She couldn’t help but smile at that. With that low drawl and dimpled cheek, he could pretty much ask her anything, and she’d probably fold at some point. But she knew his type too well. Her brother Max was the same way. If Grant found out she could be in some kind of danger, he’d be calling her brother in an instant and treating her like she was ten. She definitely didn’t need that. “You’re not used to hearing no, are ya, cowboy?”
He smirked, deepening that dimple and confirming her allegation. “You must’ve given Max hell growing up.”
She shrugged. “I grew up in a house of dudes who would’ve locked me in a protective tower if there’d been one available. It was grow some balls or perish.”
“Eloquently put.”
She turned away, trying to hide her cringe. God, why was she always doing that? Talking like she lived in a locker room. It was fine at work because working with the sports crew was like a locker room, but sometimes she forgot that most women in the world didn’t go around talking about balls. “Sorry. They taught me how to throw a perfect spiral, but eloquence, not so much.”
“No apology needed. I was just teasing.” He took the ramp off I-30 and headed toward her neighborhood. “Remember, I was in the military. I can be disgustingly offensive in six different languages if necessary.”
For some odd reason, that knowledge sent a little tingle through her. The thought of him talking dirty with that molasses-toned accent…oh, my. She rolled down her window a tick, hoping the blast of air would cool her suddenly warm skin and dissipate some of the enticing soap and fresh-cut-grass smell wafting off Grant. The man was downright intoxicating. She probably would never see Grant Waters again in her life, but he had sure as shit secured a starring role in her next sexual fantasy. “Take that next left. It’s the fourth house on the right.”
Grant followed her directions and some of the tightness in her shoulders loosened, knowing she was getting back to her own territory where things made sense. But as soon as they made the last turn, the blue-and-red flashing of police lights had her heartbeat rising. Was that car parked in front of her house?
Grant glanced her way, his frown lines deep. “Is that your place?”
She nodded, her tongue thick in her mouth.
He rolled to a stop in her driveway, and she was shoving the door open before Grant had even shifted into park. Her shoes hit the pavement, and she made a beeline toward the first officer she saw. His head was bent over his pad as he made notes.
“Excuse me? What’s going on?”
He lifted his head. “You a neighbor?”
“No, I live here. I’m Charli Beaumonde.”
He looked toward her little white house, his expression grave. “Sorry, ma’am. We tried to reach you on your cell phone, but couldn’t get you.”
“It’s dead.”
“Well, your neighbor called us early this morning to report suspicious noises and a man in your backyard. It was too dark to get a description, but she knew he didn’t belong there. Said you never have men over.”
Great, even her neighbors were keeping track of her piss-poor love life. She rubbed her arms, a chill beginning to work its way through her. “Did you find him?”
“By the time we got here, the perp had already left. Looks like he got in and stole some computer equipment. Your office is a mess, but nothing else looks to be disturbed.”
The already steady pounding in her chest moved into her ears. Someone had broken into her office? With all her…No. She put her hand to her forehead.
Grant who’d stepped up behind her, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, as if sensing that she was near panic mode.
The officer looked up at him, then back to her. “Besides the desktop, did you have anything valuable in there?”
Valuable? Just all the research and notes she’d been busting her ass to collect on this story. She wet her lips, her throat trying to close up on her. “I had information about a news story I’m working on. Notes.”
He jotted down something. “Anyone who’d want that information bad enough to break in?”
She rubbed her fingers over her brow bone, her head feeling as if it had a fissure splitting the middle of it. The list of people who could be involved in this scandal was long and unproven. Plus, how any of them could know what she was working on and where she kept her notes was a wonder. “Not really.”
The cop shrugged. “Probably not connected. We’ve had a few break-ins in this neighborhood over the last couple of months. It’s most likely kids looking to score some electronics.”
After another round of questions from the other officer and a tour of the damage, the policemen left with a promise to follow up with her if they found anything. She watched them turn off her street and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight a chill that wouldn’t seem to go away.
Grant, who’d stayed leaning against his truck like some silent sentinel, pushed to a stand and stepped in front of her, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Apparently noticing her goose bumps, he rubbed his palms along her chilled arms.
Somehow the little gesture of comfort had tears that had built up from the last twenty-four hours ready to burst free. But she wouldn’t cry. She could handle this.
“You okay, freckles?” he asked.
“Freckles?” She looked up at him, trying to muster up some I’m-totally-fine façade, even though having his hands on her had her thoughts fracturing and emotion trying to leak through. “Are you trying to get me back for calling you cowboy?”
“Just trying to make you smile,” he said, concern underlying that twang.
She pushed a finger to his chest and tried to manage an intimidating expression. “I’d normally punch a guy for calling me that. You’re lucky I’m too tired. And that you’re so fucking big.”
“Lucky, indeed.” He smiled, but those blue eyes remained serious. He grabbed her hand before she could move it away from his chest. His palm closed over her fist, the hold firm. “Now are you going to tell me what really happened last night? You’re shaking. And I know it’s over more than stolen computer equipment.”
She blinked at the change in subject and his grip on her hand. She stepped back, and he quickly let go of her. “What?”
His mouth dipped at the corners, and he eyed her in that knowing way he seemed to be so good at. “Fine. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can go on pretending that everything is sugar and sparkles to try to get me to go away and leave you to whatever mess you’re in alone. Not going to happen, by the way. Or you can be honest with me so that maybe I can offer some help.”
She groaned. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. But I don’t need help. I’m on a story that apparently has ruffled someone’s feathers. I can handle it. After all this, I’m going to be on guard now and more aware.”
The displeasure that crossed his face was strong enough to steal breath. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone ran you off the road last night. And don’t lie and say I’m off base. You were yelling at them in your sleep.”
She glanced away and took a sudden interest in a crack in her driveway. “It was probably just kids messing around.”
“You don’t strike me as a stupid woman, Charli. Don’t talk like one.”
She clenched her jaw, frustration building. Who was he to make demands on her? Being a Good Samaritan gave him the right to a thank-you but not some right to all her business.