Irritation at his tone forced some steadiness into my answer. "I can't imagine why he should be. I haven't seen him or talked to him since…a year ago, maybe. We had a brief discussion about me doing the books for his business."
"Don't worry about it then." He perched, facing me, on the coffee table, frowned, and focused on my mouth.
I watched him, shoulders drawn tight, and barely breathing. He raised the tea towel and I braced.
"May I?" His eyes left my mouth briefly, checking my eyes for the answer.
I nodded a fraction. He raised the towel to my chin and wiped lightly. The damp towel showed less red than I'd anticipated. He scrutinized my lip and dabbed a couple of times. I exhaled. A little.
"That's better." He refolded the towel, then brushed it across the tear-tracks on my cheeks.
"Thank you," I said between swallows.
"No problem." He stood, handed me the tea towel, and stepped around the coffee table.
I sagged in relief.
"It's pretty humbling to be on the receiving end." He smiled as if he knew. "Keep breathing."
I tried a small smile in return. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. I exhaled a little more. He sat in my coral, wing-back chair across the room, and leaned forward, elbows on his blue-jeaned knees, hands clasped. His dark blue tweed sports jacket sat well over his light blue, cotton Oxford shirt. Open collar, no tie. A nice look. Comfortable. Friendly. Safe.
"Why was Greg here?" he asked. "What was that all about?"
Oh. An explanation, of course. He'd want to know why he just got in a fight on my front porch. "Blackie. He thinks Blackie killed Valerie. He wanted me to tell him where he was. Greg wants to… he said… he wants to…" I couldn't continue. Tears ambushed me and I wiped at them with the towel.
"Oh, jeez." Paul squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry. That's why I'm here."
The stabbing pain in my chest robbed my hands of strength. The ice pack slipped from my grip. I leapt up and raced to the phone in my office. In a fumbling few seconds I had Aunt Vi on the line.
"Blackie!" I shrieked. "What's -"
"Everything's fine now, he's fine. I'm sorry, duck. I didn't mean to alarm you."
"What happened? Is he hurt?"
"No, no, no. It all started after Henry left for the dentist. I didn't know what to do except send Paul over. I couldn't get through to you."
"What started? What happened? Are you sure he's okay?" I clutched fistfuls of hair and paced.
"He's fine, he was just behaving so oddly."
"Why? What was he doing?"
"I don't know why. He was whinnying and running the fence line – so unlike him. But he's quiet now – gone right back to grazing with Duke."
"You're sure he's all right?" I wadded up my hair again.
"Thea, I've seen enough sick horses over the years to know when one isn't ill. Blackie's fine."
Of course she'd know. She'd been nursing horses for forever. My blood pressure plummeted back to normal. "Sorry. I'm sorry… Aunt Vi?"
"Yes, love?"
"Greg's looking for Blackie. He'll hurt him if he finds him." My voice sounded small and scared even to my ears.
"You get to the sheriff's office like you planned and tell them. I'll have Eric come and stay here until Henry gets back. You come straight over here when you're done with your statement. I don't want Greg thinking you're standing in the way."
It was a little late for that, but he could come back. Suddenly, leaving my house for the rest of the day seemed like a good idea. "Okay. See you in a little while."
"Oh, and Thea, tell Paul 'thank you' for me. I hope I didn't make him late for work."
I disconnected and went back to the living room. Paul handed me the ice pack I'd dropped. His frown looked apologetic.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Is Blackie okay?"
"Aunt Vi said he's fine. He settled down after you left." I placed the ice pack against my lip.
"That's good. He sure had himself a run up and down the fence line earlier."
I transferred the ice to my cheek. "Aunt Vi said he was whinnying, too."
"Yeah, he was. I saw him out the bedroom window. He'd stop and look at the house, bellow like an elephant, then start running again. When I came out of the apartment I thought he was going to come through the fence at me. He slammed to a stop at the last second and screamed. That's one very loud horse."
I contemplated the air in front of my face, bit my lip, and winced. I'd forgotten. "Strange… doesn't sound like colic." I needed to check on him myself. I turned toward the front door. Paul's hand on my arm stopped me.
He shook his head once. "You should call the police."
"Why? The vet would make more sense."
Despite the lowered brows and twitch in his jaw, his voice was soft. "Greg attacked you, Thea."
I blinked. "Oh. Right. I'm going to the sheriff's office soon to sign my statement. I can make a report then."
"Do it now."
"I'll do it when I go there. It'll be more efficient. Eric's on his way to the farm, and I may be more able to convince the sheriff that Blackie needs protecting if he can't hang up on me."
Paul narrowed his eyes. I'd swear he was counting. He passed a hand over his mouth. The other hand went to his hip.
"You should stop at the Walk-In Clinic."
"I'm okay now, really."
"Thea." He pronounced my name with parental sternness, pushed his sports jacket open, and braced his hands on his hips. "Greg is as big a threat to you as he is to Blackie. I saw him beating on you, and I'm looking at what he's done to you. I know it was a shock, but for your own safety, don't retreat into denial."
What was it with men? Did they really have to be such -
His hands dropped to his sides. "I'm sorry. You don’t need me bullying you, too. But it would be a good idea to stop at the clinic. You want to make sure you're okay. And tell the sheriff when you go in to sign your statement." He brushed at the hair I'd wadded in my fist when I'd talked to Aunt Vi before resting his hand on my shoulder. "Please."
My tension eased under his touch, my mind stopped buzzing, and my instincts told me to trust him. I had an ally with an intelligent plan. I could breathe.
"You're right, I know."
"Good." He squeezed my shoulder and slid his hand down my arm leaving a trail of warmth.
I looked into his eyes and a staggering, kick-you-in-the-knees incendiary flash rocketed up my neck and into my face, robbing me of intelligent speech.
"Aunt Vi, um, Aunt Vi said she was sorry…sorry if she made you late for, um, work."
He glanced at his watch and his eyebrows shot up. "Can I use your phone?"
I pointed toward my office. When he turned away, I staggered to the sofa and lowered myself to the edge. Holy crap. Get a freaking grip, Thea.
The call was too short.
"I need to run," he said coming out of my office. "Are you going to be all right?"
No. "Yes, I'll be fine. Thank you." I pronounced the words carefully.
He took a breath as if to say something. Instead, he looked at the floor and exhaled. His gaze shifted to my pink bunny slippers, and he smiled. "Lock the door."
Then closing the front door softly behind him, he was gone.
I got up, went to the door, and hesitated, listening, before I turned the dead bolt.
Dammit. I leaned my head against the door and closed my eyes. My opinion of Paul Hudson had changed. Just like that. Faster. I longed for him. I didn't want to. I didn't need this in my life right now. Dammit.
Chapter Eight
The doctor at the clinic was the suspicious sort. I was certain he didn't believe my story, although I told him the truth. And if his stern lecture was any indication, he didn't believe I was on my way to the sheriff's office either. Battered women, he told me, have a habit of keeping their mouths shut.
I had no intention of keeping silent.
I pulled into the parking lot at the Snohomish County Sheriff's Office just as a white Chevy pickup truck backed rapidly out of a parking place. I slammed on my breaks, narrowly avoiding a collision. The driver didn't even give me a courtesy shrug. How could she, unless she had eyes in the back of her head. She hadn't even bothered to look before throwing her truck into gear and didn't spare me a glance as she zipped past. But I saw her.