Colin had her talk to a female attorney who was starting the process of requesting the restraining order. It was midmorning Wednesday before Cait had a chance to escape to her office.
She was struggling to concentrate on a preliminary design done some months back for a pipeline replacement project when Noah appeared in her doorway. With the breadth of his shoulders, he completely filled it.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m fine.” Same thing she’d told Colin when he’d let her off in front of work that morning.
She had a bad feeling Noah’s sharp blue gaze saw the dark circles under her eyes she’d tried to hide with makeup that morning.
“You heard from your brother?”
“He called a few minutes ago. My car is clean and ready to go. He can’t get away soon enough to follow me home today, but assumes I’ll use my head and have an escort when I go down to the garage.”
Noah’s grin flickered at the sarcasm she let edge into the direct quote.
“Officers have as yet failed to locate Blake,” she added, drolly using cop-speak.
The grin vanished. “Why the hell can’t they put their hands on him?”
“This can’t possibly be the highest priority for the entire Angel Butte P.D.,” she protested.
“You want to bet?”
He actually sounded serious. Cait didn’t know whether to be flattered, grateful—or to scream.
One overprotective man was enough.
“There’s no saying Blake is staying in town,” she pointed out, the voice of reason. “He could be all the way back in Seattle by now. He could have a room in Bend or Prineville. There are places he could pay cash. Heck, he could conceivably be at a campground or even just camped in the woods somewhere.”
Deepening lines made Noah’s brow heavier. “It’s still damn cold at night.” The month of May in country caught between the foothills of the Cascade Mountains and the high desert wasn’t like May in the milder climates of Portland or Seattle. “Is he an outdoorsman?”
“He and I did some backpacking. He has a two-man tent.”
“Did you tell Colin that?”
“They’ve only been looking for a few hours.”
Noah grunted. “What are you doing for lunch?”
“I’m eating at my desk.”
“I’ll walk you down when you’re ready to leave. Call me.”
He was gone before she could get a word out.
Cait was beginning to think there was an excellent reason he and Colin clashed: they were too much alike. She had a vision of the two of them charging at each other like two elk in rutting season. She restrained a snort. She doubted either of them actually cared about the female elk, who had probably wandered away to graze.
She, of course, wasn’t the female elk; they had entrenched their dislike of each other long before she’d arrived. Their dispute, she suspected, was territorial. My town, Colin had said. Cait was pretty sure Noah would claim Angel Butte as his.
With a small laugh, she wondered what the angel would think of all this.
* * *
NOAH CALLED AT five minutes to five. “You ready to knock off?”
“Actually, I’m planning to have dinner with Beverly Buhl and someone she wants me to meet. Um.” She hunted on a cluttered desk for her notepad. “Michael Kalitovic? Did I get that right?”
“His hobbyhorse is affordable housing.”
“Oh. That’s not really my bailiwick.”
“No, but he’s got his fingers in a lot of pies. You should get to know him.”
“Anyway, it appears I don’t need an escort.”
He wasn’t listening. “Maybe I’ll join you,” he said, sounding thoughtful.
“Were you invited?”
“You don’t think I’d be welcome?” To her exasperation, he sounded amused.
“They might be trying to get my ear when you’re not around, you know.”
“They might. All the more reason for me to stick close.”
Cait sighed. “Noah, really…”
“What time? Where are we eating?”
She couldn’t shake him, with the result that forty-five minutes later, she was once more ensconced in the passenger seat of his black Suburban as he drove the quarter of a mile to the Newberry Inn. Beverly had insisted that, if Cait didn’t remember the inn, she would enjoy the chance to eat there.