advanced on him. “You sorry son...”
“Watch your language,” Clancy said. “We’ve got a child living here.”
She pressed her lips together and did a quick survey of the property. She didn’t see a kid, but decided to try and rein in her temper, anyway.
Bret quickly blocked her path. “Luke isn’t due back until tomorrow. You know that,” he said to Clancy. Then, turning to Dorie he said, “Looks like you’ve found what you came for.”
She tried to sidestep him. He put his palms up and stepped with her, a frustrating no-win dance she didn’t appreciate. “You’re not going to keep me away from him,” she said.
While staring into Dorie’s eyes, Bret spoke to Clancy. “I take it you know this woman, Pop?”
Pop? Clancy has a son? He’d never mentioned having any family. She’d thought he was a lonely old man, a conniving lonely old man who drew unsuspecting victims into his seedy con games. At any rate, she’d never have picked this Bret fellow to be Clancy’s offspring. He was at least five inches taller than his father, and despite the catch in his walk, definitely an impressive guy. And, since everyone knew blood was thicker than water, possibly a dangerous one.
She flexed her grip around the mace and positioned the index finger of her right hand on the spray trigger in case this encounter turned into a two-against-one situation.
“He knows me all right,” she said. “Tell him, Clancy. Tell him just how well you know me.”
Bret’s face tightened into a frown of disapproval and Dorie realized how he might have interpreted her words. “Not like that!” she said. “How could you think...?”
He removed a stained Florida Marlins ball cap, pushed strands of hair off his forehead and resettled the hat low on his brow. “Let’s all calm down a minute.” He held his calloused, long-fingered hand out toward Dorie a second time. “Look, Miss...”
“My name’s Howe,” she said, keeping her hand on the trigger. “Dorinda Howe. Dorie.”
He lowered his hand again. “Dorie, I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d put away that can of pepper spray.”
She’d thought she’d concealed the canister from view. “How did you know...?”
“It’s an old habit from a previous profession. Back in those days, I never approached anyone without looking at what might be in their hands. That applies especially to unannounced visitors who seem to have a serious ax to grind about something.” He cocked his head to the side and managed a small grin. “But here’s a tip. If you want to be really sneaky with that thing, you should choose a color other than hot pink.”
Very funny. She didn’t bother explaining to him that she came from a worse-for-wear seaside village with a rowdy population and a high crime rate—a far cry from the typical Outer Banks tourist spot. Canisters of mace went fast, black being the popular seller. Maybe it was just as well he knew about her weapon. Neither of these men would try anything, knowing she could temporarily send them into fits of coughing with a couple of well-aimed bursts.
“I think I’ll hold on to it, junior,” she said. “If it’s all the same to you.”
He scowled but didn’t press her to give up her protection. “Fine, but at least put it in your pocket. I don’t want it going off accidentally.”
There was something rational and calming about the level tone of his voice, and Dorie decided to trust him that far. Besides, a damp, bitter wind had suddenly swept down from the mountaintop, and she needed both hands to zip up her parka.
Bret turned to his father. “Pop, I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Clancy. “Go ahead, tell him, Pop. And while you’re filling your son in with all the details about our recent history, I’m going to be right here listening to every word just so you don’t forget to mention the exact amount of money you owe me.”
* * *
BRET HAD A bad feeling about this. In the forty-eight hours since his father had arrived without notice, nothing suspicious or sinister or even questionable had happened. Bret had allowed himself to ease into a sort of complacent acceptance of Clancy’s appearance even though gut instinct told him to keep his guard up—what he usually did when his dad was in his life. And now this—a woman about as mad as a hen in a hatbox threatening the peace and tranquility he’d come to the mountains to find. Past experience had taught him that this woman’s desperate situation, whatever the details, was probably Clancy’s fault.
He did a quick appraisal of Dorinda Howe. She had guts even if she didn’t have the stature to back them up. At a little over five feet tall, with slim legs encased in a pair of straight jeans and most of the rest of her concealed under a hood and a light parka, she didn’t look capable of tangling with a dragonfly. But looks could be deceiving. And she did come packing mace.
He glanced up at the craggy summit of Hickory Mountain. The sun had slipped toward the valley behind them. In another ten minutes nighttime would descend on the mountainside, and this little patch of land would be about as dark as any place on earth. Bret ought to be putting his tools away and securing the property from bears and raccoons while he still had some daylight. But the normally relaxed ending of his day was obviously not going to happen.
Dorie rubbed one hand up and down her arm while keeping a tense fist near the pocket where she’d put the canister.
“You’re freezing,” Bret said. “And it’s only going to get colder. We’re supposed to dip into the upper twenties tonight.”
“Doesn’t this mountain know it’s the end of March?”
He smiled.
“Whatever. I don’t plan to be here to watch the thermometer drop,” she said through chattering teeth. She glared at Clancy. “My business shouldn’t take long.”
Bret swept his arm toward the building. “Let’s go inside. I turned the furnace off this morning since I knew I’d be outside most of the day, but I can at least start a fire while we wait for the heat to kick on again.”
She studied his face a moment before eyeing the lodge with definite longing, but she didn’t take a step. “I don’t know...”
“Look, you’ll be fine. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of her pocket. “If anything, we’re scared of you.”
She remained still, apparently considering his promise.
“We’ll just get out of the wind while we talk this over. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee.”
She looked one more time at both men before nodding. “Yeah, coffee sounds good. And there’s another thing...”
“Oh?”
She pointed to the lodge he’d been working on all day. “I’m hoping you have modern facilities in there.”
Understanding her concern, he said, “All the comforts of home. Plumbing included.”
She
