At his nod, she opened the door all the way and entered his screened-in porch. She didn’t hide her study of the space. “Your kitchen is fantastic, but I think this might be my favorite room in your house.”
He pointed to the twin-sized swinging bed across from him, indicating she should sit there. “I’ve had my eye on this swing. I spotted it earlier today.” She eased onto the swing, kicked off her shoes, and settled against the pillows. “Oh yeah. This is perfect. I think I’d be out here all the time.”
“It’s my favorite too. I like being able to be outside but without the annoyance of mosquitos and gnats.”
She pointed to the ceiling. “And with a few fans.”
“Definitely.” Even when the weather was hot, heavy, and humid, the fans kept the air moving. With the help of some large shade trees on both sides, the porch was comfortable on all but the hottest days. Today the September air was thick and heavy, but the porch was pleasant.
Gil had a million questions. Only a few of them about AbottPercy. But like he’d told Ivy yesterday, whenever possible, he wanted to give her space to just be. And his screened-in porch was the perfect place to be.
Two minutes later, Ivy settled deeper into a reclined position on the swing. Five minutes later, she was asleep.
The afternoon wore on. Ivy slept on. Gil left the porch long enough to help Emily pack her car and tell her goodbye. Then he returned with his laptop, settled into his favorite chair, and went to work.
He was missing something important. He usually enjoyed this part of an investigation. He didn’t mind a certain amount of ambiguity or chaos, because in his experience, rogue leads eventually turned into real ones. The more convoluted a case was, the more likely it was that the guilty parties had either already messed up or were about to.
And when they did, Gil would be ready to capitalize on their mistakes.
But this case was different, because it wasn’t a case. Gil didn’t believe in victimless crimes. When someone committed a crime, somewhere, someone was paying for it. But with the exception of last spring, when all of their lives were on the line, none of the crimes he’d investigated since joining the Secret Service had commanded the level of urgency that Ivy’s case did.
There was a reason they’d come after her this weekend. And if he could figure out what that was, it would break everything open.
He made notes. He researched Hedera, Inc. and was amazed, again, at the phenomenal body of work the beauty sleeping ten feet away from him had amassed in her short life. She was too smart for him, that was for sure. Too beautiful. Too accomplished. She could do a lot better than him in every way except one.
No one would ever love her the way he could.
He wasn’t an idiot. It was way too soon to be talking about love. Too much. Too fast. And way too many questions were still unanswered. But Gil Dixon knew his own mind. After Ivy left him and his baseball career ended, he came far too close to ending his life. Then he spent the next five years in therapy. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It was life saving, life altering, and life affirming. It also made him willing to give words to deep emotions most people never voiced.
Sometimes Luke and Zane teased him about being way too in touch with his feelings for their comfort level. Would Ivy feel the same way? Maybe. Especially if he did something stupid, like profess his undying love tomorrow or ask her to marry him by the end of the year.
Then again ... she might not think those things were stupid at all.
15
WHERE WAS SHE? What was happening to her? Why was she hurting?
“Ivy, you’re at my house. You’re safe.”
Gil’s voice tugged at her consciousness. When she finally pulled herself awake, she was sitting upright on the swing. Gil was perched on the edge, in the curve of her body. One hand wrapped around her calf, his thumb moving up and down in a slow, steady sweep. “I’ve got you, Buttercup.”
She slumped back onto the pillows. Gil reached toward her and pressed his thumb to a tear that had escaped from her eyes and was traveling toward her ear. It was followed by another. She couldn’t make them stop. And when Gil pulled her all the way into his arms, she stopped trying to plug the dam and all her emotions gushed out of her.
He held her while she cried, and he didn’t say a word.
When Ivy pulled her face away from Gil, his shirt was so wet with her tears that it stuck to her cheek.
How much more of a weakling could she be? To wake up,scared, from a bad dream, and then burst into tears, and then be completely unable to make them stop.
What must he be thinking right now? Probably something along the lines of,How can I get a break from this girl?
Emily was brave and strong. Tessa and Faith were phenomenally successful in male-dominated professions. Neither of them had checked their femininity at the door to do it, but she doubted they lost much time crying. Gil spent his professional and personal life with women who did not burst into tears at the drop of a hat.
To be fair, she didn’t make a habit out of it. She could get teary easily enough. She felt big, and sometimes her feelings leaked out of her eyes. But a crying jag like the one she still hadn’t recovered from? That wasn’t normal.
She wouldn’t blame Gil if he was trying to figure out how quickly he could dump her at a safe house and get on with his life. But that wasn’t what he was doing. His hands moved from around her back to cradle her face. His thumbs pressed gently across her cheeks as he brushed away the wet that clung there. “Want to tell me about it?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
