by Christa Wick
“I bet that was it exactly.”
Their laughter joining, Barrett and Quinn got out of the truck and set up camp again.
“In the meantime,” he said, stacking the logs next to the fire pit. “We can take the rental back into Billings tomorrow if you’re okay with that.”
“I am.” She pulled out packets of hot chocolate and a pot to boil the water.
A few hours later, Barrett led her over to the trailer, planted another chaste goodnight kiss on the top of her head, and returned to his tent and sleeping bag by the fire.
With the mini-camper’s dome light on, he saw the silhouette of her stripping her top shirt away, then her arms reaching behind her to unhook the bra. The last thing he saw before she pulled the little light’s cord was the release of her long, dark hair.
Sighing, Barrett shifted his gaze to the fire. Like his brother, he had jumped from planes in the middle of combat operations. But he knew, the time between being just a friend to Quinn and moving to the next level would be the longest days—and nights—of his life.
Chapter Eight
Leaving the campsite at a quarter past six in the morning, they made it to the rental office at the Billings airport with enough time to spare before another day was added to Quinn’s bill. Handing over the keys and paperwork to the clerk, she felt a little naked. If Barrett wanted to stop halfway back to Jester’s, turn off the engine and tell her to walk to wherever the hell she wanted to go, she probably wouldn’t find a way to the campsite in time. And she wouldn’t have anyone to vouch for the fact she had reached it, either.
If she confessed the fear to anyone, they would label her as paranoid as her stepfather Paul. But the person slapping the label on her wouldn’t have been dragged out of their mother’s car at the age of twelve and gotten lost long past dark.
Meeting Barrett back at his truck, he seemed to read the doubt in her eyes.
“Here,” he said, handing her the keys. “You can drive back.”
She shook her head. “Not unless you need me to.”
“As you command,” he teased. “Any stops before we head back to Willow Gap—well, in addition to breakfast.”
“I would love it if we could stop someplace cheap like Walmart.”
She had checked her balances while she waited for the clerk to finish the paperwork. While she was sitting there, the rental company cleared the hold for the remaining time from her credit card balance and there had been a flurry of purchases on the book cover site. If she didn’t know it was pretty close to impossible, she would think Barrett had found out about her side business and made the purchases himself. But she could see it had been more than one purchaser, the usernames familiar to her.
“Unless there’s someplace else I can get an even cheaper coat for the fall and something other than tennis shoes to walk around up there.”
“I know just the place,” he answered, shifting the truck into drive. “It’s right next to the best steak and eggs joint in Billings.”
Smiling, Quinn leaned back in her seat, stretched her arm out and pinched the edge of his flannel jacket. She had no problem being in the passenger seat and letting the man who kept coming through for her drive.
* * *
Arriving back at Willow Gap, they stopped off at Sutton’s place. He was renting it from his brother Adler. The rooms were filled with projects and he had two cars in the double garage, leaving his truck parked in the drive.
Sutton gave Quinn her choice of borrowing either of the cars, but he needed to change the oil on one and the spark plugs on the other before he would hand over the keys. She picked the all-wheel drive, gave him a big “thank you” hug and agreed to pick it up the following day.
“Hey,” Barrett said, corralling his brother. “You think you can run my guys through jump training the rest of the week? All the ground level classes. They have cert renewals coming up and you know all this as well as I do.”
“This isn’t going to turn into something at the end of the week when you take another stab at convincing me I should come work for you, is it?”
Barrett shrugged, his smile betraying an attempt at feigned indifference.
“How about you do the training,” Sutton teased poking his brother in the chest as he threw a wink at Quinn, “and I get to assist the beautiful newcomer in getting to know Willow Gap?”
“Doesn’t work for me,” Barrett answered, no bite lurking behind his soft growl.
“Fine,” Sutton sighed. “But I have dibs on the next beauty stranded in Willow Gap.”
With his gaze locked on Quinn’s, Barrett smiled. “That’s a deal, little brother.”
Pulling away from Sutton’s house a few minutes later, Barrett proposed a stop back at his place.
“We can each get a shower. I’ve got a little work to catch up on. Maybe even sneak in a nap.”
“Lazing around a house sounds wonderful,” she agreed. “I need to call Sage and see if I can meet with her about work after I have the car tomorrow.”
“Oh, and help me remember to bring my fishing gear,” he added in. “I thought I’d catch our dinner—but we should also pack some sandwiches just in case.”
Chuckling, Quinn reached across and grabbed a little more of Barrett’s jacket than she had dared before. It felt so natural being around him. Natural and safe. A smaller woman might be intimidated by Barrett’s size, but he made her feel both petite and protected.
Her mouth puckered for a second and she gave his jacket a little tug.
“Are the fish safe to eat after the forest fire?”
“We’ll be fishing the pond and I always check before I cook,” he answered. “Plus it’s really only a problem when the state drops ammonium phosphate on the fire. That wasn’t authorized for this fire.”
“Good,” she said, yawning as a full body stretch took control of her muscles. “I’ve never been fishing before.”
Reaching the house, Quinn immediately fell asleep in one of his big, comfy chairs. When she woke, it was in his bed, her clothes on except for her shoes, a throw blanket covering her. A look at the clock told her she had been out more than two hours.
For a few seconds, she sat there silent and stunned. The man had carried her from the chair to the bed, the route neither short nor a straight line. She wished she had been awake to experience the event—although she knew she wouldn’t have allowed him to pick her up out of fear she was far too heavy. Only, for a man like Barrett, she wasn’t some oversized load. She knew that now.
She knew it, and the knowledge made her grin from ear to ear.
“Now I’ve stolen your bed,” Quinn said, leaving the room and finding him in his office, freshly showered and filling in a team training schedule for the rest of the week.
He looked up from his work, smiling, the green eyes sucking her in deep. A warm flush crawled through her guts and across the flesh of her thighs and chest. She wanted to sashay over to his chair, straddle him and lock her hands behind his thick neck. Even if all they did was kiss and gaze into each other’s eyes, she knew it would be pure bliss.
“Who says I didn’t take a nap next to you?” he teased.
“And I miraculously moved to the center of the bed after you left without disturbing anything?”
“Observant,” he muttered. “You were out like a log, Quinn. You feeling okay?”
Worry flickered across his face, the concern heating her body with a different kind of flush. Barrett was so considerate, so focused on her, she would be devastated if he turned out to be like every other guy she’d met or, worse, like the people she was supposed to think of as family.
“The wind was howling a lot last night,” she answered after a few seconds. “Eventually, my sleeping brain will learn to ignore the sounds nature makes at night. But every time the wind whistled or rushed or anything else, I thought it might be an animal prowling about.”
Shutting down his computer, Barrett unfolded his long frame from his chair. Coming face to face with Qui
nn, he cupped her elbows.
“I can’t promise they are all gone for any amount of time, but predators and prey usually quit the burn zone for at least a few weeks. They go where the food is. But keeping predators away is one of the reasons why we bag up the trash, put the extra food back in the cooler and things like that.”
His thumbs caressed along the sides of her arms. “But you’re right. It’ll take time for you to develop a filter that will help you sleep through the night.”
Turning Quinn around, Barrett pointed her in the direction of his office door. His chest pressed against her back as he tilted his head down, his lips close to her ear as he softly spoke.
“You’ve got time for a shower while I grab the fishing gear and load the truck. I left a sandwich wrapped for you in the refrigerator for the drive. You were so sound asleep I didn’t want to wake you—wasn’t sure if I could.”
Fingers trailing upward to the back of her shoulders, he gave a gentle forward push, propelling her out of the room.
Once in the bathroom, she stripped. The towel he had used was on the rack. She bunched and pulled the fabric close, breathing in deeply. Her backside brushed against a heavy robe hanging on the door. She brought that fabric close, too, and inhaled.
Quinn slipped the robe on, the bottom hem reaching all the way down to her ankles. Grinning, she pushed the sleeves up, her hands buried in their long depths. She took another sniff, Barrett’s scent an intoxicant.
He’s moving closer, she thought, her mind replaying the scene in his office and how he had carried her while she was asleep into his bedroom.
Had he stroked her arm or cheek after covering her with the blanket? Had he wanted to run his hands elsewhere?
Hold on, Wool-for-Brains, she cautioned. You’ll need a cold shower if you don’t immediately shut down that train of thought.
Try as she might, the question followed her into the shower. When she ran the washcloth down her arms, she pictured Barrett’s hand holding the cloth. When she stepped out and wrapped the towel around her dripping body, it was his embrace she felt.
“All clean,” she announced as she shut off the bathroom light and stepped into his living room. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I’ve got it all taken care of.”
“You sure you don’t need a nap before we go?”
His eyes were a little droopy, she thought, and he seemed to have melted into the chair.
Barrett shook his head. “Not if you drive. Consider it a navigation test.”
“If I pass?”
“You get a delicious fish dinner cooked by me fresh from the stream.”
Quinn pictured him wearing his Mr. Good Looking apron and nothing else.
“Deal,” she grinned, snatching up the keys.
* * *
“Is that smoke?” Quinn asked, heart pounding like a jackhammer and her throat muscles contracting to choke off her air. Reaching across the truck’s cab, she jostled Barrett awake.
“Smoke,” she said, pointing through the trees. She hadn’t seen the hazy column of white when she pulled off the county road and onto the dirt one. But coming to a break in the trees, she could see it plain as day.
“Stop,” Barrett ordered.
Already crawling along, she stopped the truck within a few feet of his command.
He slipped off his seatbelt and stepped outside the truck. Hunching down, she studied his face through the window as he sniffed the air.
She expected to see relief or a shimmer of worry, but he scowled.
“Switch sides,” he said, his tone almost military.
Leaving the keys in the ignition, Quinn climbed over to the passenger side as Barrett reached into the back of the cab.
Hearing the rack of a shotgun, she twisted around to see Barrett inspecting the weapon. Apparently satisfied it was lethal enough, he reached toward the floorboard. Quinn heard a couple of electronic beeps and then he was sliding a handgun down the back of his jeans.
“Someone’s cooking over a campfire up there. Smells like they caught our fish.”
Quinn stuck her head out and sniffed. The only scents she detected were those of the man standing next to her and a lot of spruce and pine.
“Trespassers?” she whispered.
“Hope not,” he answered. “But we’ll assume they are until we know better.”
Getting behind the wheel, Barrett angled the shotgun across his lap, the business end pointed out the window.
He drove slowly, ear cocked.
Quinn mimicked his behavior.
“Men, laughing,” she said, her muscles drawing tight.
“What the…” Barrett trailed off as they emerged from the trees to see seven heavy duty pickups parked around the mountaintop. Some of the vehicles had their tailgates down, blue tarps covering misshapen masses in the truck beds.
Spotting Barrett and Quinn, one of the men lifted his hand and waved.
“That,” Barrett chuckled, “is Will Copely, the ranch foreman at Mama’s.”
His head bounced around, looking at the dozen-plus men loosely scattered next to the vehicles and fire pit.
“Yep, they’re all from the ranch.”
“The cabin’s gone,” Quinn noted, her voice still tight. “I mean, all the burnt wood.”
“Probably what’s beneath the tarps.” He put the truck in park and killed the engine then opened his door and eased out. Pointing the shotgun at the ground, he ejected the rounds.
“Sure am glad I didn’t have to use this on anybody,” he muttered with a glance at Will. “Thought I might have to.”
Putting his hands together like he was praying, Will took a deep bow.
“All I know is Dotty got it in her head that there wasn’t enough makework around the ranch for us to earn our salaries this time of year.”
The man’s cheeks turned a little red and then he chuckled. “She might have come by the stables and caught us playing poker.”
“What’s this?” Quinn asked. She had drifted past the men to where the ruins of Jester’s cabin were supposed to be. Not only was all the burnt wood torn up and moved, but the ground was level and two-by-fours had been put in to form the outline of a simple house.
“The perimeter of your future home, ma’am,” Copely answered with a tilt of his cowboy hat. Coming to stand by her, he thrust his hand out. “I’m Will.”
After a glance at Barrett, she shook Copely’s hand. “Quinn.”
She pointed at the proposed footprint. It was twice as large as what Jester had built up over the years.
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, like I said,” Copely explained. “Miss Dotty gave us some work orders. And you can expect more of this. I heard her calling some of her church ladies, ones that go all the way back to grammar school with her and Jester. They can’t swing hammers, but they got kids and grandkids who can. And believe me when I say those ladies know how to chew an ear until they get what they want.”
Barrett came to stand alongside Quinn. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. Relieved by his presence around so many unfamiliar faces, all of them male, she leaned into him.
“There’s usually a lot of helping hands rebuilding after a fire,” Barrett said. “And if you don’t start building now, you won’t be able to until next spring.”
He led her from one end of the footprint to the other, eyeballing it with approval as they walked together.
“Will has it laid out just right for expanding later on.”
Later on wasn’t the problem, she thought. Right then was.
“If…if something happens,” she started. “Something…out of my control and I don’t make the ninety days…”
She waved her hand again, gesturing at all the work the men had done.
“All this building will be for the state’s benefit,” she finished.
Barrett folded his hands around hers and rubbed lightly, the rhythmic pattern of his fingers over her skin calming Quinn.
“Those papers you showed me,” he said. “Jester has the state tied up more than you. What it comes down to is that all the state gets is a liability for the next hundred years. They have to maintain the property, but, aside from necessary culling of timber for fire control purposes and the existing cellular tower, they can’t exploit the land. If we build a house here for you and something happens, we’ll turn it into the Jasper Carey memorial museum—and the State will have to pay to maintain that, too.”
Quinn stared at Barrett. Her head drifted back and forth, but her gaze stayed locked on his green eyes.
“That can’t be,” she whispered.
“Well, I’m not a lawyer and I don’t play one on TV, but I’ve seen provisions like that before, had my daddy and uncle explain how and why they’re used.”
Insta-tears filling her gaze, Quinn pushed into Barrett and buried her face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and patted soothingly at her back.
“You’re not in L.A. anymore, Quinn. Up here, we never forgot how to take care of people. Never forgot why we should.”
“Know another thing we never forgot?” Will joked, coming over with two paper plates. “How to fish. Now sit down and eat, kiddoes.”
Chapter Nine
Barrett placed another log on the fire. Copely and the rest of the men had stayed for about an hour, eating the fish they’d caught in Jester’s pond and regaling Quinn with stories about life on the ranch. Barrett had heard most of the tales before and knew which ones were heavy with embellishments, but he didn’t chime in with the truth whenever Quinn asked if something had really happened that way.
One thing he did while the men were there was stay close to Quinn. He’d had a few seconds of blushing on the inside when he realized he was being territorial instead of protective. There were a couple of guys on the crew who were single and similar in age. All of them had been quietly measuring Quinn in that way an interested male will fake disinterest.
Never in his life had he worried about competition—not even when it came to women. This time was different.
