Page 4 of Protected By the Surly Carpenter

His jaw tightens, then his head shakes slightly. “Okay. So… You’ve been moving around a lot?”

“Yes. I went to college in the southwest for two years. Linguistics.”

He leans back. “Interesting. What do you plan to do with that?”

His eyes light up at my giant grin. “I know most little girls dream of being a princess or a ballerina, but I’ve always loved languages. So I became…drum roll please…an accent coach!”

He tips his head slightly. “One of those people who helps an American actor sound English for a movie role?”

“Not quite. Some people with heavy accents find it a hindrance to their career. They don’t get promoted in a fast-paced company. Or if they’re a doctor, their patients can’t understand them. That one’s really important.”

“You think everyone should speak with the same accent?”

“No!” I laugh. “Not at all. For sure I want people to retain the lilt of their natural voice. But clear communication is vital, especially in medicine. You can’t have people in the emergency room asking you to repeat yourself over and over.”

“Good point.”

“So I teach people how to soften their accent a little so it’s better understood by the North American ear.” I laugh again. “Then they go home to visit their families, and the accent is super thick again when they come back. It always takes a few days to settle down.”

I look longingly toward my laptop. “At least, that’s what happened with the few clients that I had before I found out Dad was looking for me and I had to take off.” It’s hard not to shudder when I think of that. I was never comfortable around the man, but it got steadily worse, to the point where he completely freaks me out now. The people he was associated with, the stuff I heard he was selling… Yeah. Whatever he’s into now, I want no part of it.

Clark reaches out to take my hand. “Elena, is there anything dangerous in that safety deposit box that Lawney was talking about? Is that what your Dad is after?”

His eyes lock with mine, and a breathless tremor ripples through me. It is one hundred percent not normal to be this turned on simply from holding someone’s hand. Someone I just met hours ago.

“I don’t know,” I finally whisper. “If my grandparents had anything to pass down, I guess it would probably be there. It could be anything, or it could be nothing. At this point, I’m not even sure if I want to know.”

“Which bank?”

“Some bank in New York. Mom’s sister Carla still lives there.”

Clark squeezes my hand again, then leans back in the chair. “Do you trust her? You keep in touch?”

“Yeah.” I already miss the feeling of his hand in mine. “She said that Dad showed up at her office, looking for me.” I feel so guilty that Carla had to face him. She hates him nearly as much as I do.

His head jerks up at the sound of a car going past, then he relaxes again. “That’s just James, our police officer. May I please see your phone?”

I fish it out of my purse, not even caring that he sees me enter the unlock code. He enters a contact for OHV Hotline and shows it to me. “If you ever need help, that’s faster than 911 around here.” He enters another number under the name Clark Morrow. “You can call me for anything as well.”

His thick thumbs move quickly as he sends himself a text from my phone, then gives me a look of pure…something. Not quite seduction. More like…longing?

“Jim’s closes at five on Sundays. May I take you to dinner after your shift? Preferably something other than pizza or pasta.”

We’re alone in a hotel room with the heat between us hotter than a roaring fire, yet he seems almost shy about asking me out. Yeah, it’s official. Ireallylike this guy.

“That would be great.” I walk him the two steps to the door. “Thanks for helping me tonight – both with that guy and the locks.”

“Anytime.”

He opens the door, and the fresh night air blows the scent of the forest toward me. Something else, too – the faint earthy fragrance of the huge wall of man just inches away. Inhaling his warmth, my chin tips up expectantly. Everything about my body language is begging him to kiss me, yet he hesitates.

Oh wow. Maybe he’s trying to be proper? I mean, that would be the polite thing to do. Yet after all the stress I’ve had lately, I just want to turn the world off and become lost in him. My hand reaches up to rest on his shoulder as I inch closer. Finally I feel his large palm press against the base of my spine.

“Elena.” His voice is even lower. Darker. As his deep brown eyes search mine, I feel him struggling.

I whisper breathily, “Yeah?”

His head dips. My stomach tightens, heart racing. Those full, inviting lips pass mine, barely brushing against my mouth. His breath tickles along my cheekbone, then he whispers close against my ear, “I can’t wait to see you again.”

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