Carlise may not like it, but Chappy wanted to tow the car into town to have someone look it over. Maybe put some snow tires on, give it a tune-up . . . things like that. Maine was extremely tough on vehicles, and he wanted to make sure she was safe. Carlise was now the most important person in his life, and he’d do whatever was necessary to keep her healthy and alive for years to come. Including making sure her car was in tip-top shape . . . and ending the threat from her stalker.
He drove slowly back toward his cabin. Toward Carlise. Bob’s plow had done a great job of clearing the two-track to his place. It wasn’t perfect, hence the need to drive slowly, but he was a confident driver, and his Jeep had navigated worse conditions.
Still, when he pulled into the small one-car detached garage he’d built near his cabin, Chappy let out a sigh of relief. If something had happened to him while he was out and about, it would have left Carlise by herself in his cabin, which was unacceptable. He’d left her his satellite phone, just in case, but he was relieved to be back.
Looking around the property as he walked toward the cabin, he made mental notes about expanding the garage to fit her CR-V. It was unlikely they’d take two vehicles up here, but just in case, he wanted to be sure to have a place to shelter both cars at the same time.
He walked into the cabin and opened his mouth to call out a greeting but stopped himself in the nick of time.
Instead, he stared at Carlise, who was sleeping on the couch. Her head was resting against the back cushion, her mouth open slightly . . . and she had one hand resting on Baxter’s head. The dog was sitting next to her, curled into a ball.
His eyes were open, watching Chappy, but he didn’t move from Carlise’s side, which Chappy fully approved of.
“Hey, boy. It’s comfy up there, isn’t it?” he asked quietly as he put Carlise’s phone on the counter. He couldn’t keep himself from going to her, as if she was some kind of magnet, pulling him in.
He walked slowly, not wanting to alarm Baxter, but the dog looked perfectly content to stay where he was. Chappy knelt at Carlise’s feet, balancing on his haunches as he stared at her.
He was a lucky son of a bitch, and he knew it. She was so beautiful. He took in her long blonde hair in disarray around her face, remembered running his hands through it while she slept in his arms, how it looked against his pillow. She was a dream come true. His dream come true.
As if she could sense his intense gaze, her eyes fluttered, then opened. She blinked in confusion for a moment before her lips curled in a lazy, sleepy smile. “Hey,” she greeted him.
“Hey,” he returned.
When he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s good,” he reassured her. “I just got back. You tired?”
Carlise shook her head. “Not really. But I sat down, and Baxter joined me”—she smiled at the dog at her side—“and I didn’t want to disturb him by getting up to get my laptop. I guess I fell asleep. Someone tired me out this morning,” she said with a shy grin.
Chappy smiled hard. This was what he’d always dreamed about, but never thought he’d have. Coming home and finding the woman he loved waiting, smiling at him happily.
“You want me to grab your laptop for you? Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. What time is it anyway? How long were you gone? Oh! Did he message?”
It was obvious she’d just remembered where he had been and why. Chappy mourned the loss of his sleepy, oblivious woman.
“I wasn’t gone that long. Maybe an hour. And yeah . . . he messaged,” he told her.
“Was it . . .” She paused, then said in a rush, “Was it bad?”
“Let’s just say leaving didn’t make your stalker forget about you,” he said grimly.
Carlise’s shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her lap.
Chappy put a finger under her chin and gently lifted so she had no choice but to look at him. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” he said firmly.
“I don’t even know what I did to piss him off so much,” she whispered. “I mean, I’m just me. I’m hardly a model. I’m nobody special. Why is he doing this?”
Chappy moved slowly so he wouldn’t disturb Baxter, sitting on her other side. His hand slid from her chin to her nape, the other gripping her waist. “You are special,” he insisted. “You’re smart and funny and beautiful and so damn sexy, it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you pretty much at all times.