He fastened his chinstrap with a flourish. “Read the scoreboard, baby. Read it and weep.” He dug the blade of one skate into the ice and turned with a swish, ice particles flying through the air. With swift, lethal strokes, he rejoined his teammates.
His use of the word “baby” sent the weirdest thrill through her. She imagined him saying it in bed, right before he stretched his big body over her. What do you feel like, baby? You want it fast or slow? Hard or soft?
Oh for fuck’s sake. She was totally losing it. Maybe she should have slept with Darius at the Moose is Loose after all. Then she wouldn’t still be fantasizing about it.
Flawed logic, obviously. She might still be fantasizing about it, except she’d have more concrete details to fill in the blanks.
Chapter Eleven
Over the next few weeks, five more fires got called in to the station. None of them caused any damage to a residence or a person. An empty woodshed out on MacKenzie Ridge burned down. A junk car got torched near the campgrounds. Two of the fires involved stacks of pallets. Other than the fact that they were minor fires, Darius could detect no pattern.
Even residents outside the volunteer fire department noticed the unusual fire activity. People started coming up to him on the street and asking him what was going on.
It was frustrating as hell.
Even more frustrating than living below Kate, listening to her move about upstairs, wondering what she was doing or wearing or saying.
Even though they kept a careful distance from each other, he’d noticed a few new things about her. For one, she was extremely cautious. She’d installed extra locks on the door. In a town like Lost Harbor, where some people didn’t even have locks, that was surprising.
When she hopped out of her Saab, she always held her keys so they could serve as a weapon. Who was she defending herself against? Stray porcupines?
He asked Maya about it one night at the city council meeting. The two of them were working on a bond issue to construct separate buildings for the fire and police departments. Right now they were located in the same compound and things could get a little tight.
As they waited to deliver their report to the city council, he leaned over and whispered, “Kate Robinson. My new landlady. Is everything okay with her?”
“What are you talking about?” Maya was in full uniform, with her hair slicked back and pinned tightly to her head. He wouldn’t be surprised if she gave him a ticket for talking.
“She seems a little extra vigilant.”
She folded her lips together, looking thoughtful. “Honestly? I don’t know. But trouble has a way of following Kate around. Always has.”
“But she’s a lawyer.”
“And? She’s still Kate. Also, her family is…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Will you keep me informed if there’s anything I need to know?”
“As her friend or as the police chief?”
“Both, I guess.”
The mayor called her up to the stage at that point, while he chewed that over.
Was Kate in some kind of danger?
If she were, would she tell him about it?
And was she ever going to relax her “no-flirting” policy?
He could be patient. Patience was one of his strengths. He’d worked on it over the years, as he’d risen in the ranks of the fire service. Patience when dealing with young rookies, patience with city councils, patience when dealing with lonely elders who called the fire department for trivial things.
Sometimes he wondered how his two marriages would have gone if he’d had more patience back then. But since he’d only been nineteen the first time around, he’d barely even known the word “patient.”
The second marriage might have gone differently, but he doubted it. Amelie hadn’t been looking for patience from him. She’d wanted “rough” Darius, the rougher, the better. He’d given her what she wanted, until he didn’t want to be that person anymore. At which point, she’d dumped him.
But everything was different now. He was older, wiser, more jaded, more realistic, and more patient.
If the right time came, and he and Kate were both still feeling the vibe, maybe things would go his way. If not, he wasn’t going to cry about it. He was all grown up now and he knew that life was no fairy tale—or even an Amish romance.
That didn’t stop his pulse from kicking up when someone knocked on