Fifteen

“I’M GLAD YOU’RE HERE.” A smile blossomed across her face. Her insides warmed with pleasure as Braden crossed the yard and stopped in her driveway.

She hadn’t spoken to him for a couple days and only caught a glimpse of him on Wednesday as she was headed out the door for swim lessons. Braden had been busy tossing remodeling debris into the roll-off dumpster in the driveway. She didn’t know if he even saw her. Work had kept her at the rec center or in the workshop and she was drop-dead tired at the end of the day. She thought about him constantly, but she had to make the most of her time while she had customers waiting for their orders.

“Looks like you could use a hand,” Braden said.

Melanie eyed the armoire she had wheeled out of the shop. Her hand cart looked small compared to the tall piece of furniture. The armoire was secure in layers of moving pads, bubble wrap, and shrink wrap. She was confident that its new pretty finish was protected, but less than confident about safely loading the armoire into the back of her pickup.

“I wouldn’t turn down the offer of extra muscle.” Her smile widened.

“How were you going to load this by yourself?” he asked as he glanced between the armoire and the truck bed.

“The way I got it here in the first place, only in reverse. Basically, I move slower than a turtle and use straps, fulcrums, and levers.”

“Or you can take advantage of your neighbor,” he said.

“I guess that’s another way of doing it. I don’t like using people when it’s convenient. I’ll let you help me with this oversized coat closet and I’ll pay you back with a homemade dinner.”

“I’d help you out without any payment, Mel.”

“I know, but I have this idealism about strong independent women inside my stubborn head that’s hard to let go of. I was going to invite you to come over on the eighteenth anyway.”

“You were?” he asked, surprise lifting his brows and the corners of his mouth.

“I was,” she said.

“A date? Or a dinner with a friend?” he asked.

“I’m inclined to say it’s a date, but I don’t want to assume that you want to date me.”

“It’s not an assumption. I want to date you, Melanie.” Braden rested his forearms on the edge of the truck bed. He eyed her with more seriousness than she was prepared to handle.

“Can we date as friends? I’m still hesitant to let things get too serious, since you don’t know when you're leaving town.”

“Okay. Friends who date is a reasonable compromise.” The intensity in his eyes lightened from near pewter to silvery-blue. “Hop in the back of your truck. I’ll lift the heavy end and you guide with the lighter end,” he suggested.

Having help with the armoire saved tons of time and Braden volunteered to ride with her to the client’s house to help unload. They worked together as a flawless team to set the armoire in Camilla Townsend’s guest room.

“It’s stunning.” Camilla beamed with delight over the new armoire. “I would love to find a dressing table to match. If you ever have a dressing table, do call me immediately. I think it would be just gorgeous against that wall.” She gestured to the adjacent wall. “What do you think?”

“I don’t have anything like that right now, but I’ll keep you in mind if I see one. I can always email you a picture if I happen to come across a matching table,” Melanie said.

Camilla Townsend clapped her hands together. “That would be fabulous. You’re so talented, Melanie. I’m hosting a dinner party at the end of the month. I can’t wait to show my friends your work.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind,” Melanie said. “Here’s my card.” She handed over a business card, and the three of them left the ocean blue guest room behind.

Camilla promised again to spread the word about Melanie’s furniture on their way out the door. Melanie’s previous thoughts about her pain in the butt client lightened as they drove away.

“You handled that well,” Braden said.

“What do you mean?” Melanie asked. The feeling of a wad of cash in her pocket also helped ease her not so nice opinions of Mrs. Townsend.

“Pretentious and picky clients would be difficult for me to deal with.”

“You noticed, huh? Camilla was easy today. You should have seen what she put me through to get to delivery day. I almost told her to forget the job.”

Braden whistled under his breath. “I’m glad I wasn’t there for that conversation. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her I would not bump the walls, nick the trim, leave a groove in her carpet, or any of the other fifty concerns she was so worried about. When she asked what I thought of her designer choices, I lied for your benefit. That bedroom was ugly as hell.”

“You’re a good guy, Braden. You didn’t have to lie,” Melanie said.

“Sometimes keeping the conversation civil and polite is to everyone’s benefit. Before I was assigned to Special Ops, I worked for the California Department of Fish and Game as a warden. Dealing with the public, especially when they’re breaking the law, teaches you how to choose your words carefully.”

“Pick your battles, right?” Melanie said with a laugh. “It’s not entirely different when you’re a parent.”

“Or a husband. My parents never figured this out and they would fight with each other over the most inconsequential things. I used to go outside when they started yelling. Or I would call my grandparents and ask if I could stay with them.”

“Are your parents part of the reason you’ve never been married?” she asked.

“I haven’t thought about it much. Maybe,” Braden said after taking a moment to consider. “I knew I could never marry someone for superficial reasons. My parents’ marriage seemed very shallow. I never wanted that. Justin is more like them when it comes to relationships. I thought my grandparents did it right.” Braden looked at Melanie from the passenger seat. “You never met my grandmother. She passed away before I moved to Granite Lake. But they respected each other and never fought. At least not in front of me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet her,” Melanie said with sincerity.

Braden turned his attention to the road. Melanie made the right turn onto their street. Talking with Braden was always so easy. Since he actually mentioned his job, she had to back up one topic and ask, “You work for Special Operations? What is that exactly?”

Braden blinked, looked out the side window, then directly at her. Melanie’s house came into view. She let up on the gas pedal and let the truck coast. A silver sedan with dark tinted windows was rounding the end of the cul-de-sac at a slower than normal speed. They often had tourists drive down their street. When they drove as slow as this car, she assumed they were looking for public access to the lake, which there wasn’t in her neighborhood. When she worked outside in the driveway, or in the flowerbeds, she often had people stop and ask where the closest beach or picnic area was on this side of Granite Lake. She wasn’t surprised to see the car, but something about the vehicle or the person inside made her look twice.

“It means I have specialized training to investigate unique cases concerning the Department of Fish and Game. I work with specific technical teams when and where they need me,” he said.

Melanie pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. His demeanor shifted and his tone of voice became more serious. She didn’t want to ruin the mood, but this small amount of information gave her a new perspective on the reason why he’d been unwilling to talk about his job before.

“Should I not have asked?”

“I don’t like keeping the truth from you, but I can’t risk your safety either. I will tell you everything when I can, but right now it’s in your best interest to not know anything else about why I’m here and why I’m not using my real name.”

“Thanks for the explanation. It helps,” she said and leaned across the seat. She kissed him on the cheek then jumped out of the truck before letting her curiosity get the best of her. Melanie was dying to ask more questions.

Braden helped unload the truck. They put the straps, hand cart, and moving pads back in her shop and agreed to meet again on the evening of his birthday.

* * *

“Is that the house?” Miguel asked.

The two story wood-sided house sat back from the road. A large roll off dumpster blocked half of the driveway and shielded his view. He and Romero had been given the task to find the son-of-a-bitch who was responsible for busting their boss’s growing operations in Trinity County.

“That’s the place,” Romero said.

Romero had a natural born gift for memorizing details. He could look at a map or be told the smallest details and he would never forget them again. Miguel’s strengths relied more on the physical, and he always drove the car since Romero was a crappy driver. When their boss had a special request, like the one to find Officer Keehn, they would be assigned to team up.

“See anyone?” Miguel asked. He slowed the car to a crawl and peered across the treed lot. He was unconcerned if they were spotted. The plates on the loaner car weren’t registered and no one could see through the dark tinted windows.

“No, man. It’s quiet. They must be remodeling or something. He’s got some nerve working on a house out in the open. It’s almost like he wants to be found.”

“You figure out if it’s him or his brother living here?” Miguel asked.

Romero turned a hooded gaze on his partner. “Does it matter?” he asked with calculating malice behind his words.

“No. Sometimes finding the family members is more effective.” Movement in the side view mirror caught Miguel’s attention. A pickup truck was approaching the end of the street. “Someone’s coming.”

Romero glanced over his shoulder. A woman with dark hair sat behind the driver’s side and a man that could be their guy sat in the passenger seat. “Looks a little like our Mr. Keehn.”

“Maybe.” Miguel wasn’t convinced, and at this distance, it was difficult to be certain. As the truck came closer, the man turned his head and he couldn’t see his face. “His hair’s shorter. She’s pulling into the neighbor’s driveway. We’ll come back later.” He pushed the gas pedal and the car picked up speed. They left the cul-de-sac behind before the couple stepped out of the truck.

“Brother or no brother, we’ll get that fucking game warden and we’ll make him regret ever stepping a foot in our forest.”