He took the sweatshirt and turned to Nicole. “Let’s get this on you.”
She stared at her hand, gripping his sweatshirt, but didn’t unclench her fingers. He sensed that residual fear paralyzed her.
The medical center went oddly quiet and although he knew they had an audience he didn’t care. Alex placed his hand over Nicole’s and slowly uncurled her death grip.
“You’re okay,” he assured.
“You said that before,” she whispered.
Guilt tore through him. He should have been there for Nicole.
Just like he should have been there for Jessica.
“You’re right,” he said. “But I’m here now. Nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m close and I’m not going anywhere. Arms up.”
Staring blindly at his chest she raised her arms. He slipped on the sweatshirt and reached around to lift her hair out of the back.
“I can do it,” she said.
He lowered his hands and waited until she freed her hair from the sweatshirt. She nodded that she was ready to go just as Dr. Wendell brought over Nicole’s messenger bag. “Thanks,” Nicole said.
Cupping her elbow he led her out the front of the medical center hoping that he could be true to his word and keep her safe.
* * *
The minute Alex and Nicole set foot inside the inn, the nurturing Mrs. Cavendish made them feel welcome, offering food and warm beverages. Since Nicole felt comfortable around the older woman, Alex took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom and change out of his wet jeans into the dry sweatpants. He returned quickly to the kitchen, afraid to leave Nicole’s side for long.
Alex suspected Mrs. Cavendish had heard about Nicole’s situation, but you couldn’t tell by the way the innkeeper was acting. She casually brewed Nicole a cup of decaffeinated tea, served it with a chicken salad sandwich and cookies, and sat at the table chatting with Nicole about the breakfast schedule, the locked door policy and afternoon chocolate tasting on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Mrs. C. was doing her best to act as if Nicole was her average guest yet Alex was sure Chief Roth had called ahead to let her know she had someone special staying at her inn.
Special. Yep, that’s the word Alex would use to describe Nicole, and not only because she was a witness to murder. There were many things that made her special, none of which Alex would allow himself to fully appreciate. That would be inappropriate on so many levels.
As Nicole nibbled on her sandwich, Alex leaned against the counter and eyed the window. The Feds would probably show up soon and demand to take her into custody. Their main motive wouldn’t be to protect her as much as to get information out of her.
Alex glanced at Nicole, thankful that she seemed comfortable at the inn. It was a warm and welcoming refuge. He’d realized that last year when he’d investigated the break-in of Mrs. C.’s garage that turned out to be kids getting into mischief.
She’d been so grateful to have her boxes of collectibles returned that she started dropping off baked goods at the P.D. every morning. Alex had to politely ask her to stop, joking that he’d already moved his belt over one notch thanks to her culinary talent. She’d backed off, but every week she’d still deliver a tin of muffins or scones to the office. One time she’d sent her niece, Amanda, to make the delivery. That’s when Alex figured out he’d shot up to the top of Waverly Harbor’s most eligible bachelor list.
Not that he’d encouraged the status. He’d been clear with anyone who’d listen that he wasn’t interested in romance. When he’d first returned to town he’d been too busy taking care of Dad to have a social life. After Dad’s passing, the pain of losing Jessica resurfaced with a vengeance, still too raw, too fresh for Alex to risk getting involved. He couldn’t truly love another woman until he’d healed from his grief.
Nicole yawned. “Excuse me.”
“Looks like you could use a week of sleep, young lady,” Mrs. C. said.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” Nicole bit back another yawn.
“Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” Alex offered his hand. Nicole pushed back from the table and placed her hand in his.
Her skin was still cold and her fingers felt so delicate against his palm. He nearly picked her up again, but thought better of it.
“Is there anything else you need?” Mrs. C. asked.
“No, just sleep. Thank you for the sandwich and cookies,” Nicole said.
As Alex led her through the front room, she gazed longingly at the fireplace.
“You want to relax in here for a while?” he offered. “Warm up?”
She blinked hopeful amber eyes at him. “Could I?”
“Sure.”
“That would be great. I just can’t seem to get the chill out of my bones.”
He knew he should take her statement, but not in her fragile state.
“Let’s get you close to the fire.” He shifted a thick-cushioned chair in front of the fireplace and grabbed a green-and-yellow afghan.
“How’s this?” he said, draping it over her shoulders.
She sat down, folding her legs beneath her. With a sigh, she said, “I may never get up.”
“There’s no rush.”
“I’m sure you have better things to do than play babysitter.”
“Not really.” He shifted onto the arm of the couch where he had a good view of both Nicole and the street through the front window.
“What about your wife...kids?” she said, staring into the fire.
“No wife, no kids.”
“Huh.”
“Why, ‘huh’?”
“You seem like...never mind.”
“I seem like what?” He crossed his arms over his chest in a mock offended gesture and smiled.
She glanced up, but wasn’t smiling back. “You seem nice.”
The vulnerability in her eyes, in her voice, made him want to look away. But he couldn’t. Nor did he know what to do with the compliment or the awkward silence hanging between them.
“I’ve offended you,” she said.
He shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Some guys think the description, ‘nice’ is the kiss of death.”
“Oh, you mean like ‘you’re nice enough to have as a friend, but nothing more’?”
“Something like that.”
She
