Page 175 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Help yourself.”

Shayna selected a book by Diann Hunt then hurried out the door. Becca could only hope the message in the book would make a difference. She prayed for her cousin and his wife then watched the sun sink over the horizon in a fiery display of red and gold from her bedroom window.

The house was quiet with her door closed. She wasn’t sleepy though. Maybe she could go to the attic and poke around. No one would hear her. Anything was better than staring at these four walls.

She opened her door and listened. Voices echoed from downstairs. It sounded like Tate and Shayna, though they didn’t seem to be arguing at least. Becca tiptoed along the thick rug in the hall to the door to the attic. She eased it open, and it creaked loudly. She froze, her blood pounding in her ears. What could she say if someone found her creeping up the stairs like some criminal?

The voices downstairs continued. She stepped onto the first attic step and pulled the door shut behind her. Darkness pressed in on her like a suffocating blanket. Her fingers fumbled for the switch and clicked it on. She breathed easier when light flooded the room above her head.

Treading softly, she went up the stairs to the landing above. The attic looked different without sunlight streaming in the windows. She didn’t think she’d ever been up here at night before. It seemed smaller, more sinister. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Drawing in a breath, she told herself not to be a ninny. Another room, the door closed, lay beyond this one filled with boxes and Christmas decorations. She walked forward and pushed open the door. It was dark, and she heard a soft flutter. Her hand went to her throat, and she backed away.

And plowed into someone standing behind her. Becca uttered a shriek and jumped away, whirling to face the person behind her.

“What are you doing up here?” Max didn’t seem angry as he stood watching her. His head cocked to one side, he seemed genuinely puzzled.

“You scared the life out of me!” She took a deep breath, willing her heart rate to return to normal.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Becca tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. “I was bored so I thought I’d explore. Is the attic off-limits?”

“No, but it’s not the first place someone usually chooses to explore. Most women are afraid of the bats.”

“Ba-bats?” she faltered. “I heard something in that room.” She pointed to the room behind her.

He stepped past her and shut the door. “That’s where they get in, so we keep the door closed.”

She closed her eyes. “I hate bats,” she whispered. “I had one stuck in my hair once.” She shuddered at the memory of the last time she’d been here as a kid. She’d sworn never to go back up here, and now here she was.

A chittering sound came from the corner. Becca jerked around to peer into the shadows. Her hand went to her throat.

“Uh oh, I think one might be in here,” Max said.

Becca tried to run, but her legs seemed to be broken. Then a dark shape swooped from the ceiling in the corner and seemed to be coming straight at her head. She screamed and hit the ground. Her face pressed to the dusty carpet, she put her hands over her head then looked around for something to cover her hair.

She saw a discarded jacket on a chair nearby and scrabbled along the floor to grab it. As she flung it over her head, she caught a glimpse of Max snatching up a broken tennis racquet and turning to strike at the bat. She cowered back against the floor and listened to the sounds of battle.

Max was muttering under his breath, then Becca heard awhopand he uttered a grunt of satisfaction.

“You can come out now. The bat has been vanquished.”

Becca cautiously lowered the jacket from her head. Max was grinning in a particularly revolting way.

“You think it’s funny!” she accused.

His grin widened even more. He tossed the tennis racquet onto the floor and grasped her hand to pull her to her feet. “You’re way bigger than the bat,” he pointed out.

“But it’s—it’s icky,” she said, still clinging to his hand.

He made no move to let go of her either. And he was standing close enough she could smell his cologne, a particularly enticing scent. She knew she should move away, but he’d just saved her from a fate worse than death, and she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. Her mind whispered that he might have tried to kill her this morning, but her heart didn’t believe it.

His eyes darkened as his gaze collided with hers. He took a step closer, and his other hand touched her cheek. “Becca,” he whispered. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look standing there?”

Her heart felt like it would beat right out of her chest. The tenderness in his fingertips seemed out of character for the gruff man she’d known the past two days.

“We—we should go down,” she murmured huskily.

---