Page 51 of Army Ranger Redemption
“Working?”
“Working, not creating. I’m doing an inventory of some pieces for my upcoming show.”
“When’s the show?” He weaved his way through the explosion of colors and textures in the room to reach the sliding door in the back.
“It’s in a few weeks, in West Hollywood.”
He pretended to concentrate on the sliding door. She had art shows all over the world. He’d looked her up on the internet. Critics raved about her modern art and high-end buyers snapped it up.
“What do you do with your cabin when you’re away?”
“My cousins check in on it, and sometimes Jason stays here.” She tapped her keyboard and closed the laptop. “Are you going home before we have dinner?”
“Yeah.” He plucked his black T-shirt away from his chest. “I was wearing these clothes when I changed the tires on the bike. I won’t be long. You hungry?”
Her eyes flicked over his body like a hot lash that he felt to his core. “Starving.”
He finished his work in record speed as Scarlett wandered around the studio, assessing her work for the show. When he packed up his tools, he was more than ready to call it a day and spend some time with Scarlett—time where they wouldn’t have to be looking over their shoulders every two minutes. Precious time before she left Timberline.
Hovering by the front door, he asked, “Do you want another spin on the bike, or do you want to drive?”
“I’ve had enough excitement for the day. I’ll pick you up around seven.”
He hesitated and then marched back to her. “Don’t open the door for anyone, and don’t go outside—not for a horn, not for an animal in distress.”
“Thanks, you just made me scared to be in my own house.” She bit her lip and glanced out the window.
“A little fear isn’t a bad thing right now. Someone set fire to your property and someone physically threatened you.” He folded his arms so he wouldn’t be tempted to pull her against his chest again. There was no telling where that would end. “In fact, maybe you should think about heading down to California early for your show. Stop off in San Francisco on the way.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I’m trying to protect you, Scarlett. Let the sheriff’s department handle Rusty’s murder. Let me handle my own memories. I may not ever find out what happened that night, and maybe I’m not supposed to.”
“I don’t believe you’d be okay with that. It’s the reason you returned to Timberline—you need to face all your demons.”
He shook his head. “That could take years.”
“Oh, wait.” She held up her index finger. “I texted Dr. Shipman’s number to you earlier. Did you get it?”
“I’m not sure. Do you want to give it to me again at dinner tonight?”
She rolled her eyes. “Lucky for you, I also wrote it down and stuck it to my fridge.” She spun around and went into the kitchen, plucking a sticky note from the refrigerator.
With the yellow note stuck to her fingertip, she waved it at him as she returned. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He peeled the note from her finger and shoved it into his pocket. “See you at seven.”
When Jim got back to his place, Dax was stretched out on the couch watching a fishing show.
Jim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he tossed his keys on the kitchen table. “You been like that all afternoon?”
“I’m tired.”
“Did you happen to run into Chewy when you were out today?”
“Matter of fact, I did drop in on him.”
“So was it the stars aligning that brought the two of you back to Timberline at the same time? Rusty, too?”
“His woman’s mother lives in Port Angeles. She’s there visiting. Not much of a stretch for Chewy to come this way to check out his old stomping grounds. And I told you I don’t know nothing about Rusty.”
“Did you and Chewy talk about Rusty?”
“Uh-huh.” Dax sat up. “Look at that fish. I need to do some fishing while I’m here...maybe some hunting.”
Jim stopped at the entrance to the hallway, hooking a thumb in his front pocket. “You were never much for hunting.”
