by Stacy Finz
Griffin stared off into the distance, looking sad enough to make Harlee change her mind about his and Lina’s age situation. She could see he cared about her.
“Me too,” he said.
Rico came wandering in, laden with bags from the Bun Boy. “Hey, Harlee. What’s up?”
“Not much,” she said. “I was on my way over to Darla’s and decided to stop by and say hello. The place is shaping up.”
“Wanna share a burger?” Rico held up a greasy sack.
“No, thanks. I should get going.”
“Hey, before you go,” Griffin said, “what do you know about this Sam woman?”
“You mean Samantha Dunsbury?” The runaway bride? “She seems . . . uh . . . in transition. Why?”
“She wants to rent a house in Sierra Heights. I’m good with renting. Not a lot of buyers in the winter. But you think she can afford it? I’m not leasing them out cheap.”
“She can afford your price,” Harlee said. The woman was an heiress after all. “She’s settling in Nugget? I got the impression she was just passing through.”
Griff shrugged. “I don’t know what her deal is, but Maddy told her to talk to me about renting a place.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Harlee said.
“I thought you would.” Griffin grinned. “How’s the job search going?”
Sucky. “Holidays are a slow time in the newspaper business. Everyone is on vacation.” Harlee glanced at her watch. “I better get going. I’ll see you guys later.”
“Say hi to Darla,” Rico shouted after her as she got inside her truck.
At the square, Harlee pulled into a parking space in front of the barbershop. Inside, Darla sat at the cash register, reading a magazine. Still no business. Harlee thought for sure Darla’s stunning work on Sam’s hair would’ve netted some appointments.
“You’ve been quiet like this all day?” she asked Darla.
“Yep. I’m chalking it up to the fact that it’s the Sunday after New Year’s. Right?”
“Is that typically a slow day?”
“Most salons, at least in Sacramento, are closed on Sunday.”
“Okay,” Harlee said. “Then no worries.”
Darla pulled a face. “Whatever.”
“So tell me the deal with you and Wyatt. We never got to talk about that and I’m dying to know.”
“It was a long time ago,” Darla said. “We used to date when I was eighteen.”
Harlee waited for her to say more; when Darla didn’t, she asked, “Was it serious?”
“I thought it was. We got engaged.”
“You did?” Harlee couldn’t believe it. Darla acted like she barely knew the guy.
“I got pregnant and he wanted to do the right thing. When I lost the baby, he left.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down,” Harlee said. “You had a miscarriage?”
Darla nodded her head, her face grim, the memory clearly still painful. “The next day he joined the army. He didn’t even talk to me about it, just left a note and headed off to Fort Benning.”
“He knew you’d had the miscarriage?”
“Yes. He’s the one who took me to the hospital. Held my hand. Told me he loved me. I didn’t think about whether we would still get married. At the time I was too consumed with the loss of our child. I would’ve understood if he wanted to call it off, but we never even had a conversation about it. He just left me alone to pick up the pieces.”
“Darla, I am so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was a long time ago. And you have enough to deal with. Really, I’ve moved on.”
Clearly not if New Year’s Eve was anything to go on. “Did your parents know?” Harlee asked.
“My mom was planning the wedding. Given the circumstances it would’ve been just a small one, but both my parents were good with it. My dad had known Wyatt his whole life. I don’t think he has ever forgiven him.”
Harlee leaned forward in the barber’s chair, which she had turned to face Darla. “So what was that all about the other night?”
“I don’t know. He’s been coming in a lot, like he’s hoping to put it behind us. Sometimes I think he’s interested in us starting up again. Then a couple of weeks ago I saw him with some blonde. What am I supposed to think about that?”
“Are you willing to forgive him?” Harlee asked.
“Jury is still out. You think I should?”
“I think what he did was pretty awful. But you guys were kids. He probably freaked out and didn’t know how to handle the grief. You still have feelings for him, though, don’t you?”
Darla lifted her shoulders. “He was my first love.”
Just then Nate came in the door. He looked even more handsome than Harlee remembered. If a man could glow, Harlee would say he glimmered like a lightbulb. She wondered what the etiquette was on congratulating him on Sophie and Mariah’s baby.
“Hey, Darla.” He did a visual lap around the empty shop. “You have time for a trim?”
“Sure,” Darla said, hopping out of her chair so fast she nearly gave Harlee whiplash.
Harlee moved out of the barber’s chair to make way for Nate and flashed him a smile, hoping that it wouldn’t be awkward after she’d turned him down for a date. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” he said, and beamed. “You see the baby yet?”
“No. I figure Sophie and Mariah could use a little time.”
Darla had Nate suit up in a cape and walked him to the shampoo bowl. “Can we just go up to their apartment and knock on the door?”
“Sure. They love showing Lilly off.”
“Ahh,” Harlee cooed. “Lilly is such a pretty name.”
When Darla finished washing Nate’s hair, he whipped out his phone and showed them pictures of the baby. “Good-looking kid, huh?”
“Gorgeous,” Harlee said. Truthfully she looked like every other newborn—squished and red faced. “Are you hanging around to help out?” She knew he spent most of his time in San Francisco, where he operated nine other hotels and came up on occasional weekends to check in on the Lumber Baron.
“Yep. And I’m closing escrow on the house in Sierra Heights tomorrow.”
Harlee seized the opportunity. “I hear Samantha Dunsbury is planning to rent a place there. She’s a guest at the Lumber Baron.”
“I know who she is,” Nate said sharply.
“You don’t like her?”
“She’s a nut job and she’s managed to talk my sister into hiring her to work at the inn.”
“You’re kidding,” Harlee said, because it wasn’t like the woman needed to work. Not according to the newspaper clips and her designer clothes.
“I wish I was. She doesn’t have a drop of hotel experience, not to mention that she’s flighty as hell. I heard she left some poor guy standing at the altar. Didn’t even bother to show up and call it off, face-to-face.”
Harlee and Darla looked at each other. “Why do you think she wants to live in Nugget?” It was about as different from New England high society as you could get. Harlee knew, because she had a cousin who lived in Greenwich, Connecticut. Junior League and country clubs.
“Who knows,” Nate said as Darla clipped away. “Have you ever talked to the woman? She’s a complete ditz—can’t even string a sentence together.”
Harlee hadn’t found her to be a ditz, just confused, like maybe she was depressed. “Then how come Maddy’s willing to let her work there?”
“Rhys doesn’t want her putting in so many hours at the inn with the baby coming. I’m trying to pick up the slack, but I’m spread pretty thin as it is.”
“Sounds like it might be good to have Sam.” “Seriously,” Harlee wanted to say, “did a person need a PhD to take reservations?”
“She wants to be the inn’s event planner. Besides the fact that she has no qualifications, the woman couldn’t even make it to her own wedding. As far as I can tell she’s never had an actual job. So you hea
rd she’s moving to Sierra Heights, huh?”
“That’s what Griffin said.”
“Great! Now I’ll be stuck with Crazy Town for a neighbor,” Nate said, and Harlee had to wonder why the man was so hostile toward Samantha. Sam might be an odd duck, but she certainly seemed pleasant enough. Hell, she’d given Darla a hundred-dollar tip.
Darla finished his trim and used a fat brush to wipe hairs from the back of his neck. He really was a nice-looking man, Harlee noted. Thick brown hair like his sister’s, mocha-colored eyes, and a square jaw with a cleft in the center of his chin. He wasn’t as tall as Colin or as broad, but he reached at least six-feet tall and looked like he took care of himself. Definitely worked out or jogged. He had the loose-limbed body of a runner.
He checked out his hair in the mirror. “Looks good, Darla. Thanks.”
“Feel free to spread the word,” she told him.
“Business still slow?”
“A little,” she said.
“This is a town that’s slow to embrace change,” Nate said. “We had a big fight on our hands when it came to the inn. Nugget didn’t want it and the Addisons were dead set on seeing us run out of town. But everything turned out fine.” He smiled, showing off a mouth of straight, gleaming white teeth. “Hang in there, Darla.”
Nate paid his bill and walked across the square back to the Lumber Baron.
“Were the Addisons the ones giving us the evil eye at the bowling alley New Year’s Eve?” Harlee asked.
“Yep. They’re the ones who own the Beary Quaint.”
It was a funny little town, Harlee thought. Despite everyone being up in everyone else’s business, there was comfort in knowing your neighbors. She’d lived on top of people in San Francisco, could hear them showering and flushing their toilets through the thin walls, yet she couldn’t pick out most of them in a photo lineup. Here, people took the time to get to know one another. Nugget might be isolated, but with its sense of community it wasn’t lonely. Perhaps that’s why Sam had decided to stay. Maybe she needed people who were different from the ones she’d run from.
Harlee thought that in a weird way Nugget had healing powers. Look at her. She’d come depressed and defeated, but the town wouldn’t allow her to wallow. The beauty and strength of the mountains and trees, the power of the clean, fresh air, and her newfound clique of creative friends had lifted her up. When she finally moved on, found another newspaper job, this place would leave an indelible mark.
“Yoga starts up again next week,” Darla said. Pam had given them a hiatus for the holidays. “I don’t know about you, but I could use the exercise.”
“Me too.”
“There she is again,” Darla said as she gazed out the window onto the square.
“Who?”
“Wyatt’s blonde. See him walking with her?”
Harlee joined Darla at the window and watched them stroll together in the direction of the Ponderosa. They didn’t touch but walked close to each other, their heads bowed in conversation. When they got to a Volvo station wagon, the woman searched her purse for a set of keys. Wyatt braced his hand against the car door and kissed her on the cheek, then the woman slid behind the wheel and drove away.
“What do you think that’s about?” Darla asked.
“I don’t know.” But Harlee definitely thought they had the familiarity of a couple.
Colin bolted the last glider bracket to the bench leg, turned it right-side up and sat in it, testing the rocking motion with his foot, making it go back and forth and back and forth. Not bad for a Sunday afternoon. He’d finished the glider as well as a nice-looking nightstand, trying to bulk up his inventory, which had been reduced to a few odds and ends. With the amount of finish work that still needed to be done on Sophie and Mariah’s house and the demolition on the McCreedy kitchen starting the following weekend, he wouldn’t have a lot of time to build furniture.
Still, he was grateful to have as much construction work as he did, especially in the dead of winter. Colin looked at his watch, knowing full well that he’d buried himself in his shop partly to avoid Harlee. After he left her last night, he should’ve at least called. He’d basically screwed her brains out and gone running for the hills. Not because he’d wanted to ditch her, but because the fear of losing her had been as intense as the sex.
He needed to make good on taking off the way he had, and prayed she was still talking to him. First, he wanted to shower off the sawdust and wood oil before putting on fresh jeans and a sweatshirt.
Ready, he loaded Max into his truck and drove down the hill. Harlee’s Pathfinder wasn’t parked in the driveway. Colin assumed that she’d gone into town to hang out with Darla and decided to wait for her on the porch. It was one of those clear Sierra days, where if you could find a spot in the sun, the cold wasn’t too bad.
He must’ve dozed off in the redwood chair, because he jerked awake at the sound of gravel crunching. Max stood up, stretched his legs until they shook, and barked his head off. Harlee got out of her truck, using the running board to get down in her high-heeled boots. Why she wore those in Nugget, Colin couldn’t imagine, but they were sexy as hell. Her face held no expression. She didn’t look happy to see him, but she didn’t look angry either. Colin thought it best to presume the worst and tried to appear as repentant as possible. Although he didn’t exactly know what that was supposed to look like. Maybe he should’ve brought flowers.
“Hey,” he called down to her.
“Hey,” she called back.
“Your hair looks great.” It always looked great to him, but it was a bit shorter, like she’d gotten it trimmed, and had big, bouncy curls.
“Thanks. Darla.”
He didn’t need a lot of experience with women to know that the terse one-word responses were not a good sign. “How’s her business doing?”
She made a so-so sign with her hand. “You need something? Like maybe some sex to go?”
Ah, hell, here it comes. “Don’t be mad, Harlee. I told you I needed a little time to think.”
“How’s that working for you?” She scratched Max’s head, brushed by him, and went inside the cabin.
“Apparently not too well.” He followed her and watched as she took off her jacket and hung it on a hook in the hallway.
She had on a clingy top with a lacy thing layered underneath and a pair of snug, low-riding corduroys tucked into her boots. It was probably the wrong thing to do under the circumstance, but she looked so goddamn hot that he couldn’t help himself. He hooked his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. The contact made him grow hard and her eyes went wide as she felt his erection pressed against her belly.
“Hey, buddy, this ain’t In-N-Out Burger.”
He nuzzled her neck—she smelled like that fantastic perfume she sometimes wore—and whispered into her ear. “Please. I won’t leave this time.”
“I don’t know,” she said against his lips. “I felt pretty ill-used, Colin.”
He pulled apart from her. “I feel bad about that, Harlee. I never want you to feel ill-used. Never.”
She kissed him, snaking her tongue into his mouth, making him groan with pleasure. Colin inched his fingers under her top, feeling the soft filigree of her undershirt.
“What is this thing?” The woman had a fondness for lingerie. Usually he only liked lacy bras and underwear when they lay in a heap on the floor, but on Harlee it reminded him of unwrapping a most excellent present. Something worth waiting for.
“Just a shell.”
“Can I see it?”
She pulled the shirt over her head and stood there for his perusal in a skintight red lace long-sleeved top and matching bra. For a minute he didn’t think he could breathe. Then he kissed her through the sheer fabric. On her belly, her breasts, her collarbone, anywhere he could feel warm skin inside the lacy pattern. Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his denim shirt, pushed it off him, and tugged the thermal undershirt over his head. Then she wrestled with the buckle on his belt.<
br />
“We doing this here?” he asked. They were still in the hallway, just inches away from the front door.
“I want to. Do you?”
“I’m definitely game.” Because he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushed her hands away and finished with the belt and got his jeans around his ankles. She immediately took him in her soft hands.
“Slow down, Harlee.”
He fought with the buttons on her pants, shimmied them down as far as the top of her boots, and slid his hand under her panties, working her with his fingers until she whimpered over and over again. Going down on his knees, he pulled the panties down, spread her thighs apart, and laved her with his tongue and mouth.
“Oh God,” she moaned, and he felt her legs buckle.
“I’ve got you.” He gripped her around the waist and Harlee clung to his shoulders until she cried out as her body shuddered.
He watched her rest the back of her head against the wall, her blue eyes hooded, as she tried to gain control. Prying off his boots, he kicked his jeans off, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and rose to his feet, pulling her against him. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her into the bedroom, across the gleaming wood floor to the sleigh bed where they’d first made love.
Without ceremony, he got rid of her boots, pants, and the underwear that matched her lacy top. She sat up, propped on her elbows, watching him undress her.
“What about my shirt and bra?”
“The bra comes off. The lace thing stays on.”
“Okay.” She stripped off the top, removed her bra and wriggled the shirt back on. It was completely see-through.
“Yeah, that’s good.” He kissed her, his hands racing over her, touching and molding, as she arched under him, offering and taking as much as she could.
The room dimmed in the fading sunlight, leaving shadows on the walls. They rolled together on the bed, fondling and groping. Kissing and licking. She got him onto his back and straddled him, her dark hair cascading over each side of his face. He flipped her under him, somehow managing to roll the condom on, and dove into her.
Joined, they rode the wave, higher and higher until they reached the crest and came tumbling down. Afterward, they lay in a heap of tangled limbs and wrinkled sheets. Colin got up to get rid of the rubber and she frowned.
