much summed it up. The man oozed confidence from his pores. She was in full uniform, carried a badge and had even drawn her weapon, but he’d been the one in control of the situation, from start to finish. Even covered in mud, he had a bearing that demanded respect. Meanwhile, she still felt like she was playing dress-up half the time. Maybe her instructor at the academy had been right; maybe she wasn’t cut out for this line of work. But damn it, she’d aced her course work and held her own in the physical tests, as well. She’d even broken the academy record for sharpshooting.
She’d worked hard to prove her instructor wrong, to prove that she had what it took. So why did she still let guys like this get to her? He hadn’t even done anything particularly awful. Yes, he should have waited for law enforcement to get there, but even she could see his motives were good. And he’d stayed calm and relaxed even when she’d been sweating bullets. Maybe because he had the kind of easygoing confidence she’d always envied. The kind that came from really knowing yourself and being comfortable in your own skin. That was something she hoped to find for herself, and one of the reasons she’d come back to the only true home she’d ever had.
Getting in her car, she checked the GPS. The rehab center wasn’t far, and if she hurried she could pick up some food first. An “I’m sorry I almost shot you” gesture. On the other hand, she didn’t want him to think this was something other than professional. Friendly was good, flirting was not.
Shaking her head at her own indecision, she started the engine and rolled down the windows. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head. She’d initially been drawn to law enforcement because of her father’s involvement, but the clear lines between law and order, right and wrong resonated with her. Unlike some of her fellow officers who chafed at following protocol, she found freedom in following the rules. Rules created order out of chaos. Rules made her feel in control. Without rules, anything could happen, which was probably why she’d reacted so badly to him tracking all over her crime scene. That, and her inner teenager’s reaction to a hot guy. Neither was an excuse she felt like sharing.
Letting her stomach do the thinking, she pulled into Lou’s Pizza. She needed to eat dinner at some point anyway—might as well share.
Inside, the tangy aromas of tomato sauce and pepperoni tickled her nose, bringing back memories of Saturday night pizzas with her dad. Once upon a time, they’d made it a weekly tradition, just the two of them. That was before her mother died, before the close relationship she’d had with the man she’d worshipped as a hero had degraded into long-distance phone calls and painfully awkward visits home.
Now that she was back in Paradise, she was going to change that. After all, if she couldn’t win over her own father, what chance did she have with the townspeople?
* * *
Dylan’s hands were kept busy over the next half hour as he dealt with the logistics of caring for an orphan fawn, but his mind was focused on the sexy wildlife officer who’d almost shot him. Shoveling clean shavings into a pen, he wondered what was wrong with him. She’d been armed, rude and way too uptight to be his type. He liked free spirits, women who knew how to let loose and have fun. Women who understood that life was about finding happiness while you could.
He wasn’t sure Officer Finley—he’d seen her name on the badge—even knew what fun was. All work, no play was the vibe she gave, with her perfectly pressed uniform and no-nonsense ponytail. No jewelry, no noticeable makeup. Of course, she hadn’t needed any, not with her looks. She almost had an exotic appeal, like a buttoned-up version of Angelina Jolie. He had a way with animals and women, and something told him there was a vixen hiding behind that badge.
The fawn pushed up against him, demanding attention.
“All right, I get it. You’re almost as bossy as she was.” He took a minute to smooth down the bedding, and then headed toward the main building, the animal tottering along beside him. He was just about to unlock the door when the sound of gravel crunching announced a visitor. He’d wondered if she’d show. He waved, then waited as she climbed down, then opened the back door and pulled out a flat white box. Oh, holy hell. She’d brought food.
“If some of that’s for me, you can arrest me right now and I won’t resist.”
She startled for a second, then shrugged and grinned. “You said you wanted pizza, and I hadn’t eaten yet, so...”
“So you took pity on me. I wouldn’t have thought I liked pity, but if it comes with pepperoni I think my ego can handle it.”
“Pepperoni and sausage.”
“My angel of mercy. Come on in.” He held the door for her, flipping on the lights to illuminate the way-too-small office area that served as command central. He pointed to the largest of the cheap metal desks. “You can sit at my desk if you like. I’ve got to go finish up with the fawn, but it shouldn’t take me very long.”
“I can help, if you like. Might go faster with two people.”
That he hadn’t expected. Maybe he was right, and she wasn’t as standoffish as she pretended to be. “Sure, another set of hands is always welcome here.”
Picking up the fawn, who had curled up on the floor at his feet, he headed for the door at the rear of the room. “The treatment area is back here.”
Without being asked, she flipped the switch by the doorway, flooding the large utilitarian space with fluorescent light. Twice the size of the office and reception area, the room boasted stainless-steel counters, refrigerators, an industrial washer and dryer, and several examination tables. One full wall was taken up by cages of various sizes, only one of which was occupied. The current resident, a tortoise with a wounded foot, looked up and then promptly went back to sleep.
Dylan put the fawn down on a large walk-on scale and made a mental note of its weight. He’d fill out a treatment form for him once he was settled. “Officer, could you keep an eye on our furry friend here, while I mix up some formula for him?”
“Sure.” She took his place at the orphan’s side, stroking the dappled fur.
He moved to the back counter, where the milk replacement powder and bottles were kept. “You know, if we’re going to eat pizza together, maybe you could tell me your first name? It seems a bit formal to keep calling you Officer.”
She bit her lip, obviously more comfortable with that layer of formality between them, before nodding reluctantly. “It’s Sam, Sam Finley. I guess I didn’t get around to introducing myself before.”
“No worries.” He knew when to back off, when to stop pushing. She was as skittish as the fawn, more so really. The little deer had already started bonding with him. She, however, was doing that one-step-forward, two-steps-back thing that he often saw in the animals they took in. Better to let things lie for a bit, rather than scare her off.
He mixed up the powder with warm water, then screwed the top on the bottle. “Want to try feeding him?”
She looked up, eyes wide. “Me?”
“Sure. It’s not hard, and he might appreciate a woman’s touch. He certainly seems taken with you.”
She looked down to where the fawn was practically wrapped around her legs, then reached for the bottle. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t want to hurt him.”
He handed it to her. “You won’t. Just tickle his lips with it a bit, and hold on tight.”
She
