by R. C. Ryan
With a vengeance, he opened a can of this, a box of that, allowing a vague recipe to form while his thoughts returned again and again to his strange visitor. Though it made no sense, he had to admit he was enjoying her company. He’d come here hoping for a little solitude from his very big, very raucous family, and here he was actually looking forward to this intruder’s next surprise.
Part of her appeal was her easy acceptance of the situation. She’d quickly come to terms with the fact that she would have to share this space until the blizzard blew over. And once she’d satisfied herself that he wasn’t a bully or a rapist, she’d actually become a model roommate. She was smart and neat and fun to be around. He especially enjoyed her clever mind and quick wit. And next time he wanted to play a game to pass the time, he’d suggest poker instead of a word game.
Hey. A guy was entitled to win some of the time.
Of course, he could think of a much more satisfying way to pass the time. But first, he’d have to find a way past that wall of mistrust she kept around her.
He’d always loved a challenge. And this challenge came wrapped in a gorgeous package.
He was actually smiling as he dug out a heavy iron skillet and several sturdy pots and pans.
Cara felt a touch on her shoulder and came instantly awake.
Whit was bending close, his eyes on hers as they opened. He shot her one of those quick, charming grins. “Wow. In the blink of an eye you went from Sleeping Beauty to Goldilocks. I wonder which one I’ll be having lunch with.”
Still reeling from the rush of heat from his touch, her head came up sharply and she was forced to struggle to ignore his lips, mere inches from hers. “The Wicked Witch of the West if that food doesn’t taste as heavenly as it smells.”
He smiled and, as if testing her willpower, leaned in even closer, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. “You’ve got a quick mind, Goldilocks. Barely awake and already trading insults.”
“Just trying to stay one step ahead of you, Cowboy.”
He remained there, so close she could feel herself sweating, before he got to his feet and crossed to the fireplace, where he set slices of bread slathered with thick slabs of ham and cheese on a wire rack over the hot coals. Sitting back on his heels, he stirred some fried potatoes and onions in a skillet.
Watching him, Cara muttered, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
In his best John Wayne drawl he said, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about my cookin’, little lady. Everyone in these parts knows that Whit MacKenzie makes the best gall darned skillet taters in all of Montana.”
“Skillet taters.” She nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
“You writing a cookbook?”
“Something like that. Actually, I’ve been dreaming of having a book published for most of my life.”
“What kind of book?”
She chewed her lip, aware that she’d revealed more than she’d intended. Now she was forced to plow ahead. “An illustrated children’s book about a girl growing up in a small town and her imaginary friend, who is really a magical flying horse.”
He thought about that a minute. “Sounds like something every kid dreams about. I always wished I could fly. What’s the title?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve played with so many titles, you can have your pick. Adventures with Arac. The Great Horse Caper. And my favorite, Arac and Her Magic Horse.”
He laughed. “And you think they’re original?”
“Yeah. I hear you. But whenever I think about titles, I get stuck.”
“So, your amazing brain can’t come up with a simple, catchy title?”
“I could always call it Home on the Range.”
He rolled his eyes. “Were you planning on growing a bushy beard and signing autographs from a rickety wooden wagon?”
That had her laughing. “Yeah. I guess it’s a little too corny.”
Whit used a hot pad to remove the skillet from the fire and place it on the wooden table set for two. “I made coffee if you’d like some.”
“Thanks. I’ll get my cup.” She stood and stretched before crossing to the table.
“You looked really comfortable in that chair.”
“It was a perfect nap. And what a great way to wake up.”
“You mean, seeing me next to you?”
“I was talking about this.” She spread her hands to indicate the fried potatoes and ham-and-cheese sandwiches, melted to perfection, laid out on the table.
“The story of my life. I come in second to a ham and cheese.”
She was laughing as she turned. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure.”
She filled two mugs before taking her place across from him. As she bit into her sandwich, she couldn’t help the sigh of pure pleasure. “Oh, this is even better than it looks.”
“Thanks, I think.” He grinned at the compliment before taking a bite of fried potatoes. “Hey, for something that came out of a box and was freeze-dried, these aren’t bad either.”
Following his lead, Cara spooned the potatoes and onions onto her plate and tasted.
As they enjoyed their meal, Whit glanced over. “Now, about your book. What are you planning on doing with it?”
She blushed. “That’s one of the things I need to figure out. So here I am.”
“You’re up here hiding from the world to figure out your life?”
She stared hard at her plate, avoiding his eyes. “It’s really hard to let go of a lifetime dream. But a…person recently let me know that I’m only fooling myself if I think I’m good enough to be a published author.”
Whit arched a brow. “Could this person be a guy?”
Her head snapped up. “I didn’t say it was a guy.”
“You didn’t have to. Now, about the book? How did it come about?”
Cara was relieved. She would much rather talk about the book than about the guy who’d caused her to question her long-held dream. “I grew up in my gram’s house in Minerva. She was strict and tough, but she taught me how to read and write and to work hard to follow my dreams. And though she was tough, she loved me unconditionally. And when I finished high school, she pushed me to search for every tuition grant available so I could be the first in my family to go to college.”
“And did you?”
Her smile was quick and bright. “Yeah. At first I did it for Gram. And later, for myself.”
“I bet she’s proud of you.”
Her smile faded. “Gram passed away while I was in Cheyenne.”
“Do you have any other family?”
Cara shook her head. “I never knew my dad. My mother was only fifteen when she had me. She left me with Gram and I never saw her again until I was twelve. Gram got word that she died somewhere in Wyoming when I was seventeen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. When Gram told me the news, it was like hearing about a stranger. But my grandmother’s passing really hit me. That’s when I realized I was all alone and I’d have to figure things out for myself.”
“Like your book?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes danced with a sudden light. “Want to see it? It’s really just a collection of my childhood notes and drawings.”
Before he could answer, she pushed away from the table and rummaged under the pillow of the upper bunk. Turning, she held out a handful of yellowed, lined notepaper.
As he studied them, Whit looked over at her. “You drew these as a kid?”
“Yeah.” She turned away. “Pretty silly, right?”
“Silly? Not at all. You know something, Goldilocks? I’m no expert, but I’d say you’ve got real talent.”
For a moment she was so stunned by his words that her eyes filled, and she was forced to blink rapidly before turning to him. “That’s what I used to tell myself. And I wanted so badly to prove it. But lately I’ve been thinking that I’ve allowed this foolish childhood dream to take over my life.”
He caught her hand,
sending heat pulsing along her arm. “Dreams are never foolish. They’re what feed our souls.”
For a moment she was speechless, not only by the fierceness of his words, but also because they touched a place deep in her heart.
When he released her hand, she wiped furiously at her eyes, surprised that he’d made her cry. “Anyhow, that’s all behind me now.”
“Hey.” Instinctively he was on his feet and gathering her close. “No tears.”
His words, muffled against her hair, sent shivers up and down her spine. “They’re not.” She sniffed. “I never cry.” Sensing her battle with her emotions, Whit tipped up her chin. “Of course you don’t. There’s probably a leak in the roof.” With unexpected tenderness, he wiped at a tear with his thumb.
For the space of a heartbeat she went very still, knowing he was going to kiss her.
He actually lowered his head before suddenly moving back a space.
With studied casualness he remarked, “Okay, Goldilocks. You’ve been lazy long enough.”
“Lazy…” She couldn’t seem to get her bearings. One second he’d been ready to kiss her; the next he was calling her names.
He touched his rough palms to her cheeks. “I chopped wood and made your lunch. Now it’s your turn to pull some weight around here.”
She slapped his hands away.
Pleased, he tossed her a dish towel. “I’ll heat some water over the fire, and I’ll wash while you dry.”
Her tears, he noted with satisfaction, dried as quickly as they’d started.
With this woman, he’d take temper over tears any time. Because there was something about this fierce little female, with so many layers of mystery, that did strange things to his heart. And though he could happily tease her all day long, what he really wanted to do was spend his time kissing that gorgeous, pouty mouth.
Chapter Five
Hearing the ping of an incoming text on her cell phone, Cara paused to read it. Her brows knit together, and she swallowed loudly before tucking the phone in her pocket.
Whit poured hot water from a kettle into a small plastic tub he’d set in the sink. “So, what did you do at Ghost Mountain?”
“Do?”
“Your job. At the pricey ski resort.”
Cara was silent for so long, he figured he’d overstepped his bounds.
When she finally spoke, the words were strained, as though she were fighting to remain emotionless.
“I started out as a waitress.”
“You quit college?”
She shook her head. “I got through. Barely. But I had so much student loan debt, I was taking every job I could just to get by. Besides, working at the resort gave me a place to live.”
“What about your grandmother’s place in Minerva?”
“Sold for back taxes.” She scrubbed a plate.
“Okay. So you were a waitress.”
“And then I was moved up to hostess and then manager of food operations.”
“That’s pretty impressive. Why aren’t you still working there?”
Whit saw the way her hands stilled. “I…needed to get away by myself.”
“You left a good job to drive across the state to Red Rock and then, after your encounter with No Name Suit-and-Tie, you end up here in the wilderness? Okay, Goldilocks. Something’s going on. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
She swallowed. “Not the kind you’re imagining.”
He tugged on a strand of her hair, trying to keep things light. “You can read my mind?”
She stepped back, away from his touch. “I didn’t steal anything. I’m not wanted by the law. But I…”
“You what?”
She twisted the dish towel around and around in her hands. “I really made a mess of things. There was a guy…”
“Lover?”
“Jared Billingham.”
“Billingham.” Whit looked over. “How do I know that name?”
“His father is the owner of Ghost Mountain Group.”
Whit snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I’ve seen the name on billboards and commercials. Hotels, condos, vacation villas. And, of course, that fabulous ski resort. So you were swimming with the big fish.”
She gave a wan smile. “I turned out to be the biggest fish of all.”
“So you and Jared…” Whit handed her a soapy mug. “You were a couple?”
She nearly bobbled the mug before catching it. “Yeah. My best friend, Mary Alice, used to refer to him as Prince Charming. Looking back, I think he chased after me because I was the only woman who never bothered to drool over him. He could have had his pick of really beautiful women, who made it clear they were available. Instead he chose plain old me.”
“Plain? If you think that, you haven’t looked in a mirror lately.”
Instead of laughter, or even a smile, she shook her head. “I didn’t think I could ever fit in. He knew the right wines, the gourmet foods. I thought he really was the perfect gentleman. But it was all fake. The charm. The quiet, polite manners he showed the world…”
“I take it Prince Charming morphed into something else.”
“I didn’t even realize at first what was happening. His jealousy, his controlling nature, were subtle. He’d scold me for spending too much time talking to one of his friends, or even to one of my girlfriends at work. But then it got worse. I found him picking up my cell phone and checking all my messages. One night after work, when I spotted him watching me during my entire shift, seeing who I talked to, who I laughed with, I told him I’d had enough. I didn’t want to see him anymore.”
“How did that go?” Whit saw the way her lower lip quivered.
“I guess I expected him to be angry or hurt. Instead, he was icy calm as he told me I was terminated immediately. He demanded my keys, my badge, and my uniform and asked security to escort me from the property. I asked about my belongings. He told me they would be waiting for me at the condo. I’m glad now that I took Mary Alice along with me to pick them up. They were in a box on the front porch. And he was sitting on a bench, waiting. Knowing Mary Alice could overhear, he simply told me that he felt sorry for me. That I was a fool who had allowed my silly childhood dream of writing to take over my life. That my promotions hadn’t been earned because I was such a good worker or so smart but because he’d arranged them, in order to show me just how much power he wielded. And that, with the snap of his fingers, he could take it all away. But, he told me, whenever I came to my senses, he would be willing to take me back.”
“He sounds pretty impressed with his own importance.”
Cara nodded. “He’d kept most of his speech cold and polite. But when Mary Alice picked up the box and walked toward the car, he grabbed my arm and told me that unless I grew up and came back to him, he would make my life a living hell.”
Whit’s hands fisted at his sides. “So you were running from Jared before you ran into No Name in Red Rock.”
She nodded. “I just wanted to get away. I had a rental car, a credit card, and a little cash, and no destination until I landed here.”
“That text.” Whit nodded toward her cell phone. “Did it come from a friend or…?”
“Jared. He doesn’t know where I am, but he’s still sending threatening texts.”
“Threatening?” Whit’s eyes narrowed.
“Telling me what he’ll do to me when he finds me.”
“A really nice guy.” Whit’s tone was low with fury.
“Yeah.” She began to pace. “I’m sorry I dropped all this on you. It’s been eating away at me. But now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to look around for something physical to do. Otherwise, I’ll just have way too much time on my hands. And that will lead to another pity party and I’ve had enough of those.” She draped the towel over the edge of the sink.
Whit thought a moment before nodding. “I agree. If you’re going to share this place, you need to earn your keep, Goldilocks. I’m going to chop more firewood. You can stack while I chop.”
She glanced at the flimsy jacket hanging on a hook by the door. “When I started out on this little odyssey, I was wearing that. I don’t think it’ll do much good in the snow.”
He indicated a door on the far wall. “You’ll find plenty of parkas, boots, and work gloves in that closet.”
“Now you tell me.”
“I figured you’d had time to explore every nook and cranny.”
She crossed the room. “I missed this one.”
“Afraid you’d find a dead body or two?”
“Hey. I figured it was possible, the way my life has been going lately.” She managed a wry smile as she crossed the room.
A few minutes later, as he headed toward the cabin door, he saw her emerge carrying an armload of winter gear.
She looked over. “I’ll join you outside in a few minutes.”
He chuckled. “Judging by all the stuff you’ve got there, it may take a while.”
He slid his arms into a parka and strolled out the door. Minutes later, as he picked up the ax and started to work, he thought about Cara. He frowned. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. He was spending entirely too much time thinking about her.
At least now he understood why she’d been so jumpy at their first encounter. He lifted the ax high above his head and brought it down, biting deep into the log. She expected every guy she met to be like Jared Billingham, out to get whatever they could, by any means necessary.
He had the satisfaction of watching the log split in one quick slice. It wasn’t a fist in Billingham’s face, but it was the best he could do. Any man who would manipulate a woman and then try to crush her dreams in order to control her deserved much more than a fist.
Cara Walton could fuel any guy’s fantasies. It wasn’t just the angel face and the model’s body. There was also that combination of sharp brain and sophistication mixed with a dash of innocence and simplicity that was intriguing.
