Free Running the Numbers by Roxanne Smith Page B

sources taking control of her mouth. “Ever try to approach a mountain lion? A fox might not try to feed you to its cubs, but their bite can be nasty, like any wild dog. Rabies could be the last of your problems. Literally.”
    Blake pressed his lips together like he wanted to argue more but wouldn’t. He dropped his gaze and pushed his big toe into the dirt. “Yeah, it’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” He let go a sad, tired exhale and looked around, like he couldn’t meet her gaze. “It just seemed like something Jack would do.” He snorted, a self-deprecating laugh.
    “Jack? Who the hell is Jack?”
    A pained expression took over his face. “Quinn’s husband. I mentioned him. He’s one of those guys, you know. Cool by virtue of their lack of awareness of their inherent coolness. If that makes sense. Cool because they don’t know they’re cool. The kind of guy who’d make friends with the fox in his yard.” Blake shook his head and stepped back, headed for his cabin. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”
    Pity wrapped around Sadie’s heart. Blake seemed like two people to her—an obscenely good-looking success story but also lost, insecure, and wholly unaware of his true nature. He wasn’t the guy he used to be, obviously. His personality seemed at odds with his history. At least he’d exuded a certain self-disgust and remorse when he’d talked about it. Maybe he didn’t know who the hell he was now, caught between his old self and the person he strived to be instead.
    Which would make it close to impossible for Sadie to figure out who he was. “Should I wait in the truck while you get ready?”
    Blake made it to the front door and held it open. He finally allowed himself a glance at her. “I made coffee for two.” He stepped inside, then quickly looked back at her. “And his name is Eric.”
    Sadie reached the door. “I thought it was Jack?”
    Blake smiled, and her stomach fluttered. “No. The fox. His name is Eric.”
     
     

Chapter 5
     
    Sadie tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re up, Lambert.”
    Blake politely cleared his throat and leaned against the truck, angling his head against the cloudy sky to look at Sadie through the dark lenses of his retro sunglasses. Dark enough, he hoped, for her to not notice how his gaze kept returning to her bare legs.
    To be fair, they were literally in his face. And the way she kept bending over the chainsaw, a lightweight model suited to her small frame, checking this and that, made it even harder to stay focused on what she was saying. “You call your chainsaw Lambert?”
    She looked down on him imperiously and replied straight-faced. “That’s his name. What else would I call him?”
    If she wanted to name her chainsaw Buzz McChoppy, it was no business of his. He sensed more to the simple defensive reply, but it was hard to gauge Sadie’s current mood.
    She’d been a little muted since they left Fox Watch. It made the long drive out to wherever the hell they were mildly uncomfortable. He’d had the view to keep him occupied. Looming rocky cliffs, a rapid, rushing river. Anglers knee-deep in the water whipping their lines across the surface as they fly fished.
    Blake scratched his chin. No good. He had to ask. “Everything okay with you?”
    She ignored him, hopped down from the truck bed, and hefted the chainsaw, only to lay it on the ground at her feet. She leaped back up to rummage through the diamond-plate toolbox and yank out two pairs of safety goggles and work gloves, then set them aside. The last item she retrieved was a folded pair of thick canvas pants she deftly unrolled and shook out.
    She hopped down with her arms full and shoved goggles and gloves into Blake’s chest, which he grasped a second before she let go. “Wes called me this morning.” She laughed. “So did Kennedy, but that’s a whole different pile of steaming crap.”
    He grappled with the items she’d handed him. “What did Wes want?” Besides the obvious.