Free The Green-Eyed Doll by Jerrie Alexander

dog wandered out of the barn around to her side of the car. He plopped down on his butt and stared up at her. He turned his head sideways as if to ask why she didn’t get out.
    “You’ll protect me, won’t you, boy?” Like he understood, he jumped up and wagged his tail. She got out and scratched behind his ears. “I’ll bet you’d like a cool drink, wouldn’t you?” She dumped out his bowl and filled it with fresh water while keeping an eye out for Matt.
    ****
    Tuesday, August 1st, 6:30 p.m.
    Matt’s heart pounded as he sprinted for the car. A face-to-face run-in with a mayor kept him from leaving immediately, and Jake hadn’t stayed with Catherine. His guts tied in knots while he pushed the cruiser faster during the drive home. Here was another woman who needed him. No way would he let her down. Not this time.
    He blew out a sigh of relief at the sight of her standing in his driveway. A gust of wind caught her hair and sent it billowing around her shoulders. She gathered the wildfire in one hand and held it off her face. She’d gotten out of the car and was wandering around with that useless mutt. His relief morphed to anger. Did she think the dog would protect her? Hell, he might lick an intruder to death. She had to be more careful. Matt slammed the cruiser door and stomped toward her. Fear for her safety seared his insides.
    “Hey.” She met him halfway.
    “Dammit. I told you stay in the car.”
    Green fire flew from her eyes. “You ‘told’ me? Nobody tells me what to do. Never again.” She pushed around him and headed for her car.
    “Are you crazy?” Had she yelled “never again” at him? What the hell set her off? Somebody had been super controlling of her in the past, but he wasn’t that person.
    She spun on her heel, marched back to him, and jabbed him in the chest. “No, I’m not. And don’t you dare insinuate I might be.”
    “Wait.” He blew out a breath. “I may have overreacted. A little.”
    “Ya think?”
    She’d slammed her hands on her hips, not giving an inch. He had to make her understand the gravity of the gifts. Try harder.
    “Don’t leave. Please.” He looped his fingers around the back of her neck, leaned down, and laid his forehead to hers. “I think you may be in danger.”
    “Because if you didn’t leave this stuff for me, who did? You think that didn’t scare the crap out of me?”
    “I hope it did. May I see the scarf?” Fear flickered in her eyes, and he fought the urge to jerk her into his arms. Why and how had this woman gotten under his skin?
    He had to pull back, put some distance between the two of them. His paranoia and fear for Catherine couldn’t control him. However, the nagging question about the flowers still plagued him. He tried to ignore the headache bubbling below the surface.
    He reached in her car and retrieved the scarf and box. A picture fluttered to the ground. A snapshot of a man’s bicep. Catherine’s gasp and horrified expression confirmed she hadn’t seen the picture earlier. “Come inside.”
    Matt pulled a pitcher of tea from the fridge while Catherine paced back and forth across his kitchen. Her reaction was typical. She was not only frightened, she was furious. He picked out a few muttered words when she stormed passed. He’d never been friends with a redhead, but she certainly lived up to the stereotype. Phrases like, “kick somebody’s ass,” and “I’m not afraid,” tumbled out while she walked—no, stomped through his house. Had he not been pissed himself, her behavior would’ve been funny.
    He sat a half-filled glass down on the kitchen counter and caught her hands with his to stop her. He led her to a chair and coaxed her down. “I was afraid of this when you told me about the flowers.”
    “You think I’m being stalked?”
    “I don’t make assumptions. I’m trying to find the florist the African Violets came from.” He had to be honest with her. “The fact Julia Drummond was a florist and you