Page 22 of Anchor Point

What did she know about me?

What did she want from me?

She began to fidget beneath my stare, wringing her hands and shuffling from side to side. I couldn’t drag my eyes off her.

“You look just like your picture, only, like… old.” She paused, her eyes going wide, hands stilling. “Older, I mean.”

She dropped her hands, huffing and looking down the expanse of the covered front porch. Her gorgeous cheeks bloomed an adorable pink as she studied the swing at one end.

I chuckled despite myself. “You had it right the first time.”

I stepped onto the porch, letting the screen door slam behind me. Buster rounded the corner of the house and bounded up the stairs. Her eyes lit up as she dropped down in greeting, an offer Buster accepted with glee, his yellow tail wagging in delight at a new person to shower him with affection.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute. What’s his name?”

Obviously, Buster was a welcome distraction.

Without hesitation, she dropped right to her butt, burying her face in his neck when he stepped right into her, his version of a full-body hug.

“This is Buster. He doesn’t understand the concept of personal space.”

Her giggle as Buster showered her with doggy kisses tightened my chest as both instant affection and denial warred for dominance.

“He likes you.” I stated the obvious, at a loss for what to say, finally dragging my eyes off her. Staring at her was freaking me out.

In the yard, a shiny new mountain bike lay on its side, answering my question about how she’d gotten here.

I studied the bike, trying to figure out where the fuck to start. Did I go full-on with my questions? She obviously knew who I was, so what the hell was she doing here? And why now?

Another giggle, combined with happy whimpers, drew my attention back to the rollicking crew on my porch. With a last scratch behind his ears, she made to stand. I reached over and grabbed Buster by the collar, pulling him away, and grasped her elbow to help her stand. She flinched at the contact, and I immediately dropped my hand and stepped back.

“What’s your name?” I started with the obvious.

“Rosa Nell Hawkins.” Her last-name confirmation was a solid punch to the gut. She continued, “You know who I am?”

I nodded. “You’re Chief Hawkins’s daughter, right?” And mine.

“Yeah.”

She was still too nervous, too jittery to be confident, but I had to admire her for the sheer amount of brass balls it took to find and confront me. I needed to be gentle.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rosa Nell. I’m Mac.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

“You, uh, you want to sit for a minute? That swing’s real nice on a day like today,” I offered, rearranging my face into what I hoped was an inviting expression. And damn if I didn’t sound like some backwoods weirdo offering a kid a piece of candy.

Her head bobbed once, her arms wrapping around her slender waist as she checked me out without directly meeting my eyes. “Everyone calls me Rosie.”

I took another step back and leaned against the porch rail, bracing my hands on the banister behind me and crossing my legs. Making myself the least intimidating as possible, needing her to feel safe and comfortable.

“It’s a long way out here. Your mom know you’re here?”

She eased onto the porch swing, shaking her head. Buster crowded her legs, begging for her to continue. Her hand landed on one of his ears, absently giving him head pats and ear rubs.

“No, I told her I was just going for a ride.”

“She lets you just run wherever you wanna go?” The thought didn’t sit well with me.

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