“Just saying. Let’s negotiate. Since the inn’s not officially open, let’s forego the deserved services my two hundred a day gets me and let me do my part. I’ll help put up the rollaway, and you can rustle up your regular services.”
“You are such a jerk. I don’t know how you got famous.”
“Jesus, I’ll bet that red hair gets you into a heap of trouble.”
“For your information, it’s auburn not red. And furthermore, around here, we don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
“You should be glad I didn’t say worse.”
“I’ve a seven-year-old daughter. Do not swear in front of her.”
“Seven! Hell, were you ten when you had her?”
“Hell is a swear word.”
“Really. I thought it was a noun. “Hell, damn, shit. Wimp words in my world.”
“Not here. You’re in my world now. Step out of line”—she patted her sidearm—“and I will shoot you in the leg.”
“Could you make it the right shoulder? It’s already shot.”
Kate coughed into her hand to cover the sputter of laughter that rose without warning. She could see why he was famous. His charismatic personality made an argument fun.
****
Colton removed a brand-new rollaway from its carton, glad to see a nice thick mattress. He felt like he could lie down right then and there and sleep a week.
Kate was puttering in the bathroom, domestic like, hanging towels and essentials she’d brought in a large tote.
“There’s shampoo, soap, toothpaste,” she told him upon joining him in the bedroom to pull white linens from the tote. “Would you mind getting the quilts and pillow I set on the kitchen table?”
“Sure. Glad to be of service.” Colton winked and made his way across the foyer. His cowboy boots echoed in the hollow room and made him throw his weight to the ball of his feet. She would charge him extra if he scuffed her floors.
When he returned, he eyed her busily making the bed. He wanted to run his finger along the heart-shaped outline of her jaw and over her perfect skin. She might not be his type, but there was something special about Kate that spoke to him. He set the bundle on the floor. “My grandmother had quilts like these on her beds. She lived in Wyoming.”
Kate beamed a smile so sweet it took his breath away. When had that ever happened? “I’ll turn the heat up for this side of the house. It’s cool in here.”
“I’m hot-blooded. Sleep au natural with little more than a sheet.”
“You are so full of yourself.”
“If I didn’t have confidence in myself, sweetheart, I wouldn’t be that famous guy you seem to hate.”
Finished with the bed, she straightened to face him. “I don’t hate you as a person. I hate what men like you let money do to them. Puffing up your egos until you’re overbearing pricks in need of running everyone’s life like it were his own.”
“Number one, I’ve always had a big ego, which I like to call confidence. And second, you aren’t exactly living here like a pauper.”
“True. I like nice things but they don’t change who I am.”
“Really?” A flush of color told him even she didn’t believe her words. Money changed people no matter who they were, no matter how insignificant that change, he wanted to argue. Common sense told him to leave it alone until he knew more about her. “I need to return Bobby’s truck. Can you follow me into town? I’ll drop off the truck and buy you lunch, since I still have two hundred bucks left.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do you want your money back?”
“I’d prefer to write you a check. I’m feeling a little naked without at least five in my wallet.”
“Fine.” She reached in her pocket and threw the money on his bed. “Here, take it. I just didn’t want to be left a fool if you skip out on me. I’ll take a check when you leave and will lower the nightly fee to a hundred because there’s no furniture in here.”
Together they stared at the rollaway sitting forlorn in the middle of the large room.
“I don’t care about the money,” he said. “It’s more than fair. It’s the fact you won’t bend, knowing I’m good for the check. Here.” He took three hundred off the bed. “You keep three. I’ll keep three. That brings my wallet up to five and makes me feel secure again. I never have less than five even to go to the gym.”
“I wouldn’t say that out loud again. Around here, that’s more than two week’s salary, if you’re lucky.” That he didn’t doubt, and it humbled him. “You feel snuggily wuggily now?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Snug as a bug. We done here because I’d really like to take a shower before Bobby starts charging me to use his truck.” He held back a grin, seeing her already pink face turn bright red.
“Of course. Meet me on the front porch. I’ll be working on the screen door.”
“I’ll fix it when we get back.”
“Super. I’ll deduct the labor from your rent. Keep track of your hours.”
“To the second, sweetheart. I charge a hundred dollars an hour.”
“Shut. Up.”
Through his windows, he saw her land on the porch and head into the yard. Discarding his Bullets tee, he sat on the rollaway to remove his boots and socks. At the precise moment she seemed hell-bent on coming into the house, he shucked his jeans. What? He left on his shorts.
Damn, he was having fun.
The smell of clean sheets and the comfortable bed beckoned to him. Five minutes to rest his eyes, he told himself. Besides, he needed to get dressed. Clean clothes were in the bag left in Bobby’s truck.
****
“Awkward,” Kate murmured.
The purchase of blinds would be a priority.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she groused at the persistent ring of the phone. “Hello.”
“Is Kathryn Crockett there?”
“That’s me.”
“This is Andrea Roesch. I work for Bennett Field. The great great grand nephew of Tom Cutter. The pioneer?”
“I know who Tom Cutter is.” Kate’s skin crawled, sure Andrea Roesch was not the bearer of good news, if her high, snooty voice was any indication. “I live on a mountain named after him.”
“That’s why I’m calling. Bennett Field is a historical buff and likes to restore bits and pieces of the past. He’s recently acquired documentation that indicates his ancestor acquired the land your cabin sits on by way of a land warrant for military service, during the Indian Wars. Mr. Field also believes Tom’s bones might be buried beneath your cabin.”
“Impossible. The original portion of this cabin was built eighty years ago, well after Tom Cutter died. Nobody would have built over a grave. What are you getting at?”
“This is a courtesy call, Miss Crockett. Mr. Field wants me to inform you we are drafting a lien against your property until its rightful owner can be determined. That and whether your cabin is the burial site of Tom Cutter, making it a historical landmark.”
“Over my dead body. Let me talk to Mr. Bennett.”
The line disconnected. Kate slammed down the receiver. Blood rushed in her ears. She felt faint and went to the sink to get a drink of water. If the call wasn’t a prank, they would call back.
When the phone didn’t ring after fifteen minutes, she headed for Colton’s room to see if he was done with his shower. She found the door ajar. He was face down on the rollaway in his shorts with his feet hanging over the end. The pillow was hugged beneath him and soft snores came from under the arm his head was buried in.
“Colton.” She gently nudged his shoulder blade behind bruising that bloomed in all stages of healing. His shoulder flicked as if warding off a fly.
“Colton.” She poked his warm skin a little harder, and he grunted. His body flexed in response. The muscles went limp as he drifted back into deep sleep.
Curious about his injuries, and free to look all she pleased, Kate ran her gaze over his muscular arms, wide shoulders, trim waist, and
well-muscled legs dusted with nearly blond hair. She peeked over his body. His right leg and knee evidenced two more places where surgery had been performed. The slight limp, she was sure. This was a far bigger injury than she expected. She poked him again. “Colton.”
“Uh,” he grunted before the soft snores continued.
“I’m taking Bobby’s keys and returning his truck to town. My mom and I will pick up my daughter from school. Then I’ll come back and make dinner.”
Gawd. She might as well talk to the wall. He didn’t flinch. It was still cool in the room so she threw a sheet over him. “Okay, I’m going now. Get some rest.”
No response.
Kate rummaged around the floor for Bobby’s truck keys among his jeans, discarded boots, cell phone, and the Bullets T-shirt. Keeping an eye on Colton’s sleeping form, she dug into the front pockets of his jeans. Here was a creepy intrusion she could live without. She hurried outside glad they wouldn’t be sharing lunch after inspecting his perfect body and his pockets.
She flipped open her cell phone to call her dad. “Dad, I might have a legal problem with my property.”
“Here we go. Now what?”
Kate bristled. She should have known better than to call him and let one more strike be added against her for not thinking things through. “Forget it. I’ll handle it.”
“Kate...” she heard him say as she hit the END button. Handle it how when she wasn’t sure whether or not it was a prank. Creepy as Tom Cutter’s bones buried beneath her cabin might seem, they weren’t going anywhere.
It was also as improbable as a land warrant that could take her property away. Nonetheless, it frightened her the most. Being born and raised in Tennessee, she knew many well-known Tennesseans had acquired land with government-issued land warrants in the early 1800s for military service.
Even the Crocketts had fought and been paid in land.
Whether or not Bennett Field’s land warrant was binding after such a long period of time would have to be proven. If he did indeed hold an authentic document, she feared a legal battle that would deplete her dwindling funds.
Did she need a lawyer? As tempting as it was to call her dad back, she wouldn’t panic. She’d wait and see if she heard anything further from Tom Cutter’s long-lost opportunistic relative.
Bennett Field might call her back himself. She did have connection problems at her place though usually with a cell not with a landline.
She turned her thoughts to making dinner for her celebrity renter. Judging by his muscle mass, she would feed him steak.
Chapter Five
THUNK! Colton moaned then cursed a blue streak. Rolled in a sheet like a mummy, he sat up on the floor and peered at the rollaway he had fallen off. His mind slugged in slow motion as he tried to get his bearings. Ah, Kate’s place. The weathered barn stood out the window to his left. Straight ahead were the two windows that looked out over her large yard to a perimeter of woods.
The scene was encased in the unbearable silence he found surreal on Cutter Mountain. It made him feel like a figure trapped inside one of those dioramas he constructed in grade school.
A puddle of white sheet draped his lap as he rotated his shoulder and inspected his knee. No metal pins stuck out, so other than the rude awakening, he figured all would be well once the crawl of fire inside the shoulder was extinguished.
“Kate,” he hollered and did a double take out the front windows. Where the hell was Bobby’s truck? In jerky hops, he stuck one leg then the other into his jeans and searched his pockets for the keys. Barefoot he made his way across the empty foyer and knocked on Kate’s living room door. “Kate?” He jiggled the knob. Locked. Moving on to her kitchen door, he turned the knob and it opened. “Hello? Kate?”
A flurry of gray cat streaked up the back steps. One day he would have to make amends. At the moment, he needed to find Kate and get his bag out of the truck. More important than his clothes, it held the Tylenol and Vicoprofen for when he was really hurting—like now. Intense shoulder pain always set his gut churning for fear the proverbial slippery slope was his reality. He began rummaging through her kitchen cabinets.
Near blind with pain, Colton stood at the sink downing several Tylenol with a glass of water. He knew this had to stop if he wanted a stomach that could handle Mexican food at fifty.
Sudden silence and the general feeling of being watched made him turn to see three sets of female eyes on him. He sucked in his gut.
Although he wouldn’t call himself an exhibitionist, he certainly had no trouble baring his torso for television ads or magazine spreads. It was the three generations of wide-eyed Crocketts staring at him that made him feel stark naked.
“Are you Col-Train?” asked the Half-Pint.
“Some people call me that, but I prefer Colton. What’s your name?”
“Lindsay.”
“Very pretty, just like you.” Hell, what did you say to a pint-sized female? Most of his dealings were with star-struck adolescent boys who wanted to be just like him.
Although Lindsay held little regard for his six-pack abs, he noticed Kate’s eyes making spastic flicks between his face and his waist. Seeing her concern, he was quick to hike up his jeans and snap them shut.
“Tinkerbelle!” Lindsay squealed with delight when the gray tabby hotfooted it around the corner and screeched to a halt at spying Colton. The cat arched its back to hiss.
“Tinkerbelle,” Kate admonished the cat and picked him up. Ears pricked forward, the cat shot Colton a deadly glare with eyes the size of marbles along with a soundless display of two sharp fangs. Kate ran her hand over the agitated cat before handing him off to Lindsay. “Seems Tinkerbelle is as shocked to see you in my kitchen as I am. Mom, this is Colton Gray. My first unofficial renter.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the middle-aged replica of Kate with a polite smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t c-catch your name,” he stuttered. Damn, had heat just spread from his shoulder to his face? He folded his arms across his chest to hide pebbled nipples that spoke of his discomfort.
“Eva. I don’t believe my daughter mentioned it.” Colton saw the older woman’s eyes light with amusement as she let her gaze show appreciation that went right down to his bare feet. “The town’s buzzing to have such an important sports celebrity in town.”
“Don’t believe half of what you hear.” He could only imagine the buzz in town by tomorrow. “Sorry to barge in here, but the door was open and no one was home. Found what I needed.” He shook the Tylenol bottle. “Lindsay, super to meet you. Eva.” He squeezed between them to escape into the foyer.
“Colton. Hold up.”
He turned to face her from his doorway. “You drove the damned truck off with my things in it, and I needed this.” He held up the Tylenol in an attempt to justify his presence in her kitchen and spied his leather bag sitting by the front door. He picked it up. “And this.”
“If you want to stay here, you’ll have to watch your potty mouth.” Kate made a symbolic pat to the spot where she had been wearing the sidearm earlier. “I wanted to let you know dinner’s at six.”
“Armed or unarmed,” he growled.
“Depends on how well you can grill a steak.”
Colton closed his door. “Jesus,” he muttered, and felt a twinge of guilt to have used the Lord’s name in vain. Just his luck to have rented a room from Mother fuckin’ Theresa. Another zap ricocheted through his conscience that made him send off a prayer of forgiveness to the deceased saint.
Five minutes inside a locker room and Kate would send the whole damned place up in flames of guilt.
He shook his head and stepped out of his jeans and briefs in one swift move and into the hot spray of the shower, closing his eyes. Heaven.
****
“That was interesting,” Eva Crockett said as she finished putting away Kate’s groceries.
“Which? That fact he was almost naked, or that he broke into my house?”
Eva cocked an
eyebrow at Kate. “Both. I don’t think he exactly broke in, do you?”
“No, but I’d never enter another person’s home no matter how bad the headache.” Kate set the banana nut bread her mother made next to the cat cookie jar and put water on for tea.
“I suspect it was his shoulder not his head that was aching. I’m not sure which looked worse, his scar or the bruising, although the bruise looked new. Has he told you about it?”
“No. It’s none of my business.” Kate slid a plate holding apple slices and a piece of cheese with crackers in front of Lindsay. “Eat a snack. Dinner will be later than usual.”
Lindsay pushed it aside to pull her coloring book toward her. “Col. Train. Col-Train,” she read and looked at her mom. “Colton colored Barbie’s princess dress blue. I like pink.”
Kate eyed the picture Colton had colored and signed. What an egotistical jerk. “I’m sure Barbie won’t mind. He stayed inside the lines and gave her a pink purse and shoes.”
“He’s nice.” Lindsay busied herself coloring.
Eva elbowed her daughter. “Hang on to that. It might be worth big bucks one day.”
“Not if his career is over.”
Her mother shrugged and doused two tea bags up and down in the teapot before pouring her and Kate a cup. “I’d keep it. What are you making for dinner?”
“Steak. Oven potatoes with onion and green pepper and a salad. Something easy so I don’t have to fuss. It’s been a long day.”
“I don’t like steak,” Lindsay said with her nose in the coloring book.
“Why won’t you at least try a taste,” her grandmother coaxed. “You need to try new things to see if you’ll like them.”
“I don’t like it.”
Eva sighed. “You can’t eat chicken nuggets your whole life.”
“Yes I can.”
“Lindsay,” Kate interrupted. “Why don’t you play in your bedroom while I talk to Grandma?”
Lindsay complained but gathered the remaining apple slices from her plate and headed up the back stairs with Tinkerbelle in tow. The cat was always glad to retreat under Lindsay’s bed into the box of stuffed animals she kept there.
Cutter Mountain Rendezvous Page 4
