Grant who’d stepped up behind her, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, as if sensing that she was near panic mode.
The officer looked up at him, then back to her. “Besides the desktop, did you have anything valuable in there?”
Valuable? Just all the research and notes she’d been busting her ass to collect on this story. She wet her lips, her throat trying to close up on her. “I had information about a news story I’m working on. Notes.”
He jotted down something. “Anyone who’d want that information bad enough to break in?”
She rubbed her fingers over her brow bone, her head feeling as if it had a fissure splitting the middle of it. The list of people who could be involved in this scandal was long and unproven. Plus, how any of them could know what she was working on and where she kept her notes was a wonder. “Not really.”
The cop shrugged. “Probably not connected. We’ve had a few break-ins in this neighborhood over the last couple of months. It’s most likely kids looking to score some electronics.”
After another round of questions from the other officer and a tour of the damage, the policemen left with a promise to follow up with her if they found anything. She watched them turn off her street and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight a chill that wouldn’t seem to go away.
Grant, who’d stayed leaning against his truck like some silent sentinel, pushed to a stand and stepped in front of her, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Apparently noticing her goose bumps, he rubbed his palms along her chilled arms.
Somehow the little gesture of comfort had tears that had built up from the last twenty-four hours ready to burst free. But she wouldn’t cry. She could handle this.
“You okay, freckles?” he asked.
“Freckles?” She looked up at him, trying to muster up some I’m-totally-fine façade, even though having his hands on her had her thoughts fracturing and emotion trying to leak through. “Are you trying to get me back for calling you cowboy?”
“Just trying to make you smile,” he said, concern underlying that twang.
She pushed a finger to his chest and tried to manage an intimidating expression. “I’d normally punch a guy for calling me that. You’re lucky I’m too tired. And that you’re so fucking big.”
“Lucky, indeed.” He smiled, but those blue eyes remained serious. He grabbed her hand before she could move it away from his chest. His palm closed over her fist, the hold firm. “Now are you going to tell me what really happened last night? You’re shaking. And I know it’s over more than stolen computer equipment.”
She blinked at the change in subject and his grip on her hand. She stepped back, and he quickly let go of her. “What?”
His mouth dipped at the corners, and he eyed her in that knowing way he seemed to be so good at. “Fine. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can go on pretending that everything is sugar and sparkles to try to get me to go away and leave you to whatever mess you’re in alone. Not going to happen, by the way. Or you can be honest with me so that maybe I can offer some help.”
She groaned. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. But I don’t need help. I’m on a story that apparently has ruffled someone’s feathers. I can handle it. After all this, I’m going to be on guard now and more aware.”
The displeasure that crossed his face was strong enough to steal breath. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone ran you off the road last night. And don’t lie and say I’m off base. You were yelling at them in your sleep.”
She glanced away and took a sudden interest in a crack in her driveway. “It was probably just kids messing around.”
“You don’t strike me as a stupid woman, Charli. Don’t talk like one.”
She clenched her jaw, frustration building. Who was he to make demands on her? Being a Good Samaritan gave him the right to a thank-you but not some right to all her business. But before she could lash out and take out her stress from the last twenty-four hours on the man in front of her, another truck pulled into her driveway. A very familiar one.
“Son. Of. A. Bitch.” Her simmering frustration boiled over into outright anger. She sent a fiery look Grant’s way, as a ginger-headed man climbed out of the truck’s cab.
Grant shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. He would’ve done the same for me.”
Suddenly, all the warm and fuzzy feelings she’d been harboring toward Grant earlier that morning dissipated into a red haze. She turned toward her uninvited guest, her fists curling, spoiling for a fight. “Max, what the hell are you doing here?”
Her brother’s dark auburn brows dipped behind his aviators as he stepped around the back end of Grant’s truck. “Well, hello to you, too, little sis. And I’m here to make sure you’re all right. At least someone thought it was important to call me after you were in a goddamned car accident, Char.”
He reached out and shook Grant’s hand and nodded in that man-to-man way that seemed to say so much. She could read the words in the quick, silent exchange. Thanks for calling me even though she told you not to. Thanks for handling my problematic, always-getting-herself-in-trouble sister. I’m here to save the day now.
Her nails cut into her palms. “I’m fine. See?”
Max crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, you’re fine. Someone ran you off the road, and your house has been broken into. You’re just peachy.”
Her lips parted. “How do you even know all that?”
“Grant called me while you were dealing with the police to update me.”