"You're serious," he'd said.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Let me get this straight. You'd like it if we sat at home and watched a golf game?"
"Yeah."
Mason had leaned his head back and laughed.
"What's wrong with that?" Back then, she'd been hurt by his reaction. His opinion of her mattered. She hadn't understood why people thought golf was boring when she was so passionate about it. What wasn't to love? The perfect swing was a challenge to master. It took skill to put the ball where you wanted, and at the desired distance. And who wouldn't want to walk on such a beautiful expanse of grass? Her favorite picture was still the one hanging over her mother's fireplace. It was taken from Ballybunion in Kerry, Ireland with the sun shining on the ocean in the distance.
Mason had never stopped teasing her about golf. He'd indulged her for his amusement, taken her to Moosehead Tavern and asked the bartender to turn on the British Open. Then sat back to observe her, drinking a soda with her, amazed to see how much she truly loved the game. He'd liked that about her, whether he would have admitted it or not. Her fondness for golf made her different from anyone else in Timberline. And of course, anything non-Timberline Mason liked.
But when he'd seen how his laughter had insulted her that night at the lake, his smile had faded and he'd reached to pull her closer.
"Don't be mad, angel. There's nothing about you I don't like."
And there went her heart again, melting over every word. It melted more as he looked at her, his green eyes warm with youthful affection. She'd never forget those moments. How warm she was. How her heart beat with excitement. How sure she was that she wanted him to kiss her.
He kept looking into her eyes as he brought his mouth toward hers. When their lips touched, she got lost in new sensation. She hadn't understood it then. The strength of it. But Mason knew what he was doing. He knew how to coax her mouth open and kiss her for real. That time at Burl's was nothing compared to this. He'd kissed her until she forgot where she was. And when he lifted his head, she'd stared at him and swallowed reflexively, overwhelmed by unfamiliar passion. Her young mind couldn't process it quick enough. She felt flushed and full of wanting.
"I better take you home," he'd said. She could still hear the gruffness of it.
But neither of them had forgotten her mother was gone for the weekend. Looking back, she knew Mason hadn't intended to come inside. The feelings that kiss awakened were too strong. The two of them were too curious, her more than him since he was the one with more experience, being three years older.
She had vivid memories of them on the living room couch.
"The coffee is ready."
Utah jumped when she realized Mason had come up behind her. She looked down at the coffee maker and saw it wasn't dripping anymore. She'd stood there immersed in memory all this time.
He reached around her for the cabinet door. His body pressed close. She felt his heat. He took first one cup, then another out of the cabinet and put them down.
She couldn't stop herself from turning her head to see his face above her shoulder. He glanced at her as he poured coffee into the cups. His skin was more worn than that night on her mother's couch. His eyes full of more wisdom. But he was the same in other ways. The way he looked at her, that unspoken heat. She was glad when he took one of the cups and backed away.
"It's decaffeinated," she said, sipping while she leaned against the counter.
He didn't say anything.
"I saw you at Burl's today."
"I went for a long ride. I was on my way home."
She nodded.
"Looks like you're getting started on the golf course."
"Yeah. It's all preliminary right now. Planning where the holes will be, deciding what existing landscaping we'll retain in the course. That kind of thing."
"Ran into Sam yesterday at Over Easy. He's excited over the business it might bring to his hotel. West End's been slow he said."
West End was the nicest accommodation in town. And her hotel wouldn't be so large that it would run him out of business. That wasn't her intent.
"Are you doing any advertising?" Mason asked.
"I've got links to my website on some travel websites, also some sites more specific to Colorado. You know, Colorado Directory, City Guide...that kind of thing. I'm also doing something on golf directory sites and putting flyers out in Steamboat and cities along the Front Range."
He sat on one of the kitchen chairs and she came over to the table and did the same, across from him. This was so like old times she couldn't stop herself from staying close to him. Talking.
"You like being back here?" he asked when she finished going on about her plans for the course.
She looked around the kitchen that seemed so empty without her mother. Yet, her lingering presence was comforting. "Yes. It's home." She looked at him. "What are you going to do after summer is over?"
Immediately, his face stiffened into a wall against any emotion her question stirred. "I have a house just outside Fort Bragg."
She took in his rigid expression. "Why is the Army so important to you?"
"It's what I know."
It was more than that. "You could move here," she said, just to goad him.
"Utah..."
"What about that is so awful, Mason?"
"Timberline isn't for me. Let's just leave it at that."
No, it went deeper. When he was nineteen that was enough of a reason. He needed to explore the world, explore his destiny, find his own way. But now there was another reason he felt he couldn't stay. He just wasn't telling her. It annoyed her how much she cared. There was a time when he could have told her anything. What had happened to change that?
Something had drawn him back to Timberline. Something terrible. And she was afraid, both for him and for her. Afraid for him because he was burying something painful, afraid for herself because in the process of caring she would put her heart on the line. He could end up yet another mistake in her life if she let him too close. More bad news to add to her already too-long list.
"You can't jump out of planes the rest of your life," she finally said.
"You want me to stay, is that it?"
"I want to know why you're really here."
He didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened and his brow lowered in warning.
"Why won't you tell me?"
His eyes darkened, but she saw a flicker of something else. Pain. The struggle to keep whatever haunted him from showing. He didn't want her to see the weakness. He wouldn't want anyone to see it. Not her Mason. But something was crushing him.
"What happened to you, Mason?" she all but breathed, her heart breaking for him.
Mason put down his cup hard, sloshing coffee on the table before shoving his chair back. "Thanks for the coffee." He headed for the door.
She sprang up and went after him. At the front door, she touched his arm before he opened it. He stopped and looked down at her.
"Mason-"
"Nothing happened," he cut her off.
Her heart broke even more, the degree of emotion that slipped past his defenses alarming her. "Something must have."
"Don't listen to my dad. He's worrying for nothing."
"I don't think so." If he kept it inside, it would ruin him.
"Don't ask me about it again, Utah."
"Why not?" How could she ignore her knowledge that he carried some mysterious burden, a weighty, grim burden.
Anger clenched his jaw tighter. Instead of answering, he stepped back. Her hand slid off him and he opened the door and left. Hugging herself to resist the urge to stop him, she stepped out onto the front porch and watched him climb into Andy's truck. Just like long ago when he'd dropped her off at her house, he looked at her through the window. She got a chill as she watched him drive away.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Utah walked into Over Easy, Megan's mouth stopped moving. She and two other hens turned their heads to stare.
Utah smiled. "Hi." She walked farther inside. Yep, the best way to combat gossip was to confront it head-on.
She sat at a table and waited until Megan was able to close her mouth and come over. There was something liberating about seeing her speechless.
"Why Utah, what a pleasant surprise."
"May I have a menu, please?"
"Oh." Megan's laugh sounded as fake as her heart. She extended a menu. "Of course. The special today is the chef salad."
Utah took the menu. "I'll need one more."
"Meeting someone today?"
"Yes. Forrest Edwards of FLE Consultants. It's a business lunch."
Megan looked curious in a devious kind of way.
"And, no, we aren't sleeping together."
Megan's mouth opened again but no words came out.
The front door opened and Forrest Edwards walked in, tall and lean, dark gray hair and eyes. Handsome for his age, but not Utah's type. She was beginning to think no man was her type.
Forrest put down some documents as he sat beside her. "Sorry I'm late."
"We'll have coffee and water," Utah said to Megan.
"Oh...of course." And she ambled away.
Spreading a drawing on the table, he held it flat. "I altered the fairways some to take into consideration the angle of sunlight. Other than that, it's pretty close to what we discussed."
Utah studied the drawing. "I've been thinking about the length of the sixteenth hole. I want to make it par three instead of par four to break it up a little more."
"Not a problem."
"And," she pointed to an area on the drawing, "can we move this green a little to the southwest? I walked out there the other day and I think I would like this a lot better."
"Okay. Slope might be more of a challenge there, but I can probably work with that."
He moved on to the results of his surveys and analyses.
Utah stopped listening when Mason walked in. She was still shaken over the mystery of what had driven him here. He strode in with long strides and an observant glance around the small café, his head stopping when he saw her. He recovered with a brief look at Forrest, then chose a table across the café and sat with his back to her.
He obviously didn't want to speak to her. Or was he being polite by not interrupting her meeting? No. He was avoiding her. He was avoiding talking about his last mission. His secret was that terrible.
Megan went to his table, giving him a wide smile and leaning over to pour him a cup of coffee. Her neck-length hair barely moved with the motion. She touched his shoulder as she straightened. He didn't seem to mind, but neither did he seem interested in whatever she was saying. More likely, this was all for Utah's benefit. Megan was only trying to get a rise out of her.
Mason ordered an omelet.
"Ms. Pieper?"
She jerked her head back to Forrest, realizing he'd stopped talking.
"Sorry."
He continued briefing her on the surveys and analyses.
Her attention was once again drawn to Mason's table when Megan emerged with his eggs. She was definitely fawning all over him. At last she left him and he began to eat.
Forrest had stopped talking again.
"Sorry."
After an amused pause, he finished his update.
Megan returned to check on Mason, leaving his bill on the table. She touched his shoulder again.
"I don't have anything else. Why don't we meet again when I finalize the plan?"
She shifted her attention back to Forrest, who made no effort to hide his glance across the café where Mason sat.
"That's fine."
"Shall we say two weeks from now?"
"Two weeks it is." She paid the bill for the coffee, fumbling with her wallet and dropping change on the table. He stood with her and reached to shake her hand. She took it.
"I'll be in touch to schedule a day and time," he said.
"Thank you for coming all the way here."
"My pleasure, I assure you. This is a perfect town for a resort."
"It does have its appeal." She slid a doubtful glance toward Megan, who laughed at something Mason said.
Forrest let go of her hand and headed for the door.
She turned to Mason. While a voice argued inside her head not to do it, she went over to his table.
With a haughty look at Utah, Megan removed her hand from Mason's shoulder. The knowledge that he liked her runny eggs made Utah wonder if he'd changed beyond repair.
"You come by anytime, Mason Briggs, you're too good for my ego." Megan sauntered off.
And she was jealous...why? The woman was as shallow as the bottom of a martini glass.
"You realize it'll be all over town she's snagged herself a new man, don't you?" she said, unable to stop herself.
"Making progress on your golf course?" he asked instead of acknowledging that barb.
She let him get away with it. "Right on schedule."
He threw some bills on the table and stood. His looming height made her take a step back. Was he afraid she'd start asking questions he didn't want to answer? When he turned from the table and passed her on the way to the door, she knew he was. The subject of his reason for spending an entire summer in Timberline was that touchy to him.
She hurried to catch up to him, pushing the door open again as it swung closed when he left Over Easy. She walked with him outside, feeling Megan and her hens watching through the front window as they passed.
Mason glanced at her. She met the look with a dare for him to stop her from walking with him.
He looked forward, long strides growing more purposeful, brow set hard over squinting eyes.
"I called your dad last night," she said, hoping to divert her wayward reaction to just watching him move along the sidewalk.
"I know."
Good God, even the sound of his voice strummed her most feminine nerve-endings. "He invited me over for dinner tomorrow night."
"Know that, too."
"Don't be so happy about it," she quipped.
"I won't be there anyway."
"Have plans?"
"I'm meeting a friend in Steamboat."
Male or female, she wanted to ask.
"It's someone from my team in the Army," he said.
She never was any good at hiding her thoughts. "I wasn't asking if-"
"A guy," he cut her off.
She stayed quiet, pondering how relieved she felt now. What did it mean? Did she want to start something with Mason? Would it be so bad to have a fling this summer? Yes. Because with Mason, it could never be just a fling for her.
They walked all the way to Screws Garage before Mason veered off the sidewalk, which ended past a row of three houses where the road curved toward the highway.
Sheldon Screws leaned over the open hood of a car. As Utah came to a stop with Mason, she saw it was a 69 Mustang. The paint was faded, a dent caved in the driver's door, but...the zing of distant memory stirred her...it was a convertible.
"How's she coming?" Mason asked.
Utah's heart thudded with a jolt and then fell into a faster beat. Did Mason know what he'd just said? Coming.
Just seeing another Mustang like the one Mason had when they were teenagers was enough to bring it all back. The walk along the lake that last night with him. The kiss when they reached his car. It had flared into more. He'd driven her to the woods and parked. They'd kissed again. That turned to fevered caresses. Clothes came off. It wasn't the first time they'd done it, but it was the first time it had been for real. The first time was clumsy. That time...
She would never forget it.
Sheldon straightened from under the hood and wiped his hands on a stained red cloth. "Just about finished with her. Re-skinned the rear seat and cleaned up the interior. Got a new suspension. She'll be good as new as soon as I finish with the engine." He nodded toward the open hood. "Rebuilt the 302 just like you wanted. Everything but the block and crank is new."
Uta
h cocked her head as she looked at Mason. "Is this your car?"
He grinned and met her gaze. "Just bought it last week."
"She was in mighty bad shape," Sheldon said. "Once I get a fresh coat of paint on her, she'll be a fine beauty."
Mason leaned over the engine to study what Utah assumed was Sheldon's progress so far.
"She'll purr with that muffler you chose."
Utah wandered along the side of the car, thrown back in time to when Mason had talked of buying his first Mustang. He had a passion for old cars and rock n' roll. They used to argue over what to listen to. Utah had always been a fan of pop music, despite its mainstream appeal. There was nothing different about favoring pop music, but she liked it just the same. Give her a deep raspy voice singing about love and she was happy. Mason had teased her about that, too. He'd teased her about anything he liked about her.
She ran her hand along the chipping paint of the old Mustang as she rounded the rear. At the passenger door, she opened it and climbed in, leaning her head back, remembering how the seat vibrated under her as Mason drove to the lake that last night. She'd sneaked out of the house.
He'd wanted to be careful not to let anyone know how serious they were, since his father thought she was too young. It had been days since she last saw him and she was all but bursting with the need to put her mouth and hands on him. Kissing at the lake had pushed him past his resistance. It had pushed them both past it. Weeks had gone by since she'd last felt the heat of his kisses and there'd been no opportunity to be alone anywhere comfortable. Her mother hadn't gone on one of her weekends and Andy was too watchful.
Kissing her against his car, Mason had begun to fumble with her clothes. Then stopped and looked around as if fearing they'd be caught. Interrupted. Stopped. He'd told her he wanted to take her somewhere more private.
Since that first time he'd made love to her, all he'd done was kiss her. Outside the market, in his car, in the trees. He'd taken her to Steamboat again and they'd pulled off the side of the road. Each time had almost led to more. That last night, both of them were way beyond waiting any longer. She had to have him. He had to have her.
"I know a place in the woods," he'd said. She still remembered his gruff voice. "Not far from here."
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