“I’ll get your bag.” He opened the door for her and motioned for them to head up the front steps ahead of him. “It’s unlocked. The dogs aren’t here at the moment,” he said.
She pulled the screen handle and turned the old brass knob to the wooden door. It opened with a lot of complaining, and she stepped inside. It was dim, but Clancy was right behind them, and reached around to flip a switch just inside the door. “I wasn’t expecting company. Sorry if it’s a little messy.”
“But—” Evelyn’s mind went blank.
“Let’s get you guys out of those wet clothes first, okay?” He moved in front of them and headed down the hallway. He dropped the duffel on the floor and disappeared inside an open door, reappearing just seconds later with his arms full of dirty clothes. “There’re clean towels on the shelf and plenty of hot water. Feel free to give her a bath if she prefers that, but I’m sorry—you’re probably going to have to give the tub a quick rinse first. Cleaning supplies are under the sink.” He motioned with his head for her and Christina to go into the bathroom. “I’ll give you guys your space and get the guest bed made. Looks like she might need a nap.”
Evelyn couldn’t move. She stood, frozen, at the juncture of the living room and hallway. Her mouth fell open as she tried to sort out this whole bizarre situation. When he said he was taking her home, he meant to his house. She was baffled. Why would he do this? Did he want them to be warm, dry, and well rested before he handed them over to the FBI?
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t—” Evelyn stopped, suddenly figuring it out. “Oh. This is for the benefit of the news cameras? You don’t want a crying, miserable little girl and a drowned rat of a woman making Bayberry Island look bad?”
Clancy backed away, and toed her duffel bag so he could get around it. “Are you hungry?”
“What?”
“Can I have pancakes?” Chrissy was awake.
“Sure.” Clancy smiled at her. “Do you like the blueberry kind?”
She nodded with enthusiasm. “And milk, please.”
“You got it.” Slowly, Clancy raised his eyes to meet Evelyn’s. It felt as if they were locked in a Wild West standoff, each waiting for the other to flinch before they reached for their weapons. In this particular duel, however, the lawman’s arms were full of dirty laundry and the outlaw held a hungry four-year-old.
Evelyn tilted her head and stared at the handsome tall man in the rain suit. She was confused, unsure of what was next or where this was going, and she still couldn’t decipher that expression in his eyes.
Despite everything, she felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite in her chest.
“Trust me,” was all he said.
Eighteen years ago . . .
It was a close call. Evie almost wasn’t allowed to go to the clambake, and if that happened, she knew she would completely drop dead in a hysterical, spastic mess. Though she could hardly believe it, it was Amanda who saved her.
“Oh, Mom, you should let her go. He’s super nice.” As usual, her little sister inserted herself into a conversation that didn’t involve her, but this time, Evie appreciated what a complete nudge she was. “We met him at the beach the other day and he hung out with us at the parade. He’s very polite and intelligent and he and Evie get along great. You know, he reminds me a lot of Ross.”
Wow. Amanda was good at this. Ross was a cousin on their father’s side, a valedictorian who had been accepted to West Point, and their mom and dad believed he could do no wrong.
“That’s wonderful, but you’re too young to date, Evelyn.” Her father look worried. “I don’t want you out at night by yourself.”