Redfern held up the bedspread and leaped toward the raccoon, but missed by a mile. I jumped out of the way and let the beast tear past me. We chased after it and were just in time to see it disappear through the kitchen window, chattering angrily. Redfern closed the window.

“I meant to fix that lock. I have some plywood and a nail gun. You stand here for a minute in case it comes back.”

Sure, no problem. While Redfern rummaged in a small storage room beside the fireplace, I searched the kitchen drawer for a weapon. I found a corkscrew, a good one. Redfern didn’t drink anything with a cork. Ergo, it was mine, left behind on one of my few visits to the cabin of carnal delights.

I stood ready with the corkscrew, but the raccoon stayed gone. When Redfern returned, I cleaned the poop and spilled cereal off the floor and wiped the table and counters with a disinfectant. “If you want, you can bring your bedding to my house and use my washer and dryer.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He took off his coat and set to work, every movement quick and efficient. He wasn’t even upset about the raccoon. Good-looking, smart, brave, even-tempered, good with tools. What more could a girl ask for? Someone not quite so arrogant, or burdened with heavy baggage, perhaps? Nobody’s perfect.

I sat in a kitchen chair and watched him. “I see the raccoon took a few of your things.”

“What’s that?” Knees planted on either side of the sink, he fitted the sheet of plywood across the wooden window frame and picked up the nail gun. I think I would have installed it on the outside of the window, but what do I know?

“Your wife’s pictures. The one beside your bed is missing. So are the ones in here.”

He went still but didn’t turn around. “I put them away.”

“When?”

“A couple of days ago when I came by to pick up some uniforms.”

“Why?”

The nails kee-cheeked through the wood. “It was time. Now, we can work on our relationship. Isn’t that what you wanted? Or were you just using Debbie as an excuse to keep me at a distance?”

Kee-cheek, kee-cheek.

Was I? I didn’t think so but I didn’t have to take a blood oath either way right now, did I? “Putting those pictures away is an important first step, and I know it was hard for you. So, now I’ll take one.”

He jumped down from the sink and set the nail gun on the table. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”

“From this moment forward, I’m going to call you Neil. You don’t have to call me Bliss until you’re ready. Okay … Neil?” God, that sounded so weird. Neil, Neil, Neil. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. Maybe we only worked as Cornwall and Redfern.

He knelt beside me and took my hand. “I think I can manage a second step … Bliss.”

We looked at each other for a long moment, then burst out laughing. I picked up the corkscrew again. “This is a celebratory moment. Got any wine, Neil?”

“You know better, Bliss. I have a bottle of whisky in the cupboard, if the raccoon didn’t drink it.”

“Pass.”

“Let’s go to your place and celebrate. I’ll get my stuff and be right with you.”

I followed him back to the bedroom while he packed jeans, sweatshirts, and runners. How long did he plan to stay? If he started throwing in shorts and flip-flops, I would be forced to ask that very question. I opened his top drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“You sure have a lot of Jockeys for a guy.” They weren’t exactly colour-coordinated but they were folded and arranged more neatly than my unmentionables. “Do you have an underwear fetish?”

“For white thongs, maybe, and only when you’re wearing one.”

“So sweet, Neil. Is there anything in these other drawers you don’t want me to see?”

“Go ahead and look, but don’t blame me if a snake is hibernating in one of my socks.”

“Okay, I’m done helping.” I slammed the top drawer closed and leaned against the wall. When I tired of watching him fold every item neatly before stashing it into the sports bag, I went into the living room.

My hand reached out to the nail gun sitting on the kitchen table. I wanted to nail something. Just once. I picked it up.

I knew better than to point it at my face or any other body part. I aimed it at the floor. I just had to pull this trigger here …

Ka-tick. Nothing happened. I was sure Neil had pulled this trigger thing. Spreading my legs and using both hands like I was going to fire a pistol, I pulled.

Another ka-tick, but no nail shot into the floor. Maybe it was out of ammo. The walls in this rustic paradise were wood panelling and could use some anchoring. I’d try once more, then put it down before Neil came out and had a male fit because I was touching one of his tools.

With my free hand, I felt the panelling. Yup, a little loose right here. Neil had pushed the gun closer to the surface …

Kee-cheek!

I screamed and tried to pull my left hand away from the wall. My sleeve was pinned firmly to the wood. In my panic, I pulled the trigger twice more. Kee-cheek. Kee-cheek. I screamed again. My fingers wouldn’t let go of the thing, or stop pressing the trigger.

Redfern … Neil … ran into the room with gun drawn. When he saw what was happening, he shouted, “Drop it! Drop it!”

I tried. I couldn’t. He came up behind me and grabbed my hand. “Let go!”

It fired a few more times before he finally pried my finger off the hair-trigger. The sucker fell to the floor and lay still. He kicked it away from me and, thank God, his gun was back in its holster.

I tried a cute smile on him. “Now you know better than to leave me alone with a power tool. Ha.” The smile and comment fell flat. His face looked just the same as it did the time I puked on his shoes. That wasn’t my fault, either.

“It’s not a power tool. It’s spring-loaded and has to touch the surface before it fires a nail.”

“You should have explained that to me earlier.” I nudged him. “So, we’re still using first names, right? Neil?” He hadn’t even warned me not to touch the damn thing.

“I’ll get a claw hammer to pull the nails out. Wait right here.”

Despite his expression, he probably thought his instruction humorous since the sleeve of my coat was pinned to the wall by at least four nails. I had no problem slipping out of the coat. I examined my wrist. Not a scratch!

Once we were in his vehicle, he began the slow process of backing down the drive without sliding into the ditch. The second we turned onto the highway, he said, “You never did tell me why you had your coat and boots on when I got to the greenhouse.”

“Uh … well …”

“Before you come out with some convoluted lie, keep in mind you were standing in a pool of melted snow.”

CHAPTER

forty-two

Neil’s heart rate didn’t return to normal until he turned into Cornwall’s … Bliss’s … driveway. When he had heard her scream from the front room, he thought … well, he didn’t know what he thought. He just reacted, pulling his Glock and racing to protect her. The sight of the nail gun firing into the wall beside her hand was almost as chilling as confronting an armed intruder. He couldn’t wait to tell Tony. He always appreciated a good Bliss story.

She was skilled at diversionary tactics; he’d say that for her. It wasn’t until they were on the snow-packed highway that he remembered to ask her again why she had on her outdoor clothes when he arrived at the greenhouse earlier.

He listened to her explanation without comment. At least she told the plain truth this time, with no excuses. He wasn’t surprised she had slipped her leash, only surprised it hadn’t happened before today. She’d been cooperative all week about remaining under someone’s eye, even cousin Dougal’s, who was unfortunately subject to bribery and distraction.