They watched Seth back out and then pull off in a streak of bright white.
Zane turned to face Delphine. “Don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. And hungry.”
She nodded. “Won’t argue there. How about we go inside.” Delphine turned toward the woods. “Hey. Where’s your house?”
“Down a ways.” He pointed to the path rising up from the lake’s shore.
“A ways?” She complained on a sigh. “More hiking.”
“It’s not that far. And to prove it…” He plopped his hat on her head. “I’ll carry you.”
“Oh no.” She waggled a finger. “I don’t like—”
Before she could finish her protest, he picked her up by the waist and she squealed. “What are you doing?”
He deposited her on the short stump of a pylon. “Piggy-back.”
“Piggy-back? I’m not a kid.”
“It’s more fun as adults.” He took one of her arms, turned, and wrapped it in front of his chest while he backed into her. “Come on. The other arm, then hop up. I’m starving.”
“You have a serious hero complex, you know that?” Despite her complaints, she wrapped both arms around him and climbed onto his back until both her legs locked around his waist.
Pressed against him with her mouth near his ear, he wished the walk would be longer than the quarter mile to his front door. Better yet, he wished she faced him instead, but she’d never agree to that. He wiggled her into place, gripping behind her knees with his hands and enjoying the squirm of her body against his.
“Ready?” He squeezed her thighs, as much to explore the muscle beneath her jeans as to keep her steady.
“Yep.” Her lips grazed his ear and her breath snaked inside his head, waking fantasies better left asleep.
Zane took off at a trot, and she tightened her thighs around his ribs. “I like that,” he said, not thinking to keep his thoughts to himself.
“Like what?”
“The way you say yep and not yes,” he said, proud of his quick recovery.
“Don’t trip and fall.” Her lips teased his ear again.
“I won’t.” Surefooted, he could guarantee no tripping.
As far as falling, he might already be on his way down. If he didn’t stop his descent, the landing promised to hurt like hell.
»»•««
“Spectacular.” Her breath skittered across his ear and over his cheek. “It’s like your house grew up out of the woods.”
“That was the plan.” For many reasons, all of which drilled down to privacy. His career in Hell Runners meant constant scrutiny, the downside of the job. He needed a place to recoup a few times a year, where no one could find him.
“You can put me down. I told you ten minutes ago I could walk.”
“Slow your roll, Cutoffs. It took less than ten minutes to get here. Now close your eyes.”
“A little late for a surprise, isn’t it?”
“Just do it.”
Zane took the porch steps slowly, the weight on his back pleasant but growing heavy. He turned to face the lake and the mountains so she’d see the reason he’d built precisely in this spot. “Now open them.”
It surprised him when she didn’t say anything, as though she was frozen on his back. As an artist, he’d thought she’d have a greater appreciation for his overall design. “See. It’s all about the angle and a little height. I didn’t want to build right on the water in case of flood, but it’s also more dramatic, don’t you think? To come out of the woods into the clearing and—”
“Yeah.” She nodded against the side of his face. “I do think. Perfection. And all yours.”
“I’m willing to share.” He shrugged, but she’d already unhooked her legs and started sliding down his back, a slinking motion that made him wish he’d carried her full frontal.
Another man would have acted on impulse. Another man would have captured her by the waist and claimed her mouth in a kiss so seductive any and all resistance dissolved.
He’d played that part before. Been that man with plenty of live-in-the-moment girls. The satisfaction of him taking full charge completely mutual.
And brief.
Brief didn’t cut it anymore. Not for him. Not where it concerned Delphine.
She meandered to the edge of the porch and gawked, wrapping her hand around the nearest post. “That’s Quentin’s Lookout.” She pointed across the lake to the mountains jutting sword points into the blue. “I can’t see the lookout, but I recognize the shape of the mountain peak beside it.”
“Good eye.”
“Makes sense. From this spot you see there, and from there you see here.” She swung on the post to face him. “Simple logic.” Her eyes roamed to the picture windows across the front of his house and he turned to look too.
A few lights had been left on by his parents, and the interior could be seen too easily. He’d have to install some sort of shades.
“Don’t know what I like looking at better, though. Out or in. I’ve always dreamed of living in a home.” Her voice had turned wistful, taking him by surprise. “Rooms that belong to only me where I can make as much noise as I want or sit quiet without hearing neighbors. Or paint crazy colors on the walls and not lose my security deposit.”
The smile she sent him aroused him anew. Not the kind of arousal that filled out his shorts, but the kind kindled deep in his heart.
“Apartments have no personality. Does the porch wrap around?”
“Of course.”
She crossed in front of him, and he caught her by the elbow before she could disappear around the corner.
Their eyes locked, hers with a question he wanted to answer with a lip lock. Again, he fought his impulses.
He let go and jerked his head once toward the door. “We’ll do the nickel tour later. I need to eat. So do you.”
They also needed to talk. An evening sit on the porch after an early dinner would smooth the way to his hard confession. He pulled back the screen door to rest on his hip and inserted the key in the deadbolt on the huge Shaker-style mahogany door. He pushed and the door swung back, allowing interior light to spill out. Even with the quickest of glances, he noticed that his mom had staged the house besides stocking the fridge. Decorative toss pillows lined his leather couch, and a bouquet of wildflowers arranged in a Mason jar sat in the center of his raw-edged dining table. By the smell drifting across the room, coq au vin warmed in the oven.
His stomach groaned loud enough to be heard, and Delphine raised a hand to her lips, trying to cover a giggle.
“Sorry. But I when I say I’m hungry, I mean it.” Zane moved out of the way, holding the screen with one hand.
“I’ll remember that.” She entered and her intake of breath sounded nearly as loud as his complaining stomach. “Wow.” She circled while moving forward, and her eyes darted in all directions. On her second full turn, she slowed to face him for a moment. “And by wow, I mean—wow.”
“Yeah. It’s shaping up.” He closed the door to keep the cool air from the a/c inside and then stopped to take an appreciative look for himself. “Not as big as Mom and Dad’s place, but I wanted to keep it manageable, during the build and after. It took us a lot of trips in a lot of boats to get all the materials here.”
“You built this?” She meandered through the front living area, letting her fingertips graze over the back of the leather couch where a folded quilt in hues of blue had been draped. “Dumb question.” Her gaze cut to him, filled with mirth. “Of course you did.”
“Had a hand in the design too. With lots of help. Dad. George. Boone. Seth and his crew.”
“His crew?”
“Yeah. He runs a small construction business. His guys are carpenters and custom cabinet makers. They do fantastic work.” He pointed to the back of the house at the exposed kitchen. “I picked out the dark wood cabinets on the walls, but they designed and built the reclaimed wood cabinets for the center island. Used the same wood for the vaulted ceiling
too, then added old barn beams. Most of the wood we had at the ranch. Seth calls it modern rustic.”
“I was going to say manly.” Her gaze drifted back to the living room and the stacked stone fireplace where a rack of stark white antlers protruded over a thick barn-beam mantle. Almost as dramatic as the picture windows across the front of the house, a small fire simmered invitingly in the hearth. “Masculine. Like everything else in here. Guess that’s what Seth meant by another job.” Her voice had lowered, and her gaze suddenly disappeared inward.
No matter the topic of conversation, everything led back to Hell Runners. The light in her eyes dimmed, and he wished with all his heart they could shut out the world. Stay in his hideaway forever.
Rather than let her slip into contemplation, he beelined for the stove and flung open the door. “Hard to say how long dinner’s been on warm,” he said brightly and grabbed the bear claw-shaped oven mitts off the counter. He slipped on both, feeling silly for having purchased them. “We’d better eat before it dries out.”
“Smells heavenly.” She offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and then she ambled into the kitchen. “Chicken?”
He placed the roasting pan on the stove top and removed the lid. Steam flushed over his face, and the scent of a hearty broth seasoned with fresh herbs tantalized up his nose and over his tongue. His mouth watered without shame.
“Yep. Coq au vin. My favorite. There’s another casserole dish in the oven with foil on top. If I know my mom, that would be green beans with sundried tomatoes. And…” He dove his hand back into the oven and pulled out a cake pan filled with rolls. “Fresh bread.”
“In the short time I’ve been here, I feel like she’s trying to fatten me up.”
He grinned at her, purposely giving his dimples a thorough workout. “Probably. Everyone’s too thin according to Maria Gideon. Except for my dad.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’d say set the island, but I have no idea where anything is right now.”
“That’s okay. I’ll manage.”
She opened cupboards and soon located his dishes and then opened drawers looking for the flatware.
In the meantime, he checked out the fridge for cold waters and butter, his gaze periodically slanting her direction. Damn. He loved the graceful way she moved about his kitchen, easily finding what they’d need, as if she’d helped unpack. The city girl looked mighty comfortable stranded in Nowhere, Montana.
Once the places in front of the high stools had been set, he tossed cork trivets onto the marble counter and placed the roaster, the pan of rolls, and the casserole dish in front of where they’d eat. “We’ll keep it simple tonight. No extra dishes.”
“No extra dishes,” she agreed. “But I predict tonight won’t be simple.” She nodded at the waist-high metal rack by the refrigerator. “Mind opening one of those? I’ve got a lot of questions and need a little fortification.” She pointed at him. “I’ll know if you lie to me.”
“Get it through that layer of stubborn you wear. I won’t lie to you. Not ever.” He chose a bottle of his favorite pinot noir and nabbed the corkscrew from the top shelf of the wine rack.
“People always say that. And mean it. Until they don’t.”
“Put me to the test. Ask whatever you like.” Much as he didn’t want to delve into a difficult talk during dinner, the empathetic part of him understood her apprehension. Too often, he also accepted someone’s word at face value only to be smacked down later.
He wielded the corkscrew, popping the cork free, and then poured generous amounts into the two wine glasses she’d set on the island. Like hiking, you can’t truly enjoy wine without the proper gear.
She loaded their plates with food, her portions not a spoonful less than his. On the run for hours, he couldn’t blame Delphine for feeling ravenous. But instead of picking up her fork, she lifted her wine glass. A good inch of the pinot disappeared while he buttered a roll. She lowered her glass and swirled the wine around the belly of the glass. Stalling or in need of additional self-medicating?
He dipped half the roll in the broth, scooping up a chunk of fall-off-the-bone chicken into the center, and then popped the whole drippy, savory, mess into his mouth. So tender, he chewed very little before swallowing, the bite practically dissolving on his tongue.
“Better eat.” He picked up his fork. It was okay by him if she waited, but sustenance would do her good. “I’ve no shame when it comes to Mom’s cooking. I’ll clean both our plates.”
Her lips pressed into a sweet grin before lifting the glass to her lips once more.
Nope. Not eating. She was gearing up for the talk.
He shoveled in another mouthful. By the time he chased the swallow with some wine, she’d set down her glass.
“You could see me. During my meditation.” Her gaze cut to him, her big eyes alert and watchful. Probably gauging his reaction. She’d not see any deception.
Though surprised by her no-nonsense start, the talk promised to go much easier than anticipated. “Yeah. How’d you guess that?”
“When I regained consciousness, you referred to my spirit animals. In the plural. I hadn’t mentioned there was more than one, but you knew.” She tapped the marble counter with a finger. “And when I was under, I could see all of us from afar like some out of body experience crazy people swear they’ve had. I called to you, and you turned your head. Actual reflex. That’s not just meditation.” Instead of drinking more, she cut into the chicken and took a bite. Hungry more than angry. A good sign. For the moment. She chewed and swallowed and then swiveled in her chair to face him. “There was no way you could’ve seen behind you, even if you were really on the same spiritual plane. Explain it, Cowboy.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Me tell you?” Her jaw dropped and her delicate brows drew together. “Don’t turn professor on me like I’m some inattentive student.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re anything but inattentive. Come on. You know. Deep down, you know how I saw you. Say it.”
“You were there. You became the hawk. That’s why George calls you Blue-eyed Hawk, isn’t it?” Her words spewed out like an accusation, and he released his hold. “That’s the dream rake. To infiltrate the dream of another.”
“Infiltrate is a little harsh, but yes.”
“Time is short. The intention was always to jump right into the dream rake, wasn’t it?” Her glare possessed more questions than resentment. A good sign. Maybe.
“Yes and no. Yes, I hoped you might become open enough to allow me to try. Later in the day. After another discussion. No, I never expected you to take the lead.”
“I didn’t take the lead. I didn’t take anything.”
“Yes. You did. Subconsciously. Most spirit animals come as a simple vision the first time, not a full-on interactive session. Deep down, you accept the gift you consciously deny.” While he spoke, Zane held her gaze, let her see down to his soul if she wanted. “Your suppressed personality welcomed the opportunity to experience as much as possible before your conscious mind shut it down. You didn’t shut it down, though. Somehow, I sensed you wouldn’t. That’s why I warned you about the chance of a deeper vision in advance.”
Her brows knitted together and her soft mouth opened, but not a word escaped.
He watched as her protest morphed into surprised realization. Her mouth closed, and her hard glare turned into a soft, brown surrender.
“For the record, I didn’t intend to join you, but you called to me. Just like this supper does.” He ignored the green beans and speared more chicken with his fork. “Better than I could have hoped for.” He grinned and closed his lips around the most delicious coq au vin he’d had in a year. Chewing slowly, he savored the complex flavors of the wine-enriched meat.
“Hoped for? Do you mean me or the chicken?”
“Both.” Swiping the paper napkin from the side of his plate, he wiped his grin clean.
“Why hope? Why not mention the possibility during our little pre-meditation disclosure talk?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “You only gave me the worst possible scenario.”
“Because I didn’t want you to use me as a crutch or shut me out. You had to decide in the moment.”
“I didn’t decide anything.”
“Your heart consented. Honestly, I thought you might invite Seth since his chanting is conducive to the travel. Women like him, in meditation and out. But you called for me.”
“No request to enter my thoughts, just an assumption based on a feeling? You call that consent?”
“More than enough. You were scared and wanted support. When I said you weren’t alone, I meant it.” He took another bite while she ignored her own plate, and then he chased it down with a slug of wine. “For a minute I considered staying put. But I felt your panic. That’s when I got the idea of joining you in my spirit animal. Less intrusive.”
“You felt my panic?”
“Once connected, I get the whole package. One of my gifts is as an empath. Psychically linked, I feel what you feel, and I wasn’t going to abandon you. Panic is powerful. Panic can save your life or make your mind go blank. I watched over you without being obvious.”
She pursed her lips, and her gaze drifted to her left. Remembering something?
“Are you ready to talk about the message?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I need to process. And eat.”
Process. At least she wasn’t trying to swim back to the ranch.
Delphine speared a couple of green beans and cut them in half. Before lifting them to her mouth, she jabbed his shin with the bottom of her boot. “Thanks for not lying to me, Cowboy.”
He shot her a grin and wondered if she’d return the favor.
Or run.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emil Savard knocked on the cockpit door in an unrelenting rap, knowing he’d have to convince the pilot to open up before the burly flight attendant realized the bathroom toilet wasn’t clogged.
Dream Breakers, Oath Takers Page 20
