Page 6 of Allie's Shelter

“Thank you,” she said as he dropped the trunk lid back into place.

He grunted, but otherwise all was silent as they crossed the street to the motel.

When the night clerk turned away from the computer monitor, he did a double take. “Why Allie Williams, you look wonderful. So glad to have you back in town.”

“Hi, Tim.” She tried to return his bright smile and offer more of her rehearsed explanation when Ross butted in.

“We need a room.”

We? What was he doing? She could never share a space as small as a motel room with Ross. They needed two rooms, preferably on opposite ends of the establishment, and only if he didn’t have somewhere better to be.

“Yup, I’m all ready for you. Sheriff called and gave me a head’s up. Terrible what happened up at your aunt’s place tonight. Are you okay, honey?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Such good timing.” Tim winked at Ross with conspiratorial speculation. “Always said the two of you were something for the long haul.”

“That’s—”

Ross halted her protest with a tug on her hand below the counter. “Thanks. We’ll take that room for a week if possible.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and withdrew a credit card.

Oh, this went way beyond chivalry. Why would he encourage Tim’s notion that they were together? After the way they parted after high school, Ross couldn’t possibly want to restart those rumors any more than she did. And why would the sheriff make Ross stay with her?

She fumed behind a brittle smile as the transaction completed. Her manners were flawless as she’d been raised to be polite, kind, and never make a scene in public. But, oh, was she lining up her arguments for the moment they were behind closed doors. She was going to make him tell her the truth.

Chapter two

At the room, Ross closed the curtains and dead bolted the door. He didn’t have to wait for the battle he’d seen simmering in her eyes from the moment Tim handed over the room keys. She wanted information, they both did. He braced himself for the challenge of getting intel out of her without giving any to her.

“What the hell is happening here?” Allie demanded.

“Just what it looks like. I rented a motel room for us.”

“There is no us! Why did the sheriff call Tim about you and me and…and one room?” She reached her hands up, cradling her forehead and shielding her eyes from him.

“It’s a one-motel town, Allie. Cochran made the call for safety and security. He thinks the world of you, you know that. Do you want your key?” He held it out, forcing her to come to him. She glared, stepped forward, and snatched it out of his fingers.

“I can pay my own way.”

According to the roller coaster financial report he’d seen, she was in a low spot, but he shrugged one shoulder. “We’ll have Tim split the bill at checkout.” He hoped like hell he lasted that long. The woman—and the flood of memories—was a serious threat to his sanity. As soon as Cochran had an identity on the shooter, he’d suggest Allie be released on her own recognizance.

“No. We need separate rooms. Now.” Her knuckles were white against the black straps of her bag. “We can’t stay here like this. Tim thinks we’re together.”

Based on her tone, Ross assumed being here with him was a situation she ranked alongside death and taxes. “At the moment, we are.”

“Not for long. I’ll take care of myself.”

“Like you did with the shooter?”

Those blue eyes shot daggers at him. “That’s not fair.” She spun away from him, spun back and planted her hands on her hips. “I would’ve handled that. Somehow,” she added. “You can leave me alone. I’ve been rattled since that guy shot at me, but I’m safe now. Thank you for helping, but I’d like to be alone. I don’t need a babysitter, I don’t need your money, and I don’t even want your help.”

He’d been ready for the outrage and indignation. That she managed to deliver both without raising her voice or throwing anything impressed him, but he knew it wasn’t the real issue or even close to the whole story. “You don’t want the gossips talking about us again, but there’s no way to stop it.”

She sighed. “Town gossip isn’t the point, Ross.”

It had sure been a point against him when they were growing up. “Then tell me what the point is.”

“The point is this mess is my problem. It isn’t your concern.”