Every Last Look

by Christa Wick

  I saw the small curl of a smile but Quinn seemed intent on containing it. I knew from my days in the Army what a powerful interrogation tool silence could be. Apparently, Quinn knew it, too.

  “Mostly, I didn’t want to scare you away. It doesn’t seem to me like people have done much for you in life, Quinn. Not nearly as much as they should have. I figured having a stranger do more for you than most of your family had done might spook you.”

  She nodded then broke her silence.

  “It might have,” she agreed. “Initially, I might have thought there were…expectations.”

  Reaching the campsite, I stopped the truck and killed the engine before turning in my seat. Reaching across the cab, I stroked the side of her arm, the warmth of her skin reaching me despite the layer of fabric between us.

  “There aren’t,” I assured her. “I just hope you’ll give living here or in town a go instead of selling it off when it’s yours and heading back to L.A. or out east where you went to school.”

  She sniffled, head bobbing. “That’s what I want, too.”

  I let the answer settle, gave her time to bring her emotions back under control. I didn’t know what I would do if she lost it again like she had that first night outside the hangar. I had embraced her then. If I took her in my arms again, if I tried to plant a reassuring kiss on her forehead—well, I might miss and land on those soft, sweet lips.

  Clearing my throat, I unhooked my seatbelt but didn’t move to leave the vehicle.

  “One thing’s been nagging at me,” I admitted.

  Quinn nodded, her gaze narrowing slightly as she waited, the breath she had drawn in as I began speaking still trapped in her lungs.

  “That truck you’re renting. Not the most economical choice.”

  Relaxing back into her seat, she snorted, her head bobbing in agreement.

  “I felt it was necessary for the first few days, until I knew what kind of land I was up against. I was hoping I would be able to figure out how not to do with a vehicle at all or find a cheap one to buy.”

  “Good. I told you Sutton’s been flipping cars after doing a little tinkering with them to ensure they are safe. He’s not doing it for the money. I don’t think he spent a dime of what the Army paid him and he was in for almost ten years. He just makes sure he puts a little profit into the work to keep a lot of folks from asking him to fix things all the time. Especially boring repairs.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “Every time I glanced at him tonight, I could almost see the gears turning. He was even staring at his fork at one point like he could improve on a design that’s been in place three thousand years or more.”

  “I bet that was it exactly.”

  Our laughter joining, we got out of the truck and set up camp again.

  “In the meantime,” I said, stacking the logs next to the fire pit. “We can take the rental back into Billings tomorrow if you’re okay with that.”

  “I am.” She pulled out packets of hot chocolate and a pot to boil the water.

  A few hours later, I led her over to the trailer, planted another chaste goodnight kiss on the top of her head, and returned to my tent and sleeping bag by the fire.

  With the mini-camper’s dome light on, I saw the silhouette of her stripping her top shirt away, then her arms reaching behind her to unhook her bra. The last thing I saw before she pulled the little light’s cord was the release of her long, dark hair.

  Sighing, I shifted my gaze to the fire. Like my brother, I had jumped from planes in the middle of combat operations. But I knew, the time between being just a friend to Quinn and moving to the next level would constitute the longest days—and nights—of my life.

  11

  Quinn

  Leaving the campsite at a quarter past six in the morning, we made it to the rental office at the Billings airport with enough time to spare before another day was added to my bill. Handing over the keys and paperwork to the clerk, I felt a little naked. If Barrett wanted to stop halfway back to Jester’s, turn off the engine and tell me to walk to wherever the hell I wanted to go, I probably wouldn’t find a way to the campsite in time. And I wouldn’t have anyone to vouch for the fact I had reached it, either.

  If I confessed the fear to anyone, they would label me as paranoid as my stepfather Paul. But the person slapping the label on me would never have been dragged out of a parent's car at the age of twelve, told to make their own way home, and gotten lost until a cop found them the following evening.

  Meeting Barrett back at his truck, he seemed to read the doubt in my eyes.

  “Here,” he said, handing me the keys. “You can drive back.”

  I shook my head. “Not unless you need me to.”

  “As you command,” he teased. “Any stops before we head back to Willow Gap—well, in addition to breakfast?”

  “I would love it if we could stop someplace cheap like Walmart.”

  I had checked my balances while I waited for the clerk to finish the paperwork. The hold on my credit card from the rental company was quickly removed, and there had been a flurry of purchases on the book cover site. If I didn’t know it was pretty close to impossible, I would think Barrett had found out about my side business and made the purchases himself. But I could see it had been more than one purchaser, the usernames familiar to me.

  “Unless there’s someplace else I can get an even less expensive coat for the fall," I added. "And something other than tennis shoes to walk around up there.”

  “I know just the place,” he answered, shifting the truck into drive. “It’s right next to the best steak and eggs joint in Billings.”

  Smiling, I leaned back in my seat, stretched my arm out and pinched the edge of his flannel jacket. I had no problem being in the passenger seat and letting the man who kept coming through for me drive.

  Arriving back at Willow Gap, we stopped off at Sutton’s place. He was renting it from his brother Adler. The rooms were filled with projects and he had two cars in the double garage, leaving his truck parked in the drive.

  Sutton gave me my choice of borrowing either of the cars, but he needed to change the oil on one and the spark plugs on the other before he would hand over the keys. I picked the all-wheel drive, gave him a big “thank you” hug and agreed to pick it up the following day.

  “Hey,” Barrett said, corralling his brother. “You think you can run my guys through jump training the rest of the week? All the ground level classes. They have cert renewals coming up and you know all this as well as I do.”

  “This isn’t going to turn into something at the end of the week when you take another stab at convincing me I should come work for you, is it?”

  Barrett shrugged, his smile betraying an attempt at feigned indifference.

  “How about you do the training,” Sutton teased poking his brother in the chest as he threw a wink at me, “and I get to assist the beautiful newcomer in getting to know Willow Gap?”

  “Doesn’t work for me,” Barrett answered, no bite lurking behind his soft growl.

  “Fine,” Sutton sighed. “But I have dibs on the next beauty stranded in Willow Gap.”

  With his gaze locked on mine, Barrett smiled. “That’s a deal, little brother.”

  Pulling away from Sutton’s house a few minutes later, Barrett proposed a stop back at his place.

  “We can each get a shower. I’ve got a little work to catch up on. Maybe even sneak in a nap.”

  “Lazing around a house sounds wonderful,” I agreed. “I need to call Sage and see if I can meet with her about work after I have the car tomorrow.”

  “Oh, and help me remember to bring my fishing gear,” he added in. “I thought I’d catch our dinner—but we should also pack some sandwiches just in case.”

  Chuckling, I reached across and grabbed a little more of Barrett’s jacket than I had dared before. It felt so natural being around him. Natural and safe. A smaller woman might be intimidated by Barrett’s size, but he made me feel both petite and prote
cted.

  My mouth puckered for a second and I gave his jacket a little tug.

  “Are the fish safe to eat after the forest fire?”

  “We’ll be fishing the pond and I always check before I cook,” he answered. “Plus it’s really only a problem when the state drops ammonium phosphate on the fire. That wasn’t authorized for this fire.”

  “Good,” I said, yawning as a full body stretch took control of my muscles. “I’ve never been fishing before.”

  Reaching the house, I immediately fell asleep in one of his big, comfy chairs. When I woke, it was in his bed, my clothes on except for my shoes, a throw blanket covering me. A look at the clock told me I had been out more than two hours.

  For a few seconds, I sat there silent and stunned. The man had carried me from the chair to the bed, the route neither short nor a straight line. I wished I had been awake to experience the event—although I knew I wouldn’t have allowed him to pick me up out of fear I was far too heavy. Except, for a man like Barrett, I wasn’t some oversized load. I knew that now.

  I knew it, and the knowledge made me grin from ear to ear.

  “Now I’ve stolen your bed,” I said, leaving the room and finding him in his office, freshly showered and filling in a team training schedule for the rest of the week.

  He looked up from his work, smiling, his green eyes sucking me in deep. A warm flush crawled through my guts and across the flesh of my thighs and chest. I wanted to sashay over to his chair, straddle him and lock my hands behind his thick neck. Even if all we did was kiss and gaze into each other’s eyes, I knew it would be pure bliss.

  “Who says I didn’t take a nap next to you?” he teased.

  “And I miraculously moved to the center of the bed after you left without disturbing anything?”

  “Observant,” he mumbled. “You were out like a log, Quinn. You feeling okay?”

  Worry flickered across his face, the concern heating my body with a different kind of flush. Barrett was so considerate, so focused on me, I would be devastated if he turned out to be like every other guy I had met or, worse, like the people I was supposed to think of as family.

  “The wind was howling a lot last night,” I answered after a few seconds. “Eventually, my sleeping brain will learn to ignore the sounds nature makes at night. But every time the wind whistled or rushed or anything else, I thought it might be an animal prowling about.”

  Shutting down his computer, Barrett unfolded his long frame from his chair. Coming face to face with me, he cupped my elbows.

  “I can’t promise they are all gone for any amount of time, but predators and prey usually quit the burn zone for at least a few weeks. They go where the food is. But keeping predators away is one of the reasons why we bag up the trash, put the extra food back in the cooler and things like that.”

  His thumbs caressed along the sides of my arms. “But you’re right. It’ll take time for you to develop a filter that will help you sleep through the night. After that, you'll be getting some of the best sleep of your life, believe me.”

  Turning me around, Barrett pointed me in the direction of his office door. His chest pressed against my back as he tilted his head down, his lips close to my ear as he softly spoke.

  “You’ve got time for a shower while I grab the fishing gear and load the truck. I left a sandwich wrapped for you in the refrigerator for the drive. You were so sound asleep I didn’t want to wake you—wasn’t sure if I could.”

  Fingers trailing upward to the back of my shoulders, he gave a gentle forward push, propelling me from the room.

  Once in the bathroom, I stripped. The towel he had used was on the rack. I bunched and pulled the fabric close, breathing in deeply. My backside brushed against a heavy robe hanging on the door. I brought that fabric close, too, and inhaled.

  I slipped the robe on, the bottom hem reaching all the way down to my ankles. Grinning, I pushed the sleeves up, my hands buried in their long depths. I took another sniff, Barrett’s scent an intoxicant.

  He’s moving closer, I thought, my mind replaying the scene in his office and how he had carried me while I was asleep into his bedroom.

  Had he stroked my arm or cheek after covering me with the blanket? Had he wanted to run his hands elsewhere?

  Hold on, Wool-for-Brains, I cautioned. You’ll need a cold shower if you don’t immediately shut down that train of thought.

  Try as I might, the question followed me into the shower. When I ran the washcloth down my arms, I pictured Barrett’s hand holding the cloth. When I stepped out and wrapped the towel around my dripping body, it was his embrace I felt.

  “All clean,” I announced as I shut off the bathroom light and stepped into his living room. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “I’ve got it all taken care of.”

  “You sure you don’t need a nap before we go?”

  His eyes were a little droopy, I thought, and he seemed to have melted into the chair.

  Barrett shook his head. “Not if you drive. Consider it a navigation test.”

  “If I pass?”

  “You get a delicious fish dinner cooked by me fresh from the stream.”

  I pictured him wearing his Mr. Good Looking apron and nothing else.

  “Deal,” I grinned, snatching up the keys.

  “Is that smoke?” I asked, heart pounding like a jackhammer and my throat muscles contracting to choke off my air. Reaching across the truck’s cab, I jostled Barrett awake.

  “Smoke,” I said, pointing through the trees. I hadn’t seen the hazy column of white when I pulled off the county road and onto the dirt one. But coming to a break in the trees, I could see it plain as day.

  “Stop,” Barrett ordered.

  Already crawling along, I stopped the truck within a few feet of his command.

  He slipped off his seatbelt and stepped outside the truck. Hunching down, I studied his face through the window as he sniffed the air.

  I expected to see relief or a shimmer of worry, but he scowled.

  “Switch sides,” he said, his tone almost military.

  Leaving the keys in the ignition, I climbed over to the passenger side as Barrett reached into the back of the cab.

  Hearing the rack of a shotgun, I twisted around to see Barrett inspecting the weapon. Apparently satisfied it was lethal enough, he reached toward the floorboard. I heard a couple of electronic beeps and then he was sliding a handgun down the back of his jeans.

  “Someone’s cooking over a campfire up there. Smells like they caught our fish.”

  I stuck my head out and sniffed. The only scents I detected were those of the man standing next to me and a lot of spruce and pine.

  “Trespassers?” I whispered.

  “Hope not,” he answered. “But we’ll assume they are until we know better.”

  Getting behind the wheel, Barrett angled the shotgun across his lap, the business end pointed out the window.

  He drove slowly, ear cocked.

  I mimicked his behavior.

  “Men, laughing,” I said, my muscles drawing tight.

  “What the…” Barrett trailed off as we emerged from the trees to see seven heavy-duty pickups parked around the mountaintop. Some of the vehicles had their tailgates down, blue tarps covering misshapen masses in the truck beds.

  Spotting us, one of the men lifted his hand and waved.

  “That,” Barrett chuckled, “is Will Copely, the ranch foreman at Mama’s.”

  His head bounced around, looking at the dozen-plus men loosely scattered next to the vehicles and fire pit.

  “Yep, they’re all from the ranch.”

  “The cabin’s gone,” I noted, my voice still tight. “I mean, all the burnt wood.”

  “Probably what’s beneath the tarps.” He put the truck in park and killed the engine then opened his door and eased out. Pointing the shotgun at the ground, he ejected the rounds.

  “Sure am glad I didn’t have to use this on anybody,” he muttered with a gla
nce at Will. “Thought I might have to.”

  Putting his hands together like he was praying, Will took a deep bow.

  “All I know is Dotty got it in her head that there wasn’t enough make-work around the ranch for us to earn our salaries this time of year.”

  The man’s cheeks turned a little red and then he chuckled. “She might have come by the stables and caught us playing poker.”

  “What’s this?” I asked. I had drifted past the men to where the ruins of Jester’s cabin were supposed to be. Not only was all the burnt wood torn up and moved, but the ground was level and two-by-fours had been put in to form the outline of a simple house.

  “The perimeter of your future home, ma’am,” Copely answered with a tilt of his cowboy hat. Coming to stand by me, he thrust his hand out. “I’m Will.”

  After a glance at Barrett, I shook Copely’s hand. “Quinn.”

  I pointed at the proposed footprint. It was twice as large as what Jester had built up over the years.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, like I said,” Copely explained. “Miss Dotty gave us some work orders. And you can expect more of this. I heard her calling some of her church ladies, ones that go all the way back to grammar school with her and Jester. They can’t swing hammers, but they got kids and grandkids who can. And believe me when I say those ladies know how to chew an ear until they get what they want.”

  Barrett came to stand alongside me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. Relieved by his presence around so many unfamiliar faces, all of them male, I leaned into him.

  “There’s usually a lot of helping hands rebuilding after a fire,” Barrett said. “And if you don’t start building now, you won’t be able to until next spring.”

  He led me from one end of the footprint to the other, eyeballing it with approval as we walked together.

  “Will has it laid out just right for expanding later on.”

  Later on wasn’t the problem, I thought. Right then was.

  “If…if something happens,” I started. “Something…out of my control and I don’t make the ninety days…”