Page 47 of Deadly Attraction
Her body didn’t mind it either.
She sat at the table, eyeing the delicious smelling food in front of her. “Will and I can saddle up the horses after breakfast.”
“I’ve already prepped Harry. You’re staying here with Will.”
Emma’s forkful of egg stopped halfway to her mouth. “Harry?”
Mitch plopped his plate on the table and dropped into the seat opposite her. “I refuse to ride a horse named Twinkie. When I ride him, he’s Harry.”
She almost smiled. “I’m not staying here. I’m going with you.”
“No, ma’am, you are not.”
Stuffing the egg into her mouth, she chewed slowly and eyeballed him. “I know the trail, you don’t.”
He dug in, avoiding her glare. “I served two tours in the Middle East, and no, I don’t want to talk about where or any details concerning my job there. I only mention it in order to assure you I know how to navigate rougher terrain than you have here in California. I’ll find the trail and follow it to the park, do my investigation, and be back before sunset.”
She stewed for a few long moments, watching him eat. He was a magnificent creature, reminding her of the horse he insisted on calling Harry. Twinkie, too, had an independent streak that reared its head on occasion. When he’d first come to her, he’d been neglected and didn’t trust strangers. Only his handler had been able to get the horse to cooperate. It took Emma months to gain the horse’s trust. With patience and kindness, she’d taken the damaged trick horse and returned him to the gentle soul he’d once been.
She wondered if the same patience and kindness might work on Mitch. “You believe that I will be safer here with Will in this house, where we know Chris or one of his fans entered yesterday, than on the trail hidden in the woods with you?”
His gaze flickered up to hers, dropped again. “I do.”
It was a lie.
But why? Why was he suddenly so emotionally distant and trying hard to create physical distance between them again?
Jealousy.
He’d let down his guard and actually started liking her. Realizing she had spent last Christmas with a man had made him retreat behind those walls again.
Petty and childish. Did he think her a nun? A saint?
“Nothing happened between the man who stayed here last year to comfort me while I grieved, and it’s juvenile of you to treat me this way because you fear something did.”
He froze, then set his fork down. “It’s none of my business what you do here, or who you spend time with, Doctor. My only mission is to keep you safe until they catch the man after you.”
“Last night, we were friends. After I told you about the owner of the clothes you were wearing, you became distant and cold. Why is that, Mitch?”
He jumped up from the table and refilled his coffee cup. “I apologize for any misunderstanding, but I have other things on my mind besides being your bodyguard. I’m trying to solve a crime I can’t get all the evidence on, or even get in to view the scene where I believe the arsonist started the fire. I can’t solve crimes from remote distances.”
He returned to the table, sat, and gave her a hard look. “My attitude has nothing to do with the clothes or your friend. I’m simply battling a no-win situation, stuck here with you, and trying to make the best of it.”
He could add lying to his skill set. Most people would believe him by the look on his face. The earnestness in his voice. The way he didn’t fidget or glance away as she held his gaze.
The most dangerous liars…
“I’m sorry you’restuckhere, Agent Holden. Safe travels to the park and back.”
Picking up her coffee, she stood and pushed in her chair before she headed for the stairs and the sanctity of her office. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
He was a goddamn ass.
Shoving the rest of the breakfast into the dog dishes, Mitch berated himself for hurting Emma and lying to her. As the dogs sucked up the eggs and sausage meant for her, he tossed her dish into the sink and started scrubbing up the mess he’d made.
Except nothing could scrub clean his conscience. Not over what he’d just done nor what hehadn’tdone five years ago.
His mother still had all of Mac’s shirts, all of his uniforms. For some reason, Emma’s hanging onto a shirt her “friend” had left behind hit a raw spot with him. A raw spot he couldn’t put into words but suddenly understood all too clearly.
