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CHAPTER SIX

F orbes had been at his childhood home for three weeks.

Three weeks with zero visitors.

Zero interruptions.

Zero beautiful brunettes who made his heart race and his palms go sweaty like he was still the new kid at school.

The doorbell rang a second time in fifteen seconds, then his impatient visitor knocked.

Forbes was nearly to the front door when he heard a man’s voice through the thick wood. “Open up. Police!”

He scowled, cursing said brunette even as he ran up the stairs to the second floor.

He reached his room and rapped his knuckles on the wood. “Brooklynn?”

When she opened the door, her wet hair hung well below her collarbones, dampening his favorite T-shirt, which she’d knotted at the waist over his joggers.

He’d thought the clothes he’d chosen for her would be baggy and shapeless.

Wrong again, Ballentine .

She was…anything but shapeless. And wearing his clothes, in his bedroom, next to his bed…

He swallowed, suddenly feeling parched and…and other things that had him wanting to move into the room and slam the door with his foot and take this total stranger into his arms.

Holy cow , he was in trouble.

He planted his feet firmly outside the door. “The police are here.”

Her eyes widened, and she stepped back.

And fury rose inside, a fire even hotter than the one that’d already sparked.

“You’re the one who called them. Why are you afraid?” The words came out harsh and angry. That anybody would frighten or harm this woman…

“I’m not scared, I just would prefer not to deal with him.”

Him. Not them.

“The ex-boyfriend?”

Lips pressed together, she nodded.

“Is he dangerous?”

“No. I mean…” She blinked a couple of times. “No. Just…”

So yes. Yes, he was dangerous.

He worked to keep his temper under control. “What am I walking into?”

“He’s not… He’s a cop. He’s not going to hurt anyone. He’s just a little…stalkerish.”

Stalker. Ish.

At that, Forbes squashed the last of his inappropriate feelings and moved past her to the wardrobe opposite his bed.

He pushed his clothes out of the way and unlatched the compartment behind.

“Get in here.” When he turned, she was watching him with rounded eyes.

“I’ll try to get rid of him, but if he forces his way in or has a warrant… ”

Downstairs, what had been faint knocking turned to pounding. “Open up!”

Brooklynn’s eyes were saucers of fear.

“It’s okay.” He attempted to soften his tone. “This one opens from the inside. And there’re no spiders, I promise.” That didn’t seem to lessen her worry. “I’ll get rid of him.”

When the pounding intensified, he decided to leave her to decide.

The cop was still banging when Forbes reached the foyer.

He yanked open the door. None of the words on his tongue would diffuse this, so he said nothing.

The uniformed cop on the other side looked furious. Behind him, a dark blue police car idled in the circle drive. “What took you so long?”

“I didn’t hear you. You should knock louder next time.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows lowered. “Where is she?”

Forbes crossed his arms. “You’re looking for a woman? You should try Webb’s Harborside. I hear it’s hopping at happy hour.”

“I know she’s here.” The cop was a couple inches shorter than Forbes with tanned skin and dark hair.

He straightened as if trying to make himself taller, bigger.

“Her truck’s parked”—he tipped his head to the road—“right over there. So I know she’s here.

If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have to take you in. ”

Forbes made a show of looking around. What he wanted to say— you and what army?— wouldn’t go over well. “On what charges? Minding my own business?”

“Refusing to obey a police officer.”

“Obey what order?”

“Tell me where she is.”

“I can’t conjure answers at your command.”

The guy’s skin reddened. He looked about one degree south of rage.

Forbes needed to dial it back. He could hear his grandmother’s voice. Use that big brain of yours for something besides filler for your skull. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other guys, I haven’t?—”

“What other guys?” The cop’s unibrow lowered. “Someone else was here?”

Quick thinker, this one.

Forbes needed the police to be searching for the guys who were searching for Brooklynn. But he didn’t need them thinking she was here. A fine line.

“Two guys came by earlier, said they were looking for a brunette. Said she’d taken something of theirs.” He shrugged, leaning against the door jamb. “I told them I hadn’t seen her.”

If Forbes wasn’t mistaken, genuine concern filled the cop’s eyes as he glanced behind him toward the road.

The sun was high in the sky, a few puffy clouds overhead. The property, surrounded by forest and hedge, looked ill-treated. He’d hate to think what Mom would say if she saw her lawn like this. Grass replaced with weeds. Flowers dead. Bushes overgrown.

Of course, if Mom were still alive…

“Tell me about the men,” the cop said.

Forbes did, sharing their descriptions and the names they’d given him—though he doubted very much they were really called Niles and Bernie.

The cop took down the information in a small notebook he’d pulled from his breast pocket. Old-school for someone who didn’t look any older than Forbes’s thirty.

“And they were looking for Brookie?”

“Brookie?” He repeated the name. “What kind of name is?—?”

“What’s your name?”

“Ford Baker. What’s yours?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Repairs.”

“What kind?”

“The house hasn’t been lived in for decades. What do you think?”

“You see anything unusual this morning?”

“Aside from too many visitors?”

“Any boats?”

“Nope.”

“Hear anything?”

“Nope.”

The cop pursed his lips. “She’s gotta be here, somewhere.” He shifted, trying to spy beyond Forbes into the house.

Forbes centered himself in the doorway. “There’s nobody here but me.”

“I tracked her phone. It’s on this property.”

“Why don’t you call her, then? If she’s sharing her location with you, she can tell you where she is.”

The cop’s eye contact slipped.

“I see. She isn’t sharing her location with you, Officer”—he checked the name printed on a gold tag—“L. Taggart. In which case, how did you track it?”

“I’m a cop.”

Not an answer. Some cops might have access to that information, but surely it wasn’t legal for them to access it without cause.

“I need to search the premises,” Taggart said.

“Search the grounds all you want. If she’s out there, I’m sure you’ll find her. You wanna come in? Get a warrant.”

“I’m trying to protect her.”

“I’m trying to keep my job. I was told not to let anybody into the house. You’ll have to take it up with the owners.”

Taggart narrowed his eyes, seemed to be scheming. For a second, Forbes feared the guy was going to force his way in.

Forbes would be able to stop him, assuming Taggart didn’t pull that gun holstered to his hip, but doing so would invite too much attention. Too many questions.

Forbes could just let him in, but Brooklynn’s assessment was spot-on. This guy was stalker-ish.

Only without the ish.

He could practically see Taggart’s gears moving, considering the ramifications of barging in. After a long, tense moment, he took a step back. “I’ll need your boss’s number to confirm your story.”

“Wait here.” Forbes slammed the door, found his wallet where he’d left it in the kitchen, and pulled a business card out. He opened the door again and handed it over.

The cop read it. “Ballentine Enterprises?” He looked up. “They still own it after all these years?”

Forbes shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it. I just talked to the fellow who hired me.”

Of course, the fellow was Tim, Forbes’s assistant, and he wouldn’t give anyone access to the house without Forbes’s permission.

Officer Taggart would need a warrant, which no judge should issue based on an illegal phone trace and the proximity of her vehicle.

Though anything was possible, especially in a small town where everyone knew everyone.

“I’ll call him. And search the property.” The cop swiveled and marched down the steps and around the corner of the house.

After locking the door and then closing the blinds in the first-floor common rooms, Forbes took the stairs two at a time to give Brooklynn an update.

When he reached the top, he found her standing just out of sight.

“I told you to hide.”

“I needed to hear. You had it under control.”

“I did. But he could’ve…” Forbes didn’t bother to explain all that could’ve gone wrong. “That was your ex?”

She nodded. Her face paled as she slid to the floor right there in the hallway.

Because things weren’t complex enough, this woman needed to get the…the vapors or whatever.

She’d barged onto his property and into his life against his will. He’d now protected her three times. All he should want was for her to leave and never come back.

That was all he should want.

But he found himself sitting on the floor beside her. “You okay, Brookie?”

Her lips twitched. “I hate that nickname. And he knows it.”

“Seems like a real catch. What’s the L stand for?”

“Leonard. He goes by Lenny.”

“He looks like a Lenny.”

She nodded, then shook her head.

Tears dripped down her freshly scrubbed cheeks.

He had no idea why she was crying. Or what to say. Or what to do.

So he did what he’d have done if this were Rosie. He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Except Rosie had been a decade older than Forbes, his little boy arms not big enough to calm his big sister’s heartbreaks.

Whereas Brooklynn curled against his chest. Despite her height and curves, at the moment she seemed small and vulnerable and oh, so soft. The logical, analytical side of his brain told him to push her away. To protect himself. To protect his mission.

But the rest of him told that killjoy to shut up as he tucked her head against his neck, reveling in her warmth. She smelled like his soap, a scent he’d never found the slightest bit attractive. But on her…

Dang.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do with this woman. One thing he knew: Having her here wasn’t safe for Forbes.

But sending her away wouldn’t be safe for her. And suddenly, he wanted more than anything to make sure she was safe.