Claire’s fury swelled each time she heard a crunch underfoot or felt the ragged edge of something that used to be whole. The psycho was lucky she didn’t find him crouched behind the shut shower curtain because she would have beat him with the curtain rod.

She couldn’t remember when anger had become her default mode when faced with adversity. Probably soon after she’d found Brett and some tall blonde passed out naked in her bed. In response, she ran. She stayed busy. It worked. Mostly. She picked up the shattered frame that held her college graduation photo and wondered if somewhere inside her that trusting, optimistic girl still lived.

“All clear,” Jake hollered from another part of the house.

Today was not the time to find out. She stalked out to the porch and armed herself with a broom and a sour attitude. Picturing the killer’s face in each glass splinter and particle, she swept the sharp pieces into a mound.  

Granny Marie’s grandmother had gotten that door shipped all the way from Kansas City. Four generations of Layton women had basked in the jewel-colored light streaming from it. Claire use to play Barbies in its colorful shadow. A few years later, she’d had her first kiss sandwiched between the door and Bobby Carr’s lean, teenage body. When she came home with her heart shattered by Brett, seeing that door had made everything better somehow.

Firebombing her Jeep was one thing. Destroying Granny Marie’s stained-glass door was something else. 

A shadow fell across her path. Jake pried the broom handle from her grasp and held out his cellphone.

“Hank wants to talk to you.” 

She backed away as if he’d pointed a lit firecracker right at her. Despite the phone being a foot away, Hank’s cursing came through loud and clear on the phone’s tiny speaker. She swiped it out of Jake’s hand and held it away from her ear.

“Stop cussing at me, Hank, or I’ll hang this phone right up.”

Silence greeted her declaration. It lasted so long she feared he’d hung up on her. “Hello?”

“Fine.” He snorted. “You have to get out of that house now.”

“No.” 

“No?” 

She yanked the phone away from her ear. People in the next county must have heard Hank’s booming rant that followed. Jake cocked his head to the side. She shrugged her shoulders. 

“Hank,” she hollered into the phone. “He’s not here. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.”

“Look, I won’t let this nutcase turn my life upside down anymore. Come out and take a report if you have to, but I’m staying put.” She fumbled for the end-call button on the unfamiliar phone. 

Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and counted to twenty. Then she counted to forty. By the time she’d gotten to sixty, she felt better. She lowered her body down to the top step next to Jake and handed him his phone.

Gazing out at the neighboring field, she watched the corn’s yellow husks dancing in the wind. A year ago, she’d returned home heartbroken with her self-confidence obliterated. Granny Marie, already ailing, fixed up Claire’s old bedroom and nagged her until she finally ate. She’d brought Claire back to the land of the living right before Granny Marie left it. On her deathbed, Granny Marie made her promise to keep the family home. 

She’d done a hell of a job. 

“You know he’s only trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Onion wriggled in under her arm, squeezing his big body onto her small lap. She stroked the stressed-out dog’s head and enjoyed the silky smooth fur against her fingers. 

The killer wanted that phone and flash drive. He thought she had them. She wished like hell she did. She’d give him the damn things in a heartbeat, just so he’d go away. Groaning, she laid her head on Onion and inhaled his scent of dirt and dog sweat.

“You know, you really might want to consider a maid if you’re too busy to pick up after yourself.”

Jake’s face gave nothing away. No smile crinkled the corner of his eyes. His lips never twitched upward. He didn’t even look at her. 

It took a second for the deadpan humor of the statement to filter through to her. When it did, she laughed. Loudly. The sound roared out of her body with such gusto, it released the pent-up anger and anxiety formerly settled like concrete in her stomach.  

“Thanks. I needed a laugh.” Without thinking, she gave his shoulders a quick squeeze. She meant it to be a friendly gesture, but when they touched, something inside her clicked into place.

“Yeah, I picked up on that, being a crack investigator and all.” He patted her leg, and left his hand resting on her thigh. His calloused thumb sent tingles shooting through her body.

His hand captured her attention. Long, lean fingers. Close-clipped nails, except for the thumb. That nail looked as if it were a regular afternoon snack. His tan palm covered the width of her leg. Warmth surged through her limb to the rest of her body. 

“You sure do make it hard not to like you.” 

His finger traced tight circles on her thigh. “Well, they say everybody has a talent.”  

Onion crawled across her lap and squashed Jake’s hand to her thigh. The dog laid his front paws on Jake. He rubbed his wet snout across Jake’s free hand, demanding a pet. When Jake obliged, Onion whapped Claire in the face with his wagging tail. 

“Guess you can’t be all bad. Onion likes you.” She pushed down Onion’s dancing tail. Her gaze caught Jake’s. 

The silence sizzled. There might be more to this man than she first thought. Maybe her body knew something her mind had yet to grasp. 

She lost her train of thought when Onion’s back paws dug painfully into her stomach. He leaped down and barked at the dust cloud kicked up by two vehicles traveling the dirt road to her house. As they rolled closer, her gut tightened. 

Onion barked incessantly as if his mortal enemy, the UPS truck, had pulled into her driveway. But instead of the big brown truck, Hank’s cruiser led the way for a Volvo sedan.

“Just great.” She walked down the steps. “Follow my lead.”

Hands on her hips, Claire scrutinized the trio of Layton men in her driveway. If Hank was the bossy brother and Chris the big-hearted goof, then her middle brother, Sam, claimed the title of most uptight. A history professor at Cather College, he smiled little and laughed less. It did not bode well that all three brothers had joined forces on her front lawn.

She fired the first volley. “I already told you on the phone that I’m staying here. I’ll be damned if I let this guy scare me out of my own house.”

That stopped the men’s approach. Jake remained silent on the porch. Onion, oblivious to the tension, sniffed every last scent out of her brothers’ pants. She stood her ground.

“You mean you’re staying to guard the house with the broken front door?” Sam nodded toward the few stained-glass shards still clinging to the splintered door.

“That can be fixed. I have plywood in the garage. Anyway, Jake’s staying with me.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, that is so much better. The two of you are going to stay here, with an oh-so-secure plywood front door while some…some…psychopath is out to get you?” He took a step forward. “That’s a great plan. A perfect plan. Why don’t you just let us know where your will is, so we can take care of things after this guy kills you.”

That stung. She’d always sought his approval above all others. The hurt bubbled up, her throat tightened and her stubborn streak widened at least a mile.

“Samuelson Aaron Layton, that was a mean thing to say.” Something in her quiet voice must have called out to Onion. He lopped over and sat with his body pressed against her leg. “I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it. I won’t concede victory to the Voice of Doom.”

“The Voice of Doom? What is he, a cartoon supervillain?” Sam looked heavenward. “I swear you’re more obstinate than is good for you. For once in your life, think, don’t react.”  

Chris, ever the peacemaker, strode up to Claire and blocked her line of sight to Sam. 

“Claire, I think what Sam is trying to say is we can’t sit by and watch you risk your life. We love you.” Chris paused for a breath. “Anyway, Mom would force-feed us nothing but steamed broccoli for a month of Sundays if anything happened to you.” 

She chuckled at that. She didn’t know how he managed to do it, but Chris sucked the tension out of a situation better than anyone else in the world. God, she loved him. 

Really, she loved all of them. But they had to learn she could take care of herself. She’d graduated from college, earned her MBA, had her heart pulverized and started her own restaurant, a successful one at that. Was it a baby sister thing? Was it a girl thing? 

Who knew and who cared. It ended now. Today, she took care of them.

Her fingers trailed through Onion’s fur, causing his tail to thunk on the ground.

“Thank you all for coming out. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Hank, let’s get that report over with.” She glanced back at Jake still sitting on the porch steps. “My fridge is empty. Do you mind going into town to grab a pizza?”

Jake ambled over to her side. “Sure. What do you like?”

“Everything.”

The smirk returned. “My kind of woman.”

Did you miss part of Dangerous Kiss? Catch up here. xoxo, Avery