Page 60 of Sheltered By Love

Chapter Eleven

Felicity

As the wind started to grow outside, and the skies darkened my own restlessness grew and my idea of staying in bed seemed to lose its appeal.

It’s just before lunch, and since he did offer an apology, I take a quick shower, get dressed, and tiptoe inside my office to see if Zane would like some food.

He swings around in his chair, and I’m amused to see he’s been doodling on a pad, probably trying to stave off boredom.

As I try to see what he’s been drawing, he gets to his feet. “I can make lunch. Just watch the screens and let me know if you see anyone crazy enough to loiter in this weather.”

I cast a dubious glance out the window. “Do you really think they would be?”

“The PD will be in chaos. Response times are going to be slower. If I was robbing people that’s what I’d do.”

I’m pondering that when he leaves me with a chance to see what he’s been scribbling.

I laugh as I see he’s been working on a rough drawing of a dog wearing a cap. There’s even a caption. ‘Salty Old Sea Dog’ above it.

I risk a look at another doodle and find myself frowning at what appears to be a Bull Dog with the wording ‘Devil Dog’ underneath.

As the wind blows ferociously outside, and I study the pictures it’s like peeking inside Zane’s mind.

Two very different dogs represent one man.

Maybe he’s not sure which one he is? That would certainly explain his appalling manners.

I’m jarred from my thoughts when the phone rings beside me. Unlike my old phone downstairs, it’s modern, functional, and with little personality.

I pick it up and immediately know the caller is close by when I hear the wind at the other end.

“Fel—it’s—Nicki—thought—you—know.”

The line is so terrible I can barely make out what she’s saying. “Nicki? I can’t hear you. Can you repeat what you just said?”

As I wait for her, dread curls in the pit of my stomach, and my jaw is clenched.

“—texting—he can tell you,” she says.

“Tell me what?”

The line goes dead in my hand.

Zane

After listening in on her phone call from downstairs, I grumble under my breath at Nicki and switch the oven on, and put in a casserole instead.

Sure enough, a text comes in and it’s not good news.

Grandma had a turn. Go next door and tell Felicity.

Go tell Felicity. Like I’m her all-weather personal message delivery service.

And this isn’t a message I want to deliver.

It’s already blowing a gale outside, the sea is churning, all boats have been moored and even if I hadn’t had my eye on the weather, I’d know we were going to be stuck here for a while by the barometer on the kitchen wall.

Garrett’s going to be busy, but he’s already sent us a group text, warning us the power might go down again.

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