“Am I hurting you?” Mitch’s hands froze.
She leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes. “Are you kidding? I’ll give you a year to stop.”
Mitch chuckled, a rumble deep in his chest. “I don’t mind, but the sun’s dropping quickly. We better start down the mountain.”
Linda eased open her eyes as Mitch pulled her other foot into his lap and continued rubbing his rough hands over the soles. “Did you see anybody when you were looking around?”
Mitch shook his head. “No, the cover makes seeing people hard, even from here.” He gave one last squeeze. “Think you’re ready to go?”
Linda nodded, and then caught his gaze. “Thanks.” She wiggled her toes. “What if we don’t find them?”
Mitch stood and gathered her hand in his. “We’ll find the rest of his gang. No worries.” With a steady move, he pulled her off the floor.
As he held onto her hand, Linda studied the big man a moment, wondering if maybe first impressions weren’t always right. His hazel eyes studied her right back, as if waiting for her to say something. “I’ll go down first.” Linda nodded toward the hole in the floor.
Mitch grabbed her elbow. “Sit first, I’ll hold on to you until you have a firm grip on the ladder. There we go.”
By the time she dropped to the ground and turned, he was beside her.
“You might want this.” He handed her the purse.
Linda grinned. “Thanks.” She waved a hand toward the trail. “After you.” Better he lead the way so she could come to terms with the emotions stirred in the lookout tower. When married to Roger, Linda was the one making sure things got done, bills were paid, food was in the cupboard. Having a man watch out for her was an unfamiliar, but pleasant, experience.
The sun hovered close to the horizon. Sweet-smelling pines thrust long shadows across the path. Despite the burning on the soles of her feet and the blister on her left heel, Linda hustled to keep up with Mitch’s brisk pace. She had no desire to be caught in the Sierra foothills come nightfall.
They were crossing a rocky patch of ground, the pebbles beneath slippery. Linda studied the ground in front of her as she placed each step. When she ran smack into Mitch’s broad back, she laughed out loud. “What—”
“Sh-h.” Mitch’s hand gripped her hip, holding her in place. “You wouldn’t happen to have any bear pepper spray in your purse, would you?”
Linda focused more on the hand on her hip until his words sank in. She stilled, her gaze on his hand. “What—”
He breathed, “Don’t talk.”
With her nose in the middle of his back, Linda saw nothing but the feathery pines on either side of the trail. She inched sideways and peered around his shoulder. “Oh my—”
Mitch spoke in a fierce whisper. “Linda, don’t—”
“It’s a bear! It’s a freakin’—” Linda backed up the slope, her gaze locked on the huge, furry, black animal blocking the path.
As she turned to run, she skidded, a smooth-soled shoe slipping on the tiny pebbles. With one leg sliding out from under her, Linda lost her balance and threw her arms over her head.
The last thing she saw was Mitch standing in the middle of the path, his arms spread wide, yelling obscenities at a bear.
Chapter Five
Linda opened her eyes to a gorgeous blue sky surrounded by the feathery tops of pine trees waving in the breeze.
“Linda.”
She closed her eyes and imagined her father calling her to get up for school.
“Linda, are you okay?”
She opened her eyes. The voice wasn’t her father’s and her bed was lumpy. A sharp pain jolted her spine. She stuck a hand in the small of her back and pulled out a rock the size of her fist. The bear. They saw a bear. She sat upright and looked around as her heart seized.
“Don’t move, Linda. I’m coming down.”
Her head whirled around to see Mitch inching sideways along the steep slope down which she had slipped. “Where’s the bear?”
“He’s gone.” Mitch reached her side and ran his hands over her arms and legs.
Linda clutched his shoulders. “He’s gone? He didn’t have you for dinner?”
Mitch laughed. “No, he decided I’m too sour for his tastes. Relax a minute, woman. You took quite a fall.”
Despite the rocky bed, Linda lay back down, her head swimming. “I did the stupid woman thing.”
Mitch smoothed the hair from her face.
His hand felt warm against her skin, contrasting with the cool air, and she relaxed at his touch.
“What stupid woman thing?”
“You know, where the woman runs from the bear, or the monster, or the killer, and then slips and falls. And I always say, why does she have to fall? Why do they always make the woman fall? And what do I do? I fall.”
Mitch eased his arm behind her back and pulled her into a sitting position. “It’s the shoes. You women insist on wearing stupid shoes.” He lifted the hem of her jeans. “Your ankle’s scraped and a little swollen. How does it feel?” Pulling off her shoe, he ran a gentle hand over her foot.
When his fingers cupped her heel, Linda winced. “Ouch.” She caught his eye. “I can’t believe this. I came out here to make sure Austin was safe.” She threw up her hands, frustrated at her predicament. “Instead, I get hurt and I still don’t know where my son is.”
Mitch stood. “One thing at a time, Linda. Let’s get back to the path.” Putting his hands under her arms, he pulled her into a standing position and wrapped his arms around her.
Linda hopped on one foot but her shoe slipped on the gravel.
“Tell you what. Throw your arms around my neck. I’ll carry you piggyback.”
Linda opened her mouth to refuse. Having to wrap her arms and legs around the man would just be the icing on the cake. Surely she could…she glanced up the rocky slope…maybe not.
“…or I can sling you over my shoulder in the ever-popular fireman’s carry, whichever you prefer.” Mitch’s hazel eyes gleamed.
At the devilish twinkle in his eyes, she knew she had no choice and slapped his shoulder. “All right, piggyback, but no funny stuff, Mister Playboy.”
Mitch’s eyebrows lifted and his lips turned down. “What did you call me?” He bent over as Linda crawled onto his back. “We’ll revisit your comment later, woman.”
He scrambled up the slope, Linda hanging on to his back. He eased her down when they reached the path.
Linda glanced around, then whispered, “No bear?”
“He’s in the next county.” Mitch moved among the trees, picking up the feathery pine branches and then tossing them back down.
“What are you doing?” Linda continued to peer over her shoulders, not convinced the bear had left. The temperature was dropping and she slapped at an insect on her arm.
Mitch came out from under the sweeping branches of a pine, holding a long branch. He pulled a tool off his belt and proceeded to strip away the twigs before presenting her with his handiwork. “I made you a walking stick.”
Linda took the stick, amazed at the swift transformation. She set the homemade cane a few inches away from her injured foot and hobbled a few feet. “I seem to be thanking you a lot this trip, Doctor Collins.”
Mitch propped his hands on his hips, his gaze on the walking stick. “No big deal. This is what I do.” He smiled.
Linda found herself smiling back at the warm hazel eyes. Maybe there was more to Leisure Studies than she realized. She held out her hand. “How about balancing me on this side?”
Mitch wrapped his arm around her waist. With the stick in one hand and Mitch’s strong support on her other side, Linda limped down the path. The sun had set and the shadows in the woods were deep by the time they reached the meadow.
Linda wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. Despite the drop in temperature as the sun dipped behind the horizon, she was warm from the effort of not putting weight on her injured ankle. Even now, the ankle throbbed. “
Ow, ow, ow.”
“Let’s take a break.” Mitch eased her to a carpet of pine needles at the edge of the meadow. He lifted her purse from around his neck and dropped the bag on the ground. “I don’t suppose you have any water?”
Linda rooted through the purse and with a triumphant inhalation lifted out a small bottle of water. “I got it in my hotel room in San Jose. Usually I carry a water bottle but I couldn’t find mine this morning.” Setting the bottle on the ground, she peered into the purse again and sighed in relief. “Ah ha.” She lifted out a prescription bottle. “Pain pills.”
“You have pain pills, too?” Mitch’s mouth hung open as he stared at the purse. “That’s like a bottomless, magical bag. No wonder the thing’s so heavy.” He nodded toward the small bottle. “You take a drink, and then I will.”
Linda popped a pill and then took a sip of water. While Mitch drank, she rummaged through her purse. First, she rubbed lip balm on her lips, and then pulled out a small bottle of hand lotion, which she rubbed into her skin.
Mitch picked up the container. “What’s this?”
“A thirty dollar bottle of the best dry skin lotion money can buy.”
Mitch sniffed it. “Smells good.”
“Cucumber-melon.” Linda relished the lotion sinking into her dry skin. “And the bottle’s biodegradable too.”
“Cool.” Mitch nodded. “So the bottle breaks down?”
“Yep, doesn’t go to the landfill.” Linda sat back against the tree and watched as Mitch walked toward the edge of the meadow where a steep slope led down to a gully. Her mouth dropped open as Mitch stepped back, drew his arm back, and tossed the container of expensive hand cream into the air. “What are you—” Sudden anger at the loss of her expensive lotion surged through her and she struggled to get up.
Hurrying back, Mitch pressed her back into a seated position. “Do you want to see your friend the bear again?” He picked up a handful of pine needles and rubbed them over Linda’s hands.
“Wha—” The heavy pine scent filled the air between them, masking the lighter cucumber melon.
Mitch chuckled. “I’ll buy you some when we get back. I don’t want to take a chance on our bear getting a whiff of your cucumber-melon hand cream and deciding to pay us a visit, especially since we’re here ‘til morning.”
Looking into his face for signs of teasing, Linda’s heart sank. She had set out to find her son, to save him from whatever predicament he was in. Instead, she had injured her ankle and was dependent on Leroy Mitchell Collins, the annoying storm cloud in her otherwise blue sky of a life. She leaned her head back and took in the man who stood next to her, arms crossed and a devilish grin on his face.
Not only was she dependent on him…she was spending the night with him. Her heart did a little flip.
Oh boy.
****
Except for the missing son, and the twisted ankle, Mitch was having the best time he’d had in years. He chuckled again at Linda’s openmouthed shock when he threw her expensive hand lotion into the gully—just like the French fry episode. She was incensed. He pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. No sense pissing her off, especially since they were spending the night together. Not exactly the kind of night together he would have picked but, hey…. “Are you comfortable?” Mitch eased down beside her and patted her hands. “Your fingers are freezing.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms when suddenly Linda’s eyes lit up and she dove into her handbag. After rummaging for several seconds, she pulled out a tiny pouch.
Mitch’s eyes narrowed as he studied the item. “A pillow?”
Linda unzipped the packet and pulled the insides out until she was holding up a long-sleeved wrinkled jacket. “I forgot I had this.”
Mitch shook his head. “You’re amazing. You give be prepared a whole new meaning.” He reached for the jacket to help her slip her arms into the sleeves.
Clasping the jacket to her chest, Linda shook her head. “Makes more sense if we use the coat like a blanket.” Spreading the jacket across their laps, she leaned back against him. “…if you don’t mind.”
Mitch wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her soft brown hair tickled his chin. “Not at all and I promise not to bite.”
Linda slapped the side of her face. “I wish these mosquitoes would promise not to bite.”
Patting his pockets before pausing with a hand over his chest, Mitch smiled and reached into his shirt pocket. “I can handle this problem.” He struck a match and held it to the cigar clenched in his teeth, puffing until the end glowed red and streams of smoke drifted into the air.
Quickly enveloped in the pungent fumes, Linda leaned away and stared, her pretty blue eyes narrowed. “Oh, you’re kidding me, right?”
Mitch positioned the cigar in the corner of his mouth and stuck out his arms. “Me or the mosquitoes, take your pick.”
Linda leaned back into his arms and adjusted the jacket over the two of them. “What a choice.” She stilled. “What if the bear smells your cigar and comes back?”
Mitch took the cigar out of his mouth and blew out a long smoke stream. “I’ve never met a bear who liked cigars.”
As the darkness deepened and creatures rustled through the grass, Mitch relaxed as contentment stole through his body. Not many women would accept spending the night in the woods without throwing some sort of fuss. Despite her perfectionism, Linda was smart and practical. She knew as he did, they hadn’t any choice. “Why did you call me a playboy?” Mitch had been toying with the question ever since Linda mentioned the word and realized he didn’t like the characterization.
Linda took a deep breath. “I guess it was how all the girls gathered around you the first day we went to lunch. I could tell they liked you.” She leaned her head back and gazed into his eyes. “And they asked you to go out with them.”
Mitch met her gaze with his own. “Correction—they asked me to meet them at the pub. The Irish Club meets there regularly to plan activities. They pick my brain.” His gaze drifted to her full lips.
Linda glanced away. “Oh.”
Mitch sniffed her hair. He couldn’t identify the scent. Probably mango or pomegranate or some such sweet smell. Whatever, the alluring scent was sure to drive him crazy by morning. “I couldn’t date anyone still in college. Have you listened to these young women? Movie stars, makeup, and the beach. I bet not one in five could find Iraq on the map.” He puffed at his cigar, savoring the pungent blend, the quiet of the forest, and the feel of a soft woman in his arms. “Tell me about Austin’s father. Is he in the picture?”
“Sometimes.” Linda hesitated, her fingers plucking at the jacket. “Roger is an actor waiting for his big break. He’s been waiting for twenty years.”
“I heard a famous movie star say once it only took him ten years to be an overnight success.” He contemplated her hands resting on her stomach and slowly rested his own on top. “I assume you had custody.”
“Roger didn’t even use the little bit of custody visits he had. He would promise a trip and then at the last minute cancel because something came up.”
“So just you and Austin, huh?” Linda’s concern at Austin’s disappearance became clearer by the minute.
“My mother lives in New Jersey. She’s in good health, but still, I worry about her being alone.”
“Jersey, huh? I’ll bet you went to the shore a lot.”
“I worked at the beach during the summers. On the weekends, we went to concerts.”
“Some good rock bands back in the day, how about it?”
“For sure. Remember this tune?” Linda hummed a few bars from a popular song.
“I was a senior in high school when that song came out.”
“Me too. Lip gloss, blue eye shadow, and big hair.”
“Now, I know your age.”
“Like my age was a secret.”
“What did you do, sell salt water taffy?”
“No. I was a lifeguard. The pay was better, and I needed every penn
y I could earn for college.”
“No kidding.” Mitch rubbed his hands over her arms. “That explains the shoulders.”
Linda sat up. “What do you mean by that? What’s wrong with my shoulders?”
Mitch pulled her back against his chest. “Absolutely nothing. You have great shoulders.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “What did you do the summer after high school?”
“Joined the Marines.”
“You’re kidding. Did you need money for college, too?”
“No, we had plenty of money. My father and I didn’t see eye to eye. I didn’t want his money coming with his mandated strings attached.” Mitch stirred at the unpleasant memories Linda’s questions evoked.
“Why not?” Linda intertwined their fingers.
“He owned a sporting goods store in Denver. Worked twenty-four seven. We never saw him. I always swore I would never do that to my family.”
“This explains where you got your love of sports.”
Surprised, Mitch realized he had never considered where his love of sports originated. “I guess it does.”
“So, you were a Marine.” Linda peered into the trees, her fingers tapping against his, before she turned and fixed him with a stare. “Were you in the Gulf War?”
“Yep.” He grinned. “And I still am a Marine.”
With a low moan, Linda moved her hips to the side and looked him full in the face. “You’re not a hippy, are you?”
“Nope.” Mitch lifted her legs across his lap and shifted his arm so she could lean against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions when I first met you.”
“Not your fault. I made a bad impression when we met.” He studied her face as she gazed across the meadow at the faint bit of horizon showing in the gathering dusk. “Your son’s a good looking young man.”
“Tell me about it. He takes after his father. Roger always tried out for the action hero parts but casting told him he was too handsome.”
A Silver Lining Page 6
