The house looked like a riverboat that had been dropped into the middle of a lush green yard.
Reid Blackthorn frowned, puzzling over what he was seeing. The old white Victorian was ringed on two levels with wraparound porches dripping with gingerbread and ornately turned posts and spindles. The stately tower perched on top of the roof resembled a steamboat wheelhouse. All it lacked was a large red paddle wheel to complete the picture. It wasn’t what he had expected to find when he came looking for the woman who had taken his niece.
He rubbed his forehead and inhaled a calming breath. Legally, Victoria Montgomery was his niece’s guardian, but he was prepared to change that if possible. His last disastrous undercover assignment for the DEA had made him realize he wanted more than chasing drug dealers. He was empty and burned-out. All he wanted now was a quiet, peaceful existence. His first move had been tracking down his younger brother in hopes of making amends for not honoring their mother’s dying wish. Reid had promised to take care of Eddie, but instead Reid had followed his need for justice and never looked back.
He’d found Eddie in a hospital dying from years of drug abuse and alcoholism, and his only wish was to see his little daughter. Reid went in search of the mother and child only to find out Judy Stevens had died several months ago and given guardianship to a friend. The Montgomery woman. What had alarmed Reid was the neighbors’ comments. According to Mrs. Fisher, the guardian was flighty, irresponsible and incapable of taking care of a five-year-old child.
Reid was the child’s only blood relative, and nothing would prevent him from making sure his niece met her father before he died. He glanced at the absurdly ornate home again, then at the small sign positioned to the right of the sidewalk. Camellia Tea Room—Closed. Whoever this flaky woman was, he would set her straight. His niece wasn’t going to be raised by some herbal-tea-drinking, small-town loon.
A car whizzed by on the tree-lined street, breaking his concentration. Time to act. He strode along the narrow walkway and up the wide wooden steps leading to the expansive porch. The old planks complained at his weight. The early-October air was thick with the smell of fresh paint. He raised his hand to push the doorbell, but a flush of anxiety caused him to pause. Maybe this situation required a little more backup than his own determination. He was new at this praying business and had no idea what to say to the man upstairs. He closed his eyes and simply asked for help before pressing the doorbell.
“Help!”
The shout came from inside the old house. His instincts kicked in. He grasped the doorknob and pushed. “Is everything okay in there?”
“No. I need help. I’m in the sunroom at the back.”
Reid pushed through into the foyer, his gaze focused on the end of a wide hallway. He moved quickly past the graceful staircase, his boots thudding heavily on the wide-planked wood floors.
“Back here.”
The feminine voice drew him to a room off to the right. He stopped and looked in, his brows lifting slightly as he took in the situation. The lovely wide-eyed woman had painted herself into a corner. Literally. She’d failed to plan ahead and now found herself trapped in a corner, unable to escape without ruining the fresh paint.
The woman brushed a loose strand of fawn-colored hair from her face. “You sure got here in a hurry. Floyd said he’d send you over, but I was afraid I’d be here until the floor dried. You’re Reid, right?”
He hesitated before nodding. How did she know his name? No one knew him in this small Mississippi town.
“Can you get me out of here? I have to pick up my little girl from school soon.”
He nodded again. “But how?”
“I don’t know, but I have to get out of here and pick up Lily.”
The concern in her voice and the urgency in her deep blue eyes overshadowed his questions. He looked about, but didn’t see anything that might extricate her from her predicament. “Do you have any lumber around?”
She squinted at him and screwed her mouth to one corner in a way that made him want to smile. “What?”
He hastened to explain. “A piece of wood, a plank.”
“Maybe out by the garage.”
A quick trip out the back door revealed a small stack of lumber piled near the driveway. He hoisted a two-by-six and carried it back inside. Pulling up a kitchen chair, he then aimed the plank at the woman. She held up her hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you out. Take the end of the board and place it at your feet.”
She gave him a skeptical frown, then did as he instructed. When the board rested on the small patch of unpainted floor, Reid pulled the chair into place and rested the plank on the seat, creating a sloping bridge. After checking to make sure the board was secure, he moved to the edge of the door and grasped the frame, extending his hand toward the woman. “Walk slowly up the board. I’ll help you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too narrow. I’ll fall off and ruin the paint.”
“You’ll be fine. Go slowly and keep your balance. It’s only a few feet, then you can take my hand.” For a moment he thought she would refuse, but a glance at the clock spurred her on. She definitely seemed determined not to be late picking up her child.
She placed a tentative step on the wood, then another. Her confidence grew as she moved. He stretched out his hand as far as he could. When she grasped his fingers he shifted his weight, holding firmly until she was near the end, then he slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her off the board. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She was small and soft and warm in his arms, and she smelled of paint and oranges.
He looked into her eyes, the cobalt color capturing his full attention. He’d never seen that color before. Their gazes locked. The blue eyes bored into him, burning through his barriers as if she could look directly into his soul and see his deepest secrets. Fear jolted through his body. He set her down and stepped back, swallowing against the sudden tightness in his throat.
When he dared a look at her again, her eyes were wide with surprise. Had she felt the odd connection, too? He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.
“Thank you. You’re a real-life rescue hero. I can’t believe you got here so fast. I only called Floyd a few minutes before you showed up.”
“Well, I was actually—”
“I’m Tori Montgomery, by the way. I’ve
