LITMIR.BIZ

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know that for sure.”

      “Why risk it?” he said.

      “What about staying with your friend, Natalie, or the Sass family?” the chief suggested.

      “Look, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in nearly two weeks. I need to sleep in my own bed!” she shouted, then slapped her hand to her mouth. She didn’t mean to lose it like that. “Sorry, I get cranky when I’m tired.”

      “I’ll stay with her,” Luke said to the chief.

      “No, really, that’s okay.” She wasn’t sure what scared her more: the stranger jumping out of her garage or the handsome agent offering to sleep under the same roof.

      “Krista, you either stay at our house or with the Sasses, or let Agent McIntyre bunk on your couch. You pick.”

      No one had spent the night since Mom came back for Gran’s funeral two years ago. Mom had moved to Florida with Lenny, and since Gran’s death Krista had been in the family house alone.

      And tonight they were asking her to share it with a stranger.

      “I won’t let a strange man stay in my house,” she said.

      “I’m a federal agent and I’m here to protect you. What’s the problem?”

      “It doesn’t look right,” she said.

      Agent McIntyre glanced at the chief.

      “Small town, people talk,” the chief explained. He glanced at Krista. “We’ll tell them Agent McIntyre is my nephew from upstate New York.”

      “I don’t like lying,” Krista said.

      “Undercover work isn’t the same as lying,” Luke said. “It’ll help me figure out who’s behind all this.”

      “I understand, but—”

      “How about I stay in the loft above your garage? I noticed a room up there.”

      “Great idea,” Chief Cunningham offered. “It’s well insulated and heated since the previous owner ran his mechanics business out of the garage.”

      “It’s pretty gross up there,” Krista said, feeling bad that she couldn’t offer better accommodations.

      “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse.”

      She wondered what could be worse than a cold, damp garage.

      “It’s a good compromise,” the chief offered. “He can keep an eye on the house from the garage.”

      True, he could see her bedroom window from the garage. A thought that was both comforting and unsettling.

      “It’s either your garage or my car,” Luke said. “And I don’t want your neighbors to think I’m stalking you from the street.”

      “Okay, fine. There’s a cot up there, although we haven’t used it in years.”

      “I wasn’t planning on sleeping much anyway.”

      Of course not. He’d be watching the house. Watching her.

      “I’ll have patrol swing by every hour.” The chief shook Agent McIntyre’s hand. “You’ll check in tomorrow?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Good night, Krista.”

      “Good night. Thanks, chief.”

      The chief walked out to his cruiser and Luke hesitated at the back door.

      “You should have better security. Anyone could pop one of these windows and—”

      “This is not New York City,” she argued.

      “You’re right about that.” He turned to her, scribbling something in his notebook.

      Probably that she was a smarty-pants, disagreeable, cat-obsessed, crazy woman.

      “You ever consider getting a dog?” he said.

      “Not really, why?”

      “They make great alarm systems.”

      “You’re a dog person?”

      “That surprises you?” He looked at her.

      It did actually. Dog people were loving and kind. This man seemed guarded and cynical.

      “Kind of, I mean, Anastasia adores you and she usually hates dog people.”

      “Told you that, did she?”

      Was he joking with her? No, she was just exhausted and imagining it.

      He glanced out the window and back at Krista. “Good night, then.”

      “Wait, I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow.” She went upstairs to the hall closet and pulled out pink linens. She guessed not his usual color, but pale pinks and purples were her favorite and she’d decorated the house accordingly.

      She wasn’t used to having company and wondered what else he needed.

      He’s not company. He’s a cop after a criminal.

      What did the man look like? What color was his hair? His eyes? What did he say?

      Childhood memories assaulted her. She’d tried to describe the man who came looking for her dad, but she was too upset that Daddy wasn’t coming home. Ever.

      She hugged the linens and made for the stairs. She thought she’d put it behind her, buried the memories and the fear so deep that they wouldn’t rise to scare the wits out of her.

      But danger was back, in the form of the DEA agent bunking in her garage.

      How on earth did she get embroiled in this mystery? She refused to believe someone on the mission trip had a connection to a drug organization. She just wouldn’t accept it.

      “Here,” she said, stepping into the kitchen.

      Agent McIntyre was eyeing photos lined up on the window ledge.

      “Your mom and…?” he asked.

      “Grandmother. We moved here when—” She stopped short. She couldn’t even talk about it. “We moved here when I was five.”

      He turned and eyed her with speculation. She shoved the linens at him. “This should keep you warm. Sorry about the color.”

      He took the blankets and pillow. “Hopefully I won’t break out in hives.”

      He was teasing again? She wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure of anything right now.

      “Yes, well.” She opened the back door. “I’m up and out by eight to prep the tea shop for customers.”

      He stepped onto the back porch and turned to her. “I’m right outside if you need me.”

      He shot her a half smile, his blue eyes sparkling with color. Oh, heavens, she was tired all right.

      “Thanks, good night,” she said.

      “Lock up behind me.”

      She shut the door and clicked the lock. He nodded his approval through the window and headed out to the garage.

      He’s just doing his job, Krista.

      Sure, intellectually she knew that, but emotionally? Emotionally she heard Gran’s and Mom’s worried voices, felt the iron hand of control clamp down on her shoulders. They’d meant it out of love, but sometimes she just couldn’t breathe.

      Where are you going, Krista? What did you do today? Who did you talk to?

      It wasn’t until she was in her late teens did they explain that the protective habit was born out of love. They loved her so much they didn’t want to see her hurt by a stranger. They’d developed the habit because years ago they’d feared for her safety

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