Chirp(36)

Even though Rance’s assault on Cam had upset her, she appreciated his gallant defense. But the rage she’d seen in his eyes frightened her. Not that he’d ever hurt her. There was a kindness about him she saw every day.

In the short time she’d known him, he’d changed for the better. It was as if the farm had worked magic and brought him back to life. She was pretty sure she loved him. Couldn’t be certain, because she’d never been in love before. But she wanted to be with him more than anybody else. She thought about him all day. Counted the minutes until she saw him. Spent hours sketching his face, hands, body, tattoos. Fantasized about sleeping with him.

Her face heated. She should stop torturing herself. She picked up the pink T-shirt Rance had bought and pulled it over her head. Below the city’s logo, it read Come Fly with Me to Bluebird, Texas.

Startled by the sound of her phone, Blaze stared at the caller ID. Not Hanna or Tiffany. Not the funeral home. Must be a wrong number, but she answered anyway. “Hello.”

“Wren, it’s Uncle Bill.”

Her heart hammered. William Sherman was her godfather, but she’d always called him uncle. And he was the person her dad had trusted most. During the past three years, she checked in with him occasionally so he’d know she was all right, but she never revealed her location.

“Wren? Are you there? I’m using a burner phone so no one can trace the call.”

“I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“No emergency. Just wanted you to know Marla has hired a new detective. A guy named Tom Fraser, and he seems determined to solve the case instead of taking her money like the others. I know you’re being careful, but I needed to warn you because he’s working the leads hard.”

“Okay.”

“Are you doing all right?” Uncle Bill asked.

“Yes.”

“Come home. Move in with Virginia and me.”

“No. I have friends. A job. I have a dog. A boyfriend.” She gasped. Why had she said that?

“You do? Oh my God. He doesn’t know who you are, does he? Sweetie, there’s still a reward in place, and if he’s not a good person . . .”

“He is, but I haven’t told him anything.” Not a complete lie. Besides, what did it hurt for him to know her first name?

“You know how folks pretend to be one thing when they’re another. We learned that with Marla. Remember, people take advantage of rich people the same as poor.”

“No one knows I’m rich, but it wouldn’t matter to him.”

“Give me his name,” Bill said. “Let me at least run a background check.”

“No.”

If her so-called uncle knew about Rance’s prison record, he’d insist she come home. And she wasn’t ready. Besides, Rance didn’t have a clue she thought of him as a boyfriend. And neither had she until the words spilled out.

Rance called out to her from down the hall, then stuck his head into the room. “You ready? Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone.” He turned and walked away.

Rance’s curious expression didn’t escape her, but she’d deal with that later. She turned her attention back to the conversation. “I have to go.”

“Are you living with him?”

“Don’t worry. I’m okay. I promise.”

“I am worried . . .”

“Bye.” She clicked off. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t involved with Rance and never would be. The stupid idea must have come from the incident with Cam. She’d made that into more than it was.

By noon Rance had all the furniture he needed. A king-size, four-poster bed, two side tables, a chest of drawers, and an oversize chair with matching ottoman. Shopping for home furnishing only fueled Blaze’s fantasy. She kept telling herself how ridiculous she was for thinking about something that would never happen, but still couldn’t stop gawking at him like a star-struck groupie every chance she got.

She reminded herself of Dad’s lecture about how infatuation dismisses flaws and exaggerates virtues. He’d say this was only a crush. Not true. She knew Rance’s faults. Even been on the receiving end, and she still wanted him.

Could be good-girl-bad-boy syndrome. Nice girl attracted to the wrong guy. But he wasn’t a bad man. A little rough around the edges, but those had smoothed out since she’d met him.

“Earth to Chirp.”

“What?”

“We’re here. At Walmart. You’ve been distracted all morning. Anything wrong?”

Other than picturing you naked? “No, I’m okay.”

“I thought maybe the phone call you got upset you.”

“No.” She could tell he was waiting for her to say more, but he’d made it clear from the beginning he didn’t want trouble. If he found out about the private investigator, he’d kick her out for sure. The less he knew, the better.

He reached for her hand and held it. “You can tell me anything. If you have a problem, I’ll help.”

She took a shallow breath. His touch made things happen. Tingle. Clench. How was she supposed to get over the attraction while picking out beds and sheets? She should have stayed home—and done what? Sketched him?

She faced the window and concentrated on the people in the parking lot. To her left an overweight woman wearing a denim skirt, tube top, and knee boots loaded bags into an old Volkswagen bug with more rust than paint. Across from her, a hairy man worthy of an entry in Guinness World Records straightened from beneath the hood of a Ford truck, pitched three bright-yellow plastic bottles into the back, then wiped his hands down the bib of his overalls.