by Linda Ford
Finally, Joanna came to the door and rang a cowbell suspended on a hook, signaling mealtime. They paused at her side to drop coins into the can she held. Trace hung back, and when the last man stood before her, he ducked out of sight and headed up the trail. He paused several times to let his heartbeat slow to normal and to listen for anyone following him. Satisfied he had no company, he did his best to hurry onward.
A few feet from the clearing he stopped and listened. The girls laughed. Perhaps playing with Goliath.
Then Cora screamed.
He charged into the clearing. “What’s wrong?”
Cora and Mandy stared at him with wide eyes.
“Goliath scratched me,” Cora said. “Trace, you look awful.”
Mandy rushed to his side. “You better sit down.”
“I’m fine.” But he let her lead him to their usual spot and gladly sank to the ground.
Cora hung over him. “For a hero you look pretty grubby.”
“You should have seen me before I cleaned up.”
“I can’t believe you went into a burning building.” She sat facing him, her knees drawn up, her brow knotted. “You could have been burned.” She pressed her palm to her cheek.
He hadn’t stopped to consider the risks. He’d simply acted. Determined not to let a fire claim another life. Or two. But now he realized how close he’d come to dying. How close Mandy had come. His gaze sought and found Mandy’s. “You were supposed to wait outside. Where it was safe.”
Cora gasped. “You went in, too. Why would you?”
Mandy’s gaze held Trace’s like a vise. “I had to make sure Trace was okay.”
The sound coming from Cora’s mouth rang with disbelief and likely a lot of fear. “I can’t believe either of you. If something happened. . .”
She grabbed the ever-present kitten and stalked up the hill to the thicket, where she disappeared.
Trace continued to drown in Mandy’s look. He remembered the moment when he’d regained his senses. “I thought you were gone.” His voice grated as he recalled that initial fear. He touched her cheek, assuring himself that she was, indeed, okay.
She pressed her hand to his, keeping his fingers against her warm skin. “I thought the same thing about you. You gave me quite a scare.” She shook her head back and forth. “After Cora told me your parents died in a fire, I found it impossible to believe you would dash in to rescue strangers.”
“She told you about our parents?” He withdrew his hand and shifted his gaze. How much had Cora revealed?
Mandy nodded. “She said friends had turned against you. Seems it had something to do with the fire.”
He recognized her pause as invitation to tell her what happened. But his emotions were too raw, his head hurt too much. Opening those wounds would take more effort than he could handle at the moment.
“According to Cora, your experience has taught you both not to trust anyone.”
Again, she waited for him to add something. What could he say? He’d learned the cost of trust. He leaned his head against the log wall. “I’m tired.”
After a moment, she slipped away. He wondered if she would go home. Instead she joined Cora, and the girls chased the kitten through the trees.
Half his heart ached to let Mandy in. Allow himself to love her.
The other half remembered the price he’d paid because he’d so blindly trusted those he loved. Or supposed he’d loved.
How could he ever take that chance again? Even with a woman like Mandy who risked her life to make sure he was safe.
He shifted so he could watch her play with Cora, making her laugh like a young girl. His eyes ached with longing.
His heart quivered with caution.
TEN
The next morning, he forced his reluctant body to get up and return to work on the house, though at the moment he didn’t care whether or not he finished it.
Cora followed him around, keeping a close eye on him.
He stopped to face her. “You can quit worrying. I’m not hurt.”
“Trace. . .” Her pause lasted several beats. “Oh, never mind. There’s no use in saying anything.” She turned to walk away.
He caught her arm and stopped her. “About what?”
She considered his question and met his gaze. “About everything. About Annabelle and Austin. Mama and Papa. About the fire. And most of all, about you and Mandy.”
“Wow, little sister, that’s quite a mouthful. Seems you’ve covered about everything in our lives.”
“It is everything in our lives. And it’s all gone, destroyed by a stupid fire.”
“And the treachery of so-called friends.”
Cora pressed Goliath to her cheek. “Will we never again have a normal life?”
Brother and sister studied each other. “Are you saying you want to go to town? Let people see you? That’s normal.”
Her eyes flooded with tears. “So is letting yourself care about someone.”
“I care about you.”
“I mean someone outside the family. Like Mandy.”
He opened his mouth then closed it. There was nothing to say. He cared for Mandy, but his feelings scared him. Made him feel as if he were the traitor. Turning on his own resolve. He had vowed to never trust another person—man or woman. Apart from Cora, he would live with his heart closed to anything but the most surface of acquaintances. But Mandy with her persistence had forced her way past those barriers.
He resented her doing so.
At the same time—stupid as it was—he ached to open his heart and invite her in.
“I’ve got work to do.” Cora, already mixing up corn bread for lunch, would be okay. He headed for the woods, supposedly to find and cut another tree. In truth, he hoped he could flee his thoughts.
But escape was impossible. He had gone but ten yards when he realized he’d forgotten his ax. He retraced his steps and arrived in the clearing at the same time as Mandy. She saw him and stopped dead still.
His boots refused to take another step. He told his eyes to look for the ax, but they wouldn’t leave Mandy’s face.
Her expression revealed nothing. Which told him a lot. That she was guarded after his refusal to talk to her last night. Perhaps wondering if he considered her a friend.
His heart said she was so much more.
But he couldn’t admit it. Not because he didn’t trust her. She was as guileless as a baby.
He didn’t trust his feelings.
Last time he’d trusted in the word friend it had cost him everything but his life and Cora’s. Last time he trusted a woman, she’d been part of the plan to destroy him.
Confusion knotted his throat, made it impossible to talk, almost impossible to breathe.
Mandy broke the silence. “Morning, Trace. How are you feeling today?”
“Good,” he managed to choke out.
“No ill effects from yesterday?”
“Sore throat.” It was true, and he hoped she put his hoarse-ness down to that.
“Mine, too. Joanna made a little honey tonic that calms it. I brought you some.” She handed him a flask. “Have sips of it every so often.” She pulled a second flask from her pocket and proceeded to take a sip.
He could not force his eyes to leave off watching as she tipped her head back and swallowed.
She capped the flask, returned it to her pocket, and picked up her ax. She noticed he didn’t have his and looked around. She spotted it and handed it to him. “Ready to get to work?”
He tried to think what she meant. Finally decided it didn’t make any sense. He hoisted his ax to his shoulder. “I was just on my way.” He turned and retraced his steps into the woods.
She followed hard on his heels.
He stopped.
She stopped.
He waited for her to pass or head off a different direction, but she didn’t. It seemed unusual, but what could he say? She had as much right to walk the ground as did he.
He reached the pla
ce where he’d chosen a tree and set to work.
Mandy hovered close by, watching.
He paused. “You taking lessons?” Maybe she wanted to start a proper building. But she didn’t stand a chance at catching up.
“Guess you could say I am. I’ve decided to help you finish your house.”
“That knock on my head yesterday must have affected my hearing. Seems like I heard you say you were going to help me.”
“You heard right.”
It must have affected his reasoning, too. “Why?”
“Because you need it.”
“Where do you get that idea?”
“You and Cora need a home. I have one. You want to stay. Seems like a good idea. Besides, seems to me you need to learn that it’s possible to have friends and trust them.” She measured a tree with her eye. “This looks like a good one. What do you think?”
He’d already picked it out as suitable. “It looks fine.”
She set to work.
All he could do was stare. None of what she said made sense. Oh, it made a degree of sense. He needed a house. He had decided to stay here, more out of a need to beat Mandy at her own game than any real conviction that the land was the best in the world. But the rest of it? Total nonsense. “I know how to have friends. Just don’t think I need them.” He swung his ax at the tree.
“Everyone needs them.” She didn’t stop swinging her ax. “Everyone needs people they can trust.” Several more swings by each of them. Then she added, “Person just needs to learn which ones are safe.”
“Maybe the safest thing is to trust no one.”
“Nope.” She continued working. “Not safe.” Chop. “Lonely.” Chop. “Unnecessary.” Chop. “Judgmental.” Chop.
He echoed each of her words with a swing of his own ax. His tree went down first with a ground-shaking thud.
Hers followed two blows later, and she stood back in triumph.
“First real tree you ever felled?”
“Yup.” She grinned at him. “Did okay, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.”
He set about trimming off the limbs. She followed his example. He slowed his pace, afraid she would try and keep up. He didn’t want to risk her slipping and cutting herself.
He closed his eyes and sucked in air, stilling the tickle in his raw throat. He didn’t know if he could live through another scare with her.
It didn’t escape him that a man determined to keep a wide distance between himself and others had a strong reaction to the thought of Mandy being hurt.
“Well, shoot,” he muttered. Of course he cared. That wasn’t the point. It was all right to care. Just not all right to. . .well, to rest his heart in the hands of another.
“Something wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He bent his attention to his work, aware she watched with avid curiosity. Try as hard as he could, he could not ignore her. He stepped away from the tree to go to her.
She rose, her ax hanging from her hand.
He grabbed her shoulders. “But if I were to trust anyone, it would be you.”
There. He’d said it.
The ax slipped from her fingers. She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Why Trace Owens, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get too excited.”
“Oh no. Heaven forbid.” Her eyes shone.
He couldn’t think. All he saw was the gentle kindness of her expression, a look reflecting the soul of the woman. He curled his finger and ran it along her jawline. Paused at her chin. Slowly, as if he moved only in his imagination, he tipped her chin upward and caught her mouth with his, lingering a heartbeat, feeling so content nothing else mattered.
She jerked back. “Why did you do that?”
He stepped away, considering her. Unable to read her expression. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Now he wondered if it was a mistake. He didn’t allow his grin to surface. He still wasn’t certain about Mandy’s reaction. But kissing her was no mistake. He’d learned something. Like how much he cared about this woman.
She planted her fists on her hips. “You shouldn’t have done it.”
“Why not?”
“A kiss is supposed to mean something.”
It did. But he wasn’t about to say exactly what. “What’s it supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know.” She grabbed her ax and whacked off a branch. “That there’s something special between a man and a woman. Not just a grudging confession that you might trust me.” She attacked several more branches. “Might. Humph.”
He laughed, earning a scalding look.
“And now you mock me?”
“Heaven forbid,” he murmured, inordinately pleased by her ire. “But I can’t help wondering what the kiss meant to you.”
She straightened and glowered at him.
“Well?” he prompted.
She bent her head so he couldn’t see her expression. “I don’t know.”
“Be sure and tell me when you figure it out.”
She didn’t answer, but a few mutters drifted his way.
He grinned but contained the laughter filling his lungs. She might not take kindly to what she perceived as his enjoyment at her expense. But it felt mighty good to see her at a loss for words.
❧
Mandy’s arms ached from the effort she put into swinging the ax—effort driven by frustration. First, Trace reluctantly admitted he might allow himself to trust her. Then he kissed her. On top of that, he had the nerve to laugh. What kind of game was he playing? I don’t think I can trust you as a friend, but I can kiss you? That was simply wrong to her way of thinking. The trusting and friendship came first. Then the kissing.
At least he hadn’t apologized or said he regretted it, or she might have done something she’d regret.
Like plant her hands on either side of his face and show him what a kiss really meant.
She chuckled. In fact. . .
She stalked over to where he worked at wrapping a chain around the log to haul it to the house. “I have something to say to you.”
He took his time about straightening, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he pushed his shoulders back as if preparing for a showdown. He took even longer turning to face her. She almost laughed at the way he glanced at her hands to see if she held a weapon of any sort then searched her eyes, trying to guess what she wanted.
She closed the three feet separating them until they stood toe-to-toe. She reached up and planted her palms on his cheeks, felt the roughness of his whiskers, noticed for the first time the way his skin gathered days of sunshine and pocketed them in each pore. She saw the tightening of his mouth as he waited.
No anger remained in her. Not even a smidgen, though she tried to summon the feeling. Her heart beat with a force that made her wonder if it had ever worked at capacity before. A thrill of anticipation skittered up her throat. She didn’t know how to contain it. Feared it would take off the top of her head or scorch the soles of her feet. She sucked in air to clear her thoughts. Didn’t succeed.
She pulled his face to hers and lifted her lips to his mouth. Felt him start with surprise and then kiss her back.
Oh my. This was supposed to prove something to him. She couldn’t remember what. All she knew was this kiss meant something to her besides guarded trust or reluctant friendship.
To Mandy, it meant he’d stolen a place in her heart.
She couldn’t say who broke away first, nor if he was as breathless as she, but neither stepped back. Somehow his arms had closed across her back, and hers were pressed to his shoulders.
“You kissed me.” He sounded like he’d run a hundred miles through ice and snow, his voice thick and breathy.
“I’ll let you try and figure out what it means.” Suddenly aware her eyes and expression would likely give away her feelings, she ducked away. “Don’t you think it’s about time we got these logs to the house and finished the walls? Never know when it might rain. Rainy weather
is miserable when you’re living in a tent. Far better to be safe and dry in a real house.” She knew she rattled out words like some lonesome old woman, but she didn’t want to give him a chance to talk about the way she’d kissed him.
“Right. It’s time we got a house built.”
She wondered at the way he said it, as if they had suddenly become partners. Nor did she want to point out that partners normally trusted each other. She’d decided to help him complete his house, and that’s all that mattered.
Yes, she hoped if he stayed around, lived in the house, he might learn to trust people. Trust her. Enough to kiss her for all the right reasons—because he loved her wholly, completely.
They dragged the logs back to the house and notched them. Together they lifted each into place. She tried to think of nothing but the task at hand, but again and again she stole glances at him. What was going through his head? Several times she caught him watching her, and she jerked away. Then she wondered if he was still watching her.
She was glad when it was almost time to return to the stopping house. But when the sun reached the spot midway down the western sky, signaling her need to return, she said, “We can get one more log before I have to go.”
“You’re sure?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”
He gave a tight grin, but his eyes smiled more fully. As if he read more into her offer than she wanted him to.
She held his gaze unblinkingly, daring him to say anything. She told herself she only wanted to help complete the house as quickly as possible. In case it rained.
She wondered if she failed to convince him as completely as she failed to convince herself.
The task took longer than she’d anticipated. When they returned to the clearing, she had no choice but to hurry away before Joanna came looking for her. “I’ve got to get back.”
“See you tomorrow,” Trace said.
In her imagination his voice rang with a hundred promises of many tomorrows after tomorrow. She was building possibilities in her mind that were more fragile than the twig house.
