room, sir.” The spindly-legged fawn sniffed around the small fenced area, then curled back up and closed his eyes.
“No insomnia for him,” Sam commented, with no small amount of envy.
“Nope. He’s got a belly full of food and a safe place to sleep. He’ll be fine.”
“Thanks to you.” She looked up at Dylan, daring to make eye contact in the dim starlight. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me, that you went after him. Sorry I gave you such a hard time.”
“No worries. You can make it up to me by catching the lowlifes that shot his mother.”
Her shoulders dropped. “I’ll try. Trust me, there is nothing I’d like more than to put handcuffs on them. But your friend didn’t get the license number, and there are a million tan Ford pickup trucks in this part of the state. My best chance at catching them is for someone to turn them in.”
“Does that happen often?” He locked the gate on the pen, then headed back to the main building, motioning her to follow.
“Actually, it does. There are some pretty big rewards for tips that lead to an arrest. One of the secrets to being a good wildlife officer is having a personal connection with the community. If you have enough people that know you and trust you, then they can be an excellent source of information. That’s why I was assigned here, in Paradise. I was born here, so the brass assumed I’d have a natural connection with the townspeople.”
He led them back to the office area and flopped down in a chair. “That makes sense.”
Sitting across from him, she opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. “On paper, yes. In real life, not really.” She took a bite and let the flavors roll across her tongue. If heaven was a food, it would be pizza. Chewing, she debated how much to share. “I actually only lived here until I was ten. After that I went to boarding school, and then college. Other than a few school vacations, I haven’t been in Paradise in over a decade.”
“Have you been able to connect with any old friends from back when you lived here?”
She shook her head. “When you’re a kid, it’s out of sight, out of mind—I lost touch with everyone years ago. So now I’m starting from scratch, unless you count the town librarian. I spent a lot of time hiding out there the few times I did make it home.”
Dylan swallowed the last of his slice. “Bookworm, huh? Remind me to show you my bookshelves sometime.” He waggled his eyebrows in a parody of seduction. “But I can see how that would make things awkward. Making friends in a new place is hard enough. Making friends in a place where everyone already knows you, that’s a whole different thing.”
“Exactly. I’m the new girl in town, except I’m not.”
“What about your family? Are they still local?”
The bite of pizza in her mouth was suddenly hard to swallow. Folding her hands in her lap, she forced herself to answer the question; her family history wasn’t exactly a secret in Paradise. “My mom died when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were ones she’d heard many times, but she could tell he was sincere.
“Yeah, well, after that Dad just kind of shut down—hence the boarding school. He’s actually with the FWC as well, but when she passed he took a desk job. He spends pretty much every waking hour holed up in his office in Ocala. Not much time for friendships.” Or his daughter. “I know that sounds like the pot calling the kettle black, but at least I’m trying to put myself out there.”
“You’ll figure it out.” He helped himself to another slice.
“I’m going to have to. I can’t do my job properly otherwise.” Something her boss had made very clear to her during a private meeting last week. “I’ve got an evaluation coming up, and basically, if I don’t create some ties to the community, I’m going to be looking for another line of work.”
* * *
Dylan coughed, nearly choking on the bite of sausage in his mouth. “What? They can fire you for not being social enough?” She seemed competent, had tracked him and the deer like a pro and was a natural with animals. So what if she was a bit awkward with the two-legged variety?
“Pretty much. There’s a big push in the Fish and Wildlife Commission to be what they call community partners. And my boss is spearheading the effort. If I can’t make myself a part of that, then I’ll be reassigned to an administrative role.”
“I’m guessing that’s not a step up, careerwise.”
She shook her head, her nose wrinkling. “Definitely not. It would be a sign of failure.”
She certainly didn’t seem like someone accustomed to failure. “So what, you just have to make some friends, get to know the locals, that kind of thing?”
“Pretty much. The Outdoor Days Festival is coming up, and my boss will be here for the opening ceremonies. My plan is to be able to mingle well enough by then to impress him.”
“Okay, that sounds like a good plan.”
“Yup. And if I had any idea how to make it happen, I’d be doing okay. As it is, I think this is the second-longest conversation I’ve had since I moved back here months ago.”
“I’m flattered. But I’ve got to know, who beat me out?”
“My cat.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, it’s easier with animals. But this is definitely my longest human-to-human interaction.”
“Well, that’s something, anyway.” He grabbed two bottles of water from the case stashed next to his desk and tossed her one. “But technically, this is work-related. What you need is a social life.”
She grimaced and took a swig of water. “I’ve heard of those.”
He shook his head. She had a dry wit he hadn’t expected—what other surprises was she hiding? “It’s not so bad, you know. Some people even find socializing fun.”
“Fun is hiking in a forest at dawn or figuring out who did it in the middle of a mystery novel.”
“Sure. But fun is also seeing a movie and then talking about it with friends over ice-cream sundaes. Or picnics on the beach, or a pickup game of volleyball.”
She shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t like people, but a full college course load, plus a part-time job, didn’t leave much time for a social life. Now that I’ve got the time, I don’t have the connections. I can’t exactly walk up to someone I don’t know and ask them to go see a movie.”
“Maybe not, but you could go with me.”
Her jaw dropped open. “Wait, what?”
“I said, you could go with me. I could even bring a few friends, make it a group thing.”
“But why would you do that?”
Because you’re smart, sexy and I like hearing you laugh. “Why shouldn’t I? I mean, besides the fact that you nearly shot me.”
Sam chewed her bottom lip; the simple move sent his blood southward. Not good—just making friends was hard enough. If she realized he was attracted to her, she’d probably bolt. Giving her time to think, he grabbed the new animal intake forms and set them on the desk next to the pizza box. He could fill one out for the fawn while she asked him whatever questions she had. By the time he sat back down, she had a determined set to her shoulders and a gleam in her eye.
“Okay. I’ll do it. But nothing too crazy, okay?”
“Fair enough, we’ll ease you into things.” He looked down at the nearly empty box between them. “How about pizza? I’ll bring a few friends, totally low-key.” He’d rather it be just the two of them, but that would defeat the whole point. “I’ll