LITMIR.BIZ

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the woman was intent on putting herself at risk. Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, dragging him under.

      What he wouldn’t give for a life preserver right about now.

      Pulsing with annoyance, Claire planted her hands on her hips and glared at Nick. “I have done perfectly well before you rolled into my life, thank you very much.”

      He spread his hands wide in a gesture of entreaty. “Hey, just stating the obvious. I’ve known you less than twelve hours and I’ve saved your bacon twice. Facts speak for themselves.”

      “My life is not a disaster.”

      “Ho!” Nick held up a hand, palm facing out. “I didn’t say your life’s a disaster. I don’t know anything about your life. I’m just saying people will take advantage of you if you’re not careful.”

      His words hit her like a slap upside the head. She’d been taken advantage of before. Billy had taken advantage. Used her. Squeezed her dry and then abandoned her without a second’s hesitation.

      But she was to blame for allowing him into her life, her heart. For needing him.

      Well, she knew better now. She didn’t need anyone. Certainly not a tall hunk with a blinding smile who threatened her resolve without even trying.

      She had to send him on his way. Now. “Look, I appreciate your help. I thank God you were here, but feel free to go. I’m going to be fine.”

      “You won’t be safe until the police find out who did this. What if next time Gwen’s here? You willing to put her life in jeopardy, too?”

      She frowned, hating the tremor of fear sliding along her limbs. As long as Gwen was under her roof, she was responsible to keep her safe, as well. “You’re right. I’ll mention to Bob that maybe Tyler might know something about the fire.”

      He gave her an odd look. “You and Bob an item?”

      She pulled in her chin. “No. Not even. We’ve known each other since high school. His family lived next door to my aunt Denise. He’s not my type, anyway.”

      One corner of his mouth kicked up. Her pulse did a little two-step.

      “What is your type?” he asked.

      Mysterious, gorgeous, a heartbreaker. Like you. The thought sent ribbons of heat winding through her bloodstream, warming her face. “I don’t have a type,” she stated firmly and spun away.

      She walked to the back door where charred wood and curled paint spoke volumes. It could have been so much worse. A wave of helplessness hit her, threatening to overwhelm her. This was going to set her back both financially and time-wise.

      She squared her shoulders. Somehow she’d manage. She always did with God’s help. She didn’t—wouldn’t—need anyone else.

      “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Nick said.

      She turned to see him rising from the stool. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, revealing a black T-shirt stretched taut over wide shoulders and well-defined muscles. His boots squished through the grimy water on the kitchen linoleum as he approached.

      His tanned face bore traces of the sooty smoke that burned in her lungs. That explained why she was breathless. From inhaling too much smoke.

      He stopped next to her, his attention on the wall. “Mop up the water. Replace a few boards. Sand and paint. It’ll look good as new.”

      She sighed. If only it were that easy. “Did I thank you for saving me?”

      Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “You did.”

      “Good. You should leave now.”

      He widened his stance. “You trying to get rid of me?”

      She blinked. “Yeah, I am.” She had to for her own sake. “This isn’t your problem and I’m not your responsibility,” she said, her tone harsh.

      A flash of something—hurt, maybe?—made his eyes seem impossibly darker. “That’s what you really want?”

      It wasn’t. She felt safe with him around. Liked having him around. Which was exactly why he had to go.

      “Yes, it’s what I want.”

      He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, tense and hard. His face became a mask of granite, the angles and planes unyielding. “And if I refuse?”

      She swallowed and winced at the painful reminder of what had happened. She didn’t have the strength to physically make him leave and she didn’t know if she could find the strength again to ask him to leave. Not when all she really wanted was to have him hold her. To feel those strong arms around her. To have him tell her everything would be okay. To save her again if she needed it.

      Weak.

      “I can only hope you’ll be a gentleman.”

      His mouth twisted into a harsh smile.

      The front door to The Zone opened and Bob walked back in. He scowled as his gaze jumped from her to Nick and back. “You okay?”

      Thankful for the distraction from this confrontation with Nick, she turned and smiled. “Yes, Bob,” she said patiently.

      She knew Bob was trying to be helpful—to show his concern for her—but it felt more like he was trying to control her.

      “Mr. Andrews.” He handed Nick’s license back to him. “When are you moving on?”

      Nick leaned against the counter. “When I’m sure Claire’s safe.”

      Bob’s scowl deepened. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

      “Excuse me.” Claire waved her hands to get their attention. “I’m right here, remember, and I don’t need either one of you to keep me safe.”

      “Until we apprehend who did this, you sure do.” Bob gestured toward the burned wall. “We don’t know they won’t come back.”

      “On that we agree,” Nick chimed, giving her a pointed look.

      She blew out a sharp breath. She’d promised. “You might talk with a boy named Tyler. He could know something.”

      Bob pinned her with an intent stare. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

      A knock drew Claire’s attention. She left the two men and their meddling to open the front door. Surprised, she smiled at the brunette standing on the other side. “Hi, Lori. What—”

      “I heard what happened. Are you okay? Rumor has it a handsome man rescued you.” Lori Pearson, who she knew from church, peered over Claire’s shoulder. “Is he in there? With Bob?” Lori’s smile brightened considerably. “You poor thing. Two men.”

      Claire laughed with wry amusement. “It’s good to see you. Please, come in.” She stepped back so Lori could enter.

      Lori paused. “You sure you’re okay?” Genuine concern shimmered in her dark green eyes.

      Flustered, Claire smiled. “Yes. I’m fine.”

      She didn’t know Lori well enough to confide in her. To tell her that she was all jumbled up inside from her feelings about Nick and the fire.

      She and Lori had met at a church gathering over a year ago. Lori seemed to find everything amusing. Claire enjoyed Lori’s outgoing personality and positive view on life. Though at times Claire felt crowded by Lori.

      Claire started to shut the door behind Lori when she heard her name. Peggy and Steve Jordan, followed by their three kids, thirteen-year-old Nathan, twelve-year-old Lisa and the youngest, at six, Matthew, hurried up the walkway.

      Peggy came up the stairs looking fresh in rust-colored denims and a colorful peasant-style top with bell sleeves. Her waist-length chestnut hair was held back with a clip. She pulled Claire

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