Wild at Heart: A Kincaids of Pine Harbour Novel

by Zoe York

  After everyone had two attempts, Tom split them up into pairs, and tasked them with repeating the same throw ten times in a row while Sharon took a break. “Then move to another toss strategy, underhand or from the side, and give me another ten. Repeat, repeat, repeat, and then we’ll take a break. Pick a rock as your target person, and keep going until you can hit that rock three times in a row.”

  As they always did, the more experienced SAR members spaced themselves out amongst the trainees, and Will ended up between Catie and Jeong. He didn’t say much, just practiced alongside them, but when they asked for tips or feedback, he gave them positive suggestions.

  No critique. No comparison to his obviously superior skill.

  Curious.

  “All right, everyone, gather back around,” Tom hollered. The sun was low in the sky now, glinting like cotton candy pink and burnt coral through the trees. “We’ll take turns rescuing Sharon again, but this time, you’ll get more than one attempt. Let’s build that muscle memory! Jeong, you’ll go first, then Lore, and Forrest. Tobin, Will, Yolanda, and Catie, you can take a break.”

  The men drifted away, and Yolanda came over to see how Catie was doing.

  “I can see how it takes a lot of practice, but when I hit that rock, it felt great.”

  “You’ll get it. You’re really picking it all up fast. There’s a lot to remember.”

  “I’m glad I asked Isla to train me before I joined.” Catie rubbed her shoulder as they reached the stairs. “That was hard!”

  Will, who was stretching on the first landing up the stairs, gave her what sounded like genuine encouragement. “In a real rescue, you only need to do it a few times.”

  “After hiking for hours, maybe,” Yolanda added.

  “Let’s not scare the new folks.” Catie didn’t miss the way Will glanced at her carefully, and it clicked in—he was being cautious about criticizing her. Consciously. Huh.

  She didn’t know how she felt about that. It was good, of course. But also…why? She squinted up to the sky, where a vulture circled.

  “That guy knows I’m almost dead,” she muttered.

  Yolanda chuckled, then turned as Tom called out her name, asking her to come help. “Oops, gotta go help the boss.”

  That left them alone on the stairs. Catie glanced around. “Where did Tobin get off to?”

  Will pointed further down the creek. “Calling his kids for bedtime.”

  “Ah.” She slowly climbed the stairs to join Will on the landing. “Have you had to actually do this? On a search?”

  He nodded. “Twice, and both times it was for fellow search and rescue people. We slip and fall into fast running water sometimes.”

  “Oh. Shit.” She swallowed hard and tried to make a joke. “Good thing you’re extra competent at saving girls who fall into water.”

  He frowned in confusion.

  “On Canada Day,” she offered innocently, leaning back against the railing.

  His eyes narrowed as he clued in. “You saw that. Of course you did.”

  “Did she call you her hero?”

  “Stop.”

  She did, immediately. But she was still laughing on the inside, her whole body shaking slightly with giggles.

  He joined her against the railing, his elbow brushing hers. “I’m not her hero, for the record.”

  “I’m sure that’s a great disappointment for her mother.”

  “Frances?”

  “Yeah.” The answer was sour in Catie’s mouth. She shouldn’t have said anything, because now Will was looking at her, really looking at her.

  “Not a fan of Mrs. Schmidt?”

  She hesitated. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have even shown this much of her hand. Could she trust Will with the truth? She hedged her bet, but gave him a little. “Not a fan of small-minded gossips in general.”

  “That’s fair.” He sighed. “Well, hey, at least you get to work out some of that disappointment tonight.”

  “True.”

  “And next week will be just as physical.”

  Was it just her imagination, or was the way Will said physical kind of dirty? She couldn’t remember the training schedule all of a sudden. “What’s next week?”

  “Ropes training.” He started to add something else, a joke, and then stopped like he thought better of it.

  She leaned in and lowered her voice. “What were you going to say there?”

  “Nothing.” But there was an edge to his denial.

  “Was it a tying me up joke?”

  He choked on a laugh.

  She grinned. “Was it?”

  “Yes.” And his cheek darkened a little. Like a very subtle blush.

  Just then, Tom called out their names.

  She bumped her elbow against his as she stood up. “You should have made it. That would have been funny.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Excellent. It’ll slowly help rectify the vicious rumour that Mr. Kincaid doesn’t have a sense of humour.”

  “If that rumour is circulating, I’ll have one guess where it started.”

  “Frances Schmidt,” Catie deadpanned.

  Will nodded, his face absolutely serious. “Absolutely.”

  “I’m so glad we’re on the same page.” She grabbed her throw bag. “Gotta get back to work.”

  He followed her down the steps. “Hey,” he called out.

  She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Yeah?”

  “I’m still waiting on an email from you.”

  Catie was well aware of the message sitting in her inbox. She smiled. “I know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Will found himself counting down the hours to training the following week. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything else to do—he was busy. First, he found Ashley Schmidt and very directly told her he wasn’t interested—and returned the towel she’d given him as a gift. And he made great progress on his Duster, to the point where he felt comfortable driving it over to have dinner with his brothers at the Green Hedgehog in Lion’s Head.

  But the whole time, he felt a low-level hum of anticipation for ropes night.

  Climbing had always been a passion of his. Being able to teach Catie how it was applicable to Search and Rescue? It would be a highlight of his summer.

  Like a lot of SAR skills, being a rope rescue technician was a specific certification that was beyond their initial training. But the team got the basic exposure during this preliminary course to give them a taste of what further training could mean—a lot of fun, as well as a functional skill that could save someone’s life.

  Tonight they were doing simple climbs and rappels off the SAR’s climbing tower. The first half of training was an orientation to the rigging and safety protocol, then Will demonstrated how to properly repel down the tower.

  Then it was the trainees’ turn. They used both sides of the tower. Will and Yolanda took Jeong, Catie, and Lore on one side, and Tom and Tobin took the other trainees on the other side.

  They all sailed through navigating down off the tower, so the next thing Will demonstrated was how to use the ascender attachment on their harnesses to go back up—which some people found harder.

  Catie seemed a little nervous and encouraged the other two to go first, but when it was finally her turn she bounded up to where Will stood at the base of the tower. Together they did the safety check on their harnesses, Catie shadowing his movements carefully. Then he helped her get the ropes properly threaded through the rocker and the ascender hooked to her harness.

  “All set?”

  She took a deep breath and grinned. “I think so.”

  She turned quickly, but not away from him, not towards the tower. In her excitement and nervousness, she twisted towards Will instead, right up against him, and he caught her in his arms.

  It was, in many weeks of training, the closest they had ever been.

  And maybe it was the unexpected collision, or the way she vibrated with excitement
, the vulnerability of her trying something new and scary and trusting him to help her—but in that moment, that split second before he let her go, it was hard to pretend that he hadn’t spent an inordinate amount of time imagining all of this—her scent, the feel of her body against his.

  And somehow he had almost entirely kept that knowledge from himself. Somehow, he had pretended to himself that he didn't think she smelled like sunshine.

  Where had he gotten that idea from? Was it the time she rescued him and used her shirt as a sling? Had she smelled like sunshine then? Is that how he’d recorded that memory? Because now he knew that she smelled like lime and something floral, maybe grapefruit. And that was so much better than sunshine.

  What the hell did sunshine even smell like, anyway?

  But this sweet, citrusy brightness that was so subtle, the only way to smell it would be to be two inches from her hair, was absolutely perfect.

  And then he stepped back, putting space between them. Pretending all of that hadn’t crashed through his mind like a pervy Kool-Aid man. In the next moments, he was thankful for years of training that allowed him to continue going through the motions of coolly telling her how to get started, then prompting her as she lifted off the ground and headed up to where the others waited for her on the platform above.

  She lost her rhythm halfway up, and got tired.

  “You can do it,” he murmured to her. “You’re stronger than you think. Take a moment to shake it off, then keep going.”

  She whined a little, then laughed. “Sorry. That’s annoying.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  The truth was, he didn't think she was ever annoying—not now, for sure, and probably not ever. Perhaps, deep down, he had always found her captivating and alluring. And it was only because she didn't like him, that he had stubbornly dug in his heels and said yeah, me, too.

  But no. Not him. Not too.

  He probably should have realized that he’d been lying to himself when his tired brain had dragged him through a kaleidoscope of fantasies about Catie as a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. But those had been two-dimensional. This three-dimensional reality of frustrated, determined, resilient Catie, covered in a slight sheen of hard-earned sweat punched through the final wall of his denial.

  Jesus, he was going to get half-hard during training, in front of a woman who barely tolerated him—and all their teammates.

  She swung one of her legs up onto the platform, then rolled all the way on. And as her head popped back out, she gave him a cheery smile and a big old wave, he thought, say something smart aleck-y, put us back on the footing where we don't like each other.

  But nothing like that came out of his mouth. All he could do was give her a thumbs up.

  Back at the training centre, Will checked the lines carefully before putting them away in storage. Catie and Jeong both helped, eagerly, and Will was happy to answer their questions about further rope rescue training.

  By the time they were done, everyone else was gone. Tom locked up behind them, then the four of them walked out to their vehicles.

  Jeong waved goodbye first, then Tom got in his truck. Catie and Will were still standing next to her car as the others departed.

  Why was he sticking around?

  Her phone rang, and she pulled it out. He wasn’t trying to see the screen, but it was right there. Dilip Patel. She answered with a cherry hello—seriously, what had happened to snarky Catie? Where had she gone?—and then turned away from Will slightly.

  He started to move towards his truck, but Catie reached out and grabbed his arm. Hang on, she mouthed.

  Which meant he was forced to listen to her end of the conversation. It wasn’t eavesdropping, then. She’d asked him to wait.

  And once he finished justifying listening to what she was saying to her new friend, it sounded like it was about…real estate. “I know Bailey is keen on that specific property, but I think it’s smart to consider other possibilities, too. I’m meeting with her tomorrow to do a drive around. Would you be interested in a FaceTime call when we get to those sites, or do you want a summary after the fact?” She smiled again. Fuck, her smile was glorious. All hope, like the world was this guy’s oyster. “Sounds good. Okay, thanks for calling me back. Talk soon.”

  “Business?” Will asked when she tucked her phone away. Was that subtle enough?

  “Yeah. Bailey is interested in buying the motel.”

  “The haunted, abandoned motel?”

  “It’s not haunted.” She rolled her eyes. That was better. He liked this Catie, knew how to handle her. “Her cousin is one of her investors. So he’s my client, too.”

  “Ah.”

  She narrowed her eyes, like there was more to that ah than just making small talk. Which there was, but she couldn’t know that. Will was not ready for Catie to know anything about what was going on in his messy thoughts. He probably wouldn’t ever be ready for that.

  “Listen, I wanted to talk to you.” She snapped a pair of hair elastics off her wrist and gathered the damp tendrils of her hair into two rough pigtails. “At some point we got on the wrong footing, you and me, and I’d like to deal with it.”

  It was unexpected, direct, and painfully accurate. “Oh. Well. All right.” He glanced around the parking lot. “Do you want to talk now?”

  She smacked her shoulder, nailing a mosquito who wanted to munch on her lovely skin. “Can we go to the diner? Get something to eat? Do you mind?”

  This wasn’t where he thought his night was going to go, but mind? Not in the fucking slightest. “Of course.”

  He followed her in his truck, and when they arrived at Mac’s, they had lots of choice where to sit because the dinner rush was well over. Catie led him to the corner booth, a few tables removed from where anyone else was sitting.

  “Don’t order anything too special,” she told him. “Frank will be closing up the kitchen soon.”

  That was the bossy woman he’d gotten used to pretending to dislike. “Thanks for the hot tip,” he said dryly. “I’ll do my best to not be a dick customer.”

  She paused for a beat. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t need to say that.”

  “Maybe.” He gave her a half smile. “But you used to work here, and you know how annoying demanding customers are, especially this close to the end of the day.”

  Her face relaxed. “Yeah.”

  “It’s all right.” He only gave a cursory glance at the menu, and was ready when the waitress came over. “I’ll have a burger, please, and either fries or a salad, whichever is easier for Frank.”

  Catie’s lips twitched. “Same for me.”

  Once they were alone, she dove right back to the direct conversation she’d wanted to have. “You have the wrong idea about me, you know.”

  He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I probably do.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “What kind of idea is that, anyway? Can we just put it on the table without me guessing?”

  He poked the tip of his tongue into his cheek, feeling all kinds of foolish. “I don’t even really know.” Except he did. He just didn’t want to say it out loud. He cleared his throat. “You’re bossy.”

  “Ah.”

  “And you change shit. Constantly.”

  One of her eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”

  “And…” He stalled out.

  “Please, don’t stop on account of my feelings.”

  Oh, she could be so droll sometimes. “It’s not your feelings that I’m about to re-bruise,” he muttered. “When I volunteered myself for the bachelor auction, and you turned me down. That stung a little. A lot, maybe. I dunno, that felt like a turning point for us.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes went wide. “Wow. That’s…really fragile.”

  He huffed a protesting breath, but didn’t bother to argue. It was fragile, he could see that.

  Her shoulders hunched up, her whole body rocking from side to side as she took a slow breath, then she exhaled and cocked h
er head on an angle again. She was constantly in motion, and he found it all so overwhelming.

  Then she gave him a look he couldn’t translate, her expression both challenging and…maybe soft, although he didn’t know if that was a trap. “Can we call a truce?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are we at war?”

  “Is that a no?” Her tone sharpened.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s not like when I see you I go to DEFCON 5 or anything.”

  The correction was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “That’s normal readiness.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”

  “DEFCON 5. It doesn’t mean whatever you think it means.”

  “High alert.”

  “Yeah, no. That’s not what it means.”

  “Are you sure?” Oh, the suspicion in her voice.

  Will smothered a smile. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Her expression promised that he’d definitely moved the DEFCON scale in whatever direction was up. “So what is high alert?”

  “DEFCON 3.”

  “That’s the middle of the scale. What’s the highest level?”

  “DEFCON 1? Nuclear war in progress.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “Well, we aren’t at that level.”

  “A relief for everyone, I’m sure.”

  She laughed. “What are we doing?”

  He didn’t know, precisely, but whatever it was, he couldn’t stop. “Do you know?”

  Her eyes danced, bright and amused, but still dangerous. She thought he was fragile. “Are you going to answer every question with another question?”

  “Are you—“ He cut himself off and grinned. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we're at war. Apparently.”

  She didn’t reply to that immediately. Maybe it was his addition of the word apparently. Because they weren’t at war. Not really. They were at odds. Finally, she glanced away, and her next words were muttered. “Everyone likes you.”

  Most people. But she didn’t, and right now, her opinion of him was the only one that mattered. “Not you.”

  “Apparently.” She repeated his word back to him.