High Country Homecoming

by Roxanne Rustand

  “Dev—are you still there?”

  “Yeah—that’s fine. Thursday or Friday.”

  “So, how are you and the new renter getting along?”

  “Uh...okay.”

  Devlin could hear some indistinguishable voices in the background, and then Jess came back to the phone. “Grandma Betty wants to know if you’ve been friendly and if you’ve been trying to help Chloe feel at home. I can’t imagine why she’d feel the least bit of doubt, though. Can you?”

  Devlin heard an undercurrent of laughter in his brother’s voice. “Nope.”

  “That’s it? Just no? Grandma is behind me, demanding a full report, so give me a little more or she’ll take my phone and you’ll be on this call for an hour.”

  That was the truth. Grandma Betty would want to know what he’d had for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and if he was getting enough sleep, plus every last detail about her favorite little redhead, whom she’d doted on years ago.

  “Chloe’s fine and as bossy as ever. I mostly try to stay out of her way, but like I told you before, that hasn’t been working out too well.” He thought for a moment, then decided to skip the Dooley incident, at least for now. And the long embrace and kiss afterward, which still had the power to warm him from head to toe whenever he thought about it...which was mostly 24/7. “For a ranch this big, it’s surprising to see how often I end up running into her. And then there’s her dog...”

  As if Daisy knew she’d been mentioned, she looked up at Devlin with adoring eyes, took an awkward step and stumbled into him. He grabbed at a tree branch just in time to stop his fall into a pile of boulders beside the trail.

  “Her dog?”

  “It’s the size of a mastodon, but that’s a long story. Just know that there’ll be one ex-Marine who’ll be very happy the day you decide to come home.”

  * * *

  Devlin was the most stubborn, irritating person on the planet, Chloe thought to herself, fuming as she took the trash out to the bear-proof container next to the main trail in front of her cabin.

  Despite her nagging headache, she’d spent the rest of her day working in the kitchen and starting the first draft of the introduction for her cookbook, but her thoughts kept veering back to Devlin despite her resolution to not think of him at all.

  Why did he not listen to reason?

  Wouldn’t it be easier to become proficient at sign language while he still had enough hearing to associate verbal communication with sign? Wouldn’t it be logical for him to take advantage of any opportunity to improve his skills?

  If he had any sense, he would pay attention to her.

  Like the wounded animals she’d helped rehabilitate back to healthy life, she knew he could lead a more full and abundant life if he’d just accept the help he needed. That he would choose denial over progress baffled her.

  Not that she was an expert by any means. It had been years since she’d used sign language to communicate with Grandma Lydia. But she could start watching YouTube videos to tune up her own skills, and then she’d be ready when he finally realized she was right.

  And if he never did—being a stubborn Langford, that was a strong possibility—she could save all of those links for him in an email and he could just do it on his own if he ever wised up.

  She turned toward her cabin and started back up the path, but her legs suddenly felt rubbery, her muscles weak. She blinked as black spots seemed to dance in front of her eyes.

  The path ahead lengthened into a long, dim tunnel. The cabin door seemed to be a million miles away as she made herself take just one more step...then another. Please, Lord, not now.

  With Devlin staying with Daisy in the tack room for the next few nights, he wouldn’t be passing by on his way to the last cabin.

  So she was all alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Devlin dismounted, hooked the nearside stirrup over the saddle horn and loosened the cinch a few notches, then glanced at the big tack room window that looked out into the indoor arena.

  A vague sense of uneasiness settled in his midsection.

  This was his last ride for the day, and he’d found himself checking that window every so often to see if Chloe had come yet to watch for a while. She usually did at the end of the afternoon and would then slip away...probably reminiscing about the years when she’d been a little girl watching her dad work horses in this same arena.

  Dev had come to look forward to seeing her at the window. But after their argument this morning, she’d probably decided she had much better things to do.

  He always ended his rides with a long cooldown at a walk, working each horse through slow figure eights, side passes and backing up, reinforcing a quiet, relaxed attitude under saddle. Now he led the paint gelding out of the arena and into the barn, crosstied him and glanced at the front door of the barn, half expecting to see Chloe walk in.

  Strange.

  He hadn’t seen her go by on her daily jog. She hadn’t dropped by with something she’d just taken warm from the oven. Her SUV hadn’t moved.

  Surely she was just fine and hard at work, yet a small inner voice whispered to him. Go. You need to check.

  As soon as he had the colt unsaddled and put away, he took Daisy for a short walk, went up to the house to let the twins’ pup out into the fenced yard and then he jogged up the trail leading to the cabins on the pretext of going after something he’d forgotten.

  As he passed by, he’d probably see Chloe through her large cabin windows, working in her kitchen. But at least he’d know she was all right.

  He slowed as he neared her cabin, surprised to see that the screen door was wide open. When would she ever leave it ajar like that, a welcome mat for the chipmunks that scurried endlessly around the cabins in search of food?

  He knocked on the door, called her name and then walked inside. “Chloe?”

  No answer.

  It took just a moment to search the place, and then he spun around and went back outside.

  Chloe.

  She’d been hidden from view on his way up to the cabin. But now he could see her slumped against a log well off the path to one side, in the lee of a cluster of boulders.

  “Chloe?” He reached her in a heartbeat. Knelt at her side and touched her shoulder. “What happened? Did you fall?”

  “No... I just felt a little woozy for a moment.”

  “Did you pass out?”

  She frowned a little. “No.”

  “Should I call for an ambulance?”

  At that she looked up at him in alarm. “Goodness, no.”

  Still, she appeared ashen, and her skin felt cool and clammy when he touched her forehead. He hadn’t noticed for several days—maybe she’d masked it with makeup—but now he could see the fading remnants of the bruise she’d incurred during her altercation with the Dooleys last Saturday.

  “Have you been having headaches? Dizziness?”

  She didn’t answer, but he caught that same old stubborn glint in her eyes before her gaze skated away, and his suspicion grew stronger. She’d adamantly refused to go to the ER that day, but now he wished he’d somehow managed to take her anyway.

  “I’ve seen a number of fellow soldiers who suffered concussions, and I’m guessing you might have one. You should see a doctor.”

  Her chin lifted slightly. “No.”

  “Just to make sure you’re okay.”

  She glanced at him, then looked away. “I admit... I did bang my head a little on Saturday. But I looked up the symptoms of a concussion on the internet and this is nothing, I’m sure of it.”

  He studied her for a moment. “And yet you were dizzy just now. If you’d passed out and hit your head on one of these rocks, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion.”

  The thought made his blood run cold.

  “I’m already better,” she co
ntinued, with an airy wave of her hand. She sat up straighter, “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

  She wanted him to walk away? Was she kidding? “Actually, I think I’ll stay for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

  They sat together for another twenty minutes, watching a trio of chipmunks chase each other around the foundation of the cabin as the sun started to sink behind the mountains to the west. He’d forgotten how beautiful and peaceful this place was, with the sweet smell of pine in the air and a breeze sighing through the branches overhead.

  He reached over and took her hand in his. “Okay—now tell me the truth. Everything. Or I’m not leaving.”

  “I admit... I’ve had a mild headache since the Dooley situation. And there’ve been a couple of times when I’ve felt a little woozy,” she muttered after a long silence. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Does that sound familiar?”

  At that he cracked a smile. “Touché.”

  She tilted her head, her gaze fixed on his. “I just had a little fall. No big deal. But your hearing is a lot more serious. What if you can’t hear an urgent warning, or you miss hearing something you absolutely need to know?”

  He clenched his jaw.

  “Not that I want to interfere or anything, but I don’t think you’ve done all you could do to make your life better. Just sayin’.”

  Typical Chloe. Practically on death’s door one minute, and the next, trying to help him whether he wanted her to or not.

  But he was so relieved to have her alert, talking and back to worrying about him, that all he could do was drape an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to his side. He brushed a kiss against her temple.

  When they finally rose, he grinned down at her and gently cradled her face between his hands. “No more falls, bumps or fainting. Understand? I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around to tell me what to do.”

  And then he drew her close for a kiss to convey just how much he meant it.

  * * *

  Despite Daisy’s warm, comforting presence, Devlin stayed wide awake until midnight, his thoughts spinning in endless circles before he finally drifted off to sleep.

  He’d been blindsided by what he’d felt when he found Chloe nearly unconscious outside her cabin, and by the realization of what her loss would mean to him. Then blindsided by the effect of that kiss.

  But that wasn’t possible.

  He couldn’t have any real feelings for her beneath the prickly aspects of their relationship over the years.

  He’d resolved long ago to never again be responsible for anyone besides himself. Never again risk loving someone, because he knew that love only led to grief and heartbreak—every single time. That had been his mantra ever since Gina died.

  Yet there’d never been anyone in his life quite like Chloe, and now he was beginning to realize just how much he was going to miss her when she left. He almost wished he dared to take one more chance.

  But she deserved a far better man than him.

  * * *

  She wasn’t going to miss Devlin when her time in Montana was up. Not. One. Bit. How could he be so...so stubborn?

  She’d seen that quiet smile of his when she’d tried to talk sense into him after her little episode yesterday evening, and now she knew that he would never change.

  So be it.

  He’d apparently managed just fine before she came along, and he could just bumble along on his own after she left. And if he proved to be too aggravating, too distracting, she and Daisy could always leave Montana early.

  A flashback from the incident with the Dooley brothers slammed into her thoughts. Fear lanced through her as she relived the moment they’d hit her left rear bumper with their truck, sending her SUV careening off the shoulder of the highway.

  She would never forget their avid expressions as they sauntered toward her.

  Eager. Self-satisfied with their success at cornering their prey. And they’d looked absolutely remorseless. She had no doubt that they would have been without mercy if they had caught her.

  A deep shudder shook her as she slid a loaf pan of Grandma Lydia’s almond, cranberry and white-chocolate bread into the oven, set the timer on the stove, and braced her shaking hands on the counter.

  If she was still this rattled over her near-miss experience, how did someone ever get over their terror if no one arrived to rescue them? If they had to live with the memory of that nightmare every single day?

  She’d been so incredibly blessed when Devlin had shown up just in time—like Superman, Batman and a gunslinger from the Wild West all rolled into one, despite his damaged shoulder and weakened right arm.

  A true hero. A surprising layer to a complex man with a troubled past.

  She’d always worried about him—knowing he’d reveled in wild parties as a teen, imagining he might still be that person. Or worse. Fearing that he could end up exactly like her alcoholic father, who had managed to hide his addiction so well. Most of the time.

  Her cheeks started to burn. Whatever he was or wasn’t, he’d come to save her, and she hadn’t even thought to ask him if dealing with the Dooleys had injured his shoulder even further. Instead she’d chosen to harass him once again about his hearing issue and medical care—which was not her business at all.

  A sense of guilt crawled through her. What had she been thinking?

  There was a big difference between being caring and concerned, and being an obnoxious, bossy pest.

  She grabbed a zester, scraped it across the surface of a fresh, fragrant orange with a vengeance, until it was bare, and then halved the orange and squeezed all of the juice. After adding the juice and orange zest to the sugar she’d measured into a saucepan, she put the pan on the stove and began to idly stir.

  Maybe she could bring this warm loaf of bread to him as a peace offering and apologize, with a promise that she would stop trying to interfere with his life. In fact she could promise to stay out of his way completely. The poor man deserved that small courtesy, at the very least.

  Even though he’d apparently stolen the heart of her traitorous new dog.

  * * *

  After running in the early morning hours and lifting weights, Devlin did the chores. He was headed to the main house, with Daisy at his side, when he saw Chloe coming down the trail from her cabin. She no longer favored her left ankle, he realized. And she was bearing something oblong in a plastic bag that just might be delicious. He sure hoped so.

  “I was hoping I would catch you in time. Maybe you’d like this with your supper or breakfast tomorrow.” She handed him the package. “This is Grandma Lydia’s almond, cranberry and white-chocolate quick bread, with an orange glaze.”

  The citrus aroma wafting into the air was amazing.

  “One little slice is missing,” she added, shooting him a quick, tentative smile. “I had to do a taste test. I wasn’t too sure about the orange glaze with the white chocolate, but I actually think Grandma hit this one out of the park. You’ll let me know what you think, right? I...um...enclosed a little questionnaire this time. To make it easier.”

  “Thanks.” He thought about sitting alone at the big oak table in that big, empty house, with just two dogs for company. “Do you want to join me for supper? Nothing fancy—I’m just nuking a frozen meal and there are plenty more in the freezer.”

  “Thanks, but...I should probably get home.” A faint pink blush slipped into her cheeks. “I’ve been thinking, though. And I need to apologize.”

  He raised an eyebrow, mystified. “For what?”

  “From our first meeting here, I said I was going to mind my own business and stay out of your way.”

  That prospect no longer seemed as appealing as it had at first. “I don’t know that it’s imperative, Chloe.”

  She gave a firm shake of her head. “You saved me from those despica
ble Dooleys and came to my rescue again yesterday evening, because you were concerned. And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But...I haven’t been so kind in return, constantly lecturing you about taking care of yourself better. So I promise to stop.” She bit her lower lip. “Though honestly, you really do need to listen, because...”

  Her voice trailed off and a faint, rueful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “How are you feeling today? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. Of course. Perfectly fine.”

  He studied her more closely. There were fine lines of tension bracketing her mouth. “Really? No headaches at all? They can last for months after a concussion.”

  She hitched a shoulder. “Well...maybe a little.”

  “Then why not just admit it?”

  “Because I don’t want to. In your teens and twenties, you feel young and invincible. Then a little health problem crops up and you realize that you’re not.”

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes widened with instant regret. “Of course you do. Sorry. I can be so utterly tactless sometimes.”

  Her gaze fell on Daisy, and a look of pure longing crossed her face that she quickly hid. “How is she doing?”

  As usual, Daisy was at his side, pressed against his leg. He looked down at her and ruffled the thick fur at her neck. “She hasn’t gnawed on her cast yet, she seems to be well housebroken and she eats like a horse.”

  “You must have an incredible knack with animals. She already seems totally devoted to you.”

  “But she’s still your dog. Whenever you feel ready to keep her at your cabin, I’ll bring her up.”

  “How could I do that?” Chloe gave him a doubtful look. “From watching her, I think that would be cruel. She’s exactly where she wants to be. With you.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  He could just leave it at that, the easier way out, and let Chloe believe the dog liked him best because he was the more wonderful human being.