Colton Storm Warning

by Justine Davis

  He looked at her, considering. Which he knew irked her. The whole permission thing was obviously bothering her. “I was about to do a drone check of the property, but a personal one wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Drone?”

  He nodded. We’ve got a small one, with a good camera. Actually belongs to my Uncle Shep, but he lets us play with it.”

  “The uncle of the tree planting?”

  “Yes. He just moved back to Braxville recently, so he’s spent some time here.” He looked her up and down. “Got any sturdier shoes?”

  She looked down at the ankle boots she’d had on yesterday and had pulled back on this morning because they were handy. “Don’t like them?” she asked, that edge of sweetness back in her voice that he was learning didn’t bode well.

  “Whether I like them isn’t the point. Whether you can walk on uneven ground with them and they’ll hold up to mud and rocks is. And if you want to risk...whatever those cost doing it.”

  “They weren’t that expensive,” she protested.

  “Honey, I don’t even want to know what you consider expensive. Do you have other shoes or not?”

  She didn’t say a word, but turned and went back down the hall, her every step declaring she was once more not happy with him. She disappeared up the stairs, and he let out a long audible breath.

  He glanced at the weather station on the wall above the radio. Still in the low forties. He walked into the bedroom he was using and picked up the extra magazine for his TCP. He clipped it on his belt and shifted the weapon itself slightly. Tried not to think about needing it, but knew there was no guarantee, even out here. They were isolated, yet not unreachable. Not to someone angry enough.

  Back out in the great room, he took his jacket off the rack by the door and pulled it on. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed one of the knitted wool hats from the basket below the rack.

  And the entire time tried not to think about what had seemed to flash in her eyes when he’d called her honey.

  Chapter 17

  “Better?” Ashley asked sweetly.

  The irritating man glanced down at her hiking boots. If he was surprised by how heavy-duty and well-worn they were, he didn’t say so. Which irritated her in turn, because she had a sharp answer about more assumptions ready to fire at him. Her work often required her to walk through wilder places, and she’d learned early on to be always prepared.

  “They’ll do,” he said. Then he held out a heavy knit hat. “Here. This’ll help until it warms up more.”

  She glanced pointedly at his bare head. Tried not to notice the way his hair still managed to look tousled even though it was fairly short. She liked the way it kicked forward, thick and dark. But then she liked a lot about this man. In looks, anyway. Any woman would, she consoled herself.

  Just like any woman’s heart would have kicked up the pace if he called her honey?

  He noted her look, reached down to a basket and pulled out another similar hat. “Happy now?”

  “No, but that’s not your job, is it?” For an instant, the briefest flash of...something flared in those dark blue eyes. The first, totally insane thought that hit her was that he was wishing that it were his job. Making her happy. Rattled at her own reactions more than anything, she looked down at the hat she held. It felt indeed warm. And soft, almost luxurious. “This is luscious. What’s it made of?”

  “You’d have to ask my mother. She’s the knitter.”

  “Oh? She made this?”

  “And that blanket thing.”

  The throw he’d tucked so carefully around her. She shoved aside the memory and said only, “She does beautiful work.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

  He said it without the slightest bit of hesitation or male embarrassment, and since there was absolutely no sign he was a mamma’s boy, she liked that. A lot. She let that show in her smile. “I hope you tell her that.”

  “Often. We all do.”

  They stepped outside. It was still chilly, and she tugged on the hat. So did he, and she noticed he gave it an extra pat when he had it down over the top of his ears. Because his mother had made it? She found that sweet, as well. Mr. Ty Colton—cool, competent, slightly bossy security expert—had a soft spot, after all. That it was for his mother, she found charming.

  If you want to know how a man will treat his wife, watch how he treats his mother.

  The old saying popped into her head out of nowhere. And nearly stunned her. What on earth was she doing thinking about that? She scrambled for something else to say, before she let something inescapably stupid out.

  “What about your father?”

  How quickly the very male shrug came back. “He is who he is.”

  “And from what you’ve said, not the warm and fuzzy type,” she said, recovered now as they went down the steps of the deck.

  He let out a short sharp laugh. “Not unless you’ve got a great lot or building he wants for sale. He’s all business, all the time.”

  “My father used to be like that.”

  “Used to? I’d have thought with an empire to run, he still would be.”

  She gave him a sideways look at his use of the word empire, but decided to let it go since he was smiling. Also she quashed the unexpected thought that she would forgive a lot for that smile. She suddenly remembered the conversation with her mother when she’d called to tell her that her father had hired a security firm.

  Eric King is a solid, honest contractor, and he’s promised he’ll put the man your father asked for on it. Cooperate, Ashley.

  His best man. She glanced up at the man beside her, all too aware of his size and obvious strength. Too aware of the way he moved with that easy grace and power. Too aware of those dark blue eyes framed by thick dark lashes.

  Too aware of how his freaking hair grows.

  Somehow she didn’t think that was the kind of cooperation her mother had meant. But then her mother hadn’t seen Ty Colton. And Ashley couldn’t even imagine a woman who wouldn’t be hyperaware of this man.

  It was just that she never was. She never reacted this way to a man. She might be intrigued, or curious, even admiring. At least she could learn something from a man—that had been what had lured her into the relationship with Simon—but her on-all-levels awareness and fascination and, she had to admit, physical response had never happened before.

  She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t really noticed they’d walked out onto the small dock on the lake. The lake that was much larger than she’d thought, although she’d only glanced at a map since her goal was miles away from here.

  “What kind of fish are there?”

  He looked a little surprised but answered without comment. “Walleye, few kinds of bass—we usually have luck with whites right out front here—crappie, and catfish, of course.” He gave her a sideways look, then. “If you’re into bottom-feeders.”

  “One of the most amazing fishes I’ve ever seen is a catfish. From Thailand. A glass catfish.”

  “Okay, you got me.”

  “It’s tiny, two or three inches. And it’s completely transparent. All the organs are clustered up near its head, so the entire body is just skeleton-like. It’s quite remarkable. And even more interesting, they only settled its true taxonomy fairly recently. They thought it was the same as another larger species—are you laughing at me?”

  “No,” he said instantly. “Just admiring—okay, maybe envying—your recall.”

  He said it so easily, with no hint of the jab she often got when people accused her of being a walking encyclopedia of useless trivia. “Sometimes I wish I could shut it off,” she answered honestly.

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “I rely on it.”

  He nodded as if he’d expected that answer. She looked out at the water again, thinking t
hat this was the easiest exchange she’d ever had about her ability to remember even the most minor facts.

  “Lots of boats out there.”

  “Trout season opened last Sunday. Lot of folks headed toward the seep stream, since they stocked it at the end of last month.”

  “There’s a dam, right? It’s not a natural lake?”

  “Dam’s about five miles down.” He nodded, toward the north. “Smoky Hills River comes in right up there.”

  She glanced in the direction he’d indicated. “Could we walk there? To where the river comes in?”

  “It’s about a mile and a half, to the start of the delta flats.”

  “So not that far, then.”

  He glanced down at her well-worn boots again. “Guess not,” he said with a grin.

  She smiled back at him. “Then can we?”

  “Are you actually asking me permission?”

  “I’m asking the man who knows the way,” she pointed out.

  To her surprise, he laughed. And once more it seemed her every nerve tingled in response. “Good—and practical—point.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Let me scout it out first, after the rain we had last week. There’s no real trail, and I haven’t seen it in a while.”

  “I don’t need a trail. I’ve hiked in many places without one.” She frowned. “I don’t have my compass with me, though.”

  “I have one. But I’m thinking more about any threat.”

  For a moment, she’d actually forgotten. Why she was here, why she was with this man at all. “You really think...somebody might be out there, lying in wait or something?”

  She hated how small her voice sounded. But being so completely out of touch had apparently affected her more than she would have expected. When she went to places where she knew ahead of time there would be no internet or phone communications, she mentally prepared for it. But she hadn’t expected that here, so she was having a little trouble adapting.

  You’re really addicted to that thing, aren’t you?

  Maybe he was more right than she wanted to admit.

  “I was thinking more about snakes,” Ty answered her, giving her a look too innocent to be true. Quickly her mood shifted and she laughed.

  “In that case, have at it.”

  “I’ll be back in under an hour. Lock the door and keep the shotgun handy until I do.”

  She purposefully fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Oh, dear, how will I know it’s you?”

  He grinned. Damn him. “You mean besides the wall of windows?”

  “I wouldn’t want to shoot you by mistake.”

  He gave her a long look. “I have the feeling if you ever shot someone, it would not be by mistake.”

  She didn’t know why that pleased her. Why she was feeling pleased at all during a conversation about shooting someone. But she was. It unsettled her enough that she questioned just how much she wanted to do this.

  “If this is too much trouble—”

  “It’s fine. I need to do a wider recon, anyway.” He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles of drinking water. Then he went to a small cabinet on the other side of the door out onto the deck and opened it. He reached in and pulled out a small loaded backpack, tucked the water into side pockets, and slung it over one shoulder. When he saw her looking at it, he shrugged. “Better to lug it and not need it than the other way around.”

  She wondered what was in it. First-aid things, she supposed. Survival gear, although why he would need it here, and this close to the cabin...unless he got hurt. A slip and fall was always possible, and if he broke an arm or leg out there, he’d be screwed with no phone service. Of course, the likelihood of big tough Ty Colton needing help was silly, she supposed. But still...

  Even as she thought it, he reached back into the cabinet and brought out two hand-sized walkie-talkies. He turned knobs on both, then handed her one.

  “It gets a little spotty at the river because of the terrain, but up until then it should be clear.”

  She let out a relieved sigh. “Good, so you can call for help if you need it.”

  He looked utterly startled. With a bemused smile he said, “It’s for you to call for help if you need it.”

  She watched him go, feeling a bit bemused herself at the fact that they had each been thinking of the other. Of course, it was his job just now to worry about her.

  But that didn’t explain why her first reaction had been to worry about him.

  Chapter 18

  Upon getting back to the cabin, Ty was surprised to find that she’d set out snacks for them. “How long are you planning on being out there?” he asked, masking his amusement at the array. More water was good, but she’d found his stash of energy bars, grabbed a couple of apples from the bowl on the counter and thrown in a couple of candy bars she must have had herself. She’d also apparently had a small folding backpack in her luggage, because it was also on the counter.

  “Better to lug it and not need it, I believe someone said?”

  He smiled at that. And noticed yet again he’d done more smiling in the last twenty-four hours—almost—than he had in weeks. There hadn’t been much to smile about with all the chaos going on around Colton Construction. Nothing like finding a couple of bodies sealed up in one of your old buildings to put the blight on your outlook.

  “Sounds like a smart guy,” he said, glad to see that she took it as he’d meant it, jokingly.

  “So, we’re clear to go?”

  He nodded. “Nothing out there but some wildlife. Didn’t see a single snake, by the way.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  He walked into the kitchen, over to the erasable note board on the fridge. He unclipped the marker and scrawled a note.

  “Tree down?” Ashley asked, having followed him in and read past his shoulder.

  He nodded as he put the marker back in place after noting the location. “First one of us with the time and energy will cut it up for firewood. Which is good, because we’ll need more by next year. If we spend much time up here this winter, we’ll go through what we’ve got.”

  “Can’t you buy more?”

  “If we can find some local wood, but out here most people use up their own. The motto is buy it where you burn it. So people don’t bring in new invasive species or transport new pests.” He gave her a sideways look. “But you probably know that.”

  “I knew about the federal policy, but I confess, not the motto. Sounds effective.”

  “Personally, I think the photos of forests peppered with dying trees are more so, but the words do stick in your head.”

  She seemed to hesitate, then said, “You don’t disagree with my goals, then.”

  Uh-oh. He resorted to his usual response in tricky areas like this. A shrug. “Doesn’t matter if I disagree. Nothing to do with my job.”

  “But you follow the policy?”

  “It makes sense.”

  “And if it didn’t?” Another shrug. “So you do disagree?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he repeated.

  “I’m curious.”

  “Then you’ll have to stay curious,” he said firmly. He was not going to get into a debate with a client. If he made her mad, she’d be less likely to cooperate and that could be dangerous. “You ready for this hike?”

  To his relief, she let it drop, although something in her expression had him thinking the reprieve was only temporary. She hadn’t gotten to where she was today, an advocate with a reputation for getting things done, by letting things slide. And he doubted many people told her no, anyway.

  He tucked the snacks into an outside pocket on his backpack, and she did the same. She also slid her phone into the back pocket of her snug jeans. The pocket that curved over her delightful backside.

  Lucky phone.

  The errant thought pu
t an edge in his voice when he said, “If you’re hoping for reception out there, don’t count on it.”

  Her chin came up. “I was thinking about photos. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Not as long as none of them see the light of day before the threat has passed.” He hesitated, then added, “You do realize this is a risk, going out like this?”

  She met his gaze. Then she sighed. “This is selfish of me, isn’t it? Putting you in a position where it will be harder to do your job?”

  Her sudden, unexpected admission wiped away the rest of his warning. “Worry about the risk to you, not my job.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Kind of entwined, aren’t they?”

  He shrugged. “You’re in danger. But you shouldn’t have to be a prisoner. So be aware but let me do...what I do. Oh, and about those pictures, I’d prefer you didn’t advertise the exact location to the world. We’d like to keep this little corner as it is.”

  “So you do believe in preservation? Or only of what you yourself own?”

  “I do believe in preservation, and right now that means self-preservation, so we’re not having this discussion.”

  “Coward.”

  He didn’t rise to the obvious bait. “You’d better hope not.”

  “Point taken,” she admitted. And she didn’t quibble about him leading the way. But then he already knew she wasn’t foolish, just determined. And maybe the tiniest bit spoiled. Nothing like he would have expected, of course. Those assumptions again.

  Once they’d crossed the cleared area around the house and got into the trees and underbrush, the walking grew harder. But she didn’t comment and got through easily enough. He was hyper-attuned to their surroundings, on guard, but he still noticed she often turned sideways to avoid breaking branches and managed to avoid stepping in places that were more muddy and neatly dodged rocks. She obviously hadn’t lied; she was used to this.

  And she was smiling. Constantly, although it widened whenever they encountered wildlife, and turned to a delighted grin when he stopped her and pointed out a couple of black-tailed prairie dogs, which she’d never seen before.