Guarded, page 16
part #2 of Tidewater Series
The sign for Seventeenth Street came into view. Count on Tidewater to have the beach-access roads well labeled. Only a few more blocks and they’d be at the shop. Time to hurry this along.
“How did you and Jules get separated if your new social worker was better?”
Shelley glanced up as if startled by the question. “Well . . .” She rolled her shoulders. “My last foster family didn’t like Jules. I think they were afraid of her. They kept making overtures about keeping me—adopting me—but sending Jules away. So I did to them what they threatened to do to Jules. I left. I ran away five times. Never made it far. Only as far as the bus station, but I didn’t have any money. Plus, I didn’t want to leave without Jules.
“Then I met my adoptive parents, Jill and Nate. They were amazing. Even after hearing that I’d been running away, my grades had gone from perfect report cards to barely passing, and I was angry all the time, they still saw the good in me. Believed in me.
“They kept coming back to see me. Trying to prove that they wanted me. That I was safe with them. They even bought a puppy that I’d seen in the pet store. Let me name him. They promised I could play with him whenever they came to visit. It didn’t take long for me to love them enough to want to go with them.
“I thought, given enough time, I could talk them into adopting Jules. But when I presented my plan to her, Jules refused. We had this horrible fight. I don’t remember most of what we said. You know, it was one of those ‘scream whatever’s on your mind, even if it isn’t true’ moments.”
It wasn’t a question, but Dev answered like it was. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
Her blue eyes misted. “I do remember the last thing I said to her. I told her I hated her and that she wasn’t my sister anymore. I’d found a better family. One that wasn’t filled with freaks. God, I was so awful. After all she’d done to care for Hannah and me. And I threw it back in her face.”
Shelley covered her mouth with her free hand and blinked fast, clearly trying to stave off the tears. Something about that move was familiar. He’d seen her do that in college after fights with Cam. She always calmed down. Never shed a single tear. And he wondered if she ever let herself truly grieve for anything.
He reached for her, but she shook her head. “I’m-I’m fine.”
Right, and I’m Joan of Arc. “You sure?”
She dropped her hand and inhaled a long, slow breath. “Yeah. I’m okay. I just haven’t talked about that.”
“In a long time?”
“Ever.”
“You need another minute?” How had she gone thirteen years and not talked about it?
“No, I’m good.” She smiled at him briefly, then studied the sand beneath their feet. She bent over and picked up a fully formed but tiny—smaller than her fingernail—seashell. Cupping the pure white Common American auger in her palm, she held it up to him. “Look at this, it’s beautiful. Perfect. I think I’ll add it to my collection.”
She pocketed the keepsake and continued walking.
“You collect shells, Shells?” He grinned when she groaned.
“Usually I collect rocks. They’re sturdier. I try to save one from every new place I visit. Just seems wrong somehow to collect a rock from the ocean when there are so many shells to choose from.”
Now that confused him. “Weren’t you born in Tidewater? How have you never been to the beach?”
“No time to play.” She shrugged. “Plus, Tidewater’s a big city. And we grew up in the middle, geographically speaking. So unless we took a bus or someone drove us, we didn’t go anywhere that was more than five blocks from the house. Momma was an only child, we didn’t know Daddy’s family, and our grandparents died long before Jules was born, so there was no one to take us anywhere.”
“Sounds lonely.”
She shrugged again, this time less convincingly. “Nah. When Momma was alive, we were happy.”
Dev again wondered at her upbringing. It was so different from his, where family seemed to sprout up like weeds in his mother’s flowerbed. It made him want to wrap Shelley in his arms and hold her close. Or take her to his Gram’s for Christmas so she could see what a big family gathering was like.
Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blared. Dev glanced to his right. Whoa. They’d covered the distance faster than he thought they would. He turned them up the access road. On the opposite side of Atlantic Avenue lay the strip mall with April’s Flowers and . . . Jules.
CHAPTER 12
“WE’RE HERE.” DEV muttered so softly, Shelley wasn’t certain he’d said it at all. Then she glanced across the street to see a pretty redhead hanging garland in the front window of a florist shop.
Shelley’s heart thudded in excitement. In trepidation. In confusion. She took an automatic step back.
“I promise, it’s going to be fine,” Dev said, catching her by the elbow and halting her retreat. “Better than fine, Shells. Your sister is going to be thrilled when she sees you. Trust me. What happened that last time you spoke won’t matter in the least.”
Maybe not to you.
She should just leave. Go back home. She was needed there anyway. Animals were disappearing. Miah was suffering and only Shelley could talk to the tigress. Provided Reyna didn’t have her legally banned from the zoo.
As if reading her mind, Dev tightened his hold on her arm. Not painfully, but just enough to let her know he wasn’t going to let her run. She glanced up at him when another horn blared. Dev’s eyes widened, then he dropped her arm.
Raising his hands high in the air, he attempted to stop traffic. It took a split second for Shelley to figure out why. In the center of the road was a small calico kitten. Its little wet body shivered as cars whipped past.
“Oh my God!” Shelley dropped her shoes and hurried into the street.
“Wait, Shells.” Dev raised both hands in a clear demand for the oncoming gold Toyota to stop. Brakes screeched as Shelley raced past.
Dev called out, “Can you get it?”
Shelley scooped the frightened animal into her hands and continued across the street, seconds before a red Porsche blew past, horn honking. Once on the other side of the road, she cradled the wet animal to her chest.
She tucked the kitten, which couldn’t have been more than three weeks old, beneath the sweatshirt Dev had loaned her. Tiny sharp claws dug into her thin blouse, as the little animal sought purchase in the dark.
“Did you get it?” Dev asked, when he met her on the sidewalk. He handed Shelley her shoes. He must have gone back for them after she crossed. “Is it alive? Does it need a vet?”
“I am a vet.” Shelley arched an eyebrow at him.
“Right. But I meant do we need to go to a local clinic?”
“Let’s get away from the street so I can talk to her.”
Shelley glanced back at the shop, hoping for a place to go that was convenient. A teen in black pants, combat boots, and a black T-shirt with hundreds of white skulls on the front stood frozen in the storefront window. A string of evergreen garland in her hands, she stared at them. The open-mouthed, narrow-eyed expression all the more disturbing because her radically black hair framed a face covered in Goth makeup. White powder, black eyeliner, mascara, and matching lipstick.
How on earth did I mistake her for a redhead?
Dev waved to the teen, then tugged Shelley’s sleeve. “Come on.”
He didn’t wait for a response but led her to the front door.
Chimes tinkled as they walked into the shop. The scent of roses and freshly cut evergreens made the little store both homey and welcoming.
“Hey, Diana,” Dev said to the Goth teen. “Is Jules around?”
* * *
SHELLEY JERKED AS if in surprise. Clearly, during Operation Kitty Rescue outside, where they were must have slipped her mind.
“Yeah,” Diana said, hiking a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s recycling boxes, but she’ll BRB.”
Shelley made a hissing sound between her teeth. Dev turned to see her awkwardly trying to remove the sweatshirt with one hand, while reaching beneath it with the other, presumably to hold the kitten in place.
“Who’s your friend, Dev?” Diana asked, her southern Tidewater twang more pronounced than usual.
“Diana, this is Shelley.” Dev didn’t bother to continue, instead he said, “You hold the kitten, Shells, and I’ll tug off the sweatshirt.” That idea didn’t work, because every time she let go of the kitten with one hand to pull her arm free, it sank claws through the sweatshirt, halting the upward movement.
“Do you want me to hold the kitten while you try to pull off the sweatshirt?”
Shelley blushed. “Um . . . no. Kitty’s partially wedged under my bra. She managed to get her head beneath the underwire. I think she’s stuck and panicking. Ouch! She’s scratching my stomach. I’m holding her still so she doesn’t strangle or claw me to death.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Diana’s laugh cut across the room. “You’ve got a live animal stuffed down your shirt? Where’d you find this chick, Dev?”
Shelley turned to glare at the girl. “You could offer something useful, like the direction to the ladies’ room.”
It was Diana’s turn to glare. She narrowed her brown eyes to slits and folded her arms.
“Back there,” Dev said, pointing to the doorway behind the counter. He didn’t wait for Diana to lift the hinged counter. He did it himself, guiding Shelley through.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked, his face heating. Thank God, he didn’t blush like she did. Because damn, he would be Dev the Red-Faced Detective right now. The idea of helping Shells out of her bra did things to his dick it just shouldn’t have, given the circumstances.
“I—ow!” She danced backward into the small white-tiled bathroom. “Yes, jeez, I think she’s out for blood.”
“How do you know the cat’s a girl?” Dev asked, searching the tiny bathroom for a first-aid kit.
“She’s a calico kitten. Except for a rare few, none are male—” She sucked air between her teeth and shifted the bulge under her shirt. “Calicos are female. It’s a genetic thing.” She glanced over at him. “What are you doing?”
“Kicking myself for leaving my car at Doc Taylor’s. I have my first-aid kit in there. I can’t find one in here.”
“You’re such a Boy Scout.” She laughed, then hissed in pain.
“CPR instructor,” he said.
Jules appeared in the doorway. “Dev, Diana said you have a crazy woman back here with a live animal stuffed down her bra?”
He gestured to Shells, who was still doing the dance of pain beneath the slowly brightening lights of the bathroom. “Surprise, Jules. Shelley’s here.”
CHAPTER 13
AWKWARD. SHELLEY COULDN’T speak. She couldn’t stand still. She had a kitten clawing its way out of her bra and shirt like some twisted feline version of Alien. And Jules was just staring at her, like she was an alien.
The kitten shifted and slid, dragging its razor-sharp nails down her rib cage. It let out a strangled mewling noise and really started struggling. “Frack this! She’s going to strangle to death or tear me to ribbons or both. I need someone to help me get my clothes off, fast.”
“I’ll help her,” Jules said, taking charge. “Dev, go get the first-aid kit from under the desk in my office.” Then she shut the door in Dev’s face and began the process of peeling the layers of clothing off Shelley’s body.
“Well, this is not the reunion I pictured us having,” Jules said, dropping the sweatshirt to the floor. “I thought we’d have dinner and maybe some wine or meet for breakfast somewhere. But stripping my little sister naked in my flower shop was definitely not on my list of top one hundred ways to reunite.”
“Me neither,” Shelley replied with a surprised chuckle, then winced as the kitten used her body as a scratching post. “But hey, we can always go for the wine thing tonight after I’ve had the three thousand stitches I’m going to need once this kitten is free.”
Jules grinned, her emerald eyes sparkling. And just like that, it was as if no time had passed. They were sisters dealing with another crazy animal Shelley had brought in out of the rain. Just like when they were kids.
Why was I worried about this?
The blue gauzy top Shelley had chosen for the day was a pullover with strings that tied at the neck. Jules took one look at it and her smile faded. “Oh, dear.”
Shelley glanced down but couldn’t see anything past the kitten head moving steadily upward between her breasts.
“Let’s do this one step at a time.” Slowly, Jules peeled the gauzy top from Shelley’s body, then it too joined Dev’s sweatshirt on the floor. “Turn around and I’ll unhook your bra, then the kitten will be free.”
Shelley turned, staring at the bizarre painting. “Jules? Why is there a painting of a field of penises in your bathroom?”
“That’s a cornfield, gutterbrain,” Jules said with a snort.
The bra unhooked, and the kitten’s head popped free. The kitten fell into her hands and curled up, mewling.
Jules glanced over her shoulder. “All better?” When Shelley nodded, Jules added, “Hold still and I’ll fasten you back up.”
Another snap and the bra was securely back in place.
Dev knocked on the door and called, “I have the first-aid kit here. Do you want me to leave it by the door or—?”
“Come on in, Dev. The important parts are covered,” Jules replied, cutting him off.
“What?” Shelley whipped around to stare at Jules.
“He teaches people first aid. This is right up his alley.” Jules’s eyes shifted to Shelley’s clawed belly and her face took on a greenish tinge. “And, oh, I think I’m going to be sick.”
A memory from their childhood surged. When Shelley was six, Jules had come into the backyard where Shelley was bandaging the bleeding leg of a stray she’d found. Jules turned green and started yakking in the bushes.
“Oh, God, you still can’t handle the sight of blood?” she asked Jules, who made a gurgling noise. “Ah, come on, it’s not that bad.”
“It’s the smell.”
Dev opened the door and his jaw dropped. Shelley spun to face the penis-like–cornstalk painting again, then spun back around, mortified. She held the kitten pressed against her chest, much higher than where it had climbed to earlier. It purred against her flesh.
“I-I . . .” Dev’s words trailed away. His gaze drifted down her body and froze on her midsection. “Damn, Shells. She got you good.”
Shelley arched her back to discover the little beast had drawn blood. A lot of it. As if to remind her, the kitten clawed at her palms. She yelped in surprise, but didn’t do more than shift her position so she could communicate with the animal eye to eye.
“Dev can help you get cleaned up.” Jules, greener still, plucked the kitten from her hands. “I’ll, uh . . .” She made another gurgling noise. “I’ll take the kitten to my office.”
Jules rushed out of the bathroom, yanking the door closed behind her.
And there they stood. Shelley half-naked and bleeding from the world’s youngest attack kitty and Dev. Dev, who stood all tall and sexy and indescribably adorable as he bounced his gaze up and down her body, as if unsure where to keep it trained.
Something wet and sticky seeped beneath the waistband of her jeans. Shelley swiped a hand at it and it came back covered in blood. Turning to the mirror over the sink, she stood on tiptoe trying to assess the damage. Which was beginning to seriously sting.
“Here, let me help.” Dev set the first-aid kit on the sink, placed his hands on her hips, then slowly turned her to face him. Kneeling in front of her, he unzipped the red bag and pulled out gloves, antiseptic cream, and bandages.
Not one to stand by and allow another person to coddle her, Shelley yanked a few paper towels from the roll on the wall, dampened them in the sink, and began to blot away the blood.
“I can do that,” Dev said, his voice oddly huskier than usual.
“No, it’s really fine,” she lied. Truth was, having Devon Cary Jones on his knees in front of her half-naked body was something straight out of one of her fantasies. She needed to feel the sting of pain to keep her grounded in reality.
* * *
A TRICKLE OF sweat slid down Dev’s back. Ah, God. This shouldn’t turn him on. Okay, it didn’t really. Seeing the blood on her torso was a complete soft-on. But the moment she wiped it away, only minor scratches were revealed on her voluptuous body. Hidden only by a lacy, nearly transparent, turquoise bra with little sparkling rhinestones on the cups. Now that did rev him up. And up. And up so much, he was glad he was on his knees so she couldn’t see just how aroused he was.
“Thank you,” Shelley said, as he dabbed the triple-antibiotic ointment on the deepest of her cuts.
“No problem, the scratches aren’t bad.” He applied several bandages.
She hissed as he smeared more ointment on a two-inch-long shallow gash. “Ooh, I meant, thank you for this too. But I was thanking you for seeing the kitten in the street. Helping me rescue her.”
“I’m just glad you were able to get to her in time. Did she tell you how she got there?” He put another bandage on.
“No, I didn’t get much from her. I think the poor thing is in shock. I’ll try again in a few minutes.”
Dev applied one more bandage, then ran a hand over her midsection, searching for any wounds he might have missed.
She shivered.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling back.
