by Jill Shalvis
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Chapter 3
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Haley kept busy for the rest of the day because she had to. If she didn't, the humiliation of the barn scene would kill her. And if that didn't, then the horror of what she'd learned would.
Lloyd dead. Only three of them left now, assuming Bob was indeed still alive. The pain in her gut made her decide not to think about it.
It seemed all her life there had been things from her past she'd needed to avoid thinking about. Losing her father before she'd known him. Being shunned by a high-society mother who couldn't handle the burden of raising a "special" child. Being responsible for the deaths of too many people to count, when all she'd ever wanted was to make the world a safer place.
She needed to forget, just for a little while, or she'd self-destruct. Besides, she'd been bred to work, and without it, she felt useless.
The big house was lovely but, as she quickly discovered, clean only on the surface. She found someone's stiff, dirty socks under a cushion on the couch, a stack of long-forgotten mail behind a potted plant in desperate need of water, and a half-eaten tortilla, crisp with age, in a far corner of the patio. She cleaned it all, and shocked herself by how much she actually enjoyed doing it.
But even with the peace and solitude, there was the knowledge that all this was temporary. Soon, she'd have to come up with a better plan. Such as how to get help without getting herself extradited to South America.
Even sooner, she'd have to figure out what she could manage for dinner; but one worry at a time. She took a stack of rugs outside to shake out the dirt, and spotted the wooden-raid fence in the side yard. She decided to throw the rugs over it so she could shake the dust loose with her broom.
Laying out the rugs with great concentration allowed room for no other thoughts to intrude. Not the raw grief from seeing the bodies of two of her team members scattered in their own blood, not the bitter disappointment of the destruction of her earth-movement system, and certainly not the fact that she owed her existence at this moment to a big, fat lie.
The rugs took up the entire length of the fence. She couldn't see the other side, but she'd stopped jumping at every little noise. No one knew where she was or they would have come for her by now. Momentarily sidetracked by the wide, open sky and vast expanse of land around her, Haley took a deep breath of fresh and blessedly cool air. Something settled inside her.
She hadn't been back in the States for so long, she almost didn't recognize the content feeling for what it was. And she didn't realize she wasn't alone until she glanced up and saw the huge bovine head—as wide as her body and nearly half as long—hanging over the fence like one of her rugs, its face inches from her own.
With a muffled scream, she stepped back and tripped over her broom to land gracelessly on her bottom in the dust.
"Moooooo," the cow offered, gazing at her with a curious-but-blank stare.
Rich male laughter rang out and Haley closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Why, of all the people living in this house, did it have to be him to witness her second most embarrassing moment of the day?
She opened her eyes to find Cameron squatted in front of her, proffering a hand. Childish as it was, she couldn't resist, and before he could so much as blink—or make the comment she could see he was itching to make—she'd grabbed his hand and pulled him down into the dirt beside her.
Haley didn't know what she expected—anger, indignation, bafflement? Anything but more laughter. On his butt, there in the dirt, Cam tipped his hat back and roared.
She waited, simmering, until he subsided. When he did, she pushed to her feet, brushed the dust off her jeans and shot him a look that would have withered anyone else.
He just grinned. "What a hot temper you've got, Haley Williams. And a hell of a right arm, too."
She turned from him and nearly stumbled again. The cow still stared at her from less than a foot away. Haley's startled curse earned her another laugh from Cameron.
"Margaret won't hurt you. Her only thought is Where's my food?" He stood and patted the cow on the head affectionately. "She's sweet, but not too bright."
"Margaret? You name your cows?"
He shrugged and gave her that harmless, I'm-so-innocent smile. As if he'd ever been innocent. "Why not?"
Haley looked at the cow and suddenly couldn't help herself. Never having been within miles of a cow before, she wanted to touch it. Tentatively, she reached out a hand, then whipped it back when Margaret shifted her huge head to gaze balefully at her with those big brown eyes.
"She doesn't see too well," Cam said. "But you can touch her. Go on, she won't bite." He took her wrist, drawing her hand close until she could smooth it over the cow's soft, warm forehead.
She couldn't contain her small smile.
Cam watched her. "Never touched one before, huh?"
"No," she admitted.
"Well, for a city girl you're doing okay, then."
The funny—and sad—thing was, she was no more a city girl than a country one. She truly belonged nowhere. Her entire life had been spent studying, observing and scrutinizing. Locked away from reality, Haley hadn't realized until that very moment that she didn't seem to fit into any one, specific setting.
She didn't belong anywhere. Or to anyone.
Forcing the thought away, she reached again for the cow and just managed not to flinch when Margaret snorted very wetly and noisily. With one last look at Cameron and Haley, the cow slowly lumbered away in search of more grass. Or whatever cows went in search of.
Cameron's eyes sparkled, and she knew he wanted to laugh at her. She liked to think he didn't dare. "I've got work," she said with as much dignity as she could manage.
His lips twitched. "So you've said." He rocked back on his heels and looked at the perfect sky marred only by a few streaks of white cloud. "Storm's brewing. We'll have rain tonight."
She wrinkled her nose, squinting at the sky. "There're no rain clouds."
"I can feel it," he said simply. "I love the rain."
She did, too. No matter where she'd lived, whether the rain had beaten against wide, frothy fronds of palm trees, whipped at the desert floor, or streamed down mountainsides, she'd loved it. To find this unlikely common ground set her further off-balance. Purposefully, she picked up her broom and went to move away, but he reached out and took her hand.
"Do you like it here, Haley?"
She glanced down at their joined hands pointedly, hoping he'd take the hint and let go. He didn't, so she pulled free. "I haven't been here very long. Only a day."
"All right, then. Could you be happy here?"
The big house stood behind him; wide, open and inviting. She'd never had a home—or a real one, anyway. Boarding schools had been her haven as a child, since her mother had never sent for her and had visited only occasionally. After that had come college. Then her work, which had her either closeted away in a laboratory, or traveling all over the globe. She'd always dreamed of a permanent place to belong … but what would she do with one?
"Haley?" Cam stepped closer, ducking his face to look into hers.
"I don't know," she said quite honestly. "I've never really had a place like this to stay before."
"Where's your home?" His voice, with its low, rich quality, almost lulled her into answering more truthfully than she intended.
"I don't have one."
He tipped his head, considering. "Everyone comes from somewhere."
"Not me."
His smile faded. "You're full of secrets, aren't you?"
"Yes," she said honestly. "I'm sorry."
He let out a long, frustrated breath, once again showing that slightly rough, earth edge she'd sensed earlier. "It's my problem, not yours." Taking the broom from her hand, he stepped up to the first rug she'd hung and smacked it. Dust swirled and he shook his head. "I never noticed how dirty these were," he said a little apologetically. When dust had stopped rising from the rug, he moved to the second.
&
nbsp; "Wait! That's my job."
He twisted to glance at her over his shoulder. "I'll do it. You look tired."
She looked tired. "I'm the housekeeper."
"It's okay, Haley." Smack! Smack!
She wrestled the broom from him and blew the hair from her face. "It's my job. Now go away and leave me to it."
"Can I watch?" As her eyes narrowed dangerously, he backed up, raising his hands in surrender. "Wow. You should see how blue your eyes get when you're riled. They're something."
She thought about wielding the broom as a weapon and bounced it in her hands. "You've got to have work to do. Go do it. Go ranch."
"My brothers are doing that."
"Then go … do something. Make another shelf."
He grinned in his usual easygoing way as she turned the broom in her hands, holding it like a baseball bat. "I don't feel like it."
God save her from lazy cowboys. "Well, go feel like something. You're in my way."
The grin spread. "You like me."
She rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, listening to him whistle as he sauntered away.
"Oh, and Haley?" he called out. She refused to look at him, but that didn't stop him from yelling, "Don't scare any more cows. It's not good for milk production."
His laughter rang out in the cool, afternoon air.
* * *
That night, standing in the kitchen, at a total loss over what to make for dinner, Haley began to panic.
Zach came in. "Hey, Haley. How's it going?"
"Fine," she said politely, thankful this brother didn't seem as innately curious as his younger one.
"The house looks great," he said, proceeding past her to the refrigerator. "It hasn't been so clean since… Well, ever." He stuffed an apple into his mouth, grabbed two armfuls of chilled food, and dumped it all on the counter, kicking the door closed with his foot. He smiled around the apple when he noticed her staring, then began to open an assortment of containers.
"What are you doing?"
He pulled the apple from his mouth, taking a huge bite. "I'm making a sandwich. I'm hungry."
She moved to his side to protest. "But I'm going to cook dinner for you."
"Oh, don't bother for me, thanks. I'm studying." Another bite, and the apple had nearly disappeared.
"Well, at least let me make whatever it is you're going to make for yourself."
He shot her a smile. "You worked hard today, take a break."
"Dinner's my job," she protested, watching him make short work of a piece of chicken he found in some foil. Where, she wondered, eyeing his tall, lean body, did he put all that food?
"Nellie and Jason are going out to dinner to be alone," he said, rolling his eyes. "Take advantage."
Nellie's absence explained why Max had been trailing her for the past hour. But it didn't rid Haley of guilt. She had to work. She owed these people everything.
"Cam's in his studio," Zach continued, starting on the second piece of chicken. "He'll be there all night."
She tried not to wonder why the mention of his brother's name made her stomach tingle. "All night?"
"Yeah." He pulled out a huge roll that surely one person couldn't eat by himself, especially one who'd already eaten an apple and two pieces of chicken. "He's in the mood to work, for a change."
She saw that he spoke without rancor or bitterness. Just plain acceptance … and love. "What is it he does, exactly?"
Zach laughed softly as if she'd told a joke, but in truth, she had no idea what was so funny. "It's amazing, isn't it? People from three states over clamor for his furniture, not even minding that he won't give them a finish date. He'll just get to it when he gets to it, he says, and they agree. I still don't understand it."
Haley watched as he stacked cheese and meat four inches thick on the huge roll, wondering how he would get his mouth around it. "Is he any good?"
"The best," Zach said simply.
"What are you studying?" she asked, fascinated by his appetite.
"For the bar exam."
"An attorney. That's impressive."
"For a cowboy, you mean?" He smiled and piled three-quarters of a new bag of chips on the plate. Then, as an afterthought, he dumped the rest onto the plate, too. "Don't be too impressed," he said wryly. "I seem to collect occupations. I was a cop once. A bartender, too." He balanced the plate and three cans of soda easily in those long gangly arms and made his way to the door before he paused. "It's nice to have you here, Haley," he said sincerely. "It's nice to be looked after."
She nearly laughed. "But you're not letting me look after you at all."
"We don't want to take advantage."
"But you're paying me to do this."
He grinned. "No, not me. Cam is. He'll get his money's worth, believe me. He always does." His color drained and he looked as if he wanted to hit himself. "Wait. That didn't come out right."
She'd taken an involuntary step backward, but common sense prevailed. Last night, her safety had taken a back seat to escape. Going home with strangers had been infinitely preferable to the alternative of being dead. But after a night and a day with these people, she sensed she was safe. Especially after the barn fiasco when she'd unintentionally thrown herself at her new boss and he'd acted with gentlemanly restraint, if not a great deal of humor.
Even so, she wanted to clarify things. In her profession, where she was required to carefully observe and study, she'd found it the best method. "I'm a housekeeper," she said firmly. "Nothing more."
"We know that," Zach said quickly, sincerely. He shrugged his wide shoulders in emphasis, since his hands were completely full of food. "And no one expects more. In fact, if either of my brothers even looks at you cross-eyed, I'll sue them for you—I promise."
She smiled at that, as he'd intended. "I thought brothers tended to wrestle and fight, not sue."
"When we were younger, but not anymore," he vowed. "I may be the oldest, but Cam's the strongest. Neither of us messes with him now. Besides, suing him hurts where it counts the most—his wallet."
Haley had a hard time picturing Cameron expending enough energy to worry about anything, much less his financial situation. "He doesn't seem to care about money much."
"No." Zach sighed dramatically. "He doesn't." And then he eyed her strangely. "Haley, I meant what I said. You're safe here. If there's ever anything you want us to know, or if you need any help, you could just tell us. We'd be there."
"Okay," she said slowly, trying to read between the lines. Did he know something, suspect something? When he only stood there, looking at her expectantly, she lifted a shoulder self-consciously. "What?"
Disappointment crossed his features. "Nothing. Have a good night."
She watched him go, once again marveling at how much food he was going to consume, then turned to the empty kitchen. She should have been relieved at her miraculous respite, but she felt oddly … unsettled.
It was quiet, almost too much so. She went out the back door and saw little Max, fast asleep on his padded bed. Standing on the porch, listening to him snore softly, she watched the daylight fade into night. A gigantic cloud hung where the sun was making its lazy descent behind the shadowed mountains. A fat, black cloud that, as Cameron had told her earlier, promised rain.
Rain would suit her mood.
She stood there in the very cool air, her arms wrapped around her middle, wondering at the strange and unexpected turn her life had taken. What had really happened there in South America? Someone—Alda? Bob?—had gotten greedy. Someone had decided they wanted the system for themselves. Who? The system was destroyed now; did they think they could recreate it? She didn't want to blame either of them, but no one else alive knew what they'd created. Where were they now? Were they hiding, as she was? Both were American, and both had worked previously for the United States Geological Survey. If she called the USGS, would they know what had happened? Would they even believe her? She knew she had to try.
It was time to stop
burying her head in the sand. Because of the time difference between Los Angeles and Colorado, it was too late today. But first thing in the morning, she'd call the USGS base in California. It might give her peace of mind.
They'd probably want her to come work for them, tell them what she knew. She didn't want to go back to being a geologist. It was ironic that she'd lost the taste for it, since once upon a time, it had been all she'd ever wanted. But she wouldn't reproduce that system, no matter what. With the knowledge in the wrong hands, anything could happen. Terrorists could blackmail governments for billions with the threat of a massive earthquake or volcano.
The implications were terrifying. Good Lord, no wonder someone wanted her dead.
Darkness had fallen while she stood there and she'd never seen such a complete and utterly still black night. There were no sounds as a huge, ominous cloud stretched across the entire yawning sky. She couldn't even see her little house, only fifty yards away. Little Max snored on.
Never in her life had Haley felt so alone, so isolated.
Suddenly lightning bolted, and she nearly leaped off the porch. She braced for the thunder, but still wasn't prepared for the resounding boom that had Max jumping up with a cry, straight into her arms. She pulled him close, her heart pounding, and at the next crack, whirled toward the door with every intention of turning on each and every light in the entire house.
"Don't go."
She swallowed her scream as the next brilliant flash lit the Colorado night like day, highlighting the planes and hollows of Cameron's rugged face from where he stood on the porch steps.
"Lightning storm," he said simply, moving up the few steps to stand before her. "You haven't lived until you've seen the entire show. Come on." Taking the whining puppy in the crook of one arm, he grabbed her hand.
"It's going to rain," she said inanely, her heart still thundering in tune to the storm.
"Oh, yeah. It's going to rain." He tugged at her hand gently, murmuring quietly to Max. He led them to a beautiful, wide wooden bench on the far end of the veranda.
"I … should go in."
"Sit down a sec." He did, and pulled her down next to him. Max huddled pathetically in his lap while Cam ran a large soothing hand over his quivering back. Then he pointed off into the far distance where the entire sky had rippled with jagged streaks of blue light. "Watch," he said, his voice filled with awe. The air split with the crash of thunder.
