Cain nodded. “I think I am.”
And nestled in the warmth of Cain’s jacket, Hannah turned and left.
Chapter Eight
Hannah left her office at 4:30 p.m., hoping to beat some of the westbound traffic heading up “the hill.” Most Colorado mountain towns were filled with residents who worked at their local establishments, but a town like Evergreen was close enough to the Denver metro area that it had its share of residents willing to commute.
She headed to the gym, hoping to get into the pool and swim a few laps before the evening water aerobics classes started. Hannah didn’t like the gym. She didn’t like swimming. And she definitely didn’t like being inside. But she had little choice. It was either swim, or get completely out of shape and even crankier from a total lack of exercise.
God, she missed running. She felt hemmed in, and longed to once again explore the trails and get out there in the thick of it, away from people and noise and cars and civilization. She missed the gentle pounding of her steps on the soft trails, the sound of her own breathing, the sweat building up on her torso, the feeling of exhilaration that came with the oxygen flowing through her. Almost two weeks had passed since her High Peaks disappointment, but it felt like two months. Fortunately, her foot had already begun to feel a little better.
After her swim, Hannah rinsed off and headed home. She called Summer to see if she could meet for dinner, but Summer had a client that evening and was leaving town for a week-long wellness conference. Still not entirely sure what to do with herself—pre-injury, she went running most evenings after work—Hannah pulled out a book she’d been trying to get through, got her icepack for her foot, and climbed into the hammock she’d installed on her front porch after work the day before.
By the time her icepack began to drip in the afternoon heat, Hannah gave up on the book. It was some bestseller that a few others at the office had sworn was the best thing ever… and it sucked. Sure, her English degree gave her a higher standard than many, but when a male character said things like, “She had the kind of breasts that made a man want to sin,” Hannah wanted to hurl.
Just tell her you want to fuck her, she thought. Sure, saying “fuck” to describe sex was a little rude and crude, but to Hannah it was honest and no-frills.
Cheesy book aside, Hannah had to admit that the summer evening air felt amazing, and that the hammock was surprisingly comfortable. She had a portable one she took camping sometimes, but it had never occurred to her to install one at home. Hell, if she had a nice deck like Cain did, she’d probably have strung up a hammock the day she moved in. Still, the front porch wasn’t bad, and at least she was shielded from the afternoon sun.
She wondered how Cain was doing. Had he started his new job at the hospital? Did his patients enjoy his no-nonsense way? She wondered why he hadn’t retained his active military status a little longer. She didn’t know his age, but he looked close to her age and, assuming he enlisted when he was young, he wouldn’t have too much longer before he’d be eligible for retirement benefits. But maybe he didn’t enlist until after medical school. Or maybe the rules were different for doctors.
All of a sudden, memories of Cain’s body on hers returned. The feel of his hot skin. His breath in her ear. His pinning her arms down. And those big brown eyes, looking at her like he could see into her. Her breath quickened slightly, but she shooed the invading thoughts away. None of it meant a damned thing. She’d just gotten caught up in… who knows. The delicious dinner. The bourbon. The beautiful view from his deck. The fact that he’d been there for her during a dark hour. But in the end, their little sweat-and-grunt fest was nothing more than two single people scratching an itch, and Cain would disappear from her memory like the rest had.
Not that he would be offended. Hannah didn’t know much about Grizzly, but she could tell he wasn’t easily reached. There was something about him that seemed… somewhere else. Like he’d walled himself off from others, content to do his thing on his own and only occasionally lob a blunt opinion to whomever he was stuck interacting with from time to time. Maybe he had some reason for walling himself off, or maybe it was just how he was. And she didn’t hold it against him. Mostly because she felt like she was somehow better off for having known him.
Getting hungry, Hannah finally climbed out of the hammock and went inside. Before she even got to her kitchen, her eye immediately went to the neatly-folded black fleece jacket sitting on the arm of her leather couch. And then a new slew of recollections invaded—Cain kissing her at his door, then picking her up like that…
Hannah went to her utility room, searching for a box. It was time to return what was his. She’d planned on doing so, and wasn’t entirely sure why she’d waited this long. After all, she didn’t like keeping other people’s things longer than necessary. And people who borrowed things and never returned them were barely a step above monsters, as far as she was concerned. She could probably just stick the jacket in a grocery bag and leave it on his front porch, but then a squirrel or a deer or a raccoon could come and destroy it. She’d seen it happen. This was the mountains, where wildlife almost always got the last word.
She found her mailing tape and brought it and the box back to her living room. She picked up the fleece to bag it, then hesitated. She held it to her nose and inhaled. The smell of him lingered in it, that unique blend of musky and mountain. She shook her head.
Hi. My name is Hannah. And I just sniffed your fleece jacket like some kind of stalker weirdo freak.
Hannah stuffed the fleece into the bag, then into the box before taping it shut. She would drop it by his cabin tomorrow morning, on her way to work.
The next morning, Hannah left a few minutes early for work, giving her time to drive to Cain’s and return his jacket. The black Dodge truck was there, but Hannah didn’t knock, not knowing what sort of weird hours he worked at the hospital and not wanting to wake or otherwise disturb him. She set the box against his door. Just as she turned to leave, the door opened.
There stood Cain in shorts, no shirt or shoes on, the muscles of his burly chest causing her to blink a couple times. She swatted away a flashback of him standing naked in his house last time, proudly displaying all he had. Now, his face showed a disapproving look.
“Really?” he said. “You were going to sneak off without saying hi?”
Hannah felt herself redden a little. “I… I didn’t want to wake you… in case you kept weird hours at the hospital…”
Cain picked up the box. “What’s this?”
“Your fleece. I didn’t want to leave it on your porch for some critter to munch on.”
He nodded, tossing the box inside. “Yeah. They do that around here. Thanks… I figured you would try to keep it. It’s North Face. Good stuff.” His dark eyes twinkled.
“Nah. I have my own gear that fits properly. Besides, it stunk like you.” She bit her lip, hoping he liked her humor as much as her honesty.
He raised that eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to mind my stink when I saw you last.”
She suppressed a laugh. “Touché.”
He looked her up and down. “So this is business Grace.”
Hannah glanced down at her gray skinny pants, white t-shirt, and blazer. “Pretty much.”
“Breakfast?”
Hannah hesitated. “I’ve got a meeting at nine…”
Cain glanced at his watch. “You’ve got time. I’ll be quick.” He motioned with his head for her to come in.
Hannah, unable to say no and not really wanting to, followed Cain inside and shut the door. Cain poured her some coffee.
“Have a seat,” he said. “Get off that foot.”
“Okay, bossy.” Hannah sat down while Cain turned on the stove and began pulling food from the fridge. “How’s the new job?”
Cain shrugged, cracking a few eggs into a bowl. “It’s okay. It think it’s going to take some time before they get used to my no-bullshit bedside manner, as you put it.”
Hannah chu
ckled. “They should get used to it. There’s nothing worse than a full-of-shit doctor who won’t give it to you straight.”
A few minutes later, Cain brought them cheese omelettes and buttery toast. Hannah happily dug in, glad for a change in her usual weekday smoothie routine. Cain finally spoke.
“Sorry I haven’t called,” he said, sipping his coffee. “I was planning to. Starting at a new hospital, especially in the E.R., is pretty tiring. At least until you get into a groove.”
Hannah shook her head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t expecting anything. Besides, I get it. You already got what you wanted anyway.”
When Cain looked up at that, she gave him a wink to show him that she was kidding. A moment of relief on his face, but then he arched that eyebrow of his. “You think you know what I want?”
She shook her head. “Not in the least.”
“Probably don’t care either, do you?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She took another forkful of omelette. “I’ve wondered how you’ve been, and what your story is.”
He stared at her, his toast poised in midair. “Jesus. You really are honest, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how to be any other way. And it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble.”
“With who?”
“Guys. My family.”
“Guys, I’m not surprised. Most of them only want honesty when it’s something they want to hear. True for most women, too,” he added wryly. “But family? They should get you.”
“They don’t. I mean, they do now, but it’s more like they try to tolerate me. Everyone else in my family—my folks, my brother—they’re far more polite and charming. They’ll tell you what they think you want to hear. They say it’s better that way… you know, for winning friends and influencing people. My dad, especially. He used to really harp on me, saying my bluntness wasn’t ladylike. My brother didn’t need to be ladylike, of course. Although in his defense, he’s much better at putting things the right way than I’ve ever been.”
Cain nodded. “If I were a woman… a ‘no-bullshit’ Army doctor, but female…” He shook his head. “There would be no end to the shit I’d get from those arrogant douchebag doctors at the hospital.”
Hannah eyed him. “So you’ve noticed there’s a double standard?”
“Oh yeah.”
They ate in silence for a couple minutes before Hannah said, “Any plans for the weekend? Backpacking?” She sighed, hearing the envy in her voice.
Cain shook his head. “Working all weekend. You?”
Hannah hesitated. “Yeah… dinner plans for Saturday.”
“Date?” he said, watching her.
Hannah looked down for a moment. Not a date… something worse. Something she dreaded.
But before she could answer, Cain said, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Hannah looked back up at Cain, unsure whether he was being jealous, or showing her that her personal life didn’t matter to Mr. Reclusive Mountain Man.
Seeing her expression, Cain shrugged. “Call me an asshole, but I don’t like the idea of some other guy putting his hands on you.”
Hannah’s face grew hot. “You fuck me one time and suddenly I’m your property?”
Cain scowled and looked away for a moment, any frustration he felt appearing to be aimed mostly at himself. “Of course not,” he said quietly. “You’re free to do whatever you want. Forget I said that.”
Hannah watched him for a moment as he went back to finishing his breakfast, the silence between them palpable. She glanced at her watch, realizing she needed to go if she was going to make it to her meeting on time. And she was glad to have the excuse.
“I’d better run,” she said, taking her last swig of coffee and bringing her dishes to Cain’s sink. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“My pleasure,” Cain said, standing up.
Hannah opened the door, feeling the need to leave… for more reasons than she could count. But she turned to say goodbye to Cain, and when she did, she saw a perplexing look on his face, a mixture of hardness… and vulnerability.
She smiled. “Bye, Grizzly.”
A little glimmer appeared in his eyes before she shut the door.
Chapter Nine
Saturday night, Hannah pulled up to the big suburban house with the neatly manicured yard, its water-guzzling lawn greener than green. She sighed, grabbed the bottles of wine she’d picked up from the liquor store, and headed to the door.
She knocked, waiting an appropriate amount of time before just letting herself in. It smelled like it always did, a hint of perfume along with garlic, the rarely-used living room furnishings without a hint of wear. She heard voices in the kitchen, her father’s in particular, loudly dominating the conversation as he often did.
When Hannah turned the corner and entered the kitchen, her brother spotted her first.
“Han,” Tom said from the dining room table. “You’re here.”
“Hey,” Hannah said, setting down the wine bottles.
“Hannah!” her mother said, turning from the open oven and coming to hug Hannah. Hannah smiled. She couldn’t help it; her mother’s warm smile could light up the night. She hugged her mom, the soft scent of her perfume wafting up. Claire Christiansen was tallish and thin like Hannah, although she’d put on a couple of extra curves with age. However, the resemblance ended there, as both Hannah and her brother took after their father with their Nordic faces and coloring. And Hannah definitely didn’t inherit her mother’s kind, giving personality.
“You look beautiful,” Hannah told her. And she did. Her mother had aged better than any woman Hannah knew. Plus, her red blouse looked amazing with her dark hair.
Her mother waved her off. “I’ve put on ten pounds,” she whispered, making a face.
Hannah rolled her eyes, not seeing the supposed ten pounds, the same ones her mother had been complaining about since the dawn of time. Nor would Hannah have cared even if she could detect them.
Her mom smiled. “You look skinny, Han. You aren’t trying to live on salads, are you?”
“You mean like you?” Hannah teased.
Her mother giggled. “Some of us have to, honey.”
Hannah turned to her father, who was sitting at the table with Tom. “Happy birthday, Dad.”
Her father gave a nod and a smile, one cool blue eye offering her a wink before he turned back to Tom so they could resume talking.
“Need any help, Mom?”
“Oh, no,” she said, putting the bread in the oven. “Actually, yes. Will you put ice in the glasses?”
Hannah did, and then filled them with water. She opened up one of the wine bottles to let it breathe. And soon, everyone but Claire was seated at the table.
“John,” her mother said to her father, eyeing his emptied highball glass. “Can I get you another drink, honey?”
“No,” he said. “I’m going to have wine. I assume Hannah brought a good bottle or two tonight.” He winked at Hannah again.
Her mother took off her apron and sat down next to Hannah’s father and everyone dug into their rack of lamb with mint jelly, her dad’s favorite for as long as she could remember. Her mother waited as everyone else served themselves first. Hannah used to try to get her mom to take the first helping—she’d cooked the damned meal, for crying out loud—but she never would. She always made sure everyone, her father in particular, ate first.
Claire stood up again, picking up the wine and going to fill her father’s glass. When she dribbled a little down the side, she did a “tsk-tsk” and picked up her napkin to clean it off.
John saw what was happening, a brief flash of annoyance on his face. “Don’t worry about it, Claire,” he snapped. “Eat before your lamb gets cold.”
Claire left it and began to eat. John picked up his wine glass, swirling it around like an aficionado and taking a big sniff before he sipped it. He nodded.
“Nice,” he said, giving Hanna
h a nod. It was the kind of word, and nod, that made it impossible to know whether or not he liked the wine. That was her father. You never knew what he really thought, unless he’d had a few drinks and his “win friends and influence people” veneer began to disappear.
“Are you injured, Hannah?” her father said, looking more curious than concerned as he sliced into his lamb. “You looked like you were limping when you walked in.”
“Oh, that. Just a minor foot injury.” The last thing she wanted to do was bring up High Peaks or any racing that night.
“Wait,” Tom said. “Weren’t you training for that big race? The hundred-miler?”
Hannah wanted to take her fork and jab it into Tom’s ribs.
Her parents’ ears perked up. “You’re going to run a hundred-mile race?” her father said.
Hannah sighed. “The race is over,” she said, hoping they would find a better topic and move on.
No chance.
“What happened?” her dad went on. “How long did it take you to finish?”
“I didn’t finish,” Hannah said, her focus on her lamb. “I had to DNF at mile eighty, because of my foot.”
“What kind of injury?” Tom asked. “Plantar fasciitis?”
Hannah wanted to jab him again. “No. A small stress fracture.”
John shook his head. “I’m not surprised, Hannah. I know you don’t like it when I say this, but women have difficulty handling that level of abuse on their bodies. It fouls up their hormones. That’s why you got a fracture. Your bones are thin, honey.”
Now Hannah wanted to stab her father with her fork. “I overtrained, Dad,” Hannah snapped. “That’s why I got injured. It can happen to anyone, female or male. My bones are fine, and so are my fucking hormones.”
“Hannah,” her mother chided. “Language!”
“Sorry, Mom,” she muttered, giving her dad the evil eye. But it was the truth. Her doctor had tested her, and her hormones and bone density were normal.
Going The Distance (Four Corners Book 3) Page 6
