Chapter 23

RILEY

"Arms up!"

I groaned but lifted my arms in front of me.

Eric moved fast, stepping into my space like a force four hurricane. He deflected my punch, twisted to the right, and kicked his foot toward my kneecap.

I blocked the strike and spun away.

Finally, he stood still. "You're learning."

I dropped to the ground. Sweat dripped down my face and splattered against my arm. "This isn't what I imagined when you offered to show me how to defend myself."

Eric grinned. "You're on a fast-track program."

"My mother always said I was an overachiever." I rolled over and groaned. I'd landed butt first on the ground so many times that I was sure I'd have a permanently bruised bottom. "I thought you might have been a little rusty after leaving the police force."

Eric held out his hand. "It's like riding a bicycle. Once you've learned how, you never forget."

I wrapped my hand around Eric's wrist. He pulled me upright, setting me on my feet as if I weighed nothing. For the third day in a row, I'd learned two things. One, I was unfit. Two, Eric's smile was every bit as lethal as his self-defense moves.

"Your left-hand side is strong. When you throw a punch with your right arm, use your entire shoulder to give it more impact."

"Yes, sir." If I could lift my incredibly strong left arm, I would have saluted him.

Eric rested his hands on his hips. "Alex thinks these classes might be too much."

"What gave him that idea?" I stretched my arms in front of me, biting my lip, determined not to groan twice in as many minutes.

"He saw the way you were hobbling around the dinner table last night."

"I'm using muscles I didn't know I had, that's all. After I have a hot shower, I'll feel much better."

Eric didn't look like he believed me. "If I'm going too fast, I can slow down."

I knelt on the ground and stretched my hamstrings. "You don't need to do that," I wheezed. "I'll be okay."

Sherlock ambled across the backyard, sitting beside me as I slowly stretched the other leg.

"You should keep this." Eric shoved his hand under my nose.

I stared at the small wooden whistle. "I can't do that. Your dad made it for you."

"If something happens and you need help, Sherlock will find you."

"Nothing will happen to me. Between what we're doing and the police investigation, the stalker doesn't stand a chance." I closed Eric's hand around the whistle. "Keep it somewhere safe."

As soon as our fingers touched, I knew I'd made a mistake. I was attracted to Eric. If anything happened, it would spoil our friendship. Falling for my neighbor was the worst thing I could do. Especially when Eric was hiding from someone with mental health issues.

I picked up my towel and pulled myself to my feet. "Have you heard from the detective in New York City?"

"They found some fingerprints on the furniture at the warehouse." Eric watched me move farther away. "The FBI's running them through their database."

"Do the police think they belong to the person who staged the murder scene?"

"They're keeping an open mind. The building was abandoned and squatters have been using most of the rooms. They don't want to arrest the wrong person."

I wouldn't have been so forgiving. "Someone has been harassing you for months. There must be more evidence than a couple of fingerprints."

"If there is, no one's said anything to me. He could have done this before."

"Why do you keep saying ‘he'? Could the stalker be a woman?"

Eric sat on the veranda. "In theory, yes. But statistically, there's more chance the stalker is a man."

I wiped my face on the towel and sat beside him. "We should add that to the spreadsheet."

After a few changes, Alex had created a document we could use to compare what happened in Eric's book with the stalker's activities. We'd just started adding data but, so far, we'd come up with some disturbing similarities.

I wasn't sure how Eric would react to my next piece of news. "Mom's coming to see me this weekend. I told her she can't tell anyone about your real identity, but not why."

Eric dropped his head to his chest.

"I know it isn't the best timing, but Mom's discreet."

"I'm more worried about her safety."

"I'll be with her the whole time. Besides, I'm used to disappearing into crowds."

Eric's eyes narrowed. "There aren't many crowds in Sunrise Bay."

"I'm meeting her in Broomfield. The Cherry Festival starts on Friday and it's a huge annual event. There'll be so many people that no one will know who we are."

"I'll ask Alex for the name of the security company he told us about. You should have at least one bodyguard with you."

I smiled. "Mom and I aren't immune to the charms of big, muscly men, but we can manage on our own."

Eric didn't return my smile. "It's too dangerous."

"If anything makes us feel uncomfortable, we'll come home right away."

"We'll see."

"Don't get a bodyguard," I repeated.

"I bought some chicken at the general store yesterday. Do you want to have lunch with me?"

I studied his face. "No bodyguard, Eric."

His jaw clenched tight.

"I mean it."

"So do I." Eric crossed his arms in front of his chest. "If you won't let me hire a bodyguard, you'll have to take the next best thing."

"What's that?"

"Me."

My eyes widened. "You?"

"You're not the only person who can disappear into a crowd. And most importantly, I have a Concealed Weapons Permit."

"Carrying a gun doesn't make anyone safer."

"From where I come from, it does." Eric stood in front of me. "Lunch?"

"You can't come with us," I growled. "If the stalker's in Broomfield, he'll recognize you."

"The chance of that happening is about a million to one."

I sighed. There was no point arguing with Eric. The stubborn tilt of his jaw told me he wouldn't be changing his mind anytime soon. Mom was looking forward to going to the festival, and so was I.

Perhaps Eric was right. There was a slim to zero chance of the stalker being anywhere near us. If he knew Eric was living in Sunrise Bay, he would have contacted him here, wouldn't he?

"Okay. You can come with us."

Eric's grin didn't make me feel more confident we were doing the right thing.

"Does this mean you'll have lunch with me, too?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I can't. I need to paint."

"Fair enough. But make sure you eat something."

This time I did salute him. "Aye, aye, captain." I jumped off the edge of the veranda and winced. I was really looking forward to a hot shower. "Mom's flight arrives at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. After I pick her up from the airport, we're going straight to the festival."

"What time are you leaving the cottage?"

"Eight o'clock."

Eric nodded. "If I don't see you later on, I'll be waiting beside your truck tomorrow morning."

I patted Sherlock's head. "Enjoy your lunch." And without hobbling too much, I walked to my side of the cottage. Hopefully, after a good night's sleep, Eric would realize he was overreacting and stay in Sunrise Bay.

Seeing him for a couple of hours each day was bad enough. Spending the whole day with him would be sheer torture.