In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(27)

“Why not?”

Guilt flashed over Gabe’s expression, and the defensive scowl returned. “What’s this all about, Sheriff?”

“Like I told you,” Rob said evenly, allowing sympathy to color his voice, “I’m concerned. What would happen if there was a structure fire? Or if she was injured or ill, and no one could get to her?”

Holding his hands palms-up in a gesture of helpless anger, Gabe demanded, “You think I don’t ask myself those questions every day? You think I don’t worry about her in that house?”

“I know you do,” Rob said soothingly. “I’m a father, too. I understand about worrying all the time. I’m not here to add to your problems. I’m here to offer to help—as much as I’m able, at least.”

Gabe slumped, and Rob knew he had him. “Thanks, Sheriff. Sorry. It’s just…hard.”

“I know.” Reaching out, Rob clasped the other man’s curled shoulder. “If something were to happen, is there any way I could reach her? Is there a key?”

“No.” Gabe didn’t raise his gaze. “There are too many locks on that inside door. My key chain would look like a janitor’s.”

Holding back a frustrated scowl, Rob asked, “Is there any other way into the house, any way to get to Daisy if she needed help?”

Gabe started to shake his head but then stopped, his expression brightening. “Yeah, there is. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

Rob listened intently, not allowing his satisfaction to show.

*

Her shaky hands had returned for the stupidest reason.

“Yes?” she said into the intercom mic, glad she could at least keep her voice steady.

“It’s me.”

“Oh, thank God! I mean, come on in, Chris.” She unlocked the outer door.

Once he was in the kitchen, she realized he hadn’t been wearing a coat. “Is spring finally here?”

“For now.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, watching as she dropped spoonfuls of dough on a cookie sheet. “Are you making those cheese-and-sausage biscuits?”

“Yes. I forgot to ask if anyone’s a vegetarian, so I tried to cover all my bases. There’s artichoke dip with chips, hummus with pita squares, these biscuits—even if they are greasy heart attacks waiting to happen—and I wanted to have a vegetable tray, but I only have frozen veggies, and those would be limp and soggy and gross, so I’m thinking about mini-pizzas, but there’s only water and coffee to drink, and I—”

“Daisy.” He crossed the kitchen and put his hands on her shoulders, the unexpected contact cutting off her flow of words. “Breathe.”

“I know.” She knew it would make him squirrelly again, but she couldn’t help it. Her head dropped forward to rest against his chest. “I’m being an idiot, but this is my first…thing. I haven’t even been to a party, or a get-together, or any kind of social gathering in years. I don’t know what I’m doing!” The last came out as a wail.

“Dais.” He sounded amused. Scowling, she raised her head to check.

“Are you laughing at me?” she demanded.

“No. At least, I’m trying really hard not to.”

She smacked him on the upper arm. “I’m having a nervous breakdown, and you think it’s hilarious.”

“It’ll be fine, Dais.” He gave her shoulders a pat and then dropped his hands. Daisy tried not to miss the contact. “They’re coming to train. They won’t be expecting any of this”—he gestured at the array of ingredients she had strewn across the counters—“so they’ll appreciate whatever you offer them. Okay?”

Daisy took a deep breath and then let it out. “Okay.” She turned back to her biscuit-making. “Why are you here so early anyway? You just about gave me a heart attack, thinking everyone was arriving already when the kitchen looked like this.” She gestured at the chaos with her spoon.

He grinned. “Figured you might be freaking out, so I thought I’d get here early and see if you needed help with anything.”

“Thanks.” She put the cookie sheet in the fridge, along with the remaining dough. “I think I’m good, though. I just need to clean up and calm down.”

Chris moved to help. “I saw Lou yesterday when I stopped at the Coffee Spot. She’s beyond excited about this.”

Daisy laughed as she loaded the dishwasher. Just chatting with Chris was relaxing her. She could almost feel her blood pressure dropping as they worked side by side in easy harmony, as if the argument and subsequent awkwardness of the day before hadn’t happened. “I know. She left me a message yesterday.”

“Makes me a little nervous,” he said, and she looked at him skeptically. Daisy doubted he’d ever been nervous in his life. “They’re expecting a lot from this training. Hope I can live up to that.”

“Please,” she scoffed, smacking him on the rear with the rubber spatula she’d just rinsed. “Don’t even pretend to be humble. You just want some ego stroking.”

Mouth open, he stared at her. “Did you just spank me with that thing?”

She shrugged. “It was handy.”

“You know what else is handy?” He grabbed a wooden spoon off the counter and swung it toward her posterior. Twisting around, she parried with the spatula. They dodged and danced around the kitchen in a kitchen-utensil swordfight. Taking advantage of his superior weapon and Daisy’s ill-timed attack of the giggles, Chris drove her back toward the sink. As she tried to hold him off with the spatula in her right hand, she turned the water on with her left and grabbed the spray nozzle.