Chasing Trouble (In Ashwood Book 3)

by Kinney Scott

  “Ready,” she popped her head up and smiled. The look on his face took the breath right out of her lungs, smoldering and a little cocky. She’d stay at his cabin forever if he asked.

  He shouldered her duffle as she slid out the front door. Spotting her keys on the counter, he scooped up the jingling mass on the end of a carabiner and locked the door behind him. They settled in for the ten-minute ride to his cabin, a sizzle of heat increasing between them with each passing mile.

  NINE

  Golden light shined from the porch of Rick’s cabin, “Let me get the first load inside. I’ll be right back,” Rick said moving before Linn could get in a word. A kitchen light snapped on. He set bags of groceries on the counter and jogged back outside where Linn was already moving toward him carrying her duffle.

  Once inside, she noted his home looked…homier. A tidy pile of wood lay stacked neatly near the stove. Tucked onto one side of the couch, a single throw pillow looked intentionally inviting. A soft afghan she’d never seen before was folded on a wood chair in the corner. He’d planned for this. Turning toward Rick, she expected to find a commanding man staring back, but he seemed nervous, hesitant.

  “I’m glad you’re here babe,” he said, moving forward. His body begged her to stay forever. Gripping the back of her neck, he curled his fingers gently into her hair and pulled her mouth into a kiss infused with desperate need. The heat of his free hand pressed her hips forward, hard against his body.

  Stripped of her inhibitions, Linnea tilted her head back, arching her graceful neck in an open request for more. Rick teased her shirt up and off exposing a peaches-and-cream bra.

  “Delicious,” Rick moaned nibbling his way along the lace edge. He drew a pattern with his tongue across her soft breast, drawing out a trail of desire.

  Linnea gripped his biceps. The flex of his ropy muscles bunched under her fingertips, rippling as she held tight to the solid flesh. Still standing, Rick eased his thigh between her legs, needing to feel her heat.

  “Oh. God. Rick,” she moaned, leaning forward, arching her body. Needing no further enticement, she took him by the hand, guiding him to his bed. Linnea smiled playfully and savored the task of slowly peeling away each article of Rick’s clothing, beginning with his shoes and finishing with his soft cotton boxers.

  When she paused to absorb the stunning impact of the naked man standing before her, he smiled wickedly and commanded, “Now you.”

  She took her time, teasing away each delicate layer, revealing a body he longed to worship with his hands, lips, and cock. The intensity of his gaze roaming over her curves pooled desire low. She bit her lip, waiting for the man to make a move.

  With purpose, Rick tasted each spot that brought a gasp or squirm. Teased to the point of insanity, she finally cried out, “Please - I need you,” and shoved him back onto the bed.

  His chuckle pushed Linnea too far and she shoved his shoulders down attempting to control a mountain. Giving her the reigns, Rick settled Linnea over his torso, spreading her thighs astride his trim hips. She giggled, her eyes widening with keen desire.

  As her wet heat settled, she measured her movements, a brilliant form of torture. Rick shook his head and raised his eyebrows as Linnea began to tease her slick folds over his rigid length. Determined to raise the stakes, Rick slid both hands up her torso and caressed her breasts. Her nipples responded, pearling.

  Gasping, she pressed into his hands, and gave herself over to pure pleasure, impaling herself on his cock. Splaying her hands across his pecs, Linnea slid up slowly relishing the drag over her sensitized nerves.

  Each rise and fall stroked deep, teasing Rick with maddening heat. Sliding one hand down, he placed his thumb at her juncture. Linnea’s hips shot forward chasing a frenzied orgasm that pulsed tight spasms around his cock. Her release pulled Rick’s hips explosively upward, lunging with urgent strokes.

  A sigh of sated surrender rushed from her lungs as she sank across him, soft breasts pressed against his chiseled chest. Melting under his touch, she breathed deep, inhaling his woodsy masculine scent, drinking Rick in. Her cheek tucked into his neck, listening to the slowing cadence of his heart.

  ***

  An alarm woke them, familiar yet disorienting, the fire department. “Stay in bed, babe. Sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Rick slipped from the bed, checked the information on his phone and moved quickly to pull on his gear.

  Linnea heard the front door close and watched the lights from his truck flash lines across the tall firs as he moved out of the drive. She rolled to spot the clock, 3:27 AM. Too early or too late depending on your habits.

  Snuggling to his side of the bed, she crushed her face into his pillow, drifting into restless sleep. Hours later Rick slipped in next to her, chilled from the outdoors while handling a minor accident on the main highway between a tired driver and a deep ditch. Linnea woke enough to wrap her arms and legs around him, transferring her heat to his hard frozen muscles. Rick relaxed quickly, finding sleep soon in Linnea’s heat and peace.

  Waking later than usual, Linnea slid carefully from under Rick’s thigh, hitched over the rise of her hip. He stirred and moaned a bit, needing more rest. Linnea eased the door shut after locating his t-shirt to slip on over her panties.

  His vast collection of books was far more inviting than television. The room was warm, but she added another log to the wood stove. After starting a pot of coffee, she made a couple slices of toast. She settled with a blanket and a novel sinking deep into the corner of his couch.

  Lost in the inner workings of a complex mystery she failed to notice the crunch of tires pulling up to Rick’s home. A sudden knock at the door startled Linnea enough to screech, shocking Rick from his deep sleep.

  “Just a minute,” Linnea said automatically, dashing to the door, forgetting her state of undress.

  Rick made it to the short hall separating the living area from the bedrooms as the front door eased open. Three stunned people stared at one another until Rick blurted, “Mom, what are you doing here?”

  Linnea blushed a shade of cherry red, so potent she could feel beads of perspiration at the nape of her neck.

  Only Rick’s Mother remained composed, “You must be Linnea. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’m Ricks mother, Laura.”

  Linnea stepped back attempting to hold a shaky smile. Her desperate glance in his direction put Rick in motion. Fortunately, he had pulled on jeans. The muscled expanse of his chest distracted Linnea long enough to change her focus, “I’ll be right back,” she stammered. “Give me a moment.”

  “Take all the time you need dear,” Laura answered cheerfully.

  His mother looked around, “Rick, your house looks lovely,” she smiled. A smile not reflected by her son.

  “Mom, you should have called,” Rick said with an irritated edge to his voice.

  “I suppose I should have, but it was a gorgeous fall day, and I wanted to see Ashwood before all the leaves blew from the trees.” He shook his head, knowing precisely why his mother was here. To meet Linnea.

  Why don’t you both get ready and I’ll treat you to lunch - we can go to The Northside,” she said, hoping to run into some old friends.

  Rick’s jaw tightened. He planned to talk with Linnea about Grace this weekend. If his sister came up in conversation, and she always did, Linnea may not understand. He leaned back, seeing the door to his room still closed and took a chance.

  “Mom, could we keep things simple today? I haven’t had a chance to tell Linnea about Grace.” His mother’s eyes clouded with pain, as always happened when his sister’s name was mentioned.

  The intensity of her whisper sent a dagger to his gut, “You’ve known this girl for months. Good God, Rick how can she know so little about your family.”

  “Please. Let me do this my way,” he insisted.

  “Fine, we’ll stay here. I promise not to embarrass you,” she agreed coolly.

  The door in the hall opened and closed, and Linnea
moved from the dim doorway into the living room.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” Linnea asked.

  Her smile was sincere, if hesitant. Meeting Rick’s mom for the first time wearing nothing but his t-shirt over her peach lace panties threw her. She’d slipped into jeans and her favorite sweater, had taken time to smooth her hair and applied lip gloss to her freshly washed face. She felt human but nervous.

  Rick stepped out to find a t-shirt, leaving his mom with Linnea. “Thank you, dear, I’d love coffee,” Laura said as she leaned on the kitchen counter watching this beautiful girl move around her son’s kitchen.

  Linnea opened a couple different cupboards, nervously searching for a plate to place a few cookies. A smile spread across Laura’s face when she realized Linnea hadn’t spent much time in her son’s home.

  She took a seat across from Linnea, at the dining table, “Thank you. I’m sorry to barge in. Ashwood is so lovely this time of year. I took a drive through the gorge and decided to see if Rick was around today. Last time I stopped by, he wasn’t home. It’s difficult to catch him on a weekend.”

  Linnea nodded, “We’ve been hiking in the area quite a bit.”

  It bothered her that she knew almost nothing about Rick’s family. Just bare facts. His parents divorced about two years ago, but the pain of the broken family still stung. His Dad lived near Seattle, and his Mom in Portland. Both were school teachers and had taught in Ashwood years ago.

  “Tell me about yourself, Linnea. Rick let me know you grew up in Yakima. What brought you here?”

  She found herself easily sharing while Rick moved through the kitchen, making lunch. He filled in spots of the conversation but remained in the background. Linnea looked to him more than once, attempting to pull him in, but he’d just smile and keep working. He heated chili, cut onions, shredded cheese and found a bag of corn chips to add to the meal. The spicy smell of the hot food had Linnea’s stomach rumbling, audibly.

  Laura laughed aloud, “Looks like he’s feeding us just in time,” she added as she stood to scoop up chili and add cheese to melt on top.

  Linnea snugged against Rick’s side on the couch, enjoying his heat seeping into her hip. Her legs curled onto the soft leather, with her bare feet tucked under the green and gold afghan - a throwback to another time.

  After a few bites, his mother said, “Thanks, Rick. Next time I’ll take us all to lunch.”

  Relaxed, Linnea blurted out, “we could visit you in Portland.” The hard body next to her stiffened, sending a pang of regret through Linnea.

  Before he could utter a word, Laura smiled, “I’d love that, Linnea. In fact, I was hoping you might join us for Thanksgiving this year. I understand if you’d rather spend the holiday in Yakima, but it’s a wonderful time to visit Portland.”

  Laura’s hopeful gaze dashed back to Rick, she saw little encouragement in her son’s stoic expression. Hard as iron, Rick’s body didn’t move as Linnea shifted uncomfortably and began to speak, “Well, I think my brother Wade may be going to southern Oregon for the holiday. It may be the year for change! I’ll talk to my Mom and let you know.”

  “Thank you, Linnea. And you’re welcome anytime”

  Under the watchful gaze of her son, Laura sat deep into the worn easy chair, a hand-me-down she remembered from their home in Ashwood. All around her, she saw evidence of her son’s strong foundation in the local community, his worn work boots, a baseball hat with the fire department insignia and his volunteer schedule from the local food bank stuck to the refrigerator.

  Shelves laden with worn and new books bore evidence of his upbringing. When she and Mitch left Ashwood, hoping to find help for their daughter in Portland, Rick stayed behind to live a life free of the wretched disaster Grace’s addiction brought to the family.

  Laura talked briefly with Rick about mutual friends in town and stood to rinse her dishes as her son scooped up a second round of chili. “I’ve gotta run, Rick. Mary and I are meeting for coffee this afternoon before I head back to Portland.”

  He nodded. As a knot of guilt ate at him, he set his half-finished meal in the sink. Mary Fisher spent more time with his Mom than he did. Kelsey’s mother maintained a close lasting friendship. Both Mary and Dale Fisher had always supported his family as best they could, never judging Grace.

  “So soon?” Linnea asked, genuinely disappointed. During this visit, Laura had asked much about her, but Linn gained only a trace of what Laura had to offer.

  “I’m sure our paths will cross again soon,” her nod in Rick’s direction sent a message. If he didn’t bring Linnea to Portland, he could expect another visit from his mother.

  “We’ll be around, Mom,” he promised as she hugged Linnea first.

  “So nice to meet you - no pressure on Thanksgiving. But if it works out, I’d love for you to visit.”

  Linnea nodded, as Laura moved to be swallowed up by her son’s overpowering hug. She stepped back, “Let Kent know he’s welcome at our table for the holiday again too. I miss him.”

  “Okay, Mom. See you in a few weeks,” he followed her out to her car. Linnea hung back knowing they might need the space. Their conversation over the top of her open car door looked unusually serious, deep concern masking both faces. Torn between intrusion and worry, Linnea forced herself away from the window to tidy the kitchen.

  She focused on her task, calmed by the feel of warm water and suds in the sink. His compact kitchen lacked space for a dishwasher, but it would have looked out of place in his rustic home.

  Rick came in, slid his hands down her arms, caging her in his body. His long reach easily wrapped around her and in unison movement, they placed the bowl on the draining rack next to the sink.

  “Can we talk?” he whispered against the back of her neck.

  “Yes,” she said rinsing the suds from her hands. Rick held out a worn towel. She dried her hands and followed him to the couch.

  At first, Linnea sat facing Rick. Needing to touch her, and to hide raw unchecked emotions, Rick pulled her to his lap, tucking her against his body and intentionally hiding his face.

  “Mom likes you,” he began.

  “I like her too. I’d like to come for Thanksgiving. I just need to run the plans by my Mom.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked with hope and dread.

  “Mm-hmm. You’ll have to give me your Mom’s number. I want to bring a dish.”

  His nod pressed the scruff of his beard against her shoulder, where her sweater had slipped off and left it bare. The scrape was followed by a careful kiss, and he inhaled before he spoke.

  “My sister, Grace…she’s somewhere in Portland…as far as I know.”

  “Amanda said you had a sister, but she said your family didn’t see her often.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Not really, but I guessed she liked to party or something like that.”

  “That’s what I thought. Nobody’s told you.” Seeking an anchor to something safe, his arms tightened around her before he spoke again.

  “Growing up, Grace skipped through life. She refused to commit to anything for long. One year she’d run track, the next try out for cheer. She made friends easily, but she was undependable and lost them easily too. The only person outside of our family, who really stuck by her, was Neil.”

  Linnea nodded, “Oh, I remember…”

  Rick continued, “Yeah, your cousin dated Grace their junior year, and when she moved out of his life he didn’t hold it against her…”

  Linnea turned her face just a little seeking eye contact, but Rick’s gaze was lost in the trees through his front window. He puzzled together bits of pleasant and painful memories against dark evergreens on the horizon.

  She felt him shrug, “But I know she hurt him. Grace left a wake of pain wherever she went.”

  Rick shifted wrapping his muscled forearms across the top of Linn’s body, pinning her to him. She touched him lightly with her fingers, as he pressed on, “Her senior year she started spendi
ng weekends in Hood River. At first, she picked up windsurfing. Kent and I would run into her, but our crowds weren’t the same. Eventually, she’d disappear for weeks at a time, going to Portland. Mom and Dad ignored the problem for a while, thinking she would move on to her next phase until money and things started disappearing from our house.”

  Linnea grasped his arms tighter.

  “One night she took Dad’s car and didn’t come back. Two weeks later, we got a call. She was in jail. She cried and said someone stole his car, and that she was trying to get it back…that was the first in a growing string of lies.”

  “Then she was arrested again, I think for prostitution. Mom and Dad convinced her to go to rehab. It cost a small fortune, and didn’t help for long.”

  Linnea spun and took Rick’s face in her hands. With her kiss, she hoped to give comfort, but he saw pity. A sentiment he despised. He settled her back against his chest and with a hard set to his voice pressed on, “Eventually Grace disappeared for good - she’s on the streets of Portland. Mom forced Dad to move there, hoping if they lived closer she’d be able to get Grace some help. That move cost them their marriage.”

  “I hear from her about once a year. Around the holidays, she reaches out to Mom for gear and money to get her through winter,” he shrugged.

  Then he laughed coldly, “Sometimes I wonder if she misses home more when all the downtown shops start putting up Christmas Trees. It doesn’t matter. But it sucks. Because every year Mom gets her hopes up and every damn year Grace destroys another holiday.”

  “So going home for Thanksgiving?” she asked carefully.

  “I fucking hate it,” Rick growled.

  TEN

  Glancing at the dash, Linnea watched the speed climb to nearly eighty. She placed her hand on the tightened muscle of Rick’s thigh and gave it a subtle squeeze. The movement was enough to break through his spiraling tension and he backed his foot off the accelerator. He slowed to seventy-two.