, let alone a bed. And Gran was dead.
I flinched when a big, warm hand settled on the back of my head. “Ouch. Did I do that with the door?”
The heat from his hand felt nice. “No. I bounced it off the floor when I saw the raccoon’s eyes glowing in the dark.” I put my arms up on the table, cushioning my head. “It was all me.” I looked up at him. “Is the raccoon okay? The trap didn’t hurt him, did it?”
