“Did you know your grandpa’s childhood home is on my property?”
She met his eyes. Her grandpa had told countless stories about growing up in a cabin, but she’d thought it long gone. “It’s not still standing . . . ?”
“It is. Road’s kinda rough getting back to it, but my truck can handle it. My grandpa bought up the property way back and used the cabin as a bunk for his cowhands. But the creek floods over the road leading back there, so he stopped using it.”
She weighed the exciting proposition of seeing her grandpa’s home with the daunting one of extra time with Dylan.
“Whaddaya say? We have enough daylight if we go there first.”
She remembered the tales her grandfather had told her. About falling into the creek when he was just a wee thing, about jumping off the roof on a dare from his big brother and breaking his ankle. And he’d told her about the view from his mama’s kitchen window.
“I’d love to see it.”
“I’ll grab a shower and we’ll be on our way then.”
He was out of the barn before the second thoughts could swarm over her like bees over a honeycomb. She was going with Dylan to some remote cabin in the woods? What was she thinking? What would John think?
Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s Grandpa’s cabin. She was being ridiculous. It was daylight, after all, and it wasn’t a date. Just a . . . field trip, like he’d said.
She pulled her focus back to Braveheart and worked with him until she heard Dylan enter the barn.
“Ready?” he asked.
She gave Braveheart a final pat. “Hang in there, baby. I’ll be back soon.”
“How far is it?” she asked as Dylan opened the truck door for her.
“Fifteen minutes or so.” He rounded the vehicle, tossing his keys in the air and catching them easily. His spread was larger than she’d figured if they could drive fifteen minutes and still be on his property.
She took a deep breath and realized his truck smelled just like him. Leather and musk. He got in, started the truck, and a countryand-western tune filled the cab.
“Chilly?” he asked.
The sun had sunk behind the mountains, and clouds had rolled in across the sky. “A bit.”
He flipped on the heat and turned down the drive. She didn’t like being in tight quarters where she could smell him and feel his body heat. He tapped his fingers to the country jig and hummed along.
She wished she’d brought her letters so they could make good use of their time. But she hadn’t, so she might as well settle back and enjoy the scenery. From the corner of her eye she watched his square fingers thump the steering wheel, then curl around the wheel as he turned onto a rutted drive. His sleeves were folded up, exposing thick forearms with a sprinkling of black hair.
The mountain scenery, Annie. For heaven’s sake.
“Tell me about yourself, Annie. All this time together, and I don’t even know what you do in your spare time.”
She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the green hills dotted with cattle. “Ride my horse, Pepper, mostly. Read, when I get the chance.”
“What do you read?”
She sure wasn’t telling him she was a Jane Austen junkie. Didn’t want him thinking she had grand illusions of romance.
“This and that.”
“That’s my favorite genre too.”
She rolled her eyes.
“How’s your nephew? Getting good with that lasso?”
“He’s becoming quite the cowboy.”
“How come I get the feeling you don’t approve?” The smile in his voice was audible.
“Because I don’t.”
“Come on, now. We’re not so bad, are we?”
She humphed.
“Saw your sister flitting around tables at the Tin Roof Monday, chatting up the customers, doing a fine job.”
The anxiety she’d felt earlier snaked back up into her throat. “She quit today.”
She felt his perusal for several seconds before he turned his attention back to the rutted lane. “Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “We had words before I came to your place. She took off with Ryder in a huff.”
“She’ll be back. Any idea why she quit?”
“I’m sure she got tired or bored or something. It’s always the same with Sierra. I couldn’t count on both hands all the jobs she’s had, and with a track record like that, no one will touch her. I don’t mean to talk bad about her. She’s really a sweet girl, and I love her to bits, but . . . she can be a handful.”
She was surprised to find her tongue so loose. He was easy to talk to when he wasn’t being all Dylan.
“Maybe I can put in a good word somewhere.”
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want you ruining your good word. Besides, I think she’s asked around about everywhere. I just hope her car holds out. It’s making a funny noise, she said, but we can’t afford to get it checked right now.”
“Maybe I can help. I’m a mechanic of sorts. Have her bring it over and I’ll take a look.”
She looked at him, catching his profile. Masculine square jaw, neatly clipped sideburns. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
He turned a smile on her. “Anything for a pretty lady.”
She didn’t want to know if he was talking about her or Sierra. They crossed a low wooden bridge. Moose Creek was barely a trickle, the water having evaporated under the July sun.
The lane became more rutted and he slowed down, dodging potholes.
“You weren’t kidding.” She reached for the door to steady herself.
“This area’s been flooded so many times, and like I said, no one comes back here anymore.”
Her shoulder thumped into the door. “I see why.”
“Used to ride over here when I visited my grandpa.” He tipped a smile her way, waggling his eyebrows. “Made a great rendezvous spot with the girls.”
Brother. “I’ll just bet it did.” Her grandpa wouldn’t have appreciated his use of the place.
They bounced and bumped their way down the lane. The hills leveled and the pine trees grew thicker. The lane became covered with a bed of pine needles.
Awhile later she spotted the cabin nestled in a grove of tall pines. “There it is.”
Weeds and overgrown bushes virtually engulfed the front of the one-story cabin. As they drew closer she made out weathered logs separated by lines of chinking. The tiny porch featured broken handrails, and a stone chimney rose from the wooden-shingled roof.
“My grandpa jumped off that roof when he was a boy.”
Dylan put the truck in park and shut off the engine. “Oh yeah?”
“Broke his ankle.” She got out of the cab. “His brother had to do his chores the rest of the summer for daring him.” She took a deep breath of the pine-scented air.
“Sounds like you’ve heard a tale or two.”
She couldn’t prevent the smile as she approached the steps.
“Careful of the rotting wood,” he said.
On the porch she tried the rusty handle and the door squeaked open. Inside it was dim. Dust motes danced in front of the cabin’s tiny windows. Something scurried away in the dark corner, making her jump.
“I’ll get a flashlight,” Dylan said, and then she was alone. The air in the one-room cabin smelled stale and musty, as if it hadn’t been energized by human presence in years. A stone fireplace dominated one wall. The mantel, no more than a rough-hewn beam, slanted across the empty grate like a cocked eyebrow.
Opposite it, a tiny loft nestled near the beamed ceiling, marking the place where her grandpa and great-uncle had slept. The room below was empty from what she could see, save for something that appeared to be a small bed.
She made her way into the kitchen, bumping into an old chair. The window over the sink beckoned. She braced her hands on the cast-iron sink ledge and looked out past the cobwebs and dirty windowpane. Beyond the pine boughs, the Gallatin Range stood in silhouette aga
inst the pink evening sky.
She heard the front door squeak open, then Dylan’s footsteps as he crossed the wood-plank floor. The flashlight shed a golden glow over the room when he entered.
“Sorry. Forgot how little light these windows let in.” His voice seemed deeper in the quiet of the cabin. “Great view,” he said, coming nearer.
“My great-grandpa built the house at just the right angle so his wife could see the mountains she loved.”
She looked around the room as Dylan shone the light. An old rug hugged the wood floor near the chair she’d bumped. Chunks of chinking were missing, and daylight seeped through the slits.
“I wish these walls could talk,” she said. “Imagine the stories. . .” She walked back to the main area and peered up at the loft before stepping onto the ladder.
“Careful, it’s old.” Dylan grabbed her waist. He probably had ulterior motives, but she was too distracted to put up a fuss. She reached the top and peered into the dark loft.
“Here.” Dylan handed her the flashlight, taking hold of the rickety ladder. “Not sure how sturdy the loft is.”
She shone the light around the space, disappointed to find it empty except for some debris in the corner. She stepped back down, turning into Dylan’s arms at the bottom. Her heart bucked in her chest and gooseflesh raced down her arms.
“Excuse me.” It was an effort to keep her voice steady.
He pulled his hands away, letting her by. She approached the big fireplace, shining the light on the old stones.
“They were probably pulled from the creek.”
He was probably right. “Chopping firewood was my grandpa’s chore. He hated it. He had a fireplace at his house and I was always asking him to light it, but he rarely did. Just turned up the thermostat and covered me with an extra blanket.”
“Can you imagine how much firewood they must’ve gone through on a winter’s day?”
“Even in the summer they must’ve needed it at night.”
“I’ll bet he never wanted to see another chunk of firewood again.”
She smiled. “Probably not.”
She shone the light around the room, then checked her watch. She wondered if Sierra and Ryder had returned home. She’d probably stay out till all hours just to prove she could.
Still, it was getting late and they still had to work on the column. “We’d best get back.” She handed him the light and started for the door. On the porch she navigated the steps carefully. Darkness was falling fast and the clouds obscured the moon and stars.
“Thanks for bringing me here.” She skirted Dylan as he held the passenger door.
“My pleasure.” He smiled and touched the brim of his hat in a way that made something flutter in her stomach.
She buckled her seat belt as he rounded the front, taking one last look at the cabin. She’d like to bring Sierra here sometime.
Dylan got in, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. A clicking sound followed. And then . . . nothing.
Dear Regretful,
The hardest words in the English language are “I’m sorry,” but it sounds as if you’d better call upon them soon.
17
Annie watched as Dylan turned the key. Nothing. His brows pulled together as he turned it again and came up empty.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not sure.” He reached behind the seat and retrieved the flashlight, then pulled the hood release. “Hang tight,” he said as he got out. A moment later the hood went up, blocking her view.
She looked out the passenger window at the growing darkness. Only the skies where the sun had set were lit, and that light was quickly fading.
She heard Dylan tinkering around with the engine. They were awfully far from civilization. Relax, Annie. He’s good with cars, he said so himself. He’d be able to fix whatever it was. And if he couldn’t, they could call for help.
She could call Sierra or Shay or John. She looked around at the deserted cabin, then at Dylan’s hands reaching into the engine cavity. No, not John.
The lid fell closed with a quiet thump and Dylan returned. Awesome. He must’ve fixed it.
But when he got into the cab he wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t even reach for the keys.
“What’s wrong?”
He gripped the bottom of the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. “A belt snapped.” He was ominously still.
“Okay. Well . . . I’ll call my sister—she may be mad, but she won’t leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere.” Her laugh sounded nervous even to her.
She pulled out her phone, dialed, and put it to her ear. When nothing happened, she checked the screen.
Oh. She should’ve figured, way out here. “No signal.” She turned to him. “Try yours.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Left it in my bathroom.”
Dread sank like a lead weight to the bottom of her stomach. “You don’t have it?”
He tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Nope.”
She couldn’t stay out here all alone with Dylan. At the very thought, dread sucked the moisture from her mouth, the air from her lungs. “Well . . . maybe you can fix the belt.”
“Nope.”
“Let’s walk then. It’s not that chilly and we have a little daylight left.” Very little.
“There are mountain lions and rattlers out there, Annie.”
He was right. Their options were evaporating like a mud puddle in August.
She looked out the passenger window, her insides roiling like a tornado. She couldn’t stay. Sierra would worry if she didn’t come home. And John—what would he think? Heavens, what would everyone think if word got around?
But she was getting ahead of herself. Sierra would probably fall asleep and never notice she hadn’t come home. Annie was the one who waited up.
“We’d best head inside,” he said. “I have a lighter in the back. I’ll start a fire.”
That’s what she was afraid of. She remembered the small, dark space. The tiny cot in the corner. Panic wedged its way into her chest. “Wait. There has to be another option.”
If only they’d taken her truck. If only he hadn’t asked her to come out here to begin with.
But he had asked her . . . and right at dusk . . .
And now the truck conveniently wouldn’t start. A belt suddenly “snapped.” How did that happen anyway?
She remembered that he’d returned to the truck for the flashlight—or had he? Maybe he’d set this whole thing up. Figured this was his chance to get her alone. It would be just like him to manipulate the situation to suit his whim. Never mind the trouble it would cause.
She peered at him across the darkening cab, the new suspicion sinking in and gaining validity with each passing moment. Hadn’t he said he used to bring girls out here? He’d probably used the broken-down vehicle ploy more than once. He was a regular pro. All it took was a pair of scissors and the cost of a new belt—a cheap fix. And she’d worried that Sierra was gullible!
“What?” He stared back at her, all innocence.
Innocent, my fanny. “Is this how you got all the other girls up here?”
“What?”
“I’m not all those other girls, Dylan. I don’t want to be here with you. I have a boyfriend. This isn’t a three-minute dance you can bribe me into so you can worm your way into my—my affections, or whatever you had planned. This is a whole night, alone, with people worrying where we are, and I have my reputation to think about, you know!”
He turned his upper body toward her. “You think I planned this?”
“Like you’d never do such a thing. I’m not as naïve as you think, and I am not staying here with you all night!” She reached for the handle, opening the door. “I’m walking!”
He grabbed her arm. “Don’t be ridiculous! It’ll be pitch black by the time you reach the creek.”
“I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back.”
“You perf
ectly capable of fending off wildlife too?”
She wrested her arm from him, glaring at the unwelcome reminder. Both the animals he’d mentioned hunted at night. The thought of stepping on a rattler was enough to stop her, one leg out the door.
“Contrary to your opinion, Annie, I’m not the dog you think I am. I never coerced any woman into coming with me here or anywhere else. Yeah, I like to flirt and have a little fun, so what? Despite rumors to the contrary, I don’t sleep around with the ladies—willing or not. I’m a Christian man; that means something to me.”
She looked out her open door, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Her breath came fast, keeping pace with her heart. Maybe he was telling the truth.
The darkened cabin drew her eyes, and she imagined nine hours alone with him. She’d barely made it through a three-minute dance. Hadn’t actually made it through the whole thing because of what he’d said. And what rankled was, he was right about the chemistry. That’s why being trapped here scared the living daylights out of her. Why a hard knot of fear balled in her chest even now. The thought of rattlers was growing more tolerable by the minute.
A drop of rain splashed on the windshield. Then another. Seconds later, a steady patter began.
“Perfect,” she said.
Dylan grabbed the flashlight and opened his door.
“Where you going?”
“To gather firewood.” He got out, slamming the door behind him.
She didn’t like how easily he was accepting this. Surely there must be something else they could do. She saw the keys dangling from the ignition and reached toward them. She wrapped her fingers around them and paused.
Please, God. I know I got myself into this, but please, just let this thing start, and I won’t ever go anywhere with him again.
She closed her eyes and turned the key.
Nothing.
She let go and settled back in the seat, releasing a deep breath. Well, there had to be some way to fix this belt. Couldn’t he duct tape it or something? She got out and found Dylan at the edge of the pine grove, gathering wood.
“Don’t you have some tools or something? Maybe you can find a way to rig something up, just enough to get us back.”
“What do you want me to do, Annie, fashion a belt out of branches and pine needles? I’m a mechanic, not a magician.”
Big Sky Romance Collection Page 57
