Free Awaken to Danger by Catherine Mann Page A

with his anger at the injustice before
    shoving it all aside to focus on her. "I'm so damn sorry."
    "Me, too. The principal was hanging tough until word leaked that DNA tests of the skin under Gary's
    fingernails matched mine, which of course still doesn't mean a thing since I was obviously there with him."
    His jaw flexed with tension or—more unsettling—jealousy? "Having your life on hold must be hell."
    "They're paying me, so I shouldn't complain, but my students..." She shook her head, ponytail swishing
    from the back of her Atlanta Braves ball cap. "I wanted to be there with them when they present at the
    regional history fair."
    "The sarcophagus."
    "At least we got to finish the display and the reports before my surprise vacation." She nodded toward
    the open garage door full of gardening supplies. "I'm keeping busy around here in the meantime. I figure I
    can sabotage most of Mom's gorgeous landscaping by the end of the week."
    The perfect excuse to hang around here longer and launch his plan to resurrect their unlikely friendship.
    "Want some help? For your dad, of course." He winked.
    Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "You're picking on me, aren't you?"
    "More than a little."
    "I think I lost my sense of humor along with a few hours of my life." She scooped a second sweatshirt off
    the hood of her truck and tugged it over her head on her way to the garage. She could pull on five layers
    and his mind's eye would see the beauty underneath, his hands itching to tunnel inside for a second
    sampling.
    "About my dad—" she sidestepped a table saw on her way to the wheelbarrow "—I had to tell him
    what's going on before the news filtered over there."
    He walked up alongside her in the garage, the scent of motor oil arousing as hell when mixed with a hint
    of Nikki's soap. "That must have been tough."
    "Totally sucked." She passed him a rake. "I was so proud of myself for being independent, and yet, here
    I am."
    She emptied the wheelbarrow, tossing two bags of mulch on the cement floor and grabbing the handles
    to roll it outside. Empty oak branches swayed overhead along with evergreens. She'd run a couple of
    miles and now planned to cool down with yard work? This woman really did need a friend's support
    more than maybe even she knew.
    "Independence doesn't mean stupidity." He scraped the rake over the yard, gathering a growing tidal
    wave of dead pine needles. "It's good, normal and damned lucky to have family you can count on who
    know they can count on you."
    "What about your family?" She knelt to scoop up the growing pile of pine straw with her hands. "You
    mentioned a sister."
    "My sister's married, lives with her husband in Ireland."
    "Ireland? Wow, you don't hear that one all that often."
    He rubbed his thumb against two fingers in the universal "money" symbol.
    "Ah, lucky for them."
    He shrugged, raking faster. The Prices seemed a helluva lot richer to him with their overflowing home and
    working class values.
    She stared up as she rose to take the handles again. "The whole 'money doesn't buy happiness' notion?
    Hmmm... maybe not, but it sure pays the bills." She dumped the full wheelbarrow by the curb and rolled
    back to his next pile of straw. "What about the rest of your family?"
    "Well, they don't have any problems meeting their bills."
    "You have that look to you."
    "That look?" He peered over his aviator glasses, liking the look of her so much it was tough to process
    her words.
    "Prep school education. A far cry from my parents' garage jam-packed full of yard gear, greasy tools and
    workout weights."
    Her implied censure gave him pause. He'd always known she had a crush on him. He knew he had his
    faults—big ass faults—but since she didn't know about his alcoholism, he'd never stopped to consider
    there might be other things she disapproved of about his way of life. That tweaked more than it should
    have. "I think you're insulting me."
    "No. Only commenting on our obvious differences. Just because I