Marina Adair - Need You for Keeps (St. Helena Vineyard #6) Read online

  “I really need to lose the doughnuts,” she panted, her hand on her side as she cautiously approached the tree.

  Two wide eyes, so dilated they appeared solid black, peeked out from behind the first row of branches. Ears curled under, tail reminiscent of a duster, the kitten crouched low and gave a throaty growl—the sound about as threatening as a sneeze. Still, Shay took caution, more for the kitten than herself. The last thing she needed was to send it scurrying its furry gray butt to the top of the tree. Because then she’d have to play the retriever, and Shay hated heights more than she hated running.

  “Aren’t you an adorable ball of cute?” she cooed when she had maneuvered close enough to touch the bottom limb and see that the feline had ridiculously short legs. The big blue eyes only added to its adorable factor.

  As though offended by Shay’s choice in description, the kitten fluffed itself out even more and this time gave a hiss—also adorable and clearly a sign that it wasn’t having any of her sweet talk. Which led Shay to believe he was male. That his fur was matted and she could see his little ribs poking through told her he was the missing kitten from her litter.

  A litter Shay had vowed to help.

  “That dog sounded scary,” she said conversationally. “But I bet he was just as scared to see you in his garbage can as you were to see him.” At the gentle tone in her voice the cat relaxed a little, and Shay slowly lifted her hand to rest it on the branch—as far away from him as possible. When he didn’t move, other than to lower his body to the limb, she moved slightly closer.

  After a moment of conversational speculation, on Shay’s part, over how big the dog must have been to send a tough kitty like him running—always good to boost a man’s self-esteem—she moved her hand even closer. Which was apparently one inch too close, because the kitten gave a nasty one-two swat to Shay’s arm, his needle nails doing some minor damage, and took off up the tree, all the way up the freaking tree, where he tightroped out to the end of a skinny branch and resumed his puffed-out pose.

  “Shame on you, Kitty Fantastic,” she said in a reprimanding tone. Kitty Fantastic just peeled back his lips and showed her his teeth. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  Obviously Kitty Fantastic was not okay, and no, he was not about to come down and let Shay give him a quick once-over. She released the bravest breath she could muster and started looking for the easiest way up.

  Extremely aware of the woman outside his window, Jonah tried to focus on his paperwork, telling himself he was not going to check on her again. Not to figure out what she was doing trespassing on an abandoned construction site within eyesight of half the town’s law enforcement, nor to see if she had finally gotten smart and gone home.

  Only, damn it, he looked. He couldn’t help it. She’d been driving him crazy since he saw her tearing up Main Street about thirty minutes ago, huffing and a-puffing and dripping with pissed-off female. He’d been certain she was coming to chew his ass out. Not that he’d blame her.

  Deputy Jonah had delivered a pretty shitty ultimatum the other day—part of his job, he reminded himself. But at some point he’d been off duty and instead of going over to check if Shay was okay or if she needed any help, Neighbor Jonah—who couldn’t get the taste of her out of his mind—acted like a pussy and hid in his house.

  Only she didn’t come inside the station, didn’t even report Jonah to the sheriff for allowing a report that should have been for department-eyes only to somehow wind up on Facebook. Nope, Shay, confusing as always, had perched herself outside his window, where, if he pressed his face to the glass and stretched up on his toes, he could clearly see she was chilled—or revved up. The sun had begun to set, so if a breeze had come in off the ocean, it would explain her condition. The EVERY LIFE COUNTS tank top she wore, sweaty and thin and clinging to her body as if a second skin, wouldn’t help much.

  Neighbor Jonah was ready to man up, go outside, and see just how cold Shay was, and after a thorough investigation, offer her his coat—or other, more creative suggestions on how to get warm. Then he’d ask if she was hurt by what the town was saying about her on Facebook and, if she was upset, what he could do to make it better.

  Unfortunately, at the moment he was wearing Deputy Jonah’s boots, which meant if he went out there he’d have to ticket her ass.

  Fuck!

  He couldn’t hang up his boots for another—he checked his watch—thirty-five minutes, by which time it would most likely be dark and Shay would be gone. Then he’d go home and revert back to being a pussy, because if he knocked on her door and saw that she’d lied about how many dogs she really had—they’d all be in trouble. And if she answered it in her current attire, he’d definitely find trouble—of an entirely different kind.

  Shifting back to his seat, Jonah made short order of the never-ending pile of papers consuming the west quadrant of his desk. He was starting to tackle the stack behind it when he heard a loud rustling from outside—followed by a pretty impressive string of words.

  Jonah looked out the window to find his little troublemaker—holy shit—hugging the tree trunk. Her sparkly orange tennies were only about nine inches off the ground and that little jogging skirt of hers was about one inch from giving him the best view he’d had in weeks, but she looked determined.

  He had no idea what she thought she was doing, or what she was going after, but it was clear that given enough time she would hang herself—or cut down the tree. Both of which would require paperwork.

  With a sigh that came all the way from his soul, Jonah fished his cell out of his shirt pocket and dialed her number. He watched her dangle there for a long second, indecision playing across her pretty face, then with a huff she shimmied—proving that she liked to match her lace to her tennies—and dropped to the ground.

  She pulled out her phone, glanced at the screen, then at his window, and frowned. All pissy and irritated and looking sexier than any woman covered in bark and dirt had the right to look.

  “Sheriff.” She did not sound happy to hear from him.

  “Trouble.” He gave a smug little wiggle of his fingers. She did not wave back—smug or otherwise. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing?”

  “Making friends and saving lives,” she said, and even though she was back to staring at the tree, giving him a prime view of her spectacular ass, he could hear the irritation in her voice. “You?”

  “Oh, you know, paperwork, red tape BS, deciding if I am going to arrest you for trespassing.”

  “And here I thought you sat around all day ironing your cape,” she said, a tad dry, circling the tree to stare up at the branches.

  “It’s at the dry cleaner’s.”

  That earned him a smile. A small one, but it felt like a win all the same.

  “Why are you calling?” Moment gone, she went back to her job, examining a branch on the other side of the tree and giving him the cold shoulder. Which he deserved, he supposed. Settling on a low-hanging one, she gave it a few cautious tugs. “Can you get to the point? I’m busy.”

  “Right, busy making friends and saving lives,” he said. “Wait. I thought that was my job?”

  Shay paused midshake. Releasing the branch, those caramel pools zeroed in on him in a way that had him shifting in his boots. He didn’t like the look she gave. Or maybe he liked it too much. Either way, it was determined, calculating, and 100 percent trouble. Then the line went dead.

  He’d barely pulled the phone away from his ear when it rang. He looked at the screen and smiled.

  “Sheriff Baudouin,” she said, all kinds of professional. “I was calling to see if you could spare a few minutes to help a citizen in need?”

  The answer should have been no, followed by a “you have thirty seconds to vacate the premises,” but Jonah leaned a shoulder against the window frame and found himself saying, “Depends what citizen is asking.”

  “Me.” She rolled her head to face him and smiled. He smiled back.

  “Well, then, you’re
out of luck. I can’t do a favor for someone who is illegally trespassing on private property.”

  She casually plucked a leaf with her fingers. “What if I am exercising my First Amendment rights?”

  “Are you?”

  Nothing.

  Jonah closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Shay.”

  She dropped the leaf and huffed into the phone, and he knew he had her. “Now I am exercising the fifth, so why don’t you pretend I am staging a sit-in for a rare brush turkey who has built her love nest in this old oak tree, grab your cape, and bring me some water?”

  “Why don’t you come on over and I can get you all the water you want? Then you can sip it while I explain what the term trespassing means.”

  “Can’t. In case the nest falls out of the tree, someone needs to be here to catch the eggs.”

  “Brush turkeys are mound-building birds,” he said, looking at the pile of reports that would still be there come morning. He locked them inside the top drawer. “Which means the male would make the nest. At the base of the tree.”

  “Is that so?” She sounded equally impressed and amused—something he could easily get used to.

  “You aren’t the only one who watches the Discovery Channel,” he said, heading toward the break room. “And since we aren’t in Australia, either you are mistaken about the kind of bird you are out to protect, or you’re lying.”

  “Does it matter, since you are going to bring me the water anyway?”

  Nope, he thought, looking down at the water he was snagging from the fridge, he guessed it didn’t. If getting her water meant getting face time, he was game.

  “You need anything else? Coffee? Tea? A stale doughnut?” he deadpanned.

  “You got any tuna?”

  “Uh.” He searched though the plethora of to-go boxes, bags, and Tupperware, switching shelves when he got to one that had green fuzz growing up the side. “No tuna, but . . .”

  He looked at his sandwich on the bottom shelf, the one he’d spent a good thirty minutes of his morning perfecting, covered in bacon and grilled peppers and a little apricot jam. The one he hadn’t had a chance to eat yet but had been thinking about all day. God, he was hungry.

  Then he pictured Shay being carted away in an ambulance for taking an impact from twenty feet up and sighed. “I have a chicken sandwich.”

  “It might work.”

  “I’ll bring the sandwich,” he said, feeling as though he was making progress. “But stay out of the damn tree.”

  “See you in a bit. Oh, and Sheriff, be sure to use those stealthy moves they teach you at sheriff’s school.”

  She hung up before he could explain there was no such thing as sheriff’s school.

  Twenty minutes later the sun was beginning to set behind the hills, casting a beautiful orange-and-pink glow over the valley, when Shay had nearly given up. Not on the furry male, who was stubbornly perched at the top of the tree, eyeing her warily, but the sexy straitlaced one next door.

  Reaching for a low-hanging branch she’d been eyeing since ending the call, Shay sent up a quick prayer, chanted “Mind over matter” three times, and gave a little jump.

  Her feet left the ground, the air left her lungs, and she reached up and grabbed on—for dear life.

  “Mind over matter my ass,” she said because all that mattered to her mind was that she was one step into climbing a really big tree. And really big trees led to really big falls.

  She hung for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness and shortness of breath to stop. When it didn’t she closed her eyes and, palms sweating, repeated a quick prayer her mom had taught her, then hung for a little while longer while she recited it again. Just to be safe.

  Opening her eyes, Shay swung her feet over to the trunk, ready to walk her feet up it when the gravel crunched behind her.

  Shay looked between the branches as Jonah hopped the fence with the graceful ease of a man who knew how to handle himself—in any situation. He walked toward her in low-slung jeans, a blue T-shirt that did amazing things for his chest, and a brown bag dangling from his hand.

  “Hey, Sheriff, where’s your uniform?” she asked, because Deputy Jonah was hot, no question. But Off-Duty Jonah—sweet baby Jesus—that man oozed so much male swagger he could melt the panties off a woman with a single smile. Only he wasn’t smiling—he was frowning.

  “What happened to staying out of the tree?” he said, sounding grumpy, which was completely ridiculous because if anyone had the right to be grumpy, it was her.

  She dropped down, relieved to be back on solid soil. “I think it took a vacation with your ability to ask politely.”

  There was a long moment where Shay expected him to toss back some witty retort, but he looked her in the eye, serious and intent, and in his most sincere voice asked, “Shay, would you vacate the premises?” She raised a brow and he added, “Please?” but sounded put out about it.

  “Thank you for asking so politely, I know that was hard for you.” She walked over and patted him on the arm. Then, gifting him with her brightest smile, snatched the bag from his hands. “But, unfortunately, I can’t.”

  Jonah grumbled something under his breath that sounded oddly close to “a pain in my ass,” but Shay was too busy digging through the peppers and lettuce to find bits of chicken and bacon for her kitty trap to pay much attention. Although she did get an impressive view of said ass when he turned around to look at the sky and mumble some more. A completely pain-free experience on her end, since his ass gave a solid showing. Not that she mentioned it, since she didn’t think it would help his mood any.

  “What are you doing with my lunch?” he asked.

  Shay turned at the closeness of his voice and gave a little squeak when she found him standing right behind her. Arms over his chest, jaw tight, he watched intently as she destroyed what appeared to be a very impressive sandwich.

  She, on the other hand, watched the play of muscles on his arms, his very long arms, and muscular legs that would come in handy to a damsel in distress.

  Shay looked up at Kitty Fantastic then back to Clark Kent. She would rather die than be considered a damsel, and she had given up being distressed a long time ago, but the man had leaped over the fence in a single bound.

  “I’m making a kitty trap for Kitty Fantastic.”

  “Kitty Fantastic?”

  Shay shrugged. “I think he is the lost kitten to my litter.”

  “Which you’ll be keeping where?” Jonah gave her an assessing look. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  He turned his attention to the tiny ball of fuzz at the top of the tree, who looked back, all puffed fur and bad attitude. She could see Jonah gauging the distance, then he looked at all five feet four of her and his face went hard. “Don’t tell me you are climbing up there.”

  “Are you crazy? No way.” She waited until he relaxed before adding, “Just far enough up so that he can smell the chicken.”

  Her mom used to say the best way to attract bees was with honey. Shay knew, for cats, it was all about the chicken.

  And for a male, well, that was about making them believe the chicken was their idea.

  “Unless you have a better suggestion.”

  “Now what?” Jonah asked, wanting to kick himself. One bat of those chocolate-brown eyes and he was practically offering to help her commit a crime—like adding one more pet to her collection.

  “I think this is where you say you’re going to arrest me.”

  He looked down at his jeans and T-shirt and felt a sigh of relief, because, no, he wasn’t going to arrest her. Tonight that was some other asshole’s job.

  “I’m off duty,” he said, liking how that sounded.

  She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. Jonah didn’t like the idea of looking the other way, but figured if he wasn’t on the clock then he wasn’t slacking on his duties. So he’d clocked out early, locked up his gun and badge, and made a point to leave his job at the office.
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  “But you’re never off duty.”

  A problem he intended on fixing—starting tonight. Sheriff Bryant was right. Going into a new position already burnt out wouldn’t do anyone any good. Just like arresting Shay for saving a stupid cat.

  Plus he had a rough few days ahead of him, this he knew without a doubt. One week a year it was as though he was forced to relive it all, remember a time he’d give anything to forget. And since that week started tomorrow, he wanted to forget about everything tonight—and he’d found his perfect distraction.

  “I am right now,” he said and she smiled, warm and real and just for him, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Does that mean no lecture about bringing another cat into my house?”

  “Would it make a difference if I did?” She remained silent and he laughed. “Then no. No lecture. Off duty, remember?”

  “Well then, Jonah.” Man, he loved it when she called him by his given name. “Now we sit and wait.”

  Shay leaned back in the grass and made herself right at home, stretching out her lush legs, crossing them at the ankles as though she had every right to be there.

  Jonah had to admit that trespassing looked good on her. Her hair was a mess of curls, her face smudged with dirt, even the tree rash on her shin looked good on her, in that tough-girl I-can-handle-myself way. But there was something about the way she was looking at him right then, with reluctant gratitude and a shy hopefulness, that had him tied in knots.

  “We can wait all night, Trouble, but I don’t think that cat has any intention of coming down.” Just like he didn’t have any intention of leaving Shay alone—and not just because he didn’t trust her not to climb the tree the second she got impatient. There was something fragile about her tonight, a vulnerability that he’d bet the last half of that sandwich she had no idea she was showing. Because Shay didn’t do vulnerable.

  He’d spent the past year watching her take on one hopeless mission after another, never giving up and always managing to come out on top. No matter what. It was a testament to just how strong she was. But tonight she was showing a crack in her armor—and he wanted to know why. So he sat down next to her.