Page 37 of Deadly Target (Rocky Mountain Courage 2)

FIFTEEN

Erin searched through a few boxes and found old newspaper articles stashed in a folder or simply embedded in the mass of junk. Mom had collected all of Dwayne’s belongings, stuff from his drawers and files, and put them into cardboard boxes, which she stacked in the attic to go through at some point in the future when the items wouldn’t cause so much pain.

It had been just over fifteen years since Dwayne had been called out on that SAR mission in which he’d been killed in an avalanche. Had that moment when Mom believed she could go through his things without the pain finally arrived last week and that’s when Mom had climbed up to the attic?

Erin found herself getting caught up in looking through the old photographs that hadn’t made it into the albums shelved downstairs or in digital form on Mom’s computer. Finding a few pictures of her mother when she was young—a teenager or maybe early twenties, Erin smiled. Back then, Mom looked a lot like Erin.

The doorbell rang.

Oh no.

Mom might wake up.

And Erin hadn’t found the articles Nathan had mentioned yet, though they might not be here. Regardless, she was done for now, whether she wanted to be or not. At least she’d given a cursory look, and she would try to come back later.

She hurried down the attic steps and returned them to the ceiling, then raced to the door. After looking through the peephole, Erin opened the door to Nathan. He’d shaved, and his dark hair was free of the river debris. She could smell the fresh scent of soap.

A smile shimmered in his dark-brown eyes.

Her heart pounded at the sight of him, the nearness. Erin shook off the unwanted reaction at seeing the man she’d spent the night with—under the direst of circumstances. But she couldn’t forget how his sturdy chest had cushioned her, his arms had cradled her, and his body had warmed her.

“Hey.” The simple greeting sounded a little too breathy, giving entirely too much away.

His eyes roamed her face as if he were trying to read it. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

Um...

“Erin, who is it?” Mom’s voice sounded muffled. She was still in her room.

“Just a friend, Mom.” Erin called over her shoulder. “Go back to your nap.”

He visibly cringed, scrunching his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake her.”

Erin stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her. “I would think you’d be at home taking it easy, either that or at the hospital. How’s your dad?”

He shook his head. “No change.”

Erin gestured toward the swing on the porch and almost immediately regretted it. They’d spent plenty of time on this same porch swing when they were an official couple. Erin slowly sat on one end and Nathan on the other side, yet it still felt too close. Being so close and comfortable with him last night—in his arms to keep warm and survive—only seemed to make this moment uncomfortable. And at the same time, her heart pounded as if she’d never gotten over him.

“I’d invite you in,” she said, “but I have a feeling you don’t want to talk in front of my mother.”

He angled his head. “What gave you that impression?”

“The look on your face. You’re kind of beat and desperate.”

“Oh.” He shifted back in surprise.

That elicited a chuckle, and it felt good to laugh. “Yes, and despite that, I also see a spark in your eyes.” And a few questions building there too. “You really aren’t following me, are you?”

He grinned and shook his head. “Not at all.”

“You show up looking like you survived a flash flood and spent the night in the cold, but you’re still here looking for all the world like you’re onto something, and you welcome the challenge.” Erin offered her own grin.

He arched both brows and bobbed his head. “Wow. You’re good. I’m impressed.”

Then his lips spread wide and his dimples appeared. Her heart skipped a beat or two or three. Though he was only teasing, the compliment sent warmth spreading through her. It took some effort, but Erin pulled her gaze away from his killer smile and stared at the bungalows across the street.

Nathan pushed and set them swinging, if only slightly. A good, tall glass of lemonade would set the mood and bring back the memories in a mad rush. Erin was done with mad rushes for the foreseeable future, so she stood and leaned against the post, crossing her arms.