by Jillian Hart
What he needed was to keep his distance. Filling in at the Wilson dairy wasn’t going to accomplish that. But what was he gonna do? Leave her hanging?
A friendly “woof!” broke into his thoughts. His border collie streaked after him, eyes bright with excitement.
“Okay, hop in, but I have to warn you, you’ll be spending an hour waiting for me. Plus, I’m not great company.”
Nell didn’t seem to mind as she leaped into the truck and plopped down on the passenger side, grinning toothily.
The problem with heading to town was that it took him through the Wilson property. The barn seemed empty, with doors open to let in the hot dry air. He swung around to glance at the house, shuttered up tight, and spied Millie climbing a rickety ladder. Why his foot hit the brake, he couldn’t say. Call it an instant of insanity.
He pulled into the driveway, cut the engine and willed himself not to care. He was being neighborly, that’s all. “That ladder is about to topple over.”
“No, because I’ve got the short leg propped on a brick and I’m leaning to counterbalance it.” Millie gingerly climbed onto the crumbling roof. “See? Now I only have to worry about getting down.”
The woman had always been like this. He shook his head, held the door open for Nell and tried to ignore the arrhythmia galloping away in his chest. “Why did you get up there in the first place?”
“Looking for cracks. Why are you here anyway?” She swiped satiny strands of dark hair that had escaped her ponytail. Dressed in a light blue top and worn jeans, framed by cotton clouds and forested hillside, she was still the prettiest girl in the valley.
“I was on my way to run a few things to church, but then I spotted you. Luke told me about your mouse problem.”
“Mice problem. It’s crazy. We were up all night listening to the scrabble of little mouse feet climbing the walls.”
“Sure. You’ve got fields behind the house. The field mice head for the barn at night, looking for grain. When they come across the obstacle of the house they climb up and over it.”
“That’s a disturbing image.” Millie shivered. “Bleck. Why don’t they just go around?”
“Can’t answer that because I’m not a mouse. Why isn’t Milton helping you?” He hiked to the ladder and wrapped his hands around a rung. Tested it. Too unsteady for his liking.
“Are you kidding? You really have to ask?” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “He’s exhausted after the fire last night. He’d been up at four for the milking. The poor man could barely stumble home.”
That worried him, and he was trying not to get involved. “Have you considered selling?”
“Me? Sure. It was my first thought. But this property is in Dad’s name and he says no.”
“Figures.” He frowned when Millie disappeared from his side. Tiny bits of designating shingle rained down on him. The barn wasn’t the only thing in a state of disrepair.
“Call this another dumb idea,” he told Nell. “Stay. That’s a good girl.”
The dog sat politely, eager to please as he put his boot on a rung, sent up a prayer and left the ground. The ladder hopped to the right, he leaned sharply to the left to counterbalance and kept climbing.
Millie’s squeal launched him over the top rung and onto the rotting roof. She sat down hard on the peak, hand to her chest. “A bat. I surprised him. He was sleeping. I was—” She shuddered. “Ick. There’s a reason I like Portland.”
“There has to be a bat somewhere in Portland. Chances are.”
“I know, but I’ve never had to personally have one fly at my face. Wow, I do not want to do that again.”
“Then stop upsetting sleeping bats.” He trekked up the slope, not shocked by the enormous crack between the chimney and the roof where flashing should be. “The attic could be full of them. And mice.”
“I do not like crawly things.” She shivered again. “Milton suggested poison, but I don’t want that in the food chain. Think of the owls.”
“Know what you need?”
“Yes, and I’m just going to have to buck up and do it. How many spiders do you think are in the crawl space?”
“Crawl space?” He thought of the box of mousetraps Luke had set aside for her. Likely wanted to put them in the crawl space just in case some of those mice were residents. “Probably not a bad idea. Better to set traps in the house near the food. What I meant is there’s a better solution than traps.”
“What could it be? To fumigate? Knock down the house with a bulldozer?”
“I’m not saying that wouldn’t work, just that there’s an easier option.” Gazing into her blue eyes alight with humor made his resistance fall. It always did. He’d been a doomed man the instant he’d pulled into the driveway. “I’ll give the pound a call.”
“I’m not sure I can take on a new pet right now. Big plate. Too much on it.”
“I’m talking about their barn cat program. I’ll ask Brooke to pick out a couple cats after church and drive them up here. How about it? All you have to do is feed them.”
“That is a brilliant idea.”
“See? I’m not so bad.”
“I never said you were.” A hint of a smile touched her lips.
There it was, the reaction to her he had to avoid. He jerked away and eased down the slope of the roof a few steps. With enough distance between them, he felt safer. He breathed easier. This was the way it had to be.
“You are such a man. You took off the bandages.”
“They got in my way.”
“Then let me patch you up again.” Concern played in her voice, nothing more.
That was the problem with Millie. She was a good woman. Her heart had always been in the right place. A hard ball of regret dug in deep somewhere between his stomach and his liver. “No way. I’m too tough for bandages.”
“And what about infection?”
“Too tough for that, too.” Last night she’d been a breath away, tending to those burns. His mistake had been letting her. Not gonna do it again. “What about you? Red skin, a few little burns. You didn’t head to the doctor either.”
“I wasn’t as close to the fire as you.”
“You were close enough to burn off some of your hair.”
“Is it sticking up?” Figures. She stood up, dusted herself off and kept a wary eye on the crack beside the chimney. No more bats flying at her head, please. “I’m focusing on one problem at a time. The cows, the barn and mice.”
“Having a cat around ought to help.”
“It’s a good solution.” Hunter’s solution. Last night had been proof of how easy it was to let him come to the rescue. To lean on him for anything, even a little harmless help, was a dangerous step. “I see you eyeing the ladder. Let me hold it for you.”
“What I can’t believe is that you risked climbing it.”
“I’m pretty quick. I figured if it started tipping, I’d jump into the rhododendron bushes to break my fall.” She tapped one finger to her forehead. “I’m no dummy.”
“No, but really optimistic.”
“Someone has to be. Otherwise how could I stay here?”
“Hard to argue with that.” He angled onto the rung and stared climbing down. “How is Whip treating you these days?”
“Better than he used to. He’s downright complimentary.”
“I heard you have home care coming in to help?”
“I couldn’t do this without them.” To avoid the magnetic pull of the man, she gazed at the grounds. Wildflowers bobbed in the pasture where her horse used to graze. Empty, the grass had grown high, crisping beneath the hot summer sun. She spotted the broken trail Simon had made through tall grasses. Following it, she found him kneeling beside the minuscule but trickling creek, probably watching a few tadpoles scurry in the water
.
“How are you juggling Whip’s care with farm work?” On the ground, Hunter gazed up at her, waiting for an answer.
An answer she didn’t want to give him. “It’s been a piece of cake.”
“Yeah, right.” He might not buy it, but at least he didn’t offer to help. That was sheer relief as she gripped the ladder, did her best not to look down when she set her foot on a rung.
“I’ve got it. I won’t let you fall.”
“If only I could believe you.” She wasn’t completely kidding. He had no idea how much he’d let her down ten years ago. She eased down rung by rung, aware that every step she took brought her closer to him.
She gulped when she climbed down between his arms, trying not to bump into his chest. So close, she could feel his warmth. Air stalled in her lungs, her feet hit the ground and he moved away.
Thank heavens. She breathed again, pretending she wasn’t affected in the least.
“Let me give you some advice and don’t take this the wrong way.” He hefted the ladder, tipping it away from the house. “You never could take my advice.”
“You know my philosophy. When it comes to advice, consider the source.”
His laughter rang, a welcome sound. He eased the ladder onto its side, bringing it to rest behind the rhododendron bushes and out of sight. “Forget this is here, okay? Don’t use that thing. It’s a hazard waiting to happen.”
“Obviously, but how else was I going to get on the roof?”
“Really? That’s your reasoning. See, this is why you always drove me crazy.”
“I drove you crazy?” She laughed at that. “Wasn’t it the other way around? What about you? You climbed the ladder, too.”
“We’re talking about you. Don’t worry about the flashing. I’ll have Luke come take care of it. He may want to bring a few shingles, too.”
“No, that’s too much. You both have helped enough. The roof is fine the way it is. It’s summer, it’s not like there’s going to be a snow pack accumulating up there.”
“What about the bats?”
“If they’re getting into the attic, then the solution is simple. I won’t go in the attic.”
“Can you sleep tonight knowing they’re in the same house as you are?”
“Ah...” That moment of hesitation gave her away. “Totally. Without a doubt.”
“Sorry, not fooling me.”
“I wasn’t trying to. I don’t want you to feel obligated. You and me, well, let’s just say you made it clear long ago. And honestly, I’ve been on my own a long time. I’m used to taking care of my problems and I like it that way.”
“Got it.” He clenched his jaw tight, seeing just how idiotic he’d been in stopping to help. And why? Not because he cared, but because he felt sorry for her. That was it. Being trapped here with her dad had to be tough. “You’re right. This was a big mistake. I was trying to do the right thing. Being neighborly. That’s all.”
“I appreciate it. More than you know.” Washed in sunshine, she couldn’t look more sincere. “But you and me together, isn’t this weird? I don’t want to blur the lines.”
“Sure, right.” He whistled to Nell. “Won’t happen again.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you, Hunter. I don’t want you to ever think I’m playing on old feelings.”
“Believe me, there are no old feelings left.” Those words slipped out before he could think them through, defensive and cold. All he’d wanted was to salvage his pride and hide what was bothering him. But he didn’t mean to be so harsh. He watched her wince, heard her intake of breath and wished he’d been gentler. The wad of regret lodged in his gut didn’t budge. “What I meant—”
“I know what you meant. You were always good at telling the unvarnished truth.” Her chin hiked up, her lips compressed and she was someone he no longer knew—a strong woman, without a hint of the girl she’d been. “Have a good day, Hunter. Thanks for the suggestion of a cat.”
“I’ll have Brooke call you.” Did he try to repair the harm he’d done, or did he walk away? And if he tried to apologize, how did he find the words? He hadn’t known how to say what he meant in the first place. He opened his mouth trying to figure it out when the sound of footsteps stopped him.
Her son trudged into sight from the field behind the house, a bouquet of wildflowers fisted in one hand. Millie stepped in, shielding the boy from his line of sight. As if she feared he’d say something else hurtful.
“Simon, in the house and wash up, kiddo. I’ve got to think about lunch.”
“I got these for you. Thought you could use ’em.”
“Have I been forgetting to smile again?” Millie accepted the handful of flowers. “I’ve got to stop doing that. Is this better?”
“Sorta.” The kid pushed his glasses up his nose and zeroed in on the stranger in the yard. “Hi. You really could drive that tractor, you know, at the fire? I watched you last night.”
“Thanks.” He tried to ignore Nell’s friendly panting, begging to be released so she could run over and adore the boy with kisses and wags. He didn’t give the signal. “I see you found the creek.”
“Yep.” The boy glanced down at his muddy shoes. “I like your dog.”
“Her name is Nell.” He almost gave Nell the command, but a car slowed on the road, signal blinking. Must be a home-care worker come to help with Whip. Must be a sign from above saying time to go. “C’mon, girl. In the truck.”
The dog sighed, the boy’s shoulders slumped and Millie stepped in front of her son again, looking relieved. Worried eyes, pinched forehead, biting her bottom lip, he knew exactly what those signs meant. The one thing he hated most of all was Millie’s unhappiness.
“See ya around,” he called out, opened the truck door and waited for Nell to hop in. His gaze found Millie one more time. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She nodded, already forgiven him.
Maybe she understood him better than he’d ever thought. He settled behind the wheel, started the engine and waited for the nurse to park before he backed down the driveway. When he looked up, Millie stood in the shade of the porch, watching him go.
She didn’t wave goodbye.
Chapter Six
“Millie, dear, glad you made it for the service.” In the churchyard, elderly Myra Hoffsteader grabbed her by both hands and squeezed. “It does my heart good to see you here. Wasn’t sure you could make it.”
“I meant to give you a call, but things got a little crazy at the dairy.” She put an arm around Simon, shielding him from Myra’s razor-sharp scrutiny.
“Understandable, considering. If you need someone to chat with or just a few minutes to escape for a cup of tea, you know where to find me. My, that’s a handsome son you’ve got.”
“I sort of like him.” Alarms went off, clanging in her stomach. Time to skedaddle. The service had just let out, most people hadn’t noticed when she and Simon slipped in at the last minute and sat in the back. It was probably best to escape before anyone else got a good look at her boy. “I’ll drop by, I promise. Not sure when, but I promise.”
“Sounds lovely, my dear.”
She steered Simon across the lawn toward the street, where she’d parked Dad’s old truck along the curb because she didn’t dare risk the parking lot without Reverse.
“Mom? There are kids over there. Do you suppose any of ’em live near Grandpa’s house?”
“We can find out.”
“I know you’ve been busy.” Simon’s hand slipped into hers. “I said an extra prayer in church, you know, because I think you really need one.”
“Thanks, kiddo. I said an extra prayer for you, too.” She yanked open her door, her mind on the to-do list she’d made late last night when she was supposed to be sleeping and dropped her purse on the
seat. Only then did she notice the disaster.
The street had been clear of cars when she’d parked here, five minutes before church. She wasn’t the only latecomer who hadn’t bothered with the parking lot. A brand-new minivan hugged the curb in front of her dad’s rusting heap of a pickup. Another one had wedged in behind her.
“Uh-oh.” Simon pushed up his glasses with his thumb. “We got trouble, Mom.”
“Looks like we’re stuck. Big time.”
“Too bad I can’t push it into the street like the Stetson guy.” Simon’s mouth scrunched up as he concentrated, as if determined to find a solution.
The solutions weren’t ideal. They could walk the mile and a half home. She could ask Mrs. Hoffsteader to drive them, but Myra planned to stay for the picnic and she didn’t want to interrupt the older woman’s fun. Her third option would be to hunt down Luke, but then Hunter would know.
“Looks like you’re in a bind.” A deep, vibrant voice as familiar to her as her own rang out. Boots drummed to a stop behind her. Hunter. “Let me guess. You parked here first.”
“I did. These minivan drivers had the entire street. Both sides of the street. And they had to park here. There’s no one else parked anywhere. Look.” She gestured up and down the lane. Honestly. “This isn’t my fault.”
“Maybe it’s a sign.” His eyes glittered with humor.
“A sign I should spring for a new transmission?”
“It would be a waste of money. The truck should be junked.”
“I’m not arguing, but it’s my only source of transportation.”
“Then there’s one solution. Stay for the picnic.”
“No. I’ve left the nurse’s aid alone with my dad for about as long as I dare. She’s probably ready to run for the hills and never come back.”
“No one could blame her, but it’s her job to stay. Maybe she slipped him something to make him sleep.” The way he stood framed by leafy green trees and the brilliant green of the churchyard and kissed by the golden rays of the sun, he’d never looked better. With his wind-tousled hair, the tailored drape of his suit emphasizing his linebacker shoulders and lean athlete’s power, he seemed every inch a rugged Montana man. He cracked a hint of a smile, and the dimples cutting in his lean cheeks broke the moment.
