Firefly Mountain (14 page)

Patrick nodded. “But he seems to like working with you too.”

“Well, I like working with him.” Gini scratched under Midas’s chin, and he rested a large black paw on her thigh. Gini rubbed him for a few more minutes and let the dog nose around in her hair.

When Gini got to her feet, she grimaced at the sight of the barn. “I do wish, however, I could work with Midas under different circumstances. I do hate a crime scene.”

“Why did you agree to photo for the police department then?” Patrick stepped onto the dirt pathway leading to what remained of the barn. Gini and Midas fell into step beside him.

“Mostly for Mason.” Gini pulled her camera out of her bag and slung the strap around her neck. “He asked me and I couldn’t say no.”

“Did you owe him a favor or something?”

“No, but Mason is…” She puckered her lips out, drew them back in. “You can’t say no to Mason. He’s just always been around. Like part of my family. He and Jonah were glued at the hip as teenagers. Can’t say that’s changed as they got older.”

“So you subject yourself to crime scenes because Mason is your brother’s best friend?”

“I don’t know.” Gini walked quietly beside Patrick for a few minutes. “I guess I do it because Mason is
my
friend. I’ve been friends with him as long as Jonah has.” She turned to face Patrick as they stood in front of the barn. “And the answer to the question you’re really asking is no.”

“What?”

The stunned look on Patrick’s face was priceless. Did he think she couldn’t tell what he was after?

“No, Mason and I never dated.”

Gini slid under the caution tape surrounding the building, and Midas followed her. Patrick stood on the other side, and she glanced once over her shoulder. He looked so damned perfect standing there in his casual clothes.

“You coming?” Gini called.

Patrick slipped under the caution tape and wandered into the barn.

Work. Gini needed to focus on work. Not on how adorable Patrick looked or how much she wanted to wrap her arms around him again. That was a mistake in the hospital. She’d let her emotions override her logic. She had to be careful.

“I’m going to start shooting,” Gini said, “but if you want photos of something in particular, let me know.”

“Okay.” Patrick pulled out a notebook and jotted down observations as Gini’s camera flashed in the darkened barn. Though evening sunlight still filtered through the open sections of roof and wall, charred wood and soot blackened everything.

They worked in silence for about thirty minutes, staying out of each other’s way. Midas sniffed and led Patrick to different corners of the barn. Gini kept one eye on the photos she was taking and the other on the way man and dog worked together. Midas would show signs of interest in an area, and Patrick would crouch to that designated spot. He’d scribble something in his notebook and pat the dog, murmuring words of praise and French commands.

How could a man with a relationship like that with an animal not want to help her with a calendar to benefit a bunch of animals? It didn’t add up. There had to be something she was missing. Some piece to the puzzle that was Patrick Barre.

“Here we go.” Patrick was on all fours in the corner of what used to be the last stall and shining a flashlight onto the singed floor.

“Got something?” Gini navigated over the debris to look over his shoulder.

“Yep, right here.” Patrick wiggled the beam of his flashlight, and Gini pointed her camera there. She snapped a few pictures and zoomed in until she saw what he’d found.

“Another candle.”

“Uh-huh. Only this one is green.”

“Granny Smith apple green.” Gini checked her camera screen. “I’ve got it if you want to bag it.”

Patrick carefully scooted the misshapen ball of wax out with his pen and slid it into an evidence bag. “Midas found a gasoline trail too, but with all this hay in here, the fire didn’t need it. This barn never had a chance.”

“So it’s got to be the same person, right? Because of the candles?” Gini stuffed her camera in her purse and held her hand out for the evidence bag. Patrick placed it in the palm of her hand, and they both studied it more closely.

“Might be. Unless we have two lunatics with a penchant for candles.” Patrick drew in a deep breath. “What’s that smell?” He leaned closer to the bag as Gini did the same, and they knocked heads.

“Ouch,” Gini said. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. That was all me.”

“No, some of that was definitely my head.” Gini laughed and rubbed her forehead. Though Patrick’s head had been hard, his skin was warm, so incredibly warm. She closed her eyes and focused on the smell. “It smells like chamomile.”

“Chamomile?”

“Yeah, people use it to reduce stress, calm them. I toss it into a bath or a tea every now and again.”

Patrick scratched more notes into his notebook and shuffled around the barn to gather a few more samples. When all the evidence was tucked away into bags, he clicked off his flashlight. The barn was almost completely dark now.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Gini pressed a button on her wristwatch, and a blue light lit up the shadows. “Nine o’clock. Wow, I didn’t realize it was getting that late.” Her stomach growled into the silence.

“Neither did your stomach.” Patrick shouldered his kit bag and led the way out of the barn.

“I didn’t get to eat before I came here. I was feeding my horses.” Gini shrugged. “That’s typical me. I get everyone else squared away and forget about myself.” She dug around in her purse. “I think I have some crackers in here or something.”

“Crackers are not dinner,” Patrick said.

“I know.” Gini had several ideas as to what would make a tasty dinner. All recipes included one fireman, lightly buttered. “But I’ve got to go home and develop these pictures. I don’t have time to cook something up.” She pulled out her keys and unlocked her car door.

“You should eat something more than crackers.”

“Why are you so concerned about what I eat for dinner?”

“I’m not. I just think you had a long day with helping at my house, waiting for Jonah at the hospital, and then coming here. You deserve a good meal.”

Gini turned around and leaned against the car to look at Patrick as he opened his truck door. Midas hopped in, and Patrick placed his kit on the floor of the passenger side.

“You cook?” she asked.

Slowly, Patrick turned to face her. “Yes.”

“Okay.”
Careful
, she thought.
Don’t scare him away.
“Do you want to come to my house and cook me something? You know, because you’re so concerned about my eating habits and because you owe me for the serious wall demolition I did at your place today.”

Gini held her breath as Patrick stood frozen in front of her. Why did she feel as if she’d just rolled the dice and they’d rolled right off the table, spinning and spinning forever? Was he going to answer her? Had he heard the question?

“You want me to cook for you?” he asked.

Yep, he’d heard.

“Uh-huh. What do you say? My refrigerator is full of stuff. I’ll process photos, you can mince, chop, dice, whatever. Then you can have the photos hot off the press, so to speak.”

The bait was there, dangling on the hook. All she had to do was reel him in. Good Goddess, she hoped the line didn’t snap.

****

Cook for her? She wants me to cook for her. At her house.
Patrick turned the notion over and over in his mind. All the warning bells sounded, all the red flags waved, but only one thought truly scared him.

He didn’t want to say no.

“Can Midas come?” Why did his voice sound like that of a little boy? He cleared his throat.

“Of course. If he could cook, I wouldn’t even invite you.”

“Real nice.”

Gini laughed, and Patrick felt suddenly at ease.

“So what do you say?” Gini heaved her purse into the SUV and turned around to face him.

As he stared at her T-shirt, the way it curved to all her curves, the gears in Patrick’s logical brain ground to a halt. The idea of being in Gini’s kitchen—of seeing her home—caused his physical and emotional brain to take charge, which they rarely had the chance to do. They were not going to let the opportunity slip by.

“I’ll cook you dinner,” Patrick said.

“Great.” Gini’s smile lit up the parking lot, and something lit up inside Patrick. “You want to follow me?”

Everywhere you go for some reason.
“Sure.”

They both climbed into their vehicles, and Patrick looked at Midas. The dog glanced back at him as he did sometimes, as if he understood exactly what Patrick was feeling.

“This will either be very interesting, Midas,” Patrick said, “or a complete disaster.”

Midas woofed and pushed his nose into Patrick’s ear. Patrick slung his arm over the dog’s back and maneuvered his truck behind Gini’s SUV. After twenty minutes of driving, some on dirt roads similar to the ones that led to his own place, the darkened silhouette of an old farmhouse and barn came into view. Patrick parked behind Gini and took a deep breath before getting out of his truck.

“We’ll cook her a dinner and be on our way.” Patrick glanced at himself in the rearview mirror as he repeated these words two more times then got out of his truck.

“You want to meet my horses first?” Gini’s purse thudded as she plopped it on the porch steps.

Midas barked and started for the barn.

“I guess he does.” Patrick followed Gini after the dog.

“We’ll let him think he’s in charge.” Gini opened the barn doors, and Patrick ran a hand over the thick, wrought iron hinges.

“These are nice.”

“Jonah put those on. The old ones were rusted, and the left door was leaning into the right one. When Gran owned the place, she didn’t have any horses so she let the barn get rundown.”

“This was your grandmother’s?”

“Yep. She left it to me because I spent the most time here with her. It was like my own personal—”

“Sanctuary,” Patrick finished.

Gini stopped at the first stall where a black nose peeked out. “Exactly. What made you use that word?”

“I’m considering my place to be a sanctuary too. A safe place.”

“Safe. Yes, that’s it exactly.” Gini shook her head and looked as if she was going to say more. Instead, she opened the stall and waved Patrick over. “This is Nyx.”

“Ah, the Goddess of Night.” Patrick brushed his palm over the horse’s nose.

“Someone knows their Greek mythology.” Gini elbowed him and raised an eyebrow.

“When Raina was thirteen,” Patrick began as he stroked Nyx’s mane, “she was obsessed with Greek mythology. Don’t remember how she got hooked on it, but she dragged me to the library weekly to look for books on gods, goddesses, and myths. She couldn’t get enough of it.”

“Only an exceptional brother would allow himself to be dragged to the library every week.”

“I wouldn’t say I was exceptional. Who else was going to take her? My grandparents hardly drove.”

“You could have said no. I’m sure you wanted to be with your friends doing your own things.”

Gini handed Patrick a brush and took one for herself. Nyx puffed out a breath into her hair, and she kissed the horse’s face. Patrick was distracted for a moment by Gini’s lips, but then started brushing Nyx’s sleek black coat.

“I wasn’t exactly social,” he said. “I’d missed some school after my parents died when I was sixteen and couldn’t catch back up with anyone after that.”

Why are you telling her this? Just cook dinner.
Patrick tightened his grip on the brush.

Gini brushed her way to Patrick’s side. “It must have been terrible to lose your parents while you were so young.” She held her hand out for the brush, but when Patrick put it in her palm, she put the brush down. She took his hand and squeezed it between both of hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without my parents.”

“You guys are tight. I could see that at the hospital. It was nice to see.” Patrick liked to think he would have been close to his parents if they were around now.

“My parents are the best. My whole family is. They…” Gini’s brows furrowed and then she closed her eyes.

“They what?” Patrick slipped his hand out from between hers and touched her shoulder.

“They’re always there when I need them.” She cleared her throat and walked to the stall across from Nyx’s. “Sometimes I think I need them too much.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind.”
Who wouldn’t come to her rescue?

“No, they don’t. And I try to pay them back whenever I can.”

“Sounds like a fair system.”

“Sometimes it is.” Gini coaxed a beautiful white horse to the front of the stall. “This is Moon. She’s my unicorn.”

Patrick patted the horse where a horn would be were she a fantasy creature. A fantasy creature for a fantasy woman. He could easily picture Gini riding the horse, her golden hair streaming out behind her.

“Beautiful.” Both the woman and the horse.

“Gentle as a summer breeze too. Nyx can have an attitude, but Moon here is as laid back as they come. Nothing unsettles her.”

Patrick picked up the brush again and tended to Moon’s coat as Gini brushed the other side. The horse didn’t move a muscle, puff out a breath, make a noise.

“I wish Midas was this still when I give him a bath.”

“A bit wiggly, is he?”

“There’s a twenty-foot splash zone at bath time.”

Gini chuckled. “I’m guessing you get wetter than he does?”

“You guessed right. In Rhode Island, I had an apartment, which didn’t give me much room to play with. Should be better in the new house. More space, plus I could give him a bath outside in the yard.”

“Is that why you moved to Vermont? For more space?” Gini took the brushes back and gestured for Patrick to close the stall. She led Patrick and Midas out of the barn and toward the house.

“I moved here for Raina mostly. She’s been trying to get me to come to Vermont for years. She saw the fire department opening and made a good case, so here I am.”