Storming the Castle (Dale Series)
Page 3
He filled a mug and took it outside. The heat hit him like punch to the face. He debated turning right back around and staying in the air conditioning, but he decided to tough it out for a minute.
He needed to get working again. In the last eighteen months it felt like his brain had been on hold. He hadn’t made any decisions or done anything more intellectually challenging than decide where to go out after the show.
No wonder he couldn’t think of any music, he had nothing to pull from. His songs always came from his emotions and life experiences. Lately, he hadn’t had either. He felt like a gerbil on a wheel, running like crazy and getting nowhere.
Which brought him back to why he was sitting in the godforsaken heat in the middle of the woods. He needed to clear the fog from his head and start writing again, or everything he’d worked for since he was seventeen would go down the toilet.
Songs had danced in his head his entire life. Once his pickled brain dried out, the music would come back. It had to. It was the one constant he’d had in his vagabond life.
He got up off the front steps and went back into the air conditioning. He was sweating his ass off, and it wasn’t all from the Georgia heat.
After a breakfast of badly scrambled eggs and burned bacon, he showered and put on a pair of cut-off sweats, a T-shirt, and running shoes. He needed to get back into shape. He’d never been a jock, but his father had had him running and doing push-ups and sit-ups like any other raw recruit his entire life.
Bracing himself for the heat, he left the cabin and headed toward the main house. Maybe Goldilocks could recommend a jogging trail.
As he broke through the trees to the parking area, he saw her on the porch, fumbling with the door and holding a crap load of Walmart bags.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t think we’d be gone that long,” she was saying to the closed door.
When she finally got the door open, the dog/bear charged out of the house and ran to the edge of the yard.
“Do you always apologize to your dog?” he asked, moving close enough to see the pink in her cheeks and tiny sweat curls around her face. Her gaze flew up to meet his, and the impact hit him like a jolt of electricity. Something in those blue eyes of hers drew him, and he had no idea why. He looked away, but breaking eye contact didn’t help calm him down.
She was wearing another pair of jean shorts and a tank top that did very little to hide her generous curves. If this was L.A. or Miami Beach, he’d think she dressed that way for attention, but he had a feeling the shorts and tank were just part of her usual wardrobe. Which meant he’d be seeing her like that every day.
Shit.
“I do when I leave her alone all day. Can I help you, Mr. Castleton?”
He’d been so distracted by her body, he’d forgotten what he’d asked her. Oh yeah, why she was apologizing to a dog. He needed to get his head out of his pants. “I was looking for a hiking trail I could run on.”
“Oh, sure. There are three well-marked trails for nature hikes, but they might be a little challenging for running.”
“Challenging is good.”
“Okay then. The green trail starts right over there.” She waved her hand toward the arrow pointing to the Green Cottage. “It’s three miles and loops around. The blue trail is around five miles, and it starts in the same place but snakes its way up the hill a bit before coming back behind your cottage. The red trail is around ten miles and goes up to the forestry service station and back. It’s great if you’re looking for birds, but I wouldn’t recommend running on it.”
“Thanks.” He turned, heading for the green trail. Three miles was a good starting-off point considering he hadn’t run more than the width of a stage in years.
“Mr. Castleton,” she called out, stopping him.
“Yeah?”
“I got the money today. Thank you.”
“Just keep people away from me and we’re even.”
“I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, don’t you worry.”
“Great.” He jogged toward the sign that pointed to the trail, cutting off any further conversation.
Part of him knew he was being an ass, but he needed to get away from her before he did something stupid, like see if her skin was as soft as it looked. The visceral reaction from just that brief conversation was not normal, and definitely not wanted. He was all churned up and antsy, and he hadn’t come closer than five feet to her.
Just run, asshole. Put all that energy to good use.
As soon as he started running, his feet fell into a rhythm that had been drilled into his muscle memory from the time he was seven. Twelve years later, he realized his father was just doing what he knew how to do. Sam’s mother had died when he was four, leaving his father a single parent with no clue what to do to help a grieving preschooler. Add in the constant moving and school changes, and it was by the grace of God Sam had just turned into an angry bastard instead of a serial killer.
Two things had saved him, and he actually had his father to thank for both of them. The first was a retired music teacher who’d taken care of him after school when they were stationed in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. She’d taken a lost, angry seven-year-old and taught him how to play piano. She’d also made sure his father didn’t stop the lessons when they were assigned to another base.
The second thing that saved him from becoming a raging maniac had been the boxing lessons his father had insisted on as a condition for continuing music lessons when they’d moved to Fort Jackson. At first, Sam had used the sessions in the ring as a way to get out all his aggression. He’d flailed away at the heavy bag, the trainer, and whatever sparring partner he had. And he’d lost. Badly and often.
After a while, he’d figured out it wasn’t just raw power, but training and footwork. He never got great at boxing, but he was able to hold his own in a fight. Good thing, too, considering how many he got into in middle school and high school. Guys who played piano weren’t exactly thick on the ground in the vocational high school he went to in Columbia, South Carolina.
Sweat soaked through his shirt and dripped down his face. Bugs darted in front of him, but he didn’t have the energy to swat at them. The only thing he could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. He’d keep going, even if it killed him.
The green cottage came into view, and he almost wept in relief. Damn, he hoped Goldilocks wasn’t still outside, because he had to cross the parking lot to get back to his cottage, and he really didn’t want anyone seeing him gasping for air and stumbling on legs that felt like wet noodles. Luckily, the coast was clear, and he made it back “home” with no one the wiser.
With the last of his energy, he climbed the steps and stumbled into the blessedly cool air of the cottage. He guzzled a Gatorade and used the dishtowel to wipe the sweat off his face and neck.
His heart was racing and his legs were rubbery, and he’d only done three miles. Three fucking miles. He’d been doing five miles before he went to school by the time he was ten. In boots, no less. He had a long way to go to get back into shape, but for the first time in forever, he felt good.
Chapter Four
Faith smiled as she opened the door to the General Store and saw Piper and Emily sitting behind the counter eating donuts as big as their faces. It was probably the only way Mary Ellen could keep them quiet while she was on the phone.
“Hey, Momma, Faith is here to pick up the girls, I’ve got to go. Uh-huh, yup, yup, I love you, too. See you Sunday.” Mary Ellen put down the phone. “Okay, you two, get your things together so you don’t keep Miss Faith waiting.” She shooed the girls out from behind the counter and came around to where Faith stood by the magazine display.
Piper ran over to Faith and gave her a sticky hug. “Momma, we stayed up late and watched movies and ate popcorn and ice cream, and we got to have donuts for breakfast. I got to use the cash register, too.” Piper was talking so fast it sounded like the legal disclaimer at the end of a commercial. “Miss Mary Ellen said
we can have another sleepover before school starts to end the summer right. Can Emily can sleep over our house before then, though? Can she?”
“Slow down, baby. We’ll see about Emily sleeping over after you come back from Grandma and Grandpap’s.”
Her face fell with disappointment, but in typical Piper fashion, she was over it as soon as Emily called to her from the back room.
“I wish I could bottle all that energy up and sell it. I’d be a millionaire,” Mary Ellen said.
“I’d be your first customer. How’d it go? It sounds like they had fun.”
“They were great. I let them stay up until nine o’clock but told them it was midnight. They were exhausted, so they didn’t fight me on it. Unlike my boys, but that’s another story. Thanks for taking Emily again, and for coming into town to pick them up. Bill was gone at the crack of dawn and if I had to run them out to you I’d never have opened the store on time. You’re a life saver.”
“It’s no problem. I had to come into town to get my mail anyway. What time should I have Emily ready to go? I like to give the girls plenty of warning to avoid separation drama.”
Mary Ellen hooted with laughter. “I think the drama is only just beginning with these two. Bill should be able to pick them up on his way home, around four. I’ll have him text you, though.”
“That’s fine. I’ll put them to work cleaning up around the red cottage. I’m going to see how much it needs to get it ready to rent by October.”
“Is that the one with all the wallpaper? Who the hell wallpapers a hunting cabin?”
“I think it was supposed to be an artist’s studio or something. I don’t know what the original plan was. I just know if I can get it fixed up, it’s worth a hundred bucks a night come hunting season.”
“That reminds me. My daddy has a couple friends coming up this season, and they’re looking for a place a little more comfortable than his old cabin. I guess now that they’re in their sixties, they want an actual bed and something better to eat than beef jerky. I gave them one of your brochures and told them to mention me when they made their reservations.”
“Fantastic, thanks. I appreciate the reference.”
“Anytime. The more business you get, the more I get, too. By the way, I’m going to need more of those brochures. I only have a couple left, and we’re expecting a big group coming up for the trail rides. If anyone is interested in spending the night, I’ll send them your way,” Mary Ellen said.
“Ah, I’m putting in a new hot water system, so you should probably send them to Claire’s. Most people don’t like paying for a room when they can’t take a hot shower.” Faith hated lying to her friend, but she’d given her word. And it wasn’t a complete lie, she was getting a new hot water system…eventually.
“I can’t imagine why they’d mind a little thing like cold water, but okay. Let me get those girls moving so I can have some peace. I’ve got a ton of paperwork.”
Mary Ellen hustled off to hurry Emily and Piper along. With the two girls chattering like magpies, Faith loaded them into the truck and headed to the post office to pick up her mail. She made a mental note to order more brochures from the printer in Canton, too.
To her great relief, the post office was empty of anyone but the clerk, and she was able to get to her mailbox without stopping for an extended conversation. The two five-year-olds only had so much patience with standing around, and she didn’t want to push it. She discarded the junk mail in the recycle bin and was heading back out in under two minutes when Mrs. Gage, the clerk, stopped her.
“Miss Adams. Yoo-hoo, Miss Adams. I’ve got something here for you.”
“Hold on, girls, we have to go to the desk, come on.” Faith herded them out of the room that held all the post office boxes to the main room.
Mrs. Gage rooted around, muttering aloud, “It was just here a minute ago. I was going to put a notice in your box about it. Ah yes, here it is.” She handed Faith a letter with a slip attached to it.
“What’s this?” Faith asked.
“It’s a certified letter, dear. You need to sign here. It looks like it’s from a law firm. I wonder what it could be about? Do you think you’re being sued?”
“I doubt it,” Faith said, putting the envelope with the rest of her mail. Curiosity ate at her, but she’d be damned if she opened the letter in front of Mrs. Gage. The woman could spread gossip faster than a middle school rumor. “It might be something about my late husband. His law firm started a scholarship in his name, so it’s probably about that.”
“You think?”
“Momma, can we go now?” Piper asked, tugging at Faith’s elbow.
“I better get moving before these two get bored and try to take over the place. You have a nice day, now.”
“You, too, dear. Bye, girls.” Mrs. Gage waved as Faith hurried outside.
“Can we have grilled cheese for lunch?” Piper asked once they were back in the truck.
“You’ve barely finished breakfast,” Faith said.
“I didn’t mean right now, silly.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Oh, turn it up, I love this song,” Emily said and began singing along to a country song on the radio.
Before she knew it, the radio was blasting and all three of them were singing loudly and laughing. It was a good thing it wasn’t hunting season, because Faith was sure their passage through the woods would have scared away any game in a ten-mile radius. By the time they got to the house, her stomach hurt from laughing so hard.
As she dropped the girls’ things in the hallway, she saw the envelope from the law firm and her smile died. Despite what she’d told nosy Mrs. Gage, she didn’t think it was good news.
“Momma, can we watch Frozen?” Piper asked, distracting her.
Faith placed the mail on the table by the door. Bad news could wait until she didn’t have two little girls clamoring for attention. “Not just yet. First, I’m going to need your help.”
“What kind of help?”
“I want to fix up the red cottage and pull some weeds around it.”
Her two helpers looked less than enthusiastic.
“I’ll pay you each two dollars if you help me without complaint until lunch. And I’ll make cupcakes while you’re watching your movie.”
“Can we help frost them?” Emily asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay!”
Faith wasn’t sure how helpful they’d be, but she needed to check out the cottage to see how much work it was going to take to get it into shape, and she wanted them where she could keep an eye on them. There were enough sticks and weeds to keep them busy for an hour or so until it got too hot to be outside.
As she followed the girls down the path, her glance strayed in the direction of the blue cottage, and she wondered what Mr. Castleton was doing.
Her heart gave a little flutter as she remembered seeing him yesterday. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t as big or as good looking as she had made him out to be in her head. She’d been oh so very wrong. To say he was easy on the eyes was an understatement. Even with his face unshaven and wearing sweats, he had a magnetism that drew her like a lode stone. She didn’t welcome the tingles of awareness she’d thought long buried.
Maybe it was a good thing he was an anti-social jerk. The last thing she needed in her life was another ridiculously attractive man. But that didn’t stop the flutters in her belly as she remembered seeing him yesterday. She hadn’t gotten a great look at him the first night. It had been dark, and he’d rushed her out of the cottage so fast she hadn’t had a chance to really take stock of his appearance. Yesterday, she’d had plenty of light to see the muscled shoulders and narrow hips.
And the sadness in his eyes. No, sadness wasn’t right. It was loss. He had the look of someone who’d lost his best friend and was adrift in the world. She knew that feeling well and couldn’t help a surge of compassion. Maybe his bad attitude was because he’d been betrayed, too?
“Girls, I’m going to work on the weeds around the house. Don’t run off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Faith sighed as she looked at the jungle of weeds by the cottage. This was going to take all day, but it had to be done.
By the time the sun was high overhead, she was covered in sweat and dirt but two sides of the cottage were weed-free.
Faith stood with a groan. She bent backward to stretch her aching back. Her quads hurt worse than after a spinning class, and her arms quivered from all the pulling she’d done. Who needed a personal trainer when there was this much yard work to do?
She snickered at the thought of her former neighbor, Daisy, ruining her manicure pulling weeds. Somehow, Faith didn’t think the ladies of Buckhead would give up their gym memberships to do their own gardening in order to stay in shape.
“Who’s ready for some lunch?” she asked as she rounded the cottage to where the girls were playing.
Piper and Emily were sweaty and covered in dirt. She had no idea how they’d managed to get that filthy picking up sticks, but they were.
“Oh boy. Why don’t the two of you wash off under the hose while I start lunch?” Faith said as they walked back to the house.
“In our clothes?” Emily asked, skipping ahead.
“Definitely. You can borrow something of Piper’s while I wash yours.”
“Cool!” The girls ran to the side of the house where the garden hose was hung.
By the time Faith had washed her hands and face, the girls were shrieking with laughter and taking turns spraying themselves and each other. Sadie danced around them, barking and getting sprayed as well. Faith added a dog towel to the pile and headed back outside.
“Momma, look, I’m a fountain.” Piper put the hose under her shirt and let the water shoot out the top. She was drenched, yet still managed to have dirt on her nose. The girls looked like wet rats but had smiles lighting up their faces.