by Vonna Harper
“Are you all right?” he repeated.
“I don’t know.” His voice took her another step toward recognition. “I, ah, I didn’t expect to have company.” Lame.
“I take it that’s your car in the parking lot?”
The wind threw its weight against her right shoulder and threatened to tear off her coat, but she barely noticed. “Brett?” she managed. “Brett Schneider?”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Oh my. Carlan.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
They stood and stared at each other. Her heart seemed bent on breaking free of her chest, and she couldn’t remember why she’d been running. She’d known their paths would cross sooner or later. In fact, she’d wondered why she hadn’t heard from him since she’d moved back to Prospect a few weeks ago to care for her parents. But even if he’d called or dropped by, what would they have said to each other? Worse, how would they have acted?
Back when they were in high school, he’d embodied everything a rugged lifestyle represented, but he’d still been filling out, not yet a man. Carlan stared at his body. He’d become one over the intervening years, a little taller, yes, but much more telling, his physique had matured. She saw not the jock he’d once been, but someone who’d shouldered adult responsibility. He might not be as densely muscular as he’d been when his life revolved around football, but neither was she the skinny girl with big breasts she’d been when her world had revolved around him.
This man fit solidly within the only world he’d ever wanted, the world she’d once told him she wanted nothing to do with. It had been years since she’d stood face-to-face with someone more at home in the wilderness than surrounded by concrete. Maybe that was why she didn’t know how to respond, how to handle her reaction.
“What were you running from?” he asked, the question pulling her away from whatever spell held her.
“What? Maybe my imagination.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, because anything more might label her as demented. Besides, she needed time to try to make sense of what had just happened. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“You can’t guess?”
“Because of what happened here to Skye.”
“Yes.” The cold she’d forgotten about returned in full force, making her shiver. Brett withdrew a hand from his pocket and started to reach for her, then stopped.
“Maybe I have no right asking, but have you been here since the accident?” he asked.
As children growing up in the rural community of Prospect, some twenty miles down the mountain, she, Brett, and their classmates had made The Gorge part of their extensive playground. In one day, that all had changed. “No, I haven’t.”
“And you chose today?”
The truth, not that she wanted to tell him, was that the day had done the choosing. After stress-and-work-filled weeks of parenting her parents, she’d woken up this morning knowing she could no longer put off the inevitable.
“I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Now that I’m here, I wish I wasn’t.”
“Because something spooked you?”
“Please forget what you saw and heard. I just—my imagination—”
“Imagination, or too much thinking about Skye?”
“Maybe that’s it,” she said. “That and the weather. What about you? What has you out in this miserable excuse for spring?”
For a long time, she didn’t think he was going to answer. His attention left her and went to their wild surroundings, and if she’d dared, she would have asked if he’d seen the wolves too. But not only didn’t she want him thinking she’d lost her mind, wolves weren’t what she wanted to talk about.
It had been too long since she last saw him.
“You’re the last person I expected to see today,” she said.
“I didn’t expect to see you either, but it had to happen, didn’t it?”
Was that a note of bitterness in his voice? Maybe, but then could she blame him for the way she’d ended their hot and heavy teenage romance? If only she’d done a better job of expressing herself, of explaining her fears. She’d tried. He just hadn’t listened to the emotion behind her stumbling words.
“Yes,” she belatedly replied. “It had to happen.” She gave him a penetrating look but couldn’t see behind the mask he wore. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve been staying near Fern Trail the past few days, setting things up for a logging operation.”
Fern Trail started a few miles northwest of The Gorge, so he being in the neighborhood made sense, kind of. “You’re not there today,” she pointed out.
“Because we’re not going to be able to get anything done until the ground dries. I decided to head home.”
“And on a whim, you pulled into The Gorge parking lot?”
His shrug seemed too casual. “Pretty much. I’d think you’d be relieved. The way you were running—”
“Nerves, all right. Don’t rub it in.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“We’re logging? Your brother, Jake, you mean? Is he here too?”
“No. I’ve been a one-man operation this week. Look, you and I have a lot of catching up to do, but not like this. You’re shaking, and your lips are blue.”
She touched her lips but couldn’t feel anything, and warmth was leaving her fingers. If she slipped her hand under Brett’s coat and rested it against his chest, she’d be not just warm but hot. Despite the risk, she’d slide her fingers over his flesh in an attempt to reconcile the difference between the teenager she remembered and the man he’d become, yet that wouldn’t be enough. Nothing short of him burying himself in her would do.
After all this time, she still wanted him.
Shaken by the thought, she rammed her hand into her pocket. His coat was gray or brown; wet, it was hard to be sure. His soaked jeans looked bleached of color, just like their setting. He had, she concluded, taken on the hues of their surroundings. She probably had too. There they were, two mortals in danger of drowning or freezing or both, but instead of putting together whatever it took to change conditions, they kept staring at each other.
Not only that, she was fast sinking into the past and the night she’d handed him her virginity—the first of many nights before reality had ended what had once given her life meaning. “I’d forgotten how overwhelming the river sounds here,” she admitted in an effort to put distance between herself and Brett’s role in her past. “The never-ending anger.”
Although rain clung to his lashes, Brett didn’t blink. She’d never been stared at as intently as she was at that moment, making her wonder if he was reading her mind. “You don’t need to be listening to that right now,” he said, instead of commenting on their shared history. “What you need is to get warm and dry.”
“I know. My car—”
“Not that.” He frowned. “Carlan, my trailer’s only a few miles away and still warm.”
“Your trailer?”
“Maybe it’s coincidence that we ran into each other, but I don’t think so.” Taking his attention off her, he scanned their surroundings. “I want to take advantage of that, starting now. I hope you feel the same way.”
Listen to him. And answer him with the truth.
“I, ah, I do.” Despite the alarms going off in her mind, she asked herself what might happen once they were settled in the small space with the wilderness on all sides, rain hammering on the metal sides, and memories surrounding them.
Maybe he sensed her question, because he reached out and took hold of her elbow. Lightning flamed, and she was transported back to those unwise and wild teen nights they’d spent in each other’s arms, their bodies melded together.
Shaking from the weather and memories and the mysterious essence closing in on all sides, she started to lean toward him, only to stop on frozen
legs. There was no denying the intense yellow eyes staring back at her from the trees.
Chapter 3
AS someone who’d been in shock himself, Brett figured he recognized the signs. Not only wasn’t Carlan acknowledging his existence, she seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He, however, couldn’t ignore her slight, shivering body, so he pulled her against his side. Doing so touched emotions and nerves he never expected to encounter today. Damn! The years hadn’t blunted her impact on him.
If anything, her absence had only made his feelings for her stronger.
Trying to push aside his newly awakened senses—and more—he turned her toward him and vigorously rubbed her arms. Although she didn’t resist, she looked back over her shoulder.
“Oh God,” she gasped.
He followed her gaze. Until that moment, he’d been skeptical about what his brother had told him about there being a wolf pack in these parts. No longer. There stood four of the primitive beasts, one of them standing slightly ahead of the others and big enough he could easily be labeled the alpha male. Instead of throwing up the logical argument that no wolves lived in this part of the state, Brett concentrated instead on trying to accept the unbelievable.
Despite their powerful bodies and no-nonsense fangs, he didn’t believe they were preparing to attack. There was something unreal about them. Almost surreal. Yes, rain had made the expected impact on their thick coats. That aside, they didn’t move a muscle and were positioned in a way that made him wonder if they were posing. Too bad he didn’t have a camera on him.
“You see them, don’t you?” Carlan whispered.
“Yes.”
“That’s…that’s what I was running from.”
Tightening his hold on her, Brett debated placing his body between the wolves and her, but would that make any difference if they attacked?
“Where did you first spot them?”
“When I was right at The Gorge.” She shivered, whether from cold or fear, he couldn’t tell. “Why do they keep staring at us?”
Us. “I don’t know. Listen, I have a rifle in my rig. We’re going to walk slowly toward it. Don’t make any sudden moves. It’ll be all right.”
Whether she shivered or shuddered, he couldn’t tell. “They don’t live here,” she said. “They can’t really be.”
Just like that, she’d zeroed in on what had his nerves the most on edge. Just the same, he didn’t believe they were in danger from the predators. Problem was, he couldn’t say what had brought him to that conclusion.
“If you’re looking for logic,” he said, “I can’t give you that.” Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her against his side. Then he walked with his head turned so he could keep an eye on the pack. Carlan kept pace.
Within less than a minute, he could no longer see the wolves. Without them to claim his full attention, it slid to the woman he guided.
There wasn’t nearly enough to Carlan. Granted, except for at Skye’s funeral, he hadn’t seen her since high school graduation, and over time his memory had misted, but she’d seemed not more substantial back then, but something intangible. Hoping that something would come to him, he concentrated on guiding them around the deepest puddles and ignored his wet, icy hand. The longer they walked, the longer and stronger her steps became. He didn’t try to say anything, because he didn’t trust his teeth not to chatter. Besides, the ache in his damnable reconstructed leg took a hell of a lot of concentration to keep at bay.
Yeah, his leg. It was a huge part of why he hadn’t gone to see her since she’d returned to Prospect. The last thing he needed now was to hear her say, “I tried to warn you.” It was possible she didn’t know about his accident because her parents had been too preoccupied with grief to tell her about it. If that was the case, he’d try to keep it that way.
No artificial lighting illuminated the parking lot, but it was what passed for daylight, and he was relieved when their respective vehicles came into sight. His thoughts turned to the wondrous task of getting both of them into a dry truck cab when the missing word bloomed inside him. In the past, Carlan had seemed more alive than she did now. Back then, it had been easy to be optimistic—albeit ignorant—about their futures. Mostly they’d just had the hots for each other, in spades.
“Your car will be fine here,” he told her. “No one’s going to come in.”
“Except for the wolves.”
“Except for them.” He waited until he’d steered her to his rig’s passenger’s side and unlocked the door. “Get in. I have something to tell you.”
He thought she might need help climbing in, but she easily pulled herself up and sat. She shook so she bounced on the vinyl, prompting him to close the door and then hurry around to the driver’s side. He climbed in, shut his door against the storm, and turned on the engine. As hot air whooshed up from the floor heater, he rubbed his right leg, then stopped.
“Problems?” she asked.
“Old age.”
“You’re only a few months older than me, so I know it’s definitely not that.”
The macho teen he’d once been would have denied any human frailty, but that kid no longer existed. In its place lived a man still coming to grips with his own vulnerability. “Minor mishap. Cold has a tendency to bite.”
“That’s what my dad always said.”
“He should know.”
“Yes, he should. His back is never going to get better.”
Instead of pulling the truck out of Park, Brett studied the area where they’d come out of the woods. She did the same. And to his relief, she didn’t say anything more about the accident that had destroyed her father’s back and his ability to earn a living logging when she was twelve.
“Still no sign of them,” he said unnecessarily. “That something I wanted to tell you—we aren’t the first people to have seen the wolves.”
“Who? Forest rangers?” She sounded so hopeful, it almost broke his heart. “Maybe hunters or campers?”
Brett shook his head. “No. My brother and the woman he met the day he saw them.”
Her attention snapped from the wilderness to him. “What happened?”
“You’ll have to ask him. Jake hasn’t been in a mood to give many details.”
“Did they attack or show signs of aggression?”
“No. That’s one thing he was clear on.”
She nodded and held her hands down by the heat vents. “What about…”
“What about what?”
“Never mind. Brett, I want to leave.”
“What if the wolves follow us? They did with my brother, showed up in more than one place.”
What little color remained on her cheeks faded. “I know. They’ve already done that with me.”
Nodding, he started the truck moving. Much as he wanted to ease her mind, he couldn’t think how.
“Look,” he said to change the subject, “I’m sorry about your dad’s stroke. The poor man’s already had enough health problems. That’s why you moved back, isn’t it?”
“The stroke, and everything else that’s happened to my folks since Skye’s death.” She leaned forward until her forehead nearly touched the dash. For a moment, he thought she was crying, and wondered what in the hell he should do. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said as she straightened, her voice tight. “Not now.”
“All right.” But you need to.
There wasn’t any traffic on the mountain highway. It was just as well, because the center and fog lines needed repainting, which made staying in his lane difficult. Between the rain hitting the roof and the slap of wet tires, he decided to wait before trying to come up with something to talk about. In the meantime, he let his mind wander.
He’d once loved Carlan so much, he hadn’t been sure he’d survive their breakup. Not long after, she’d taken off after high school graduation to find her fortune and future beyond the mountains that owned his soul.
He’d known her sinc
e they’d been in diapers. For years, he’d thought of her as nothing more than another playmate, a fellow hick who was always game for wilderness hikes, like where they and their friends pretended to be part of a Native American scouting party or bear hunters or even explorers.
Then things had begun changing, beginning with her developing a pair of intriguing bumps on her chest. Soon after he’d had wet dreams, and from then on, being near her got really complicated. No longer was he content to tease and tickle her until she hauled off and punched him. Instead, he spent incredible amounts of time designing excuses for touching her, particularly those intriguing bumps. She sometimes slapped him away, but other times, she let his fingers linger.
Not that he’d ever tell her, but he keenly remembered the first day he’d seen her wearing a bra. Every student above the third grade, all twenty of them, had been playing baseball, with her on one team and him on the other. He’d been catching, and suddenly, there she was, running right at him from third base. Instead of trying to tag her out, he gaped at the mesmerizing and no-longer-jiggling mounds, and she’d slid home safe.
“The mountains never change, do they?” she said unexpectedly, pulling him from his thoughts. “Oh, trees grow and die to be replaced by new ones, but the mountains themselves are timeless.”
“Yeah, I guess they are.”
She glanced at him. “You sound as if you don’t agree.”
“It’s not that.” Turning his attention back to the road, he debated telling her what was on his mind. At one time, he didn’t think there’d been anything they couldn’t talk about, but a great deal had changed. He sighed and decided to try anyway. “I don’t look at the woods now in the same way I did as a child. Acknowledging they’re how I earn a living gives me a certain mind-set.”
