"You still there?” He could hear Patrick's impatience.

"Yeah, how's Cyndi?"

Patrick chuckled. “More angry than anything. Not that I blame her.” He paused. “She said that Burke came to see her this morning."

Shamus tensed. “He did. I just talked to him. But he wouldn't do something like that."

"Surprisingly enough, that's what Cyndi said too. Anyway,” Patrick continued, “Everything is fine here, but I figured you'd want to see for yourself."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"No problem. See you when you get here.” The call ended and Shamus stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Barely keeping beneath the speed limit, he drove back to town, back to Cyndi.

Chapter Twenty

"I'm okay,” Cyndi said for what seemed like the hundredth time as she place the last dish in the dishwasher. They'd just finished a couple of sandwiches for a late lunch, although neither of them had much of an appetite. “It's more of an inconvenience than anything. I can't even go into town and check the mail.” Her father had kept a box at the post office rather than have the mail delivered to the house.

"I'll go and get the mail. That's the least of our worries."

Shamus had been a rock since he'd pulled into the driveway an hour ago. The deputies had come and gone, and surprisingly, had been much more courteous than they'd been the last time they were here. Cyndi hadn't minded dealing with the authorities, but freely admitted she felt much better with Shamus beside her.

Like the last time, there wasn't much for them to go on. With only a few other houses on James Lane, and none of them close to Cyndi's, nobody had seen anything. It would have been easy for someone to sneak through the woods, cut the tires, and disappear back into the heavy forest surrounding the house. The trees were still thick with fall foliage, even though it was starting to thin somewhat.

Mike Sampson had driven out from the garage to tow her car. He'd promised to have it back before supper. It was silly, but she hated being without transportation. Made her feel trapped. She needed to stop thinking like that.

When she finished wiping her hands on a thick, linen towel, she hung it back over the rod, straightening it. “I don't think they'll find who did it.” There, she said it. Like the shooting, she was being terrorized by some unknown enemy. That was truly frightening. It could be anyone she knew or a complete stranger. There was no way to know.

"Patrick thinks it's someone with a personal grudge. These types of crimes suggest someone angry with you and your family. Most likely, your father.” Shamus leaned against the kitchen counter, glancing occasionally through the window.

It amused Cyndi how much time they spent in the kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house—probably because she knew her father hadn't spent any time here.

"What are you grinning about?” Hooking his arm around her waist, he dragged her up against his chest.

She flattened her hand against it, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “Just that we have a huge house at our disposal, but we spend all our time in the kitchen."

"The kitchen is the heart of the home."

He said it so easily that it made her heart ache. “Not in this house. At least it wasn't, but I think it will be."

"Burke told me he stopped by to see you.” She could feel his muscles tense as she peered up into his stormy blue-gray eyes.

"Oh?"

Shamus shook his head. “Burke wouldn't say much about it either. Said it was your decision. But I got a feeling that whatever you said to him made an impact."

"How were things with your sister?” She hated to think of Shamus at odds with his family. For his sake, she wanted things to stabilize between them.

"Good.” Leaning down, he nuzzled her temple. “Better than I'd hoped, actually."

"Good,” she parroted. He was so close that she could smell him, the usual seductive combination of soap and Shamus. Unable to resist, she nestled closer, burying her face against his chest and inhaling deep. The bulge between his legs was growing longer and thicker by the second, pressing against her stomach.

"Maybe we should check out another room of the house?” Shamus nipped at her earlobe before trailing kisses down her neck.

"You have any particular room in mind?” She rolled her hips, pushing his erection tight against her belly.

He groaned. “Yeah. The bedroom is looking mighty good at the moment.” Scooping her into his arms, he carried her down the hall toward the stairs. They were halfway up when the doorbell rang.

"We could ignore it.” Even as she said it, she knew they couldn't. “Or not.” It could be someone from the sheriff's office or her lawyer with news about the mess her father had left behind, or who knows.

Shamus slowly lowered her feet until they were touching the stairs. Cyndi hung onto the railing. “Hold that thought,” she told him as she headed to the front door. With his obvious erection, she was in better shape to answer the door.

"Let me.” She hadn't even heard him following her. “Don't open it until I see who it is.” It was a stark reminder that someone in this town wanted to hurt her.

Shamus peered out the window and shook his head. “We're going to have to hold that thought until tonight from the looks of things.” On that cryptic note, he pulled the door open. Cyndi didn't recognize the men standing on her porch, but it was obvious that Shamus did.

All three men nodded at her before turning back to Shamus. “Burke called and said to send a small team out to get started on Ms. Marks's renovations.” This from a stocky, bearded man who appeared to be somewhere in his forties.

Cyndi could tell that Shamus appeared to be just as surprised as she was, but she could also see that he was pleased. She was too. After this morning's conversation, it was the last thing she'd expected. It was a peace offering of sorts. Burke's way of letting her know he wouldn't oppose her B & B.

"Come in, gentlemen.” They all stepped inside and scraped their boots on the mat.

"Pete Johnson, ma'am.” The older man held out his hand and she shook it. “This here is my nephews, Arthur and Silas."

"Pleased to meet you all.” She glanced at Shamus for guidance. She hadn't planned to have to deal with workers today. They hadn't even finalized all their plans yet.

Shamus scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Why don't we start in the dining room? I know you were thinking about putting in French doors that opened to the garden. It should have been done before we painted, but we can do it without too much damage to what we've already done. Plus, we can also build that reception desk in the foyer before we paint the foyer, hallway, and stairwell."

"Sounds like a good a place to start as any. I know I shouldn't have insisted on doing the dining room until I'd finalized the plans."

Shamus shrugged. “It's not a problem. We can leave the French doors for now if you want."

Cyndi thought long and hard, shaking her head. “No, it's a good idea. We should just go ahead and do it."

"No problem."

"Linda said that the truck would be here later this afternoon to pick up the remainder of the boxes and the furniture,” she reminded him. It would be good to have it all out, so she could really start to work.

"We can help load the truck when it gets here,” Shamus assured her. The men all nodded in agreement.

"I'd better finish clearing out the desk in my father's office then. That's one of the pieces that are going."

Shamus nodded. “I know which door you were looking at for the dining room and if you let me know your final decision on the paint for the foyer, I can pick up supplies when I run to get the mail."

"No problem. I've got it narrowed down to two possibilities."

"If you want I can pick up a couple of sample tins and we can try both of them."

She liked the way Shamus thought. “That would be perfect."

"We aim to please.” He gave her a look that almost melted her socks. One of the men cleared his throat, while the others shuffled their feet.

"Well,” she said, feeling more idiotic at the moment just standing there staring at Shamus like a lovesick fool. “I'll be in the office if you need me."

"No problem.” Shamus ignored her discomfort and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. It was obvious that he was letting the men know how things stood between them. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but it was too late to protest now. It was done and Shamus was already moving away.

"We'll measure for the door and the counter here in the foyer and figure out how much paint we'll need. In the meantime, we've got several buckets of primer, wood filler, and sanders. We can get the walls ready for the paint."

"I leave it in your capable hands.” She nodded to the men. “Gentlemen.” She could see the speculation in their eyes, but it was more curious than malicious. There were no sly glances. Not quite sure what that meant, she left them and headed to the office. If renovations were going to start this fast, she needed to get working on the draperies.

The sound of male voices hummed in the background as she picked up the phone and dialed. It was answered on the third ring. “Hello."

"Aunt Verna, it's so good to hear your voice."

"What's wrong?"

Cyndi wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Her aunt knew her too well. “Nothing's wrong.” She'd been in contact with her aunt every other day, but hadn't told her about the shooting incident or what she'd found in her father's papers. The older woman was worried enough about her as it was.