Safe Harbor: A Cold Creek Homecoming

by Sherryl Woods

  He glanced over and saw that Tess’s horse had stopped alongside his big gelding but Tess made no move to climb out of the saddle; she just gazed down at the ground with a nervous kind of look.

  “Hang on a minute,” he told her. “Just wait there in the saddle while I settle Jo on the bench and then I’ll come back to help you down.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding more disgruntled than apologetic.

  “No problem.”

  He carried Jo along the trail, grateful again for the pale moonlight that filtered through the fringy pines and the bare branches of the aspens.

  Windy Lake was a small stream-fed lake, probably no more than two hundred yards across. As a convenient watering hole, it attracted moose and mule deer and even the occasional elk. The water was always ice cold, as he and the others could all attest. That didn’t stop him and Brant and Cisco—and Easton, when she could manage to get away—from sneaking out to come up here on summer nights.

  Guff always used to keep a small canoe on the shore and they loved any chance to paddle out in the moonlight on July nights and fish for the native rainbow trout and arctic grayling that inhabited it.

  Some of his most treasured memories of his teen years centered around trips to this very place.

  The trail ended at the lakeshore. He carried Jo to the bench Guff built here, which had been situated in the perfect place to take in the pristine, shimmering lake and the granite mountains surrounding it.

  He set Jo on her feet for just a moment so he could brush pine needles and twigs off the bench. Contrary to what he expected, the bench didn’t have months worth of debris covering it, which made him think Easton probably found the occasional chance to make good use of it.

  He covered the seat with a plastic garbage bag he had shoved into his pocket earlier in case the bench was damp.

  “There you go. Your throne awaits.”

  She shook her head at his silliness but sat down gingerly, as if the movement pained her. He unrolled one of the blankets and spread it around her shoulders then tucked the other across her lap.

  In the moonlight, he saw lines of pain bracketing her mouth and he worried again that this ride into the mountains had been too much for her. Along with the pain, though, he could see undeniable delight at being in this place she loved, one last time.

  He supposed sometimes a little pain might be worthwhile in the short-term if it yielded such joy.

  As he fussed over the blankets, she reached a thin hand to cover his. “Thank you, my dear. I’m fine now, I promise. Go rescue poor Tess and let me sit here for a moment with my memories.”

  “Call out if you need help. We won’t be far.”

  “Don’t fuss over me,” she ordered. “Go help Tess.”

  Though he was reluctant to leave her here alone, he decided she was safe with the dogs who sat by her side, their ears cocked forward as if listening for any threat.

  Back at the trailhead, he found Tess exactly where he had left her, still astride the mare, who was placidly grazing on the last of the autumn grasses.

  “I tried to get down,” she told him when he emerged from the trees. “Honestly, I did. But my blasted shoe is caught in the stirrups and I couldn’t work it loose, no matter how hard I tried. This is so embarrassing.”

  “I guess that’s the price you pay when you go horseback riding in comfortable nurse’s shoes instead of boots.”

  “If I had known I was going to be roped into this, I would have pulled out my only pair of Tony Lamas for the occasion.”

  Despite her attempt at a light tone, he caught something in her stiff posture, in the rigid set of her jaw.

  This was more than inexperience with horses, he realized as he worked her shoe free of the tight stirrup. Had he really been so overbearing and arrogant in insisting she come along that he refused to see she had a deep aversion to horses?

  “I’m sorry I dragged you along.”

  “It’s not all bad.” She gazed up at the stars. “It’s a lovely night.”

  “Tell me, how many moonlit rides have you been on into the mountains around Pine Gulch?”

  She summoned a smile. “Counting tonight? Exactly one.”

  He finally worked her shoe free. “Let me help you down,” he said.

  She released the reins and swiveled her left leg over the saddle horn so she could dismount. The mare moved at just that moment and suddenly his arms were full of warm, delicious curves.

  She smelled of vanilla and peaches and much to his dismay, his recalcitrant body stirred to life.

  He released her abruptly and she wobbled a little when her feet met solid ground. Out of instinct, he reached to steady her and his hand brushed the curve of her breast when he grabbed her arm. Her gaze flashed to his and in the moonlight, he thought he felt the silky cord of sexual awareness tug between them.

  “Okay now?”

  “I...think so.”

  That low, breathy note in her voice had to be his imagination. He was almost certain of it.

  He couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. Sure, she was still a beautiful woman on the outside, but she was still Tess Claybourne, for heaven’s sake.

  He noticed she moved a considerable distance away but he wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him or the horses. Probably both.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you up here,” he said again. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable riding would be for you.”

  She made a face. “It shouldn’t be. I’m embarrassed that it is. I grew up around horses—how could I help it in Pine Gulch? Though my family never had them, all my friends did, but I’ve had an...irrational fear of them since breaking my arm after being bucked off when I was seven.”

  “And I made you come anyway.”

  She mustered a smile. “I survived this far. We’re halfway done now.”

  He remembered Jo’s words suddenly. You’ll never find a happier soul in all your days. Why, what she’s been through would have crushed most women. Not our Tess.

  Jo thought Tess was a survivor. If she weren’t, could she be looking at this trip with such calm acceptance, even when she was obviously terrified?

  “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”

  She didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s not so bad. After the way I treated you in high school, I guess I’m surprised you didn’t tie me onto the back of your horse and drag me behind you for a few miles.”

  His gaze narrowed. What game was this? He never, in a million years, would have expected her to refer to her behavior in their shared past, especially when she struck exactly the right note of self-deprecation.

  For several awkward seconds, he couldn’t think how to respond. Did he shrug it off? Act like he didn’t know what she was talking about? Tell her she ought to have bitch tattooed across her forehead and he would be happy to pay for it?

  “High school seems a long time ago right now,” he finally said.

  “Surely not so long that you’ve forgotten.”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “You always made an impression.”

  Her laughter was short and unamused. “That’s one way of phrasing it, I suppose.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “Unconscionable.”

  At that single, low-voiced word, he studied her in the moonlight—her long-lashed green eyes contrite, that mouth set in a frown, the auburn curls that were a little disheveled from the ride.

  How the hell did she do it? Lord knew, he didn’t want to be. But against his will, Quinn found himself drawn to this woman who was willing to confront her fears for his aunt’s sake, who could make fun of herself, who seemed genuinely contrite about past bad behavior.

  He liked her and, worse, was uncomfortably aware of a fierce physical attraction to her soft curves and classical
features that seemed so serene and lovely in the moonlight.

  He pushed away the insane attraction, just as he pushed away the compelling urge to ask her what he had ever done back then to make her hate him so much. Instead, he did his best to turn the subject away.

  “Easton told me about Scott. About the accident.”

  She shoved her hands in the pocket of her jacket and looked off through the darkened trees toward the direction of the lake. “Did she?”

  “She said you had only been married a few months at the time, so most of your marriage you were more of a caregiver than a wife.”

  “Everybody says that like I made some grand, noble sacrifice.”

  He didn’t want to think so. He much preferred thinking of her as the self-absorbed teenage girl trying to ruin his life.

  “What would you consider it?”

  “I didn’t do anything unusual. He was my husband,” she said simply. “I loved him and I took vows. I couldn’t just abandon him to some impersonal care center for the rest of his life and blithely go on with my own as if he didn’t exist.”

  Many people he knew wouldn’t have blinked twice at responding exactly that way to the situation. Hell, the Tess he thought she had been would have done exactly that.

  “Do you regret those years?”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide with surprise, as if no one had ever asked her that before.

  “Sometimes,” she admitted, her voice so low he could barely hear it. “I don’t regret that I had that extra time with him. I could never regret that. By all rights, he should have died in that accident. A weaker man probably would have. Scott didn’t and I have to think God had some purpose in that, something larger than my understanding.”

  She paused, her expression pensive. “I do regret that we never had the chance to build the life we talked about those first few months of our marriage. Children, a mortgage, a couple of dogs. We missed all that.”

  Not much of a sacrifice, he thought. He would be quite happy not to have that sort of trouble in his life.

  “I’ll probably always regret that,” she went on. “Unfortunately, I can’t change the past. I can only look forward and try to make the best of everything that comes next.”

  They lapsed into a silence broken only by the horses stamping and snorting behind them and the distant lapping of the water.

  She was the first to break the temporary peace. “We’d better go check on Jo, don’t you think?”

  He jerked his mind away from how very much he wanted to kiss her right this moment, with the moonlight gleaming through the trees and the night creatures singing an accompaniment. “Right. Will you be okay without a flashlight?”

  “I’ll manage. Just lead the way.”

  He headed up the trail toward Jo, astonished that his most pressing regret right now was the end of their brief interlude in the moonlight.

  * * *

  Though Tess loved living in the Mountain West for the people and the scenery and the generally slower pace of life, she had never really considered herself a nature girl.

  As a bank manager and accountant, her father hadn’t been the sort to take her camping and fishing when she was younger. Later, she’d been too busy, first in college and then taking care of Scott, to find much time to enjoy the backcountry.

  But she had to admit she found something serene and peaceful about being here with the glittery stars overhead and that huge glowing moon filtering through the trees and the night alive with sounds and smells.

  Well, it would have been serene if she weren’t so intensely aware of Quinn walking just ahead of her, moving with long-limbed confidence through the darkness.

  The man exuded sensuality. She sighed, wishing she could ignore his effect on her. She disliked the way her heart picked up a beat or two, the little churn of her blood, the way she couldn’t seem to keep herself from stealing secret little glances at him as they made their way toward the lake and Jo.

  She hadn’t missed that moment of awareness in his eyes back there, the heat that suddenly shivered through the air like fireflies on a summer night.

  He was attracted to her, though she had a strong sense he found the idea more than appalling.

  Her gaze skidded to his powerful shoulders under his denim jacket, to the dark hair that brushed his collar under his Stetson, and her insides trembled.

  For a moment there, she had been quite certain he wanted to kiss her, though she couldn’t quite fathom it. How long had it been since she knew the heady, exhilarating impact of desire in a man’s eyes? Longer than she cared to remember. The men in town didn’t tend to look at her as a woman with the very real and human hunger to be cherished and touched.

  In the eyes of most people in Pine Gulch, that woman had been somehow absorbed into the loving, dutiful caretaker, leaving no room for more. Even after Scott’s death, people still seemed to see her as a nurturer, not the flirty, sexy, fun-loving Tess she thought might still be buried somewhere deep inside her.

  Seeing that heat kindle in his eyes, replacing his typical animosity, had been both flattering and disconcerting and for a moment, she had been mortified at her little spurt of panic, the fear that she had no idea how to respond.

  She just needed practice, she assured herself. That’s why she was moving to Portland, so she could be around people who saw her as more than just Pine Gulch’s version of Mother Teresa.

  They walked the short distance through the pines and aspens, their trail lit only by pale moonlight and the glow of a small flashlight he produced from the pocket of his denim jacket. When they reached the lake a few moments later, Tess saw Jo on a bench on the shore, the dogs at her feet. She sat unmoving, so still that for a moment, Tess feared the worst.

  But Quinn’s boot snapped a twig at that moment and Jo turned her head. Though they were still a few yards away, Tess could see the glow on her features shining through clearly, even in the moonlight. Her friend smiled at them and for one precious instant, she looked younger, happier. Whole.

  “There you are. I was afraid the two of you were lost.”

  Quinn slanted Tess a sidelong look before turning his attention back to his foster mother. “No. I thought you might like a few moments to yourself up here.”

  Jo smiled at him as she reached a hand out to Tess to draw her down beside her on the bench. When she saw the blankets tucked around Jo’s shoulders and across her lap, everything inside her went a little gooey that Quinn had taken such great care to ensure his foster mother’s comfort.

  “Isn’t it lovely, my dear?”

  “Breathtaking,” Tess assured her, her hand still enclosed around Jo’s thin fingers.

  They sat like that for a moment with Quinn standing beside them. The moon glowed off the rocky face of the mountains ringing the lake, reflecting in water that seethed and bubbled as if it was some sort of hot springs. After several moments of watching it, Tess realized the percolating effect was achieved by dozens of fish rising to the surface for night-flying insects.

  “It’s enchanting,” she said to Jo, squeezing her fingers. She didn’t add that this moment, this shared beauty, was almost worth that miserable horseback ride up the mountainside.

  “This is such a gift. I cannot tell you how deeply it touches me. I have missed these mountains so much these past weeks while I’ve been stuck at home. Thank you both so very much.”

  Jo’s smile was wide and genuine but Tess didn’t miss the lines of pain beneath it that radiated from her mouth.

  Quinn must have noticed them as well. “I’d love to stay here longer,” he said after a moment, “but we had better get you back. Tess has other patients.”

  Jo nodded, a little sadly, Tess thought. A lump rose in her throat as the other woman rose, her face tilted to the huge full moon. Jo closed her eyes, inhaled
a deep breath of mountain air, then let it out slowly before turning back to Quinn.

  “I’m ready.”

  Her chest felt achy and tight with unshed tears watching Jo say this private goodbye to a place she loved. It didn’t help her emotions at all when Quinn carefully and tenderly scooped Jo into his arms and carried her back toward the waiting horses.

  She pushed back the tears as she awkwardly mounted her horse, knowing Jo wouldn’t welcome them at all. The older woman accepted her impending passing with grace and acceptance, something Tess could only wish on all her patients.

  The ride down was slightly easier than the way up had been, though she wouldn’t have expected it. In her limited experience on the back of a horse, gravity hadn’t always been her friend.

  Perhaps she was a tiny bit more loose and relaxed than she had been on the way up. At least she didn’t grip the reins quite so tightly and her body seemed to more readily pick up the rhythm of the horse’s gait.

  She had heard somewhere that horses were sensitive creatures who picked up on those sorts of things like anxiety and apprehension. Maybe the little mare was just giving her the benefit of the doubt.

  As she had on the way up the trail, she rode in the rear of their little group, behind the two black and white dogs and Quinn and Jo, which gave her the opportunity to watch his gentle solicitude toward her.

  She found something unbearably sweet—disarming, even—at the sight of his tender care, such a vivid contrast to his reputation as a ruthless businessman who had built his vast shipping company from the ground up.

  That treacherous softness fluttered inside her. Even after she forced herself to look away—to focus instead on the rare beauty of the night settling in more deeply across the mountainside—she couldn’t ignore that tangled mix of fierce attraction and dawning respect.

  As they descended the trail, Winder Ranch came into view, sprawling and solid in the night.

  “Home,” Jo said in a sleepy-sounding voice that carried across the darkness.

  “We’re nearly there,” he assured her.

  When they arrived at the ranch house, Quinn dismounted and then reached for Jo, who winced with the movement.