Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #2 by Dana Mentink, Tammy Johnson, Michelle Karl Page B

did not look away, merely accepting. “I understand.”
    â€œBut I will do what it takes for Junie, and if your father can help, then I’ll go see him.”
    He nodded, and she could see neither relief nor satisfaction in his eyes, only a flat, wide expanse of darkness, like a long stretch of bad road. She sensed it had been a torturous journey for him since LeeAnn died, too. That was something they had in common.
    He got up. “Got any duct tape left?”
    â€œWhy? Is the bread machine letting loose?”
    â€œFor the window.”
    The window, of course. It was now smashed, her room smelling of gasoline. She fetched some cardboard and tape, and while Mick patched over it, she cleaned up the glass and fire extinguisher powder. The room still stank, so it would be the couch for her tonight.
    Was Mick going to make the long drive back to the sanctuary? Or stay with his friend Reggie? She wondered why she cared. He was so closed off.
    He answered her question later, as he returned the tape to the kitchen drawer. “An hour and a half to the Sanctuary. Best birding is in the morning. Leave at 5:00 a.m.?”
    If he expected her to flinch at the time, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. She checked her watch. “Sure. It’s only eleven. That will give me a whole six hours of sleep.”
    â€œYou need more than that?”
    He wasn’t joking, as far as she could tell. “No,” she said. “Where are you going to get your six hours?”
    â€œDon’t need six. Gonna sleep in the truck, since I didn’t bring my tent.”
    A glimmer in his eyes revealed a hint of humor there.
    â€œWhy don’t you stay in the camper out back?” she heard herself saying.
    â€œAppreciate that,” he said, straightening as if he was standing at attention. “The truck’s adequate.”
    And you don’t want to take anything from me, more than you already have.
Good
, she thought,
because I don’t have anything to give you
.
    He closed the door behind himself and she locked it. Then she rolled into a ball on the couch, covered herself with as many blankets as she could and prayed.
    * * *
    It hardly seemed like six hours before her phone alarm beeped. She staggered into the kitchen and started the coffeepot. While it perked she threw on some clothes. The house was dead quiet. Mick must have not woken up. It gave her some small satisfaction to realize the guy was not as iron tough as he seemed.
    Until she looked out the front window and saw him sitting on the front step, ramrod straight, long arms perched on his knees. How extremely awkward. After several minutes of wrangling, she finally yanked open the door. “Well, come in already, I’ve got toast, and don’t try to tell me you aren’t hungry.”
    He followed her inside and sat stiffly at the kitchen table. He accepted two slices of raisin toast without butter and a cup of coffee, which he appeared to be trying to sip yet managed to down in three swallows. She refilled it, examining him. His face was scratched, but he didn’t appear to be as tired as she felt. There was no dark shadow of stubble across his chin. How had the man possibly managed a shave?
    â€œYou can call her from the road,” he said.
    Keeley plunked her mug down so abruptly the coffee sloshed out. “What?”
    â€œCall the child.”
    â€œHer name is June. How in the world did you know that’s what I was thinking?”
    â€œYou’ve checked the clock three times since I sat down. And that’s what a parent would do, I gather.”
    She huffed out a breath. “Sometimes I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I actually am a parent.”
    His smile was sad. Wistful?
    Something unexpected stirred in her mind. “Mick, do you have kids?”
    The mug looked small in his big hand. The silence drew on for what seemed like a very long time. “No,” he