"Of course you're fine."
She gave him a sharp look, but there was nothing patronizing in his stance, his expression. He gestured toward one of the tall chairs behind her half-moon desk. She went around and sat, her feet dangling. There were no customers. Probably Garvin had scared them off. Or Otto. He seemed to be more active than usual, maybe because of Garvin, maybe because of Vic Denardo—maybe because of her. He would be able to sense she was agitated. Flopped under the front desk, he didn't bother anyone. Pacing, he could be a deterrent.
Garvin set the cinnamon streusel muffin out on a paper napkin in front of her. "Zoe said she had to hide it from Otto."
Annie managed a smile. "Cinnamon streusel's his favorite."
"She also mentioned Cynthia Linwood stopped by before I got here. Apparently, Otto was still miffed about not getting a muffin and slobbered on her shoes. Cynthia's not your country rottweiler type-"
"Poor Zoe." Annie broke off a piece of muffin. "I've barely known her a couple of months, and here she is, dealing with Linwoods and rottweilers and men wanted by the police."
"She seems perfectly capable of handling herself."
"But it's not fair—"
"What does fair have to do with anything?"
Annie nodded, the brown sugar and cinnamon already improving her spirits. Garvin's intensity, however, was almost palpable. And why not? She'd spoken to the man he believed had murdered his wife. After five years, Vic Denardo had resurfaced.
She dusted crumbs from her hands. "Would you like me to tell you everything Vic Denardo said?"
"When you're ready."
"I'm ready now."
Betraying as little emotion as possible, she related the details of her two encounters with the man she now had no doubt was Vic Denardo. Garvin listened without interruption. He stayed on his feet, still, silent. Annie couldn't just talk and pretend he wasn't there. He was there. And somehow, some way, she had the feeling that he was always going to be there.
When she finished, he erupted into action, pacing, pounding one fist into the palm of his hand, a mass of coiled energy.
He spun around at her. "Christ, I've been a selfish bastard."
She was taken aback. "What?"
"I've been focused on how I can use your relationship with Sarah to smoke out Denardo, on what I want out of this situation. I've hardly considered you at all. The danger you could be in. What you must be feeling."
"I understand. Your wife—"
"Haley was my wife, Annie. She's not now."
"But you want her killer brought to justice."
He came around the desk and pulled her to her feet, staring right through her. "Not at the price of getting you hurt." His voice was rough with emotion, not ungentle. "Or scaring you."
"I wasn't really scared. I don't know why, exactly, but I wasn't. Denardo just unnerved me. He does have a certain charisma. I can almost see how Sarah fell for him—not that I trust him, of course." With Garvin holding her, she wasn't even sure she trusted herself. "It's my own fault for going to that auction without more information. I knew something wasn't quite right, but I was greedy
"Annie."
She barely heard him. "Once I saw Sarah's work, that's all I could think about."
"Annie." He settled one hand on the back of her neck, threaded his fingers into her hair. "None of it matters. If you want to go back to Maine tonight and visit your friends until this blows over, I'll put you on a plane. I'll find someone to mind your gallery. Whatever it takes."
"No." She shook her head, adamant; at least on this point she was clear. "Thank you, but no. I live here now. I got myself into this mess, and I'm staying. I appreciate your thinking of me—"
"I wasn't just thinking of you. I was thinking of me too. Annie, when Michael called..." He took in a ragged breath, his hand settling along the curve of her neck, his thumb rubbing her jaw. She could just have melted into a hot pool. His voice lowered, deepened even more. "I never thought I'd let something like this happen."
She knew what he meant. She didn't need him to explain. When his wife had died, he'd promised himself he'd never care that much about anyone again, and now he was in danger of breaking that promise. Annie knew because she'd made a similar promise herself when her mother died, then Gran, then when she'd stood on the plot of land where her cottage had been and had looked out to the water that had taken it.
"And so you want to send me away," she said briskly.
"It's better than watching my obsession with finding Vic Dcnardo gel you hurt."
"Garvin, you didn't bring Denardo out of the woodwork. I did. Even if you hadn't followed up on the auction, he still would have. You're not responsible for him looking me up. I am, because I made that deal with Sarah. I can't run and hide just because you're worried about feeling bad if something happens to me." She smiled, added a touch of bravado. "Not that I'm not flattered."
"Annie—"
"Nothing's going to happen to me, Garvin."
"You're an optimist."