What if she gave Jackson her real Social? Did anyone out there even care where she was anymore? It had been five years since she’d run away from home. How long did memories last?
Chapter Five
Jackson turned into Country Aire Trailer and RV Park. The place was a total dump. A group of men gathered in lawn chairs at one of the first trailers. The smell of marijuana wafted through his car’s vents. Heads swiveled toward his ’69 Mustang as he drove by. He was used to getting attention for his ride, but this was the kind he didn’t want. They looked like they had the knowledge to strip his car of anything valuable in under two minutes.
Dammit. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. This place wasn’t safe. It was a trailer park straight out of a movie. The kind tornados targeted in redneck jokes. The fact the park had actually been hit by a tornado only cemented the stereotype.
He circled the curve toward the back and spotted her beat-up car next to a narrow squat trailer with dingy formerly white siding, reflecting none of Willa’s quirky personality. It wasn’t a home. It was a place to live. He parked behind her and gathered his courage. She hadn’t invited him or asked for help of any kind, and her reaction was sure to include a fair amount of annoyance.
But just because she hadn’t asked for help didn’t mean she didn’t need it. He grabbed the two sacks on his passenger seat and maneuvered out of the car. River gave a yip and trotted from somewhere around the back of the trailer. He dropped to one knee and greeted the dog. Her tail wagged. She had been treated kindly at some point or she wouldn’t be this trusting.
Dusk was falling fast. A light shone through checked curtains in the front window. He had procrastinated long enough. Standing at the bottom of the metal, rickety-looking steps, he knocked. River settled on her haunches next to him.
The curtains ruffled. A few seconds later, she cracked open the door. He was eye level with a rainbow on the front of her white T-shirt, the fabric pulling taut over her breasts. He swallowed, gave himself a mental slap, and forced his eyes north.
Her feet and head were bare, and her hair was tucked behind her ears. Even with no makeup, her eyes dominated her face, her lashes long and dark. He was struck again by her innate femininity once out of her coveralls and hat.
“What are you doing here?” Suspicion was laced with mild panic in her voice.
Did she have a guy over? The thought made his body tense. The paper bags he cradled crinkled under the pressure. “I brought food and stuff for River. Are you busy?”
“I suppose not.”
He took the first step up to her door, but she didn’t back up, her reluctance palpable. River gave one bark. Her gaze bounced from him to the dog to his offering and she sighed. “Come on in.”
He had to duck his head to clear the low door frame. The ceiling of the trailer was higher, but still low compared to the openness of his loft-style place above the barn. Claustrophobia enveloped him.
She took one of the bags out of his arms and set it on the narrow counter of the tiny kitchen. He placed the other on a love seat wedged into the short wall at the end.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“It’s … cozy in here, isn’t it?” His voice choked off.
For the first time all week, an impish smile quirked her lips. “That’s a nice way to put it. I’d go with tiny. Cramped. Prisonlike.” She opened the two windows, front and back, and pulled the curtains open.
“Better?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and nodded. Now that the cross flow of cooling air had alleviated his mild panic, he examined the space more thoroughly. It didn’t take long. Beyond the small kitchen was a door he assumed led to a bathroom or closet. Beyond the narrow doorway at the far end, a mattress and bedding was visible on the floor. She didn’t even have a proper bed. Yet he also noticed the multicolored rug on the floor and the fact the place was tidy and smelled faintly of lemon-scented cleaner.
Intellectually, he knew people lived in worse conditions around the world, but emotionally, he wanted to sweep Willa up and take her home with him. The implications only worsened his feeling of being trapped.
While he suppressed impulses she would battle with every scrap of her considerable pride, she unpacked the first bag and stacked the cans of dog food. The last thing she pulled out was a bottle of dog shampoo. She turned to him, her face tilted down toward the bottle she clutched at her waist.
“There’s more food in the other bag and some treats.” He scuffed his boot along the edge of the rug.
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice wasn’t much above a whisper.
He slipped a finger under her chin and forced her face up. Her chin wobbled and her eyes shone with tears. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.
“It’s been a long time since someone has done something nice for me.” Her smile was in contrast to the tear that managed to escape.
He caught the errant sign of emotion with his thumb. The tear might as well have been a dunk in freezing water. He was awakened to everything about her. She could have used help before now, yet he’d been hell-bent on remaining cut off from everyone except his brothers. What once felt like proud independence now veered sharply selfish.
He’d never been good at expressing even the most straightforward emotion and what was churning inside him was complicated and set his internals at war, his heart leading the charge.
“What do you say we get River cleaned up?” He tried to force a normalish tone, but raw emotion made his voice sound like broken concrete. “Do you have a tub?”
“Yeah, a luxurious hot tub for eight in the back.” Her laugh dried her tears. “I have a coffinlike stand-up shower. But it does have a wand we can maybe make work.”
River balked at entering the trailer. Willa held her scruff, and he pushed at River’s backside. She barked, but never tried to bite either of them. Once she was inside, the dog’s agitation turned to curiosity, and she sniffed everything and anything.
Jackson rummaged through the bag on the couch and came up with bacon-flavored dog treats. As if River could smell them through the packaging, she stood at his feet, tail wagging and licking her chops.
“She knows what they are, doesn’t she?” Willa asked.
“Looks that way.” He ripped open the bag and pulled out a strip. “Sit, River.”
The dog sat, and Jackson handed over the treat. She settled onto the rug to enjoy the bacony goodness.
“How could someone just abandon her?” A deep thread of emotion in her voice tugged him a step closer which in the small space put them only inches apart. Close enough to note the beautiful complexity of her eyes. What once he’d thought was a simple Crayola brown was actually all different shades.
When he felt himself slipping into a hypnotic state, he forced himself to look at River. “Maybe her family moved and couldn’t take her. Or couldn’t afford her.”
“But to dump her…” She shook her head and chafed an arm.
“People can be cruel.”
“They sure can,” she said softly. Before he could question her further, she grabbed River’s scruff. “Let’s go, smelly dog. Gotta get you clean if you want to stay with me.”
He helped herd River toward the bathroom. Coffinlike was an apt description of the shower. She turned on the water and got it warm before shoving the dog underneath the anemic spray. He wedged himself as close as possible and held on to River while Willa lathered her fur with a generous amount of shampoo.
River shook herself in the middle of a rinse, sending water in all directions. Jackson sputtered and ran a hand down his face. Willa’s husky laugh set his nerve endings sizzling.
By the time she turned the water off, she was nearly as wet as the dog. Her white T-shirt clung to her body. Her nipples were peaked against the damp fabric, one covered by a rainbow, the other shadowing clearly through her bra.
His body surged, the ache in his groin matching the one in his chest. His interest wasn’t friendly in t
he least. Neither was the compulsion to kiss her and strip the wet shirt off her body. The wall that had held his emotions at bay for so long teetered close to a total collapse. There was no containing his need now. His body was in mutiny.
River shot out of the bathroom and barked at the door.
“I’ll let her out.” He didn’t even recognize his voice.
River shot out into the night and Jackson followed, watching her shake and lick at her fur. Willa’s trailer backed up to an open field and a line of pine trees. The scene was tranquil if not particularly striking. He preferred the woods behind the barn, the river cutting a path through the trees. It teemed with life and memories.
Deep breaths of cool air calmed him, and by the time River came trotting back up, Jackson had marshaled his more basic needs and stuffed them back where they belonged, out of sight if not entirely out of mind. Until Willa trusted him, whatever brewed between them would never have a chance to boil.
He opened the trailer door, and this time, River took the steps without prompting. Willa had on a dry red oversized T-shirt. The change should have helped steady his sanity, but instead all he could focus on was the fact she didn’t have a bra on under the looser shirt.
She opened a can of the dog food and upended it on a paper plate. River settled in to noisily eat. Willa turned to him with a smile he might classify as shy if he didn’t know her better. “You want something to drink? I have Cokes.”
He should leave. His lies, even if they were to himself, didn’t sit well. Coming with supplies hadn’t been a simple act of kindness. That damn rainbow T-shirt had exposed his ulterior motives like a pot of gold at the end. He ran his hands down his jeans and shuffled backward. The back of his legs hit the love seat, throwing him off balance. He plopped down.
Apparently taking his move as a yes, she grabbed two cans of Coke and joined him. The love seat sagged slightly in the middle, forcing them so close their shoulders touched. He took her offering automatically and popped the top. The burn of his first swallow didn’t help settle him in the least, especially watching her take a delicate sip, as if the Coke were something to be savored.
How had he never noticed her lips, full and a dark pink, the top slightly fuller than the bottom? His hand tightened and dented the sides of the can. Blowing out a slow breath, he scanned the trailer, searching out clues about her.
He didn’t see a TV anywhere. His too brief glance into her bedroom had revealed a stack of books and a tarnished brass lamp on the floor next to the mattress. More books were stacked on the window ledge next to him. A hardback with library letters and numbers on the spine was on top. Jane Eyre. He picked it up and flipped through the pages.
“Sorry, champ, all words and no pictures.”
He suppressed a smile at her tart jab. “What’s it about?”
“An orphaned girl is sent off to a charity school. Once she’s grown, she takes a post teaching a girl at a secluded estate where she meets a man. They fall in love, but he’s got some skeletons in his attic. She runs away, inherits money, a big fire scars him, but love overcomes. It’s a classic. I can’t believe you haven’t read it.” She set her can down and took the book out of his hands. “I’ve read it four times now.”
“Not sure I’ve even read a book since high school. Unless car manuals count.” He flashed her a smile. “You must have been a great student.”
She didn’t return his smile. In fact, she shifted to put her back into the corner of the love seat as if his compliment were an insult. “Why would you think that?”
He scrubbed a hand along the stubble of his jaw to his nape. “All the books? The way you talk sometimes. We don’t call you Encyclopedia Brown for nothing.”
“Actually, I didn’t start reading until I … left home. No TV. I’m not into smoking and drinking with my neighbors, so yeah, I read.” The way she brushed down the spine of the book with her finger was like a caress.
What would her hand feel like on him? The thought popped into his head before he could squash it. To cover his confusion, he picked up the next book. It was a spy novel that sounded vaguely familiar. “I’ve seen this movie.”
“Book is always better.” Her voice had lost some of the strain. She bent at the waist and stroked River’s ears. “I was a terrible student, actually. Only made it through because my best friend pushed and helped me.”
“I thought about dropping out. Didn’t see the point. All I wanted was to work in the garage with Pop, but he made me stick it out.” Even over a year after his pop had died of a massive heart attack on the shop floor, the emptiness of the loss was vast.
She straightened and brushed his hand with hers, the touch feather light. “I miss him too. He was so nice to me. Not like some I’ve worked for.”
His rising aggression smothered the sadness and he welcomed it. “What does that mean? What did they do?”
“You know how it is.” She stood, but he grabbed her forearm and pulled her back down.
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me how it is?”
“Most people aren’t decent like you and your family, Jackson. I’ve been on my own for a while now. I look young, which some people—men especially—equate with weakness, and they think that means they can take things I’m unwilling to give.”
He couldn’t help the harshness of his voice. “And did they take it?”
“I was never raped, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve been groped plenty.”
He wasn’t sure which kick in the gut took more of his breath away, the confession itself or the matter-of-factness of her voice. “Did you go to the police?”
Her laugh sliced at his heart like a million paper cuts. “Like they would believe me? I’m a nobody. It was easier to pack up and move on. Until Cottonbloom,” she added in a whisper.
He loosened his grip and stroked the soft inside of her forearm with his thumb. She didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry you had to deal with crap like that all by yourself.”
“I’m used to it.”
That any woman got used to being treated like that was all kinds of wrong, but the fact it was Willa made him want a list of her past employers. He’d make certain they never treated another woman disrespectfully again, even if it meant literally busting balls.
A shadow of the violence in his heart must have shown on his face, because she said, “You can’t change the world, Jackson.” A hint of tease softened the moment.
He might not be able to change the world, but he could damn well make hers a better place. That kind of announcement wouldn’t sit well with either of them. Even thinking it was scary enough.
Dogs made for safe, warm, fuzzy subjects, right? “I’ll make a vet appointment for River in the morning.”
“She looks healthy enough to me.”
“She might have heartworms, and she’ll need her shots. Plus, if you plan to let her inside, you’ll need medicine to keep the fleas and ticks off. A good once-over is probably all she needs.”
“I can’t afford a vet bill.” She chewed on her bottom lip and flipped the book around in her hands, her voice akin to confessing a high crime. Her pride was a rock wall that would take time to scale.
“I’ll cover it. Consider it a loan.” A loan he’d never call.
“What do you want in return?” It was the same question she’d asked when he’d offered her the raise. She vibrated with agitation.
“Nothing. Except for you to stick around.”
“I don’t know. I don’t like being in debt to anyone.” The uncertainty in her voice set him on edge.
But he wasn’t just anyone, was he? Not only had he violated his code by lying to himself, but now he recognized the manipulative shade of his “unselfish act.” He’d hoped the dog might bind her to Cottonbloom. And him. “What are you running from, Willa?”
She stood so abruptly, River growled and jumped to attention. “Thanks for the dog food and stuff. I’ll see you later.”
Time. He needed more time to earn h
er trust. If he pushed her too hard, she would disappear. With a sigh, he heaved himself off the love seat, set his coke can down on the narrow kitchen counter, and cracked the door open. “I’ll set up something for the morning.”
“I have plans in the morning.”
His eyes narrowed on her, not sure if she was telling the truth or pushing his buttons. “Afternoon then.”
“Fine.” She shrugged, her gaze skating off to the side. River jumped past him and streaked around the side of the trailer.
Willa clambered out and stood at the edge of the field. The wind had picked up, and the grass wavered. River was gone.
“River!” The plaintive note in her voice bordered on desperation.
“She’ll be back,” he said with more conviction than he felt.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. The wind had switched directions throughout the day and was now blowing cool from the north. “Maybe she can’t stay. Maybe she’s too afraid of what might happen.”
He took a sharp breath. Her profile was strong and stoic, but her narrow shoulders had rounded as if she needed to protect herself at all times. Everyone needed someone to lean on. What would he have done without Mack and Wyatt?
“She has more courage than you give her credit for.” He reached out to touch Willa’s shoulder, but thought better of it. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he backed away and slipped into his car. His headlights illuminated her slight figure at the edge of the field. She didn’t turn.
He didn’t know what was going on between them, but it felt important. Monumental even. Unfortunately, the secrets separating them seemed almost as big.
Chapter Six
Willa peeked out past her curtains, half expecting Jackson to have returned sometime during the night to stake her out. He seemed determined to keep tabs on her. The fact he was digging and would continue to dig until he hit truth should make her want to throw everything she owned in the back of her Honda and lay rubber out of town. Not that her tires had any rubber to spare.
When the Stars Come Out--A Cottonbloom Novel Page 6
