The Strong Family Romance Collection

by Cami Checketts

  The roar of the men around him faded into a dull blur as the darkness in his life disappeared—all the anger and sadness from losing his dad, all the embarrassment and frustration from not succeeding at football, and all the stress from not knowing what his future would look like. When he knocked Ike onto his back, he didn’t hesitate to pounce on him. Ike was strong, and he was far from beaten. They rolled around, exchanging punches and knocking each other into the unlit firepit, a fallen log, and the legs of anyone who didn’t get out of the way fast enough.

  Dimly, through the haze of fighting, Stetson heard an odd noise. He could swear it was sirens. He stopped fighting to listen, and Ike clocked him in the temple. Everything went fuzzy for a second. Stetson grabbed Ike and shoved him off. Scrambling to his feet, he glanced through the trees, and sure enough, police trucks and SUVs were approaching.

  Ike jumped up next to him.

  “Cops!” somebody yelled.

  Everyone scattered, but there was nowhere to go. The police were blocking the narrow road out. Stetson knew it would break his mama’s heart if he was arrested, especially on his papa’s burial day. There was only one solution. Run. He was probably close to ten miles from home if he traveled through the mountains; he could get there by early morning and no one would be the wiser. He took off for the trees.

  He heard a roar behind him and looked over his shoulder. Ike was chasing after him. “You can’t run from me!” the man yelled. “Stop and fight me!”

  Stetson would’ve thought it was comical if he wasn’t so concerned about being caught and arrested. Police were popping out of their vehicles, men were scattering everywhere, and this idiot wanted to finish their fight.

  He took off at a sprint through the trees. The sun was dipping out of view, but it was still light outside. The forest quickly swallowed him up as he flew between trees and leapt over undergrowth. If there was one thing he could do besides fighting and playing football, it was run fast.

  The sounds of the sirens and men’s yells faded behind him. Ike disappeared from sight, and Stetson couldn’t hear the man cursing after him any longer.

  Stetson smiled. He slowed his pace slightly to a speed he could maintain for a long time. The police weren’t going to find him. He felt great, despite the bruises that would surely be visible tomorrow. A frown tugged at his face. What if someone reported that Stetson Strong had been there? Ike surely would, if they caught him.

  He upped his pace again. He needed to cross the mountains, and quick. If he could get back to his mama’s house before the local cops came searching, nobody could claim he’d been at the fight.

  A couple of miles passed. They weren’t easy miles, as he was mostly going up the mountain with only occasional respites of downhill when the trail dipped into a valley, but he was in fabulous shape and the incline didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the fading light, and he didn’t even have his phone on him. It had been in his jacket. A thought struck him: would the police find his jacket and his phone and know he’d been there? Dang. Why had he been so quick to jump on Judd and Tyler’s request to fight? Because he was stupid and immature, that was why.

  He squinted, trying to find the deer trail he’d been on, but it was getting so dark that he couldn’t see much at all. It was going to get cold in the mountains with the sun gone, even in July, but he’d keep moving fast enough to ward off any chill. He could only hope his jacket and phone were under so many feet in that mess back in the clearing that nobody would look too hard. The police probably had plenty of men to arrest, then sort out who needed to be arrested for what: illegal betting, fighting, or drugs. Hopefully, they wouldn’t even come looking for Stetson.

  He should have slowed his pace so he didn’t run into a tree or fall into a ravine, but his mind was too preoccupied with getting home. It was so dark, though. Would he get lost in the mountains and fail his family, fail his mama? He couldn’t bear to think of disappointment in her eyes, not to mention in the eyes of his siblings, Will, and Austin.

  No. He gritted his teeth and plowed ahead. He would get home. The sun had set to the west; soon the moon would be up to give him guidance. He’d keep moving north, and he’d be fine. He could hear the soft babble of a creek coming from below. How far was the drop-off?

  Suddenly, the ground disappeared beneath his feet. Stetson yelled in surprise as he fell into nothingness. His abdomen slammed against something, and he grabbed onto it. A tree trunk. He clung there, panting for air and reeling from the pain radiating through his gut. An ominous creaking sound echoed through the night. The trunk of the tree bent underneath him, and with the dark surrounding him, the sensation felt surreal and awful, like being on the ride Space Mountain and having no clue what drop or rush would come next. Yet this was no ride, and if the tree broke, he might not come back. “No!” he cried out.

  Then the tree gave way. So many thoughts raced through his head, most importantly how heartbroken his family would be, and he briefly wondered if they would even find his body. He was certain he’d fall to his death, but he slammed into a rocky hillside and rolled down a steep incline. The rocks scratched and ripped at his bare arms and legs, but at least he was alive.

  The ground leveled off and the sound of rocks sliding was replaced by the stream he’d heard earlier. He rolled into the shallow water with a splash and lay there on his back. It was only inches deep, and it felt good against his sore head and body.

  Stetson closed his eyes, fighting against the pain and the nausea. It was tempting to just give up and pass out from the pain, but he was a Strong. He said a long prayer for forgiveness and help, and then he pushed his way to his feet.

  Chapter Two

  Teal Leah Jardine completed the last brush strokes with a dusky blue, almost finished with the skyline section of the sunset painting she’d been working on the past two weeks. She stood and stretched. Looking out in the deepening dusk, she could just make out the pine and aspen trees lining the gorge she was set up next to. Teal loved the stream trickling through the bottom of the deep gorge, the view of mountain peaks and valleys, and the midnight-blue sky that moments ago had been shades of pink, orange, blue, and gray.

  Quickly, Teal packed up her stuff. She didn’t mind the short hike back to the cabin, but she knew she’d better hurry before it was completely dark. Onto her shoulders she eased the large backpack, which contained the collapsible easel and all of her supplies. It was heavy, but she loved that she could transport it all and work wherever she wanted.

  With a firm grip on the large canvas painting, Teal picked her way down the trail along the edge of the ravine, heading back toward the remote cabin she’d found on VRBO and chosen to stay at this summer. She sent a prayer of gratitude to the heavens as she walked. She loved what she did: traveling the world, painting gorgeous landscape art, and being successful enough at it to support herself, put money away, generously help others, and be independent of her parents.

  It was almost pitch black when she reached the bottom of the ravine. The cabin was just through the meadow, but she didn’t want to risk tripping on a log or tree root in the darkness; she could hurt herself, or her painting or equipment. She carefully set her painting down, eased the backpack off, and searched through the side pocket. She could’ve sworn the flashlight was in here.

  Footsteps echoed from above her. Teal froze. Footsteps? She hadn’t seen another human in the past three weeks since she’d arrived at this cabin, except for when she’d driven into Vail for supplies. Who would be running along the ravine like their life depended on it? She gave up searching for a flashlight and stood, swinging the backpack back on and reaching down for her painting. She didn’t want the light to alert whoever it was to her position, and she didn’t want to wait here in case they came her way. She might just be paranoid. It was probably just a hiker, miles and miles from civilization, innocent and lost. Maybe she should stay and help them find their way back to the highway, but she didn’t like the sound of those loud, angry footsteps.
She liked her solitude. What right did this person have to intrude on it?

  Teal started walking away when she heard a loud yell and then the sound of a body slamming into something. Whirling back to the ravine, she couldn’t see anything, but she had the horrible feeling that the person had just fallen. The sound of a breaking branch, a scream of “No!”, and then a body hitting the rocks and rolling down the ravine confirmed it.

  No, no, no! The person was eerily silent. He or she wasn’t screaming or crying out in pain. Were they already dead? She propped her backpack against a tree, reluctantly set her painting down next to it, and hurried through the dark. She could at least tell the body had mercifully stopped rolling, plunking into the stream, she thought.

  Teal nearly tripped on a rock, but she caught herself and hurried on. Why weren’t they screaming? Were they already dead or in need of serious medical help? Oh, shoot. Teal was a horrific nurse. With an absentee mother, she’d regularly had to doctor up her more impetuous sister, Jade. She’d been horrible at it, and Jade had a few scars to prove that. What could she do if this person was already dead? Get her painting back safely to the cabin and then drive down for help? Yes, that would be the solution. But first she had to know.

  She scrambled through the shallow water, maybe in the direction where the body had plunked. She should’ve searched better for the flashlight. Dang it! She prayed fiercely. Please let me find the person and let them not be dead, and let me not pass out if there’s blood everywhere.

  She paused, listening for movement or whimpering. Unless the person was dead or had passed out, they’d have to be crying, right? Yet she couldn’t hear anything but the brook and some night sounds. She didn’t know which direction to go. Should she go find her flashlight and some supplies, come back when she could do a more thorough search, or keep searching?

  She crept farther along the creek, the chilly water soaking her tennis shoes. Every few seconds she paused to listen, but she heard nothing. Her heart pounded in her chest as the likelihood of coming across a dead body increased with every step.

  Suddenly, a large mass moved up ahead of her, a shape rising from the creek bed. Teal stumbled back and barely caught herself before she fell in the water.

  “Hello?” a deep male voice called from less than a dozen feet away.

  Teal froze, quivering. A man. He should be dead, but he was standing there and calling out to her.

  “Is somebody there?” he asked.

  Teal wanted to scurry away. He seemed like he was okay—at least he wasn’t dead—but she didn’t know whether to run from him or hurry over to help him.

  The man started lurching in her direction, slowly but surely. Teal scuttled back, slipped on a mossy rock, and landed on her rear in the cold water. She cried out but then bit at her lip.

  “Who are you?” the man demanded. He made his way through the creek toward her.

  Teal pushed to her feet, facing him. She could only see shadows, but he seemed huge. He definitely towered over her five-six. She thought she was a respectable height, but this guy had to be well over six feet. “T-teal,” she stammered.

  “A woman …” The man’s voice trailed off and he stopped his advance. “Are you okay?” he asked more gently.

  “Yes. What about you? You kind of fell off a cliff.”

  He chuckled, but his mirth stopped abruptly and he muttered, “Ow.”

  “You’re not okay.” She found herself stepping closer, wanting to help him.

  “Might’ve bruised or broken a rib or two, but I’m fine.” His voice was urgent again. “Do you have a vehicle? I can pay you to drive me home.”

  “Um …” Jade would be calling her a “Crazy Callie” about now. Teal was not only talking to some strange man, who she couldn’t even see besides his huge silhouette; she was considering taking him back to the cabin, to her car. He could kill her, cut her up in tiny pieces, and no one would know to even find her remains until her sister got ticked that she hadn’t checked in and came searching for her.

  The man’s strong, warm hand covered her forearm. A current of something—she didn’t know what, but something—traced through her. What in the world was that? He kind of startled but didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he stepped in closer. She arched her head back to better peer at him, but she couldn’t tell if he was Handsome Harry or Plain Paul. She giggled to herself. Jade loved to classify men as Plain Paul or Handsome Harry. Teal was always telling her there were many more important qualities than a man’s face to factor in, most importantly integrity and honesty—characteristics neither of their parents possessed.

  “Please,” he murmured. “If you could drive me home, I would be forever in your debt.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. What did that being “forever in her debt” mean, and why was she acting like a silly teenager over a man who she couldn’t see and didn’t even know?

  She had prayed to find the person, and she had found him. It felt kind of hypocritical to abandon him now. “I can run you home,” she said, hoping the rest of her prayer about him not being covered in blood came true too.

  “Thank you,” he pushed out in a relieved breath.

  “Of course.”

  He slid his hand along her arm and to her elbow, and tingles erupted along her forearm. She should’ve jerked her arm away, but his touch felt too nice. She hid another giggle. If he murdered her and left her for dead, at least she’d have tingly feelings to end her life with.

  “It’s this way.” She shuffled across the stream and back toward her painting and bag.

  He held on to her elbow as if to escort her, but she noticed he was moving like he was in pain.

  “What happened to you? Where’d you come from?”

  He grunted. “That’s a story I’m hoping to keep hidden from the beautiful woman I’ve just met.”

  “You can’t know I’m beautiful.” Tempting Teal was what Jade liked to call her, claiming she was the most beautiful woman ever. Only a sister could build a girl up like that. “You can’t even see me in the dark.” His other words dampened her flirty mood. Keep hidden? Definitely not her type of guy, then.

  “Your voice is beautiful, the skin of your arm feels like silk, and you’re kind enough to take in a strange man and help me get home. You’re the angel sent straight from heaven and helping the loser who’s hit rock bottom. I’d bet my very small life savings that you’re beautiful.”

  She smiled, ecstatic with his assessment, but reminding herself that any man who spoke this smoothly was probably a shallow schmoozer, as Jade would say.

  They made their way along the bank until she stopped and said, “I need to find my … stuff. Just a second.” Moving from his touch, she shuffled around in the dark until she nudged her backpack with her knee. She picked it up and was swinging it onto her back when suddenly her load was lifted. “What?” She whirled to face him, wishing with everything in her that she could see this man.

  “It sounded heavy. Can I carry it for you?”

  “You just rolled down a mountainside and probably have internal injuries. You don’t need to carry my backpack.”

  “My mama would rip me apart if I wasn’t a gentleman. And I’m already going to be in enough trouble for tonight. Please.” His voice was so deep and appealing that she found her stomach hopping with a simmering attraction. That was insane. He could be a terrifying mass murderer, for all she knew.

  “Okay.” Gingerly, she picked up her painting.

  She heard him grunt as he swung the bag on; then his hand brushed hers. “Would you hold my hand so you can direct me?” His request might have sounded simple, but it shot warmth clear through her. She hadn’t held a man’s hand since a fling with a good-looking Italian guy in Venice last year.

  She held her painting with her right hand and placed her left palm against his. “Okay.” Once the man threaded their hands together, they started walking slowly forward. “My cabin and car aren’t too far.”

  “Thank you,” he sai
d. “What’s your name?”

  “Teal.”

  “I like that. I’m Stetson.”

  “Nice to meet you, Stetson.” She had so many questions for him, she didn’t know where to start.

  “What’s in this huge backpack?” he asked. “Are you a backpacker? You could do the Pacific Coast Trail with this much gear, if you can carry it.”

  She was a little reluctant to tell him, but that was silly. After tonight, she’d never see him again, and it wasn’t like he knew her and was after her for her success. “My easel, a canvas, and my art supplies.”

  “You’re an artist. That’s great.”

  “Thanks. I enjoy it.”

  “Do you do nature landscapes?”

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  He squeezed her hand. “The environment. Not a lot of people or buildings out here.”

  “Nope. I love it here. I do some cityscapes as well.”

  “My sister-in-law does all kinds of amazing photography. Does really well with it. Her talent is incredible. I can’t imagine how talented you are.”

  She laughed. “You haven’t even seen my work.”

  “If it’s anything as pretty as your voice, it’ll take my breath away.”

  Teal laughed. “You flatterer.”

  The lights from the cabin appeared, and Teal drew in a breath of relief. It was unnerving being in complete darkness, even though for some unfathomable reason she found herself instinctively trusting Stetson. Stetson. She loved that name.

  “You said your mama would not be happy about tonight. Why?”

  He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t want to ruin your first impression of me, but I might already when you see me.”

  They were drawing closer and she glanced up, trying to see what his face looked like. She could see a strong jawline, but not much else. Finally, they stepped into the light from the front porch and his face came into view. She gasped as she was struck with two things at once: he was incredibly handsome, and he had scratches, scrapes, and blood on his face, which otherwise would’ve been the manliest, most perfect face she’d ever glimpsed.