used to be, years ago.”
He left momentarily, returning with an old, dusty bottle of rubbing alcohol, a washcloth and several square packages of gauze. Kneeling by her feet, he gently cleaned the abrasions on her knees and palms. At her slight, involuntary hiss as alcohol touched the wound, he bent low and blew on her skin to ease the pain.
Holy hell. The tender intimacy of the gesture bulldozed her senses with as much impact as when she’d crashed to the ground dodging the wayward truck. After he wrapped her palms with the gauze, he moved on to her knees and she gulped hard, fighting back unexpected tears. What was wrong with her? Was she so broken that a kindly ministration reduced her to a puddled mess?
He finished, cocking his head to the side as he regarded his handiwork. “Might want to pick up some antibiotic cream tomorrow. Just to be safe.”
She cleared her throat, determined to keep her voice steady. “Thank you. I’ve made coffee, and there’s some cheesecake in the fridge,” she told him. “Help yourself.”
She instructed him where to find cups and dishes. He set to work, and she watched. Andrews’s presence filled the kitchen, and she was again struck by his aura of confidence. He wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense like Bryce—his features were a little too sharp, his body more lean than overly muscled—but Harper was drawn to him nonetheless.
Bet the man was sorry now he’d offered to stop by and check her house. Seemed she was one problem after another lately.
Andrews sat across from her. “About that truck—I’ll need to file a report on the incident.”
“Okay. Sorry Mrs. Henley and I are no help in providing anything more specific, Officer.”
“Liam.”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“My name’s Liam.”
Liam. The lovely syllables washed over her.
“Why don’t I get started on the house search while you finish your coffee?”
“Okay. Be warned, it’s a bit of a mess with boxes everywhere. I’m getting ready to sell the place.”
“Understood.” He rose and regarded her with something that seemed like…interest. “So, you’ll be here, what, a couple more weeks?”
“More or less.”
He nodded. “I’ll start in the basement and work my way up.”
“Sure. I’ll tag along with you. I’m fine now.”
Her legs were still shaky, and she hoped Liam didn’t notice. He followed her to the basement, and she was conscious of his large form so close to her own. A stirring of excitement whispered through her body. How pathetic was she? The man was merely paying a kindness. Harper flipped on light switches and flushed a bit as he examined the junky, damp room.
“Lots of Dad’s old tools are still down here. Plus, Mom always kept a large pantry of canned goods and stored holiday decorations in the basement, too. Got loads of work to do clearing it all out.”
Liam shone a flashlight on the narrow overhead windows. “No sign of forced entry here.”
And didn’t she feel foolish. Going to the cops over a few scratching noises and a silly email?
“Onward and upward,” she joked. He followed her upstairs, and they made their way through each room. Liam opened all the closets and checked the windows. With each passing room, her embarrassment grew. In the attic, he walked through and inspected the cramped space filled floor to ceiling with plastic bins. “More holiday decorations,” she explained. “Mom went all out for every holiday—Valentine’s, St. Patrick’s Day, you name it, she had knickknacks to commemorate its occurrence.” An unexpected pang of nostalgia for the old days hit her in the solar plexus. Old meaning the years before Presley died. There hadn’t been much need to celebrate anything after that.
“This house is huge,” he commented as they made their way back to the kitchen. “Come from a large family?”
“Nope. There were only two of us kids and Mom and Dad. My dad used to talk about quitting work at the factory and turning this place into a B&B. But once he died, Mom lost all interest in the project. Truthfully, I don’t think she was ever gung-ho about the idea. She enjoyed waitressing at the diner. And Presley and I didn’t like the idea of sharing our home with a bunch of strangers, either.”
“Sorry about your sister’s accident.”
Speaking of which… “How did you know of it? Were you outside the office when I spoke with Bryce?”
“Couldn’t help but overhear,” he said easily. “I don’t like to barge in when he’s in the middle of a conversation.”
“Ah, I get you. Well, it’s been seventeen years since she died, so you don’t need to walk on eggshells when it comes to discussing what happened.” Harper cast an involuntary look back over her shoulder. “She fell down in the kitchen and passed out. The soup she had on the stove caught fire. She died from a combination of a head wound and smoke inhalation.”
“I see.” His kind gaze sent waves of comfort through her body. Lots of people acted weird when you brought up tragedies and tried to immediately change the subject. To his credit, Liam did not. “That must have been awful for your family.”
“Yeah. She was only sixteen.”
“Were you two close?”
“As close as you can be when you’re seven years apart. I looked up to her as a kid. Presley was smart. Genius kind of smart. Used to earn extra money tutoring students, including your boss.”
She motioned to the table, and they sat down, this time side by side. She was hyperaware of his arms and shoulders so close to her own. Harper gripped her coffee mug with both hands to resist an impulse to reach out and touch Liam. “What about your family?” she ventured. “How long have you lived in Baysville?”
A contented smile washed over his face. “I have a huge family. Three brothers and two sisters. Most of them live in Arlington.”
“Parents still living?”
“Yep. Both still kicking.”
“You’re lucky.”
A heartbeat of silence fell between them, a locked gaze that lasted a second too long to be casual. Liam scooted his chair. “Time for me to get moving. You going to be okay here by yourself?”
“Yes, of course.” They both rose at the same time, and Harper almost sighed. It would be ridiculous to start anything with her moving so soon, and she wasn’t into one-night stands. Damn it.
“What the hell?” Liam frowned and strode toward the back window of the kitchen.
“What is it?”
“Look outside.”
Dutifully, she walked over and stood beside him. An elliptical flashlight beam pierced the marshlands abutting the far side
