by Vivian Arend
She knew more about this kind of thing than he could imagine. “Only makes sense to use nicknames when there are a lot of you. From the sounds of it, though, there must be specific reasons those names came about.”
Trevor gestured toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let me get something cooking, and then if you’re still absolutely engrossed in this conversation, I’ll tell you all kinds of stories.”
She followed him into the small kitchen which was little more than a counter, a row of cabinets and sink, fridge and stove all tucked together as neat as could be into the small space.
Trevor opened the freezer and let out a happy hoot. “Hot dog. I mean, hamburgers.” He offered a smile. “How many you want?”
Forget being polite, she was hungry. Lunch had been a long time ago. “Two, please. Can I get anything else together?”
He pointed at the fridge as he worked to unwrap the burgers and buns. “Grab all the fixings and the potato salad. It won’t be fancy, but it’ll fill the gaps.”
He slipped out the front door with a plate in his hand, and she joined him a few minutes later, the scent of the burgers already making her mouth water. “Smells good.”
“Food always smells good after you’ve put in a hard day’s work.”
Which reminded her all over of her problem. “Thank you for helping today with Hope. I’m sorry, though, to have gotten you tangled up in my troubles.”
He eased a flipper under the edge of a burger to peek at the bottom before turning it over, the meat sizzling on the grill. “I told you I don’t mind helping however I can.”
She rested her elbows on the railing behind her as she looked him over and debated how much to say. “It’s a long story, but like I told you, I’m working on getting new ID. Until it arrives, I don’t know what to do. I mean, I don’t want to get Hope in trouble, but I really need a job.”
“Makes sense to me,” Trevor said. “You know how long it might take for things to come through?”
“No idea.”
He closed the lid on the grill and matched position opposite her, leaning against the wall of the trailer. He folded his arms, his long legs stretching in front of him. He’d taken off his light jacket when they’d gotten to the house, and he wore a simple T-shirt, his biceps fighting with the fabric. He was long and lean and a whole lot more muscular than—
“Let’s figure out how you can work and make some money without government approval, for the moment.”
His words distracted her away from dangerous territory. No—that wasn’t right. His words were edging into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to get you into trouble, either,” she insisted.
“Of course, you don’t, but we can find a solution without anybody getting into trouble.” He tilted his head slightly as he examined her more closely. “Two questions before we go any further.” His tone suddenly serious.
“If I can, I’ll answer them.”
“Are you on the run from the police? Like, my sister’s not going to take one look at you and announce you’re on an armed-and-dangerous poster somewhere in the RCMP office?”
She raised a hand in the air like she was swearing an oath. “I’m not in trouble with the police.”
“Good. Although I was hoping you were some kind of mafia overlord moving to Rocky to set up an underground trade in quilts. That would’ve offered a little excitement for the summer.”
“Quilts?” He was deliberately being silly, and a smile escaped. “If I get to choose, I’d like a nice quiet summer. What’s your second question?”
If anything his expression grew more serious. “Are you in danger?” He hurried on before she could take a breath to deny it. “And I’m not asking you to tell me secrets that will make things worse, and don’t tell me if I’m guessing right, but if you’re on the run from an abusive ex, or something, I hope you’d let me know. Or let Hope know. That way we can keep you safe. Safer.”
The longer Trevor spoke, the tighter her throat grew, and she was once again floored by exactly how miraculously good her luck had been right when she needed it most. “I’m okay. I’m pretty sure, but thank you for the offer. You have no idea what it means…”
And that was it. Her voice was choked off by the tears she refused to let fall. She would not weep—not when what she was being offered was good and kind, and everything she’d never dreamed possible.
Trevor’s eyes widened and he put down the flipper. “Oh, hey. I didn’t mean to go and make you cry.”
He looked absolutely horrified. Becky swallowed hard and forced a smile back to her lips. “Trust me, these are happy tears.”
“If you say so.”
And then he changed the topic, thank God, until the burgers were done and they were sitting in lawn chairs with plates balanced on their knees. He told her all about the family nicknames and the land around them, using his hands excitedly as he pointed in different directions toward landmarks.
The food went down well. Went down like she’d barely eaten anything in the past week, which was not too far from the truth. And Trevor seemed content to ramble without her contributing much. Everything he shared was interesting, but even more, his going on and on was a chance for her to get her bearings and not have to be careful about every word she said.
Mentally picturing the two of them gave her another moment of sheer, overwhelming wonderment. She and this handsome man sat together, sharing a meal without any obligation on either part other than to be a good neighbour.
She was suddenly very glad she’d taken a chance and accepted the help of strangers.
Trevor Logan Coleman was utterly smitten. His mystery woman turned out to have the appetite of a linebacker and more secrets than a crazy whodunit novel.
She’d eaten both the burgers he’d grilled for her, plus a huge serving of potato salad, and a bowl of ice cream served up Jesse Coleman style—three giant scoops.
Even as he enjoyed her company, he was very aware whatever was haunting her had its teeth in tight. She tensed at every loud noise in the background. Something as innocuous as the rumble of a truck rolling down the secondary highway nearby his trailer set her on high alert. But just like she’d been stubborn enough to get up on the roof in spite of her fears, after a second’s pause, she’d pull herself together and ask him the next question.
He’d felt uncomfortable talking about his family earlier, but it seemed getting to know everything about them made her relax. When she relaxed, this little smile would sneak out and send a thrill up his spine.
The more she smiled, the more he worked to make her do it again.
Yep. Absolutely and completely smitten.
Which was why once they had consumed an extraordinary amount of calories, Trevor was still not ready to call it a night. “Do you know if you’ve got any tools over at the rental? A shovel, or a hoe?”
“One of each,” she said, adjusting her jacket over her shoulders as she prepared to leave. “Why?”
“Wanted to know what to bring along to help with the garden.”
And…they were back to her staring evilly at him. “You don’t need to help me.”
“Of course I do,” he insisted. “It’s in the Just Being Neighbourly manual.”
A small noise escaped her, as if she was growling at him in annoyance. Sick bastard that he was, he liked that as much as one of her smiles.
She stood on the path leading to his truck and the road past her house. “If I refuse to let you help me, am I gonna wake up and find you’ve done it anyway?”
“Hell, no.”
“Really.” Totally deadpan voice. Amusing as all get out.
Trevor shook his head and drew an X over his heart. “Wouldn’t be me. It would be those pesky garden gnomes we’ve got in the area. Had a real infestation a few years back, and we’ve never been able to figure out how to get rid of them.”
Jackpot. Becky smiled, admittedly a kind of a twisted thing because her lips were pursed together as if she was trying not to laugh.
“Saskatoon muffins. I’d sell my soul for a batch.”
Becky shot out a hand, and he took it, her firm grip the first thing he noticed followed rapidly by vivid images of her using that grip on him.
Damn, he had it bad.
He pointed past her to the shed at the back of his property. “I’ve got a small tractor in there. How about I put some tools in the truck, and you drive it home? I’ll bring over the tractor, and we’ll see what kind of damage we can do to your weed patch.”
“What is it with you trying to give away your truck all the time?” she asked.
Trevor laughed. “You can drive the tractor if you’d like.” She held out her hand palm up. He shrugged before dropping the keys into her hand. “Talented woman.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“It’s a John Deere. Is there anything else to know?”
She adjusted her bag over her shoulder and marched away from him, completely focused on her destination. Trevor was focused on the swing of her hips.
Damn, again.
Smitten and very keen on getting to know the mysterious Becky Hall better in more ways than one.
He beat her to the rental by a few minutes. He’d waited in his yard until the tractor engine kicked over in case she had trouble with the old beast, but from the way she backed it out of the shed and through the narrow gate into the back forty, this wasn’t her first time behind the wheel.
“Nice job, Rodeo,” he said, joining her beside the tractor she’d left idling. He eyed the garden space before hiding a wince. Unfortunately, weed patch had been an optimistic term for the mess they faced. “I don’t think anyone’s tackled that for a long time.”
“That’s why the renters before me left. Once they couldn’t take care of the garden anymore, they figured it was time.”
The momentary drop of information threatened to distract him, but Trevor pushed it away for now. “How big do you like it?”
Shit, that came out dirtier than he’d intended. Thankfully, she was already stepping away to mark the perimeter without giving him grief.
“You want to drive, or you want me to?” he shouted after her.
“You go ahead. I’ll grab everything else I need from the shed and follow behind with a shovel.”
Which meant she’d be the one doing the hard physical labour, but it was too late now to go back without making it sound like he was trying to protect her.
Over an hour later he turned off the engine, climbing down to be greeted by the scent of fresh-turned spring dirt, an instant put him in a good mood scent. He grabbed a set of gloves from the tractor box and moved toward where Becky was working, a clean line of pristine topsoil behind her. A massive pile of weeds lay stacked along the edge of the garden.
He grabbed a second shovel and went to work beside her.
Becky startled, her eyes going wide before she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Wow. I didn’t even notice the tractor stopped.”
“It’s my catlike ways. Silent and mysterious.”
Her lips twitched as she stood, stretching her back before leaning her rake against a fence post. “You want a bowl of milk?”
It took him a second to get it. “Cold water?”
She tilted her head toward the house. “Come on. That’s enough for today. I really appreciate all your help, but the sun’s about to go behind the mountains. I think you’ve put in a long enough day.”
So had she. If it took him stopping to get her to stop, that was fine.
He joined her in the tiny back area where paving stones created a small patio, albeit frost heaved and uneven. There was barely enough space for the two ancient straight-backed chairs he pulled from under the eaves.
He didn’t ask to go into the house. That look in her eyes from earlier in the day when he’d asked if someone was stalking her—she hadn’t said yes, but she hadn’t said straight-out no, either. Trevor figured she probably wasn’t ready to let anyone into her safe zones.
So he sat in the rock-hard chair and gazed toward the west where the sun was shooting streaks of gold and red skyward as the fiery ball dipped below the ridgeline. They sat in silence and drank the glasses of ice-cold water she’d brought out.
It was peaceful and perfect, and it was crazy how happy he was to be sitting there with a virtual stranger.
He heard the horses before he saw them. Steve, his brother, and his fiancée turned off the road into Becky’s yard, dismounting and leading their rides closer.
Trevor offered a warning to Becky. “Remember that ugly guy in the pictures I pointed out? My oldest brother, Steve? That’s him now.”
She didn’t bolt, but he could tell she wanted to. “Did you miss curfew, or something?”
“Probably want to say hello.” Although how Steve had tracked him down, Trevor had no idea. He hadn’t said a word about where he was going. He rose to his feet and moved forward.
Becky still looked worried, and Trevor hurried to reassure her, motioning her to join him.
“Come on, he’s pretty safe. And Melody is cool enough to more than make up for any stupidity on my brother’s part.”
“I heard that,” Steve said, leaning his elbows on the other side of the wooden railing separating the garden space from the front yard, his horse’s reins dangling from his hands.
“I heard it too,” Melody smirked, bumping Steve with her hip. “I’ve always liked your brother. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”
Trevor gestured toward his family. “The Moonshine Colemans, or at least another small part. Guys, this is Becky.”
Becky stepped forward and offered a hand. “Nice to meet you.” She glanced around them to the horses. “Good-looking animals.”
Way to make a hit with Melody. His sister-in-law-to-be smiled harder. “They’re sound and even-tempered. I’m training them to drive, but it’s still nice to take them out solo every now and then.”
The woman at his side nodded. “Wagon, cart or carriage?” she asked.
Melody lit up. She waved a hand at Trevor and Steve. “You boys go play. I’m dying for a conversation about driving with somebody who doesn’t nod politely while their eyes glaze over.”
“I don’t know that much,” Becky insisted. She glanced at Trevor, concern in her eyes again.
“Remember, I told you Melody’s a vet. If you run out of carriage things to talk about, ask her what she’s been working on. If you don’t mind all the gory details.”
It was strangely difficult to step away to where Steve stood just out of earshot. There was no reason on earth why he had to worry about leaving Becky with Melody.
There was no reason on earth he should worry about her in the first place, but that ship had sailed.
Steve glanced between him and Becky. “Made a new friend?”
“Seems that way. What’s up?”
“Matt phoned. Sounds as if your new friend has had a difficult time of it.”
Not that he could fill in many details, the few he had might ease the tension that had rolled in faster than a Chinook wind. “I asked her if she’s in trouble and she insists she’s not. At least not with the police.”
Steve gave him a look. “Right, because every person who’s in trouble is going to up and tell you in the first thirty seconds of meeting you.”
Trevor thought about it for moment. “Actually, if a criminal was going to up and confess to anyone, it would be me. People like to tell me shit.”
His brother laughed softly. “You’re probably right. Bastard.”
He shared his biggest concern. “I do think she’s in some kind of mess, though. She didn’t tell me anybody’s coming after her, but there’s got to be a reason why she has no ID.”
Steve patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not as big of a concern as you think. Matt and I have a bit mor
e background, so we’re going to let her know what she can do to ease things along.”
What did they know that he didn’t? Trevor wanted to ask, no, demand his brother spill the beans right that instant, but with the girls standing nearby, and Becky still glancing over every few seconds, this wasn’t the time.
“If you’ve got something to tell her, do it,” Trevor suggested.
Steve held him back and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you’re thinking regarding the girl, but I need to tell you something, and I need you to not question me about it, okay?”
“Right.” Like that was ever going to happen.
“It’s great that you’re helping her out, but don’t—don’t get too close until we hear back from the landlord. There are reasons, good reasons, but we’ll leave it at that for now.”
For fuck’s sake. “Well, that was clear as mud.”
“I swear I’ll explain as soon as I can.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Steve sighed like only a long-suffering older brother could. “I’m serious. Don’t be an ass about this, and trust me.”
Trevor glared at him. “Don’t push me around.”
He wasn’t going to drag details out of Steve right now, because it was more important to let Becky know whatever news there was to share. But he would be having a conversation with his older brother soon, and if that meant that he had to beat the information out of him, so be it.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Trevor resisted the urge to shove Steve between the shoulder blades en route to rejoin Melody and Becky.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve said, sliding back beside Melody, “but I have a message to pass on.”
Becky’s body went rigid and she swallowed nervously. “Yes?”
Steve looked pointedly at Melody and Trevor.
Instead of backing down, Becky folded her arms, the expression on her face hardening to the stubborn one Trevor had already grown familiar with. “If it can’t be said in front of your fiancée, then I don’t want to hear it.”
Steve shrugged. “Your choice. It’s nothing bad, just wanted to let you know that Hope’s husband and I talked about your situation tonight, and he’s good with her hiring you at the shop.”
