A Sheltering Love

The puppy had been sniffing around the kitchen floor moments ago. Now the little scamp was out of sight. Claire walked into the open area of The Zone. She looked under the Ping-Pong table that the Jordan family had donated, and behind the brown corduroy sofa she’d found at Goodwill. “Nick, here boy. Where are you?”

She wasn’t equipped to care for a puppy. She needed dog food, a collar and a doghouse. Whew, the list was endless and could be expensive. She shrugged. Whatever was needed, she’d find a way to provide. She couldn’t turn the dog out any more than she could a human.

“Ah, there you are.”

The little fluff ball was snuggled up against a bright yellow beanbag chair. Claire scooped him up and he licked her chin. “Thank you for the kiss. I wonder who you belong to. I’d sure be upset if I’d lost such a cutie.” She snuggled her cheek into his soft fur. She’d have to make flyers and post them around town. Surely Nick’s owners would be looking for him.

And if no one claimed him?

She would keep him.

She carried him back to the kitchen and set him down in front of the bowl. His black nose sniffed at the plastic rim and then, apparently deciding it was okay, he lapped at the water.

“Thirsty boy.” Claire smiled at the ball of fur. Tenderness tightened her chest. She’d never had a dog before. She was excited by the prospect, but her internal monitor quickly warned not to expect to keep him. Somewhere out there were the little guy’s owners.

She found a blanket in the closet under the stairs and made a cozy bed on the floor in the kitchen.

“Here you go, Nick,” she said, picking up the puppy and setting him on the blanket. He walked in a circle, sniffing at the material.

A bump sounded from beyond the wall of the kitchen. Nick paused; his ears perked up. Claire walked to the window over the sink and peered out. Nothing on the grassy yard stretching to the woods that edged the property. She twisted her head, craning to see left, then right. Nothing.

“Probably a squirrel,” she muttered to Nick. “You’ll like chasing those when you’re older.” She wagged a finger at the dog. “I don’t think you’ll ever catch one, but if you do, don’t bring it home. Wherever your home ends up being.”

Nick plopped down in the middle of the makeshift dog bed and rested his head on his paws.

“Look at the size of your paws.” She shook her head. “You’re going to be a big one, aren’t you? Just like your namesake.”

The image of the tall, dark man sitting on his gleaming motorcycle made her flush again. He was the stuff dreams were made of. A modern-day knight coming to the rescue. But she didn’t need to be rescued. She could take care of herself.

What was his story? Where would he end up?

There was something compelling about his dark eyes. She’d seen pain and intelligence, rage and mischief there. The way he’d smiled at her when he’d said his name was enough to make any woman’s knees weak. The man was too handsome. But not in a pretty boy way or even a GQ way. The angle of his nose, the jut of his whiskered chin and the planes of his cheeks could have been sculpted by a master’s hand.

She gave a wry laugh. Well, he had been, you dolt. God had done a nice job on Mister Nick. On the outside to be sure, but on the inside…?

A man who stepped in when he saw trouble was a rarity indeed. A man who carried a Bible with him out in the open even rarer. Was he a man after God’s own heart?

She’d never know. He was long gone now, just a wonderful memory of a guy on a bike who’d offered his help and wanted nothing in return. Definitely a rarity.

A man like Nick would be hard to resist. Good thing she wouldn’t face that temptation again.

With a quick glance to make sure the puppy still slept, Claire headed for her office—a small room located in the front of the house. It was an ideal spot to work and still be able to keep an eye on the main area of The Zone.

The bedrooms were all upstairs and she’d taken the largest of the five bedrooms at the far end of the hall. Gwen’s room was at the top of the stairs while the other three rooms were in various degrees of readiness for taking on more teens. Not that Gwen was a teen any longer. She was a college student now with a part-time job—a far cry from the strung-out, skinny orphan Claire and Aunt Denise had first brought home.

Having Gwen come into their lives solidified Claire’s desire to start a shelter. She’d decided to open it here in Pineridge because no such facility existed in the area.

But there would be soon.

Claire sat at her desk and rummaged through files and notes. There was still so much to do before she could officially open. More government hoops to jump through, the community to convince and teens to build trust with.

And a puppy to care for. She compiled a list of needs for Nick. Just in case she was unsuccessful in finding his owners, she wanted to be prepared. Then she went to work on her plans for The Zone.

The clock ticked by another hour.

The hairs on the back of her neck raised and chills raced down her spine. Something wasn’t right.

The loud shrill of three fire alarms pierced the quiet. Heart pounding with dread, she jumped from the chair and raced into the living room. A gray haze hung in the air, stinging her eyes and burning her lungs.

Fire!

“Nick!”

She raced toward the kitchen. Smoke billowed from beneath the crack in the back door and through the open window over the sink, filling the room with frightening quickness. She heard the puppy whimper, but she couldn’t tell from where.

She dropped to her knees like she’d been told to do in elementary school. She crawled across the floor toward the kitchen. The heavy smoke swirled around, making it difficult to see.

The puppy’s blanket was empty. She crawled out of the kitchen. “Nick!” she called again, taking in smoke. She winced as her lungs spasmed. In the laundry room she found the puppy huddled in a corner, its little body shaking.

“Here, boy.” Claire scooped the pup up and cuddled him close.

Claire crawled toward the front of the house while holding Nick in one hand. She breathed in. Coughed. Her lungs burned. She caught her hand on the leg of a chair and went down on her elbow, her knees scraping on the floor. Nick yelped as she tried to catch herself with the hand that held him.

The smoke became dense, more intense. The front door seemed a mile away. Somewhere in the closet under the stairs was a fire extinguisher. She’d get Nick out, come back for the extinguisher and put out the fire.

She crawled forward again, laboring to breathe. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The puppy whimpered.

“It’ll be okay, Nick. Dear Lord, please let us be okay.”

She coughed, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Her stomach rolled. She paused, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It didn’t. She forced herself to continue on despite the effects of the smoke. Her survival instinct pushed her, urged her to keep crawling away from the source of the smoke.

Her wrist gave out, forcing her weight down hard on her elbow, sending pain up her arm. Her head fell forward to smack against the hardwood floor. Spots of light popped in front of her eyes.

She couldn’t stop, she had to keep going.

Where was the man in black leather when she needed him?

Flames shot from the back of the house.

Nick’s heart slammed against his ribs as he stopped his bike at the bottom of the cement stairs leading to the front door. He set the kickstand and jumped off his bike. He rushed up the porch steps and burst through the front door.

Smoke billowed around him, stinging his eyes. His gaze zeroed in on Blondie crawling toward the door with the puppy clutched to her chest with one hand, while she balanced with the other hand.

She lifted her head, her eyes wide. The puppy squirmed out of her grasp and ran past Nick’s legs and down the steps.

Nick scooped up Blondie and carried her to the front yard where he gently laid her down on the grass. She opened her mouth to say something but coughed instead. He rolled her to her side as she spit out black soot between taking in gulps of air.

Relief surged through Nick. He’d finally given in to the urgent, nagging feeling that he should turn back. And a good thing, too. He patted her shoulder, offering her comfort as his heartbeat began to slow.

“You came back,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged.

“The puppy?” she rasped, her eyes widening as she sat up and was momentarily gripped with another bout of coughing.

“He ran out. I’m sure he’s fine.”

She raised her gaze to her home. “My building.”

The disappointment and hurt in her voice burned in his gut. This shouldn’t have happened. He knew who was to blame. His fingers curled into a fist. He’d make sure they paid.

Seeing that the blonde was out of danger, he rose. He refused to consider why he felt the need to help her, why her distress tightened a knot in his chest. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He left her on the grass and went around to the back of the building where the smoke seemed to originate. Two garbage cans were on fire directly below an open window as well as the wooden slats of the back porch.

Pillows of black smoke rolled into the kitchen. The flames were licking at the back door and the ceiling of the porch, curling the gray paint and blackening the wood, which crackled and snapped.

Nick skirted around the fire to where a garden hose lay rolled on the ground. The faucet turned easily and water sprayed out. He aimed the spray on the door and porch since that would be where the damage would be most devastating.

Off in the distance the wail of a siren drew close, bringing hope of help. Within minutes firemen bustled about, waving off Nick and his efforts. He dropped the hose and headed back toward where he’d left Blondie.

He spotted her as he came around the corner and his chest tightened more. Grass clung to her hair, streaks of soot marred her creamy complexion and smeared her white blouse and jeans.

Two paramedics were tending to her. Or rather, trying to. She brushed away their attempts to get her into the ambulance. Nick stepped over a fire hose as he approached.

“No, I can’t leave,” she said as she dodged one EMT and snagged the arm of a passing fireman. “Do you know how much damage has been done?” Her voice rasped with the effects of the smoke. A purple goose egg formed on her forehead.

“Not yet, ma’am.”

She dropped her hand away and the fireman continued on, giving Nick a nod as they passed each other.

The worried lines framing her mouth deepened and her eyes were troubled as she turned to face Nick. She closed the distance between them in a rush of steps. “Is everything ruined?”

The anxiety in her voice tore at his heart. He didn’t want to care. He couldn’t. “Hard to tell. The fire department will let you know. You need to go with the paramedics and let them check you out.” He took her elbow and steered her back toward the ambulance.

“I need to find the puppy!” She doubled over, coughing.

He held fast as she tried to pull away from his hold on her elbow. “What you need to do is let them take care of you.”

“But who’s going to take care of things here?” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “I have to be here.”

“Is there someone, a friend, a family member, you could call who could come?”

Two little lines appeared between her dark blond brows. “This place is my responsibility.”

Was she a control freak or did she really not have anyone she trusted to help? What did it matter to him, anyway?

But it did matter. This happened because of him. His interference. He felt responsible for her. For her situation.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay—make sure the police and the firemen have everything they need—while you go with the paramedics.”

“You’ll stay?” Big tears filled her eyes. She rapidly blinked them away.

That knot twisted another notch, warning him he was getting too involved. But guilt was a stronger motivator than self-preservation. He owed her a debt because he’d brought this on her.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll stay.”

She sagged and allowed him to help her into the ambulance.

“Wait,” she called as he stepped back. “You’ll find the puppy?”

“Sure.”

Her smile held gratitude. “Thanks. His name’s Nick.”

Their gazes held for a moment before the doors of the vehicle closed.

Nick stared after the ambulance. She’d named the puppy after him. Flattered warmth spread through him, heating his face. He was treading water in the deep end.

Not my problem?

He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Claire sat on the gurney waiting for the emergency-room doctor to return. She swung her bare feet, picked at the cotton hospital gown and tried to ignore the noises from the other exam rooms.

She felt vulnerable and exposed, but mostly she was worried. Worried that everything she’d worked so hard for was ruined.

She chewed her lip, wondering if Big Nick had found Little Nick.

The corner of her mouth lifted at the memory of his expression when she’d told him the pup’s name. He’d looked dumbfounded.

She still could hardly believe God had answered her prayers by bringing Nick back. When he’d come storming into The Zone she’d thought she was dreaming. Dreaming about a dark warrior who used his powers for good, not evil. Like some comic book character, except the strong arms that had held her so tenderly had been very real.

And the concern in his eyes called to her in a way nothing else could. It had been a long time since anyone had shown any real concern for her well-being. Oh, people had shown her kindness, but she often felt it came from obligation to her late aunt’s memory rather than for herself.

The need to belong to someone rose sharply and she squashed it like an irritating fly. She couldn’t allow herself to want anyone, to expect anything from anyone because expectations only led to disappointment.

More likely, Nick wouldn’t stick around as he’d promised. She sternly steeled herself against any pain from hope. She wouldn’t fret over it, wouldn’t let it matter.

She was thankful he’d arrived when he had and that she hadn’t inhaled too much of the smoke. The doctor had said her lungs might hurt for a few days and she’d probably have a headache from smacking her head on the floor, but otherwise she was in good health and could return home. He’d gone off to tell the nurse to discharge her.

But what would she be going home to?

Her stomach twisted. She had a pretty good idea who’d set the fire, but she hadn’t told the police when they’d arrived because she wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

She had to focus on moving forward no matter how much this incident set her back. She’d push through it, as always.

First she had to get back to The Zone. She didn’t have money for a cab with her. She shrugged. She’d walk. She didn’t relish putting on the smoke-scented clothes she’d arrived in, but she’d do what she had to.

The nurse pushed aside the curtain and stepped in. She was tall, African-American and very striking. Her black hair was pulled back into a fancy twist and her smile was kind.

In one hand she held a clipboard and in the other a brown paper bag, which she set on the counter. “The doctor says you can be released. I have a few forms for you to sign.” She handed Claire the clipboard and pen.

Quickly looking over the form, Claire worried her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure how the bill would be paid—if the insurance would cover it or not. She signed where appropriate and handed the clipboard back. She’d deal with the financial stuff later. “Where are my clothes?”

The nurse moved to the counter behind the gurney and picked up a clear plastic bag that contained Claire’s dirty clothes. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “You’re not going to want these anymore.”

She set the bag down again and then grabbed the brown paper bag she’d brought in and handed it to Claire. “Your boyfriend brought you these. When you’re dressed, come on out.”

Claire blinked. Boyfriend? She opened the bag and pulled out her red polo shirt and fresh jeans. Embarrassed heat crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks.

Someone had gone through her things.

Nick?

A jittery panic hit her stomach like a spray of pebbles. He couldn’t be her boyfriend. Not in a million years. She didn’t need a boyfriend.

But she had to admit it felt good to have someone care.

Anticipation quickened her pulse. She put on the clothes. Finger-combed her matted mop of hair. Then sedately walked out from behind the curtain toward the administration desk.

Her nervous flutters fled, replaced with a melting warmth as Nick unfolded his long, lean frame from a chair and strode to her, reminding her of a dangerous panther stalking its prey.

And to her utter dismay, she realized she wanted to be hunted.

“The doc said you’re okay,” Nick stated by way of greeting as Blondie—Claire, he corrected himself—slowly drew nearer to him.

He’d waited to come until after the fire engines had disappeared and the investigators had finished scouring the area for clues to the arsonist. He’d answered the investigator’s questions and told them what he could about Blondie and the teens.

She’d changed into the clothing he’d brought her. Smudges of soot stood out in stark contrast on her pale face. Her hair poked out in different directions with bits of green grass peeking out here and there. He stifled a smile.

She was adorable, vulnerable and in need of protection.

In need of help from someone other than him.

He’d get her settled safely, then leave.

She blinked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to get you. I didn’t figure you’d have a way back. I hope the clothes are okay. Your roommate, Gwen, picked them out. She was pretty upset but I told her you’d call her as soon as you could. She had to get to work or she’d be here now.”

“Thanks. I’m glad Gwen did the responsible thing and didn’t come here.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How…how bad is the damage to the building?”

Anger flared in his gut at what those punks had done. “The porch is gone. You’ll need a new back door.”

They headed toward the doors of the hospital. “And the puppy?”

He slanted her a glance. “Nick is fine. I found him in the park chasing bees.”

Ducking her head, she chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind that I named him after you. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

He held the door open. “I’m flattered.”

To his amusement, her cheeks turned pink. “I guess I’ll have to call him Little Nick. So I don’t get you two confused.” They walked in silence for a moment before Claire glanced back up at him. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

She stopped and tilted up her heart-shaped face. “I could have died if you hadn’t rescued me.”

The glint of admiration in her baby blues spread through him, making him think of knights, damsels in distress and fire-breathing dragons. Making him feel like a hero.

Stupid.

He was nobody’s hero.

“You were almost to the door,” he said.

“Why did you come back?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He ushered her to the parking lot where he’d parked her little green four-wheel drive Subaru.

“Try me.” Her eyes widened. “Uh, thanks for bringing my car.”

He lifted a shoulder as he unlocked the door and held it open for her. “Gwen gave me the keys—we didn’t think you’d want to ride on the back of the Harley.”

A gleam of longing entered her blue eyes. “Actually, I would have liked that.”

He raised a brow. “Then I’ll take you for a spin before I leave.”

The hunger in her eyes set his blood to racing at full throttle on an open road, then abruptly she shook her head and wariness entered her gaze. “No, no. That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

She climbed in the car and primly folded her hands in her lap.

Nick shut the door, grateful for the reprieve. The thought of her with him on his bike with her arms wrapped around his waist sent a shiver through him.

Not a good sign.

He wouldn’t allow himself to become attracted, attached or anything else to her.

Gotta keep moving, he warned himself.

Chapter Three

Driving with Claire down Pineridge’s main street, Nick surveyed the town with a jaundiced eye. Small-town America. He’d passed through so many over the last two years, they tended to blend together.

Redbrick storefronts with large, single pane windows lined both sides of the wide cement sidewalks. Every few stores sported a blue awning over the doorway. Nick barely glanced at the pedestrians moving at a sedate pace from shop to shop, going about their lives. He didn’t want to consider an old man’s frown or a young mother’s smile. Didn’t want to make a connection with anyone.

On both sides of the main street, about ten feet apart, stood a lone birch tree with a small square patch of dirt at its base. Kind of like himself, part of the whole, but separate.

On the west side of the main drag, cars parked between white angled lines. Red bricks indicated the crosswalks instead of painted lines. The street signs were tall, white posts with arrow-shaped slats and street names printed in bold black letters. The white posts rose out of large, round, colorful flowerpots. At each intersection, old-fashioned black metal lamp-posts added charm to an already charming community.

A family sort of town. A place to raise kids, watch summer parades and grow old in. A place he couldn’t easily disappear into. A place where he didn’t belong.

All the buildings were the same height. No high-power skyscrapers here. The perfect place for a woman like Claire, he thought, glancing over at her. Generous and kind. Open and friendly. A big city would eat her alive.

At the far end of town, he turned down the side street that led around the park.

The Zone came into view, a solitary structure flanked by empty lots. A lone police car sat at the curb in front. Nick parked behind the police car. Claire was out and up the cement front stairs before he had opened his door.

As he followed her inside, the puppy barked a greeting and raced to Claire. She bent and scooped him up for a quick hug. “Oh, you sweet little thing. I was so worried about you.”

Nick’s gaze focused on the officer rising from the couch. This guy had been here earlier. His uniform was starched and his badge shined. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. His young, clean-shaven face led Nick to guess the man to be in his early twenties.

The officer gave him an assessing once-over before focusing on Claire. “Good to see you’re okay, Claire.”

Nick didn’t like the way the man said her name with such familiarity. And he didn’t like that he didn’t like it.

At least she didn’t go all moonie-eyed. Not that he cared.

She set the animal back down. “Thanks, Bob. What are you doing here?” Without waiting for his reply, she walked toward the kitchen where most of the damage had been done by water. “Did the fire department say anything? How it started?”

Granting Nick a suspicious glance, Officer Bob walked to where she stood. “The fire started in the garbage cans. Whoever did this probably didn’t expect the building to catch on fire. But it was sloppy work.”

Nick stepped over to the counter and perched on a stool. “It was the teenagers from the park.”

Claire’s glare took him by surprise. “We don’t know that for sure.”

Officer Bob narrowed his gaze. “Which teenager?”

“Like I told the others, I came across two boys harassing Claire this afternoon in the park,” Nick said to the officer, but his gaze was riveted on Claire. He couldn’t figure out why she’d protect them.