Kimber did know. She was excited to help Shannon and to see it too. What she didn’t want to do was dance. “I’d love to help you—as long as you don’t start trying to make me tap dance anymore. My feet already hurt.”
She chuckled as she sat down on a bench and carefully removed her tap shoes and slipped on some black leather flats. “I’m sorry. I just have a feeling that you’re going to be a really great tap dancer. But I don’t mean to continually put you on the spot.”
“Thank you for that.” After taking off the ugly tap shoes, Kimber put back on her favorite running shoes.
“Oh brother. Well, let’s get started.” Moving over to the closet, Shannon started pulling out boxes and plastic tubs. “So how are things going? And, before I forget to ask, where’s your fancy new car? I didn’t see it parked on the street when I got here this morning.”
“My car’s in the shop because someone slashed two of my tires while I was helping out in the library at the elementary school.”
Shannon’s face went slack. “What? When?”
“Yesterday.”
“I can hardly believe it. Bridgeport is such a safe place. Who do you think could have done it? Do you think it was a kid?”
“I don’t know what to think. If it was a kid, it feels kind of random. I mean they’re just little kids at that elementary school.”
“You’re right. Maybe someone was trying to rob you or something?”
“I don’t think so, but who knows?” Because it hurt too much to think about Peter Mohler being so close, Kimber knelt down on one knee and pulled another large plastic tub out of the closet. On its heels slid out two shopping bags stuffed to the gills with fabric.
Looking at the hodgepodge of costumes, plastic tubs, holiday decorations, and what looked like old and discarded socks, she wrinkled her nose. “Shannon, this closet is a clown car.”
Her sister frowned. “I know. It’s a real mess. I don’t know how it got so bad.”
“Me neither. We’ve barely been here a year.”
“Obviously, I need to give it more attention—it’s always last on my list, though. I’d much rather teach or dance.”
“I know.” It was really cute the way Shannon loved to dance so much.
“Thanks for helping me.”
“I’m happy to help, but this closet needs more than a little TLC.” Shannon was going to need a better organizational system, because this really wasn’t working. “I think we need to find a system for you. Hmm. Do you want me to start a list on the computer? We could catalogue it . . .”
“No, I want to get back to your tires getting slashed. Did you call the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think it’s a police matter.” The truth was that she hadn’t wanted to go down that road again. No one in New York had cared about her stalker, since he hadn’t actually ever hurt her or her property. Plus, their sister, Traci, and Shannon’s husband, Dylan, were cops. She wasn’t ready for her sisters to become involved either.
“Really?”
No, not really. “I was thinking maybe I drove through a construction site or something.”
“I’ve never heard of two tires getting slashed from stray nails on the road.”
Kimber hadn’t heard of that either. Plus, the guys at Ace’s shop said the damage had probably been made with a knife or a box cutter. “Don’t worry about it. The important thing is that my car will be as good as new by this afternoon.”
But Shannon didn’t seem to want to let it go. “If it wasn’t a teen, who could it have been?”
Maybe her stalker? “I’m not sure.”
“Hey. You look worried. Are you scared? Do you want me to call Dylan?” Sounding more positive, she added, “I know he’d be happy to help. I bet he can come right over and take a statement.”
Her offer was pure Shannon. She was so eager to assist, so determined to help someone in need, and she was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen—even volunteer her busy, newlywed cop husband.
Though, Kimber figured Shannon volunteering Dylan wasn’t much of a stretch. He would probably be as willing as Shannon to help her out. She just wasn’t sure he could do anything.
Shannon’s desire to help everyone and get Dylan involved was cute, and it made Kimber happy that Shannon had that support system. But it wasn’t how she handled things. Kimber handled them on her own. “I didn’t tell you so you could fix me.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that.”
She heard the hurt in Shannon’s voice. “I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just saying I’ve got it handled.” She attempted to chuckle. “I mean, I only told you because you asked where my car was.”
“So if I hadn’t asked, you would have kept your car troubles to yourself?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that it’s my problem and not yours.”
Shannon looked even more hurt. “Okay,” she said. Then she turned back to the closet and pulled out another plastic tub.
“Look, I’m sorry . . .” Kimber’s voice drifted off. Because really, what was she going to say, anyway? That she was being secretive because she’d been burned by revealing too much to the wrong people? That she was hesitant to talk about anything because she’d been followed around by a creepy stalker guy for the last year and never said anything?
It was time to change the subject. “In other news, I met a great guy in the parking lot while I was waiting.”
“What?”
“The man was the guardian of the high school helper in the library. When they saw me freaking out in the parking lot, they came over to help.”
“He was a guardian?”
“Yep.” Pulling out a couple costumes, she started organizing them in piles. “The boy is a foster kid. And the guardian is practically a walking advertisement for gorgeous men who are competent.”
“So he’s a hunk with a good heart. Those are my favorite types of guys.”
Kimber wasn’t usually so dreamy, but she couldn’t deny that Shannon had a good point. “I think they’re mine too.”
“Is he married?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t check? Was he wearing a ring on his hand?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure that even back in West Virginia, there were plenty of married men who didn’t wear a ring.” She’d sure encountered lots of married men who didn’t believe in rings when she’d been modeling.