So far so good.
“Few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious. I’m sure there is someone inside who needs you more.” I point toward the cabin to give him extra help to find his way there.
“She keeps saying she’s fine, but we found her digging her way out of a root cellar.” Spencer steps to the side but doesn’t leave me completely. Instead, he somehow stands closer.
Thatcher laughs. “Yeah, She always had a problem with admitting when she was hurt or sick.”
“Yeah?” Spencer asks.
Using all my brain waves, I will Thatcher to shut up, but just as when we were dating, he misses my silent plea.
“Remember the time you had walking pneumonia and tried to go to work because you were only on phone duty?”
“No,” I grind out the word.
He still doesn’t look up and get the message I’m insinuating. “Remember you tried to sneak out of my apartment, but I’d hid your car keys?”
“Your apartment?” Spencer leans in closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
Oh God.
“Thatcher, have you met Spencer? He works for Ridge’s security firm.”
Thatcher flicks a piece of his blond hair away from his forehead and takes a full thirty-million seconds to inspect Spencer’s arm over my shoulder. “I see.”
“Me, too.” Spencer moves closer, his tightening his grip.
Without warning, Thatcher pitches forward, his hands outstretched to catch his fall. Spencer dives in front of me to block his path. A large, dark brown blob barks while jumping on Thatcher’s leg. She growls, and Thatcher backs up, his hands in the air when he regains his footing.
Spencer laughs. “She likes people.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Thatcher’s head perks up, and his gaze goes behind us.
“Thatcher! Need a stretcher over here,” comes from somewhere in the distance.
He picks up the quick med bag he’d dropped upon reaching us. “Duty calls. If you decide you want someone to look you over, let me know, Joslin.”
“I’ll make sure she’s good,” Spencer responds, but it’s to Thatcher’s back as he walks away.
My arms cross over one another, and I kick my legs back and forth. “So now you believe me?”
“No,” Spencer whistles, drawing Frankie’s attention—and half the people standing around the area. “I plan to inspect every part of you tonight to confirm personally.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup,” he steps back from the SUV and pulls me with him. “In fact, let’s get you home and get started now.”
As much as I’d like to leave the area, I hesitate. “I’m sure I’m supposed to talk to police. Make a statement.”
“I’ll let Ridge know where they can find you. This is more important.”
EPILOGUE
“There’s ten minutes left on the oven timer, then we can leave.”
The clock ticks down another minute. Remarkably, Spencer doesn’t appear stressed at all over the fact he’ll be meeting my parents for the first time when my green bean casserole comes out of the oven.
At Christmas dinner.
