deepening as she finally reached him. “I’m really sorry. I assumed I could get here a lot earlier. I got caught up.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her. “In fact, I should have called your cell, told you to forget it. There’s nothing anyone can do to help me right now.”
She searched his face, barely whispered, “Yeah, right.” And then, in a sudden loud soprano, “Griff, I’m feeling sick with the heat. Could you just help me sit down for a minute? I’m afraid I’m going to faint.”
She wasn’t going to faint. He couldn’t imagine why she’d pull such a drama, grabbing his arm, lifting her other hand to her forehead like a swooning Scarlett O’Hara. It was the hokiest acting job he’d ever seen…but he couldn’t be 100% positive of that. Lily
Much less Lily.
He’d have brought her into the nearest air-conditioning-which was the shop next door-but somehow Ms. Drama Queen, even as she moaned and groaned, elbowed him around the side of the store, down the alley, to a patch of shade. Faster than a snake, she wiggled through her purse and emerged with two water bottles. The first one she opened and poured over his head before he could even think about sputtering.
The second, she handed him for a drink. “Sit,” she said.
“What the hell are you doing?” He pushed a hand through his dripping hair, refusing to enjoy the sudden burst of cool. Although Lily couldn’t possibly know it, there were certain things Griff never did. Obey orders was one of them. Allow himself to be “handled” was another.
“We’re going to cool you down and calm you down. Or you can vent a bunch of yelling on my head, if you’d rather. Both choices are okay with me.”
“What?”
“Griff, you looked seriously ready to explode.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? I’m a teacher. I told you that. I work with gifted students. I think I told you that, too. Extra-bright kids.” She nudged the cold water bottle toward him again and couldn’t help miss how he glared at her, but still, he took a long, long pull. “I’m used to knowing when they’re going to blow.”
“I don’t blow.”
“Of course you blow. Everybody gets angry sometimes.”
“I couldn’t be less angry.”
“Right. See, my kids-they’re used to high expectations put on them. They’re used to meeting those expectations, getting a thrill when they even do more. But when they can’t quite make that A-plus grade, they can go through a mighty crash. They hate it.”
“I’m not one of your kids, Lily. And I sure as hell don’t need caretaking. By anyone.”
“There’s no reason in the universe why you can’t come unglued now and then.”
There sure as hell was. His father capitalized every reason why a man-A Good Man-expected control from himself. Always. No exceptions. No discussion. “I’m not unglued.”
She didn’t take a breath, didn’t look patient, didn’t keep pushing the psychology crap. He had to get back to that infernal commotion, he knew that. He’d been talking all morning, couldn’t waste time on any more useless talk. Stuff had to be
But somehow-not because he was unraveling or unglued or any nonsense like that-he did spill a little. “Everyone’s talking about the fire. Hell, me, too. It’s arson. That’s damned upsetting, but reality is still…there are some practical things that have to be done. I got hooked up to a temporary generator, but it doesn’t have enough juice for what I need in the back room. Debbie-of Debbie’s Diner-has taken the fresh ice cream, going to sell at the restaurant. But I’ve got my batch freezers, my barrel freezers, the high-sheen blenders, the flavor tanks. All the equipment it takes to make and test serious ice cream. I don’t care about some stupid financial loss. It’s the mess. It’s-”
She interrupted. “I get it. So what do you need first? An electrician to work on the power? Or do you need to move the equipment? Have to find a place? What?”
“It’s sort of…all of the above. I need some straight information-from an electrician, a plumber-before I can make a move. But every time I turn around, there’s a dozen people, the police, Herman, the insurance investigator…my kids. The darned kids are so worried they can’t stay out of it, but I-”
“Okay.” She lurched to her feet. “You stay here. Sit, drink some water, rehydrate, use your cell. I’ll take care of the boys. Between the three of us, we’ll run interference for you. You get done what you need to get done.”
He frowned.
She cocked her head. “What?”
“You pulled this last night and it was reasonably cute, but enough’s enough. You’re manipulating me. Handling me.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if I could. Relax, Griff. I’m not the manipulator type.”
She charged off, leaving him in the cool shade with the water, staring after her. She was right, of course. He’d never met anyone less of a manipulator type than Lily.
But something fishy was definitely going on. He could feel it. His stomach had de-clenched. The tic had disappeared. He’d lost the freaked-out feeling.
That woman was downright
But then he took another cool slug of water and hunkered down with his cell phone.
Dangerous.
Lily.
Pairing those two words created an oxymoron if ever there was one. He liked her. Possibly he way more than liked her. He was downright fascinated by how powerfully and unexpectedly he was attracted to her-got a real click when they were talking. Got more than a click when they were touching.
But she wasn’t dangerous.
She was in danger.
And he damned well better keep that priority on the front line.
By four that afternoon, Lily was blister-hot, savagely hungry, and having a terrific time. The boys, Jason and Steve, had worked with her like parts of a well-honed team. Initially, she’d sent them off with money to buy ice, cups, water. She’d scared up a card table from the business next door and set the whole thing up to work as a barrier between Griff and the bystanders. Those still curious could congregate, but they couldn’t get to him-at least not without interference, and the boys were pit-bull-protective that way.
She had a feeling no one had trusted Jason with personal cash in…forever, because he counted back every penny of change, braced as if expecting her to accuse him of lifting a cut. When she praised both boys for helping to protect Griff, they both grew five inches-at least-and walked around with the posture of soldiers.
It was enough to give a teacher heart palpitations. Man, it felt good to see a beaten-down kid try on some self-esteem.
Okay, so maybe the afternoon wasn’t all peaches and cream. The sheriff insisted on taking both boys aside, grilling them on where they’d been at every hour of the night before, and whether they could prove it. Herman Conner had pointed a finger at her and said, “Honey, you and I are going to have a little talk later,” which put a mosquito in her stomach.
That wasn’t the only icky part of the afternoon. Griff’s fire had lowered her popularity points, and it wasn’t as if she had been batting a thousand before last night. Still, being out and about was a way to talk with people. Listen. Ask questions. She discovered others who’d known her mom and dad-and others who’d worked at the mill before it closed.
A hefty truck pulled in the back alley and started loading out what was, she assumed, Griff’s fancy equipment. A few guys hung with him for a while, scuffling the dirt, hands on hips, jawing plans and problems. By the time the truck rumbled off and Griff aimed for her, she was being confronted by three redheads.
She’d already met Mary Belle-the buxom redhead who ran Belle Hair-at the grocery store. But this afternoon she had her two daughters with her, not that that relationship needed explaining. The teenagers looked just like their mama-lots and lots of eye makeup. Major breasts, displayed in sweetheart tees. Heaven knew what hair color they’d all been born with, but new-age red was obviously adopted as their family color of choice.
