a problem. At least, Dylan hoped so. Holding his breath the last few feet, he eased down into a squat in front of the bedraggled creature. A curious sniff, and then a startled sneeze. “Yeah, I know, I don’t smell very good. But I’m here to help, I promise.”
As if accepting his words or more likely, too tired to protest, the orphan simply sighed.
“Good boy. Now I’m going to get us out of here, okay?” In a move he’d learned on his parents’ ranch, he lifted the deer up onto his shoulders. “There we go. Let’s go get some chow. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Freeze.” The voice came from directly behind him, feminine but commanding.
Damn it.
He froze, half crouching, half standing. “I can explain...”
“First, put the deer down.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.”
“It’s Officer, not ma’am.”
“Excuse me, Officer,” he corrected, his muscles straining at the awkward position he’d been forced to hold. “But I’m guessing you’re here for this fawn, same as I am. And if I set him down he’s liable to take off again.” Probably not, given how tired the little guy seemed, but it could happen. “So if you don’t mind, I’d rather just hold on to him and save all of us the trouble.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing out here, and then I’ll decide what happens next.”
“Can I at least stand up, so we can talk face-to-face?”
“Slowly. No sudden moves.”
Taking her at her word, he straightened, his hamstrings protesting at the slow pace. Nothing like a sustained squat before deadlifting a deer to round out the workday. Once upright he turned to find one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen holding a gun on him.
“Think you could put that away?”
She kept the gun steady. “You said you had an explanation.”
Fine. “I’m the director of the Paradise Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. One of my volunteers saw some poachers kill this guy’s mama, and called me to see if I could help.”
Her dark, almond-shaped eyes relaxed a bit. “Do you have any ID on you?”
“In my back pocket.”
She nodded, her ponytail of coffee-colored hair bouncing at the movement. “Get it.”
He complied, grabbing his wallet and holding it out so she could see his license as well as his work ID. “I’m licensed with the state. I’ve got a copy of my permit back in the truck if you need to see it.”
She lowered the gun, holstering it before answering. “I’ll need to see it before letting you leave with the deer, and I’ll need your statement.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Officer.” The fawn squirmed and he tightened his grip. “I just want to get this guy back to the center and then go home, that’s all.”
She nodded curtly, then turned on her heel and headed back out the way they’d come. “If someone had told me you were going to be out here, we could have avoided...any complications.”
“Sorry, I thought Jason would have told you. I know you guys usually want to be first on the scene, but—”
“But you figured the rules don’t apply to you?”
“No, but I thought finding the fawn was more important. I had no idea how long it would take for someone from Fish and Wildlife to get here, and didn’t want to lose the daylight. Playing by the rules could have meant losing the fawn.”
She stopped, her shoulders straightening. “I do get that. Saving the fawn was a priority, for both of us. But next time, let the authorities know if you’re going to be tramping around a crime scene.”
“Trust me, I don’t plan on making a habit of it.” He shifted the deer, his tight back muscles reminding him that he’d spent the day nailing shingles. “Believe it or not, this wasn’t how I planned to spend my evening.”
She looked him over, no doubt taking in the wet and filthy clothes and tar-crusted hair, and for the first time a real smile played on her lips. “What could possibly have been better than this?”
He smiled back. “A beer and a hot shower, in that order.” His stomach grumbled. “And food. Maybe a pizza, maybe some television. Not deer wrangling, and definitely not having a gun pulled on me.”
* * *
Sam felt her cheeks heat. That hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. “Like I said, the rules are there for a reason. Going off on your own, half-cocked, when there are poachers around—”
He held up a hand and grinned, his white teeth in stark contrast to his tanned skin. “Hey, no hard feelings. You did what you had to do.”
“Exactly.”
“And so did I. And hey, it all turned out all right in the end.”
She started to argue, but there was no point in antagonizing him. At least he wasn’t going to give her grief about drawing her weapon. Yes, she’d followed protocol, but a civilian complaint would still look bad on her record. Not to mention the paperwork it would mean. She had enough of that as it was.
Besides, she needed to maintain a good rapport with the locals. She’d been born here on Paradise Isle, but between boarding school and college she’d spent too many years on the mainland to be considered an islander anymore. Time and distance had made her an outsider, and since she relied on tips like the one the volunteer had called in today, gaining the trust of the residents was her top priority. And given that she’d just threatened to shoot one of them, she had her work cut out for her. Time to take it down a notch and try to defuse the situation.
Of course, it would be a bit easier to relax and make nice if he was more normal-looking. Maybe even a bit homely. But no, he had to be drop-dead gorgeous: tall, with broad, athletic shoulders and a lean swimmer’s build. She pegged him for a surfer. He had the sun-bleached shaggy hair and perfect tan that seemed typical of the beach bum crowd, with ocean-blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He definitely didn’t look like the director of a nonprofit, and truth be told, his movie-star looks were a bit intimidating.
They came out of the woods behind the gas station just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Dylan moved past her in the dim twilight, heading for an old, beat-up pickup parked beside the gas station. There were what looked like dog kennels in the back, the kind used for airline travel, lashed in place with cables. Without a word he lifted the baby deer from his shoulders and tucked it into the largest cage, securing the latch with a sigh. “I’ll take him back to the center, get him fed and settled in for the night.”
She tried to smile around what felt like a dismissal. “I still have some questions for you. For my report.”
He shrugged and raised the tailgate. “Well, then, I guess you’re coming, too—Officer.” He gave a mock salute before climbing in the cab of his truck and driving
