Page 17 of Protect My Heart

Get it together, Liz. She squared her shoulders and put on her clinical expression.

“You know my father is in prison.”

He nodded.

“I received a call on the way home tonight.” She shoved her hands in her pockets to hide the trembling. “The caller used an endearment my father always called me.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t your father?”

“I wasn’t at first, not until I opened the letter.” She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat.

“What letter?” He asked with a knowing look. The bastard.

“The one that came from the correctional facility the other day. I thought it was about his parole hearing which is coming up— was coming up. It was a notice of his death.” An onslaught of tears stung her eyes. Liz dropped her head, trying to hide the rapid blinks that would put a hummingbird to shame.

Her frantic eyelid calisthenics stayed the waterworks, and she silently counted to three before she turned to face him. “I need to collect his things.”

Jim rubbed a hand over his jaw. Unless her father was a zombie, he couldn’t dial a phone. He was probably chilling in the morgue. Either the crank caller has supernatural powers or sexy little Doc picked herself up a stalker. “When did your father die?”

She pulled a letter from her purse and unfolded it. “January tenth.”

“And it took four weeks to notify you?” That seemed long, even for the government.

“I was in Florida until two weeks ago. I took a few days to drive up and arrived last week. The letter was forwarded to me here.”

“Okay, so what else does it say?” Moving closer, he looked over her shoulder to scan the letter. Damn, she smelled of lilacs. His parents’ home had the fragrant bushes all around their yard. With one quick sniff, he was transported back to baseball games in the backyard with his siblings and the neighbor kids.

Doc was the only woman to heat his blood while she induced comforting memories.

What a strange feeling. Jim needed to clear his head. He almost kissed her and now... Christ, he was sniffing the woman’s hair. Had he lost his mind?

Taking the letter from her hand, he put several precious feet of space between himself and the woman who was quickly becoming his personal crack. “It says he had an allergic reaction as a result of a fish.”

“Yeah, the strange thing is I remember him taking us fishing when I was in kindergarten. Mami fried up the day’s catch and we ate it for dinner.” She stared into space.

Jim wanted to ask her where her mind went, but the pensive look in her eyes stopped him. “It shouldn’t be hard to find out if he had allergies. You could ask your mother.”

“NO!” She snapped.

He stepped back another foot.

Her dark locks and shoulders shook. “I can’t. No. I wouldn’t put her through that again.”

“Through what?”

“The worry. If my family knows... If I ask questions... No.”

“Okay, calm down.” Jim hazarded a step closer. Reaching out with slow, steady hands, as if he was approaching a stray dog. Not wanting to spook her. He bracketed her face in his palms. “Doc, breathe.”

Short puffs of air rapidly crossed her lips.

“Liz, look at me.” He waited until her beautiful eyes met his. “Slowly.”

With one long, deep intake of air, the panic in Doc’s eyes subsided.

“Good, now exhale.”

She did. A gust of air flew from her lips.