by Norah Wilson
If he’d had a hope of deterring her, he’d completely blown it back there. Predicting that she’d give up when she realized how difficult and dangerous the trek would be? A totally bone-headed thing to say. It had just made her dig her heels in even harder. He should have figured on that. Should have kept his mouth shut and let her come to that conclusion herself.
What he hadn’t seen coming was the wounded defeat he’d glimpsed in her eyes. It had been the briefest of flashes, gone in a second, but he knew what he’d seen. And while he hadn’t put it there, it still made him feel like shit for bringing it to the fore.
She stopped suddenly, bringing him back to the present.
“This way to White Crow Cliff?” They were at a point where the rough and uneven ground rose sharply.
Titus didn’t say a word, determined to give nothing away. He was, after all, waiting her out. Yet, a slow grin spread across her face as she looked into his eyes.
“So it is this way,” she said. “Thanks.”
Way to go, Standish. “You sure about that?”
“You’re so easy to read.”
He doubted that. More likely she’d recognized the rough, nearly indiscernible trail to her right. She had indeed just found Angel Trail.
For a woman who’d gotten herself lost earlier, she was doing a pretty good job of finding her way now. Of course, when she’d taken that impromptu plunge, she’d actually done herself a favor. Well, navigationally speaking, anyway. She’d pretty much landed right on the shortcut between the two trails.
Once Titus had checked her over and told her to lead the way, she hadn’t just taken off thoughtlessly. She hadn’t asked what the safest route back up was, or how he’d climbed down to her. She’d just looked around, her eyes following this specific rock ledge that went on and on. She’d looked up at the sky, off into the distance, then back at the ledge. “I’m on the shortcut again,” she’d announced.
Then, reading his silence, she’d chosen her direction. He was right behind her as she’d started off toward Angel Trail.
He studied her as she surveyed the rough rise of mountain before her. And he waited. Waited for her to abandon this ridiculousness. It was late. The light would soon start failing, making it harder to see. Surely she’d see that and be ready to quit. He’d just give her a little nudge…
“We have about forty-five minutes of decent light left, no more,” he said. “If we head back now, we could backtrack to the Yasmine Trail. We’d have to double-time it, but I could take your pack to speed us up. I could get us to that point before dark, and it’s an easy hike down Yasmine. We’d be fine with just the flashlight. No worries about running into a tree.”
“Or off a cliff?”
He acknowledged the point with a nod. “That too.”
She looked back up at the mountain again, then returned her gaze to him. As he watched, the resolve seemed to drain out of her, slowly giving way to that wound of defeat. Again.
Damn, he hated to see that look on her face. But there was no help for it. She would have to confront the inevitable so they could head back. He stood silently, waiting for her to give the word.
Instead, her chin came up, her beautiful lips thinned into a determined line. Her eyes burning with purpose again, she said, “How far can we get tonight?”
“Really?” He blinked. “You want to overnight up here?”
“Seems like I’ll have to, since the light is going. And since I’m not about to give up on this.”
He should have been pissed, but internally he couldn’t help but cheer for her, for not knuckling under.
“Well, if we keep going west on this ridge for a while longer, we’ll come to a little place I know. We could stay there.”
“A little place?”
Great. She was probably thinking he’d suggested that option because he wanted to get her in the sack. Which he totally did, but that was beside the point.
And totally not happening. This New York Ocean was out of his league. She might be four years his junior, but it sure didn’t feel that way anymore. The layer of polish and sophistication she’d acquired suited her, but it more than leveled the playing field.
“If we’re here for the night, we’ll need shelter,” he said quickly. “I can get us to my late grandmother’s cabin. It’s not much, but at least it’ll be a roof over our heads.”
Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I didn’t know there were any cabins up here.”
“Not many younger folks know about it,” he said. “It’s well hidden.”
“It’s old, I take it?”
“Built in the twenties. My grandmother and two of her sisters had a little bit of a side business hidden away on this mountain.”
“Hidden from whom?”
He shrugged. “The law. The town. Mostly from my great-grandfather.”
“Omigod!” She grinned. “The twenties? I think I have an idea what sort of side business it was.”
“Moonshine,” he confirmed. “They had their own still. And from what I gather, one hellacious recipe. They smuggled their product across the border during prohibition.”
“Your grandmother?”
“And her sisters. Apparently, in addition to being good at making moonshine, they were very pretty and had no trouble flirting their way out of tight spots. Not that there was even a terribly cohesive border patrol at the time. At least not in these parts. No one ever suspected that the three beautiful young women from rural New Brunswick bombing along the back roads were rum runners.”
“So they never got into a jam?”
“Not saying that. They got into at least one,” he said. “But my great aunt Shirley used a little extra, um...charm…on the law enforcement officer in question, a fellow by the name of Fred Hagerman. She ended up marrying the guy. Said he was the love of her life. They were still married when she died, fifty-some years, two children, and five grandchildren later.”
He loved the bemused look on her face.
“Did Fred ever find out? That the sisters were rum runners?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he knew from the get-go, but he was willing to overlook it. Maybe he even helped facilitate it. Despite his being a cop, he was a sympathizer, one of many who disagreed with the dry crusaders.”
“Business must have dried up eventually, when prohibition was lifted in the States.”
He nodded. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“But what a ride it must have been for them in the meantime.”
“True that.”
“Did your great-grandfather ever find out? People in town?”
“Half the town probably knew. As for my great-grandfather…” He shrugged. “He’d have to have been pretty blind to not know something was up. I mean, Aunt Shirley bought a house in Houlton for herself and her husband right after prohibition was lifted. And Aunt Laura somehow had the wherewithal to tour Europe and down through the States—that was quite a luxury back then. And when my grandmother Clara married hard-working but dirt-poor Edward Standish and bought the homestead in the late thirties, he didn’t question a thing.”
“Wow,” she said. “Fearless women.”
Titus always felt a stirring of pride when he told that story. His family was full of strong women like Clara, Shirley and Laura. The Lovecraft women. But the look of awe on Ocean’s face as he’d told this bit of family history warmed him.
“So you propose we spend the night together at that cabin?”
Why did she have to put it like that? He was already struggling to suppress the pictures his mind kept producing as he’d followed her trim butt along the trail.
“It’s an option. Or I could set up this tent I’m packing at the first suitable site.”
He hesitated, half hoping she’d take him up on that tent option. Half afraid she would.
“Is it still sound? The cabin, I mean?”
“It’s weather-tight and would be more comfortable and secure,” he said. “We should be able to get
a small fire going if no animals have taken up residence in the old wood stove.”
“I have kindling for the fire.” She patted the side of her backpack.
He frowned. “Sorry…you packed kindling?”
“Never mind.” She bit her lip. “How far away is this cabin?”
“Forty minutes, maybe.”
She drew a deep breath and he realized how weary she must be, not to mention sore from the fall.
“Hard hike?”
“Yeah.” Maybe the thought of that kind of exertion would be the last straw. “We’ll be climbing all the way.”
She nodded.
Dammit. Okay, time to change tacks.
“I should tell you the cabin is very…uh…cozy.” He let the word hang there suggestively. Maybe the prospect of sharing those close quarters would change her mind. There was still time to hike back down. “One room, basically. And just the one bed.”
Her eyes widened.
Encouraged, he added, “Or if you’re not up to the hike, it’d take no time to throw the tent up. It’s just a backpacking tent, but we could both squeeze in.”
She’d ducked her head and her already cold-reddened cheeks got a little redder.
“The other option, of course, is going back. Sleep in our own beds. If we left right now, we’d—”
Her head came up. “You rat.”
Those wide eyes had narrowed, he noticed. “What?”
“I know what you’re doing. You think if the mountain itself won’t frighten me into going back down, the man will. Well, neither of you are going to scare me off.”
“No?” Damn, she was hot when she bristled like that. If things weren’t so complicated, if he wasn’t planning to leave everything he knew behind, he would kiss her. For long seconds, he hung on the knife edge of indecision. But somehow he found the strength to pull back.
Which was when she leaned in, went up on tiptoe, hooked an arm around his neck, pressed those breasts he’d been fantasizing about against him, and kissed him. Hard. Even though he’d been thinking about kissing her, the unexpectedness of her action caused him to temporarily freeze. Before he could react to that bold taste of her, she stepped back.
“I may not be ready to run illegal booze across the border, but I’m braver than you think. Now, if you could please lead the way to that cabin.”
Titus stood there for a few seconds, his lips still warm from that dangerous kiss.
Dangerous?
Yeah. Because right now, he’d give just about anything to feel her mouth on his again, her slim, strong body beneath him.
But it wasn’t going to happen. Despite flirting with her earlier—or hell, using their impending close proximity to try to intimidate her—he was not going to start something. Not here. Not with anyone, but especially not with Ocean Siliker. He was leaving. Leaving the farm, leaving Harkness. All of it.
It was time for him, dammit. And no one was going to stop him.
But he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
He nodded once. “Follow me.”
Chapter 10
SCOTT SAT there in the driver’s seat of his brother’s pickup, looking up at his ghostly reflection in the Ford’s moon roof. Cell phone to ear, the grin slowly spread across his face.
Oh yeah, Titus was going to skin him alive for this.
Awesome.
“And you’re sure that’s what he said, young Mr. Standish?” Mrs. Siliker said. He wondered if she ever dropped that tone. Young Mr. Standish? He hadn’t heard that in years. “Is this the entire truth?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
How did she do that? How did this retired teacher manage to make him feel like he was back in grade ten at Prince Region High? Back in home room, first period biology, with Mrs. Siliker. Or back in the principal’s office, with her shaking her head in disapproval as Scott was grilled about some minor infraction. Or a not so minor one. Such as the time he and Dundas Bloom—a senior—had gone head-to-head in the boys second-floor washroom.
It had been late September, and Dundas had started spreading bullshit stories about one of the junior girls in their small high school. That girl happened to be Ember.
Scott saw the older boy heading into the bathroom before the bell one morning. He’d decided to confront Dundas about his lies. And by confront, he’d meant punch his lights out.
Dundas had barely stepped from the stall when Scott was on him, following that initial sucker punch with a barrage of flying fists. But Dundas, a hockey-playing senior, wasn’t one to shrink from a fight. Within five minutes, two dozen spectators had filled the bathroom to watch them duke it out. However, those on the sidelines dispersed quickly when one of the gym teachers and Principal Prieto waded in and broke it up.
Scott had taken the worst of the beating. Still in the growing stage, he hadn’t filled in as a man yet, whereas Dundas had been shaving since ninth grade. But Scott had scored his fair share of hits to that trash-talking mouth. He was still swinging when they’d pulled them apart.
Prieto had marched both boys down to his office.
When Mrs. Siliker had taken Scott aside and tried to find out what the fight was about, he hadn’t said a word. Not to Mrs. Siliker, not to Principal Prieto, and not to Uncle Arden when he came to fetch Scott home for three days’ suspension. And he sure as hell didn’t say anything to Ember—even when she asked him if it was true he’d been defending her honor.
It had been his battle. He’d take the heat for starting it.
Gladly.
That Bloom S.O.B. had never spoken another bad word about Ember, at least not that got back to Scott. But there’d been bad blood between the two from that day forward.
It had been a bitch of a junior year. By the time Dundas had graduated in the spring to start work at his daddy’s paving company, he and Scott had gone at it twice more—wisely, off the school grounds. Scott grew three inches taller that year and broader across the chest. He also became a better fighter, thanks to Titus. Though his cousin didn’t like him fighting, he’d known Dundas wasn’t going to let it go, and a man needed to be able to defend himself. And the women in his life. Titus had been a great instructor, and Scott a fast learner.
Dundas Bloom subsequently learned to keep his mouth shut.
Scott looked at his reflection again—he was clenching and unclenching his hand just thinking about that asshole.
“Are you listening to me, young man?”
“Yes, Mrs. Siliker.” He brought his focus back to her worried words.
“I’d hate to have to tell your father you were stretching the truth. Arden wouldn’t be very happy to hear that.”
“It’s the truth.” Scott repeated it one more time, what he’d told the old lady earlier. “Titus called me from his satellite phone and asked me to let you know that he was with Ocean. She’s safe, but they’ve elected to stay up there for the night and come back tomorrow.” He looked past his reflection at the darkening sky. “All is well. Better than well.”
“Titus said that?”
Well, not exactly… “Uh…something like that.”
“Are those two dating?” she asked. “Is it serious? I mean, Ocean’s only been home a week, but one never knows…”
As far as Scott knew, until Titus had found her on Harkness Mountain today, he probably hadn’t seen Ocean since last time she was home at Christmas. But where was the fun in saying that? Where was the harangue for Titus when this was done? “Well, far be it from me to tell tales out of school.” He cleared his throat.
She sighed. “I suppose that’s why Titus didn’t call me himself, to avoid a lecturing.”
Scott knew full well Titus had delegated the call because he needed the daylight to prepare to overnight on the mountain, not to escape talking to Mrs. Siliker, but he let her observation slide.
“Oh, I do hope she’ll be all right up there.”
He felt a pang of conscience at that. Here he was trying to get Titus in trouble with their former teac
her just for the hell of it, while she was worrying about her daughter.
“She’s safe and sound. I can promise you that,” he rushed to assure her. “They’re both fine, having a good time catching up.” Okay, that was stretching it. It had seemed more like they were butting heads. But this time, the little white lie was for Mrs. Siliker’s peace of mind. “I actually talked to Ocean myself,” he added.
“You did?” Her voice brightened.
“Yes, and she was in good spirits. Honestly.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. That mountain has bad memories for her, after what happened to Lacey up there.”
“Of course,” he said, his guilt intensifying. “But please don’t worry. Ocean’s more than fine with Titus looking after things.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Titus is very capable and responsible. I know Ocean can be stubborn. Headstrong. But for the two of them to spend the night up on the mountain alone…”
His grin was back. “I’m sure you’ll want to have a heart-to-heart with Titus when they get back.”
“The two of them are in for a talking to.”
“Definitely. But I wouldn’t blame Ocean too much.”
“Oh, I don’t. She’s had a crush on Titus forever.” She paused. “Oh dear. I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t mention that to anyone.”
“Cross my heart, Mrs. Siliker.”
“Thank you. That makes me feel better. You’ve always been a good boy, Scott. Even with the trouble you got in, I always knew what that was about. You were protecting your sister’s reputation.”
So she had known. Huh. “Thank you, Mrs. Siliker. Now I really should hang up. I have to call Uncle Arden to let him know Titus won’t be home tonight.”
“Leave it with me,” she said crisply. “I planned to call him anyway. I usually wait until after Jeopardy has aired—I know how much he loves that show—but I think I’ll call him right now. I’m sure he’d like to know.”
Mrs. Siliker was in the habit of calling Uncle Arden regularly? That was news to him. But welcome news. He’d watched a documentary on aging once and knew that while family was great, older people needed friends in their own peer group. He was glad his uncle seemed to have found a friend in Mrs. Siliker.
