Free Unsafe Haven by Char Chaffin Page A

She’d gotten better at keeping bleak thoughts at bay, but they snuck in when least expected, leaving her chilled and unsettled. If she allowed those thoughts to further control her, she’d never have a normal life, and it would be her fault. Yet her hand reached for the old-fashioned, black utility telephone on the nightstand. She tapped her fingers against the button display and debated whether to call Denn and cancel tomorrow night.
    It’s just dinner, for God’s sake. Luna will be there.
    But it was more than dinner, and she had to be honest with herself. Denn looked at her with hunger in his eyes. She was woman enough, experienced enough, to see it. Other men had viewed her with such masculine, often blatant interest, and she’d found it easy to blow them off. She didn’t think Denn would back away as easily. And maybe I’m reading things that aren’t there because an insanely impulsive part of me wants them to be.
    Three years of her life, down the tubes, because she once believed what she thought she saw in a pair of attractive eyes. Three years of escalating fear and despair, because she chose unwisely. Sometimes those eyes still haunted her, late at night when she was wound up and couldn’t sleep. Coming here, to Staamat, had helped, but a new location and a new life wouldn’t change much. She might as well slap a bandage on a gaping wound needing stitches.
    In sudden irritation, she pushed the telephone aside. Her restless fingers plucked a loose thread from the hem of her cardigan. She pulled it up to eye level. Roy had bought her the damned thing and she’d never liked it. When she’d packed up her wardrobe back in Oregon, out of innate thriftiness she’d kept all her warmest clothing, including the hated cardigan.
    She tugged harder, taking perverse satisfaction in how quickly the fuchsia-colored yarn unraveled. After she had a fat pile of destroyed sweater, she’d toss the entire mess in the trash and buy herself a new one, more her style. And no pink. Roy had loved pink and bought her clothes in all shades of it.
    Surprising, how many men seemed to like women in that girly-girl color. Denn was probably one of them.
    Stop it, stop it.
    Denn was nothing like Roy. At least she didn’t think he was.
    Instead of lying here dreaming up crap to drive herself batty, she ought to dig through her clothing for a suitable first-date outfit. Something pretty, but casual, that screamed strong, confident woman. Unfortunately, she had mostly jeans, sweaters, and long-sleeved shirts in the compact walk-in closet attached to the bathroom. A good many of those pairs of jeans had seen better days.
    Still there might be a skirt or two, bunched in with the jeans, which she could pair with one of her prettier sweaters. With a nod of renewed determination, Kendall bounced to her feet.

Chapter 6
    “Why can’t we have pot roast?” Luna sat at the kitchen table and pouted, while Denn dug a vacuum-sealed pouch of halibut chunks from the cavernous freezer. She poked him with her bare toes as he carried it toward the sink. “Denn? Why can’t we have pot roast?”
    He set the pouch in a bowl of warm water to help the frozen pieces thaw, and turned to the nag masquerading as his baby sister. Patiently, he replied, “Because Kendall doesn’t like red meat. We’ve invited her to dinner and the polite thing to do is cook something she likes.”
    “I hate fish.” Luna crossed her arms and slumped in her seat.
    “No, you don’t, brat. And quit slouching.” He pinched her shoulder. “I know for a fact you like halibut casserole. When Mom made it for us, you always ate a ton of it.” Denn pulled a bag of onions from the pantry and grabbed a knife.
    “It was Mom’s casserole, that’s why. I liked Mom’s. Yours is gonna be nasty.”
    Obviously Luna seemed bent on driving him nuts. When he glared at her, she stuck out her tongue.
    Denn sighed and took a firmer grip on his rising temper. “Look, you’ll love this