“One, Labs can absolutely be that aggressive, hence why she’s a special ops dog, or was. Whatever. He’s her handler.”
“Don’t be jumping to assumptions just because you feel a little awkward that there’s an attractive, single man within walking distance,” Ada warned, flipping the page of the magazine herself.
“I’m not—how would you know he’s single?” Had they already Facebook stalked him? Did guys like him have Facebook? Ryan never did. He said it was a liability.
“No one checks in for seven months with only their dog if they’re not single.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. Ryan sent him.”
The magazine hit the desk in a flutter of pages as both women stared at me. Ada was the first to react, sucking in a shaky breath.
“Talk.”
“I guess Ryan wrote one of those death letters and asked him to come to Telluride and watch over me. Seriously. Ryan’s been dead three months, and he’s still giving me his opinion on the men I should have in my life.” I forced a laugh and shoved the emotions back in the neat little box they belonged in.
The worst thing about going through so much in such a short time? You can’t afford to feel anything about…anything, or you end up feeling it all. And that’s what got you into trouble.
“You’re sure?” Hailey asked.
“I didn’t read the letter or anything, but that’s what he said. Given the way he looks, the dog…the way he moves.” He’d assessed me from top to bottom within seconds, and it hadn’t been sexual. I’d seen him categorize the details in his brain as clearly as if he’d actually had a computer open. “He moves like Ryan. His eyes scan like Ryan’s…like my father’s.” I cleared my throat. “So hopefully, just like my father, he’ll get bored and move on quickly.” That’s what men did, right? They left. Ryan had been honest about his intentions, whereas Dad had lied through his teeth. Jeff had been no better, spinning pretty little stories to get what he wanted and running the minute he’d realized there were consequences. The lies had always been worse than the leaving.
At least Gentry had been up-front and honest about the fact that Ryan sent him here. Honest, bad choices, I could handle. Lies were intentional, inflicted pain for selfish reasons, and unforgivable.
“What are you going to do?” Hailey leaned forward like she was front row to her own soap opera.
“I’m going to ignore him. He’ll leave soon enough, once he feels like he’s done his duty to Ryan, and I can shut that door on…everything.” On Chaos. “And in the meantime, I’m going to pick up Maisie from school, because we’re supposed to be in Montrose in two hours for her scans. That’s what matters right now. Not some Chris Pratt look-alike who has a huge guilt complex.”
I was almost back to my office—I needed Maisie’s treatment binder—when I heard Hailey laughing.
“Ha! So you did notice!”
“I said it didn’t matter. I didn’t say I was dead.” Binder in hand, I raced back through the foyer, grateful we were empty this Monday with the exception of Mr. Gentry.
“And those eyes? Just like emeralds, right?”
Seriously, Hailey had reverted to junior high.
“Sure,” I said with a nod, shoving my boots back on. “Ada, will you grab Colt after school? Crap. He’s got that cell art project due tomorrow, too. It needs another layer of paint on the edge, can you—?”
“Absolutely. Don’t worry. Go take care of our girl.”
“Thank you.” I hated this, leaving them with everything, walking out on yet another thing that Colt needed. But needs came in seasons, right? This was simply the season that Maisie needed me more. I just had to get her through this, and the next time Colt needed me, I’d be there.
Checking the time on my phone and cursing, I raced down the porch steps, nearly missing the last one. I grabbed ahold of the wooden railing, my momentum sending me spinning around the base of the steps and straight into a very tall, very solid figure.
One with massive arms that not only caught me, but also saved Maisie’s binder and my phone from landing in the mud.
“Whoa.” Beckett steadied me and then stepped back.
I blinked up at him for a moment. The guy’s reflexes were insane. He’s special operations, moron.
“I’m late.” What? Why the heck had those words come out instead of thank you, or something else that could even pass as social?
“Apparently.” There was a slight turn to his lips, but I wouldn’t call it a full-out smile. More like mild amusement. He handed over the binder and my phone, and I took them in what felt like the most awkward exchange in the history of awkwardness. Then again, the guy was literally saving me when I’d just said I didn’t need saving.
“Was there something you needed?” I hugged the binder to my chest. Maybe he’d taken my words to heart and was getting out of Telluride, or at least off my property.
“I think there’s a key I’m missing. The gate to the dock?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I guess that means you’re not leaving.”
“Nope. Like I said, I made the promise to—”
“Ryan. I got it. Well, feel free to…” I waved my arm out toward the wilderness, like the end of the sentence would magically appear through the aspens. “Do…whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“Will do.” His mouth did that quasi-smile thing again, and there was a definite sparkle in his eyes. Not the response I was going for. “So, you’re late?”
Shit. I flipped my phone over. “Yes. I have an appointment for my daughter, and I have to go. Now.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Holy crap, he looked sincere. I was torn between bewilderment that he’d really shown up here to ask questions just like that and annoyed as hell that a stranger automatically assumed I couldn’t handle my life.
The fact that I really couldn’t definitely wasn’t on the table for consideration.
Clearly, annoyance won out.
“No. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this. Ask Hailey for the gate key, she’s at—”
“The front desk. No problem.”
And he’d noticed who Hailey was…perfect. That’s exactly what I needed, a lovesick receptionist who would inevitably get her heart broken when he left.
“I so don’t have time for this,” I muttered.
“So you keep saying.” Beckett stepped to the side.
Shaking my head at my own inability to stay focused, I walked past him, opened the door to my Tahoe, and tossed the binder onto the passenger seat. I started the engine, plugged my phone into the jack to charge, and then put the car into gear.
Then I slammed the brakes.
Being annoyed was one thing. Being an all-out bitch? That was quite another.
I rolled down the window as Beckett reached the front door.
“Mr. Gentry?”
He turned, and so did Havoc, who felt more like a shadow, more an extension of Beckett than a separate entity.
“Thank you…for the steps. Catching me. The binder. Phone. You know. Thanks.”
“You don’t ever have to thank me.” His lips pressed in a firm line, and with an indefinable look and a nod, he disappeared into the main house.
An emotion I couldn’t name passed through me, racing along my nerve endings. Like an electric shock, but warm. What was it? Maybe I’d simply lost the ability to define emotions when I’d turned them off a few months ago.
Whatever it was, I didn’t have time to focus on it.
Ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the elementary school and parked in the “school bus only” lane. Sue me, the buses weren’t due for another three hours, and I needed every minute I had to get to her appointment on time.
I opened the doors to the school and scrawled my name on the clipboard at the window, signing Maisie out.
“Hey, Ella,” Jennifer, the receptionist, said as she smacked her gum. She was a little older than I was, having graduated with Ryan’s class. “Maisie’s back here; I’ll buzz you through.”
The double doors buzzed, the universal sign of acceptance for entry, and I pushed through, finding Maisie sitting on a bench in the hallway with Colt next to her and the principal, Mr. Halsen, on her other side.