“I’m just a little confused. Does this have to do with the alarm going off last night?” she asked quietly. “I thought you said it was just an electrical malfunction.”
Jim nodded, suddenly more serious. “It was. I think.”
“You think,” Alice emphasized slowly. “But you’re not sure like you were last night?”
He shrugged broad shoulders. Alice had the fleeting thought that he must have to have his sheriff’s uniforms special-made for his big body. “Let’s just say that Dylan’s concern about the whole thing ramped up my worry a little. I haven’t seen Dylan that tense in a long, long time. It got me wondering—what’s got the iceman so ruffled?”
“He didn’t seem ruffled to me,” Alice said dismissively. She felt uneasy, though. What Jim was suggesting was true. To most observers, Dylan would have appeared the picture of control last night. But he had been worried about that alarm going off, tense at the idea of a threat. He’d made no effort to disguise that very thing after they’d both returned to the bedroom suite last night. He’d definitely not appreciated her venturing out of the locked bedroom on her own. She’d thought his worry and tension were out of proportion to the circumstances, and obviously, so had Jim Sheridan. The only difference was Alice knew why Dylan was so vigilantly protective of her.
Jim
Sheridan didn’t know, though. But from the looks of things, he was bound and determined to find out.
“It seemed to me he was worried about you,” Jim said, glancing casually around the wooded clearing as though sincerely interested in the foliage. “Very worried.”
“He wasn’t worried about me specifically,” Alice insisted. “He was worried because he thought his house had been broken into. Wouldn’t you be concerned about that?”
“Sure,” Jim agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “But why’s it a bad thing for Dylan to worry about your safety, too?”
Alice blinked, taken off guard by his question. “It’s not a bad thing—”
“It’s pretty clear he thinks you’re special. Most young women would be flattered to see Dylan so anxious for their safety. Most every young single woman I know in Morgantown and a good portion of the older married ones, as a matter of fact,” Jim said with a disarming smile.
“I . . . I don’t think—”
“You two are an item, right?”
Alice exhaled, exasperated. “Is that what you came for? To find out if Dylan Fall and I are an item? What, did you run out of good gossip to barter with at the local donut shop and thought you’d dig up some here? I’ve got more important things to do than feed your salacious curiosity.”
She spun to go, but paused mid-turn at the sound of Jim’s low chuckle. She glanced back. His pleased expression made Alice’s frown deepen.
“Salacious? I guess Dylan has his hands full with you.”
Alice gave a disbelieving bark of laughter, a comeback forming on her tongue.
“You aren’t helping matters much, Jim,” a man said. Alice started, her retort forgotten. Dylan strode into the clearing, Sal Rigo trailing behind him.
For a stunned second, she just stared in shock, sure she was hallucinating Dylan’s tall, impressive form. He wore an impeccable dark blue suit, a pristine white shirt, silver cuff links, and a silver and navy striped tie. Even through her amazement at his presence, Alice distantly acknowledged he looked downright amazing. His bold masculine features seemed tense and determined. His near-black eyes flickered over her quickly. She was so keyed in to him she knew instinctively he was making a quick thorough assessment of her well-being. He seemed both bizarrely out of place in the midst of the sylvan setting, and yet completely at home at once, like he utterly owned these woods.
Which he did, of course.
“Dylan,” both she and Jim muttered at once. Jim sounded just as surprised as Alice. Seemingly having decided all Alice’s limbs were where they should be, Dylan locked his attention on Jim. Sheridan had labeled Dylan the iceman earlier, and Alice had often had reason to suspect he would be intimidating when pressed. Seeing him at the moment, Alice knew she’d been a hundred percent correct in her assumption.
“Why are you questioning Alice out here in the woods?” Dylan demanded quietly.
“You make it sound so unusual. I just had a few questions about last night, that’s all. It hardly warrants an emergency trip from the office on your part,” Jim said incredulously. The sheriff’s gaze ran over Dylan and then Rigo, lingering on Rigo. Rigo was nearly as tall as Dylan’s six-foot-three-inches, but bulkier. He reminded Alice of a rock. Alice now knew that Dylan had personally commissioned Sal Rigo and another man from Durand’s security division with the task of watching over Alice at the camp. Dylan had originally done it without her knowledge. Alice was being followed—spied on, in truth. To see the evidence of her surveillance so blatantly paraded in front of her raised her hackles.
“What’s all this about?” Alice hissed, her question for Dylan.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Dylan replied with seeming calmness, still pinning Jim with his stare. “What is it that you feel is so crucial to question Alice about while she’s working?”
Jim sighed and took a step back. “The truth? I guess I came to ask her what’s got you like this,” the sheriff said, waving at Dylan.
“Got me like what, exactly?”
“What’s got you rushing out of your office and traipsing through the woods the second Mr. Security Guard here says the word,” Jim said mildly, nodding at Rigo. Alice saw Jim’s glance slide over to her, his eyebrows arched expectantly. Dylan’s gaze followed the sheriff’s lead, flickering over her. For a split second, his gaze locked with hers.
Stop this, Dylan. Stop making more of this than there is! If you insist on highlighting the Addie Durand situation, how can I keep up this constant effort to minimize it and deal with the everyday details of my life?