Every Vow She Breaks (3 page)

He carried the hibachi back to the picnic table and set it up. “What else are we having?”

She gave him a blank look.

“You know, to fill up on. Potatoes, pasta, rice, bread?”

“Uh, I’ll be full with just chicken and salad.”

He patted his stomach. “I’d be starving again before bedtime. I have a stockpile of boxed pasta meals. I live on those things. It’ll only take a few minutes to whip one up.”

“They’re full of sodium.”

“Who’re you, the health food police? They taste great.”

“Knock yourself out. You can use the stove in the motor home if you want.”

“I have a camp stove.”

After a second trip to the rear end of his SUV, he hauled back a tub full of pots and dishes and another one loaded with nonperishable foods, along with the stove. Minutes later the pasta was bubbling and the chicken sizzling.

Claire sat in a canvas camp chair and stroked her dog’s ears. “You seem awfully handy in the kitchen.”

“Yep. I’m competent at most everything I do on a regular basis. Sometimes more than competent.”

“I bet.”

Were her cheeks pinker than they’d been a moment before? Did she think he was alluding to his skill in bed? Or was he the only one with sex on the brain? Heat crept up his neck as he searched for a new subject.

“Where do you live when you aren’t driving around the country in search of the perfect picture?”

“Right now, nowhere.”

The spoon stilled, suspended over the pot. “Huh?”

“I was renting a little cottage north of San Francisco. When the owner died, his family put the house on the market. It sold in about two seconds.”

“They booted you out?”

“Sixty days’ notice. I put all my furniture in storage and am living in the motor home for the summer. I should think about getting another place once I wrap up this story. It’s already the middle of September….” She shrugged one shoulder. “I haven’t decided where exactly I want to live, which is why I’m still traveling around like a nomad. All I know is I’d like to make this move permanent. I’ve spent most of my life never belonging anywhere, and frankly I’m sick of it.”

“Don’t you have to be near your work?”

“The magazine has headquarters in New York, Chicago and San Francisco. I only stop by the West Coast office once or twice a month since everything I do is online for the most part. When someone needs to speak to me, they pick up a phone. Occasionally I meet face to face with my editor to go over details or get her approval for a story idea if I feel an in-person appeal will produce better results. Bottom line, I can pretty much live wherever I want.”

“Food’s ready.” He served the chicken and set the plates on the picnic table. “Sure you don’t want some pasta?”

She sat down on the bench then heaped salad on her plate. “Maybe a small helping. I’m pretty hungry.”

“I’d be half dead if I ate what you did for lunch.” He dropped a spoonful of noodles next to her chicken then sat across from her. “So, where are you considering establishing your home base?”

“I imagine I’ll stay somewhere in Northern California. Definitely a small town. I’ve lived in cities before and wasn’t much of a fan. I like the ocean.”

He glanced up from his meal. “How about mountains? Do you like those?”

“I do in the summer. Winters…” She wiggled her hand back and forth. “I went on a couple of ski trips to the Sierras when I was in college. I spent most of the day picking myself up off the snow.”

His gaze roamed from her face downward, and he cleared his throat. “You look athletic. I bet you’d learn fast with a few lessons. Where’d you go to college?”

“Cal Berkeley. How about you?”

“I stayed in Reno and went to the university there for a couple of years before I dropped out. All I wanted to do was spend my time outside. It finally dawned on me that planning a career which would lead to working indoors was just plain foolish. I’d have been miserable.”

“Obviously you aren’t.”

“Nope. I love what I do—or did. I’ll figure out something new to keep me busy in the summer. I’m great at thinking outside the box. As for winters, I’m set. I spend my days skiing in the backcountry with other Nordic enthusiasts who want an experienced guide. I’ve been working out of the same shop for years, and I get a lot of repeat customers. I make enough to meet my needs, and that’s all I care about.”

“Sounds perfect for you.”

“Might be better if I had someone to come home to at night.”

She laid down her fork. “I’m pretty sure women stampede when you snap your fingers. You aren’t exactly hideous to look at.”

He grinned. “Not as fast as they run in the opposite direction once they get a taste of my lifestyle. I live in a two-room cabin with no neighbors within shouting distance. During winter, the place is literally buried in snow.”

“Gee, you make it sound so attractive.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Most relationships haven’t lasted longer than a month.”

“You didn’t care about any of those women enough to change?”

“Not yet.” He pushed back his empty plate and stood. “It’s chilly tonight and getting dark fast. I’ll start a fire.”

“I’ll wash the dishes while you’re building one.”

Turning, he laid a hand on her arm and squeezed. “We make a good team.”

“Hmm…the jury’s still out. Any man who lives someplace that requires shoveling to get out the front door has to be a little crazy. It’s going to take more than good looks to compensate for being snowbound six months of the year.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

Her brows shot up. “Oh?”

“By the time you finish your Bigfoot story, my list of sterling qualities will far exceed the negatives. Just wait and see.”

* * * *

Claire leaned back in her chair, propped her booted feet on a rock outside the fire ring and tucked her chilled hands into her pockets. The fire crackled and snapped. Above the dark shadows of towering trees, stars filled the night sky.

“You’re sure you don’t want a s’more? I’ll toast the marshmallow.”

“Positive.”

Jed shook his head. “When it comes to food, you’re absolutely no fun at all. It’s not like you need to watch your weight. You’re tiny.”

“I’d like to stay that way. Besides, all that sugar and fat is bad for you.”

“I work off the calories, and I’m disgustingly healthy. I have good genes.”

“Is that supposed to be a mark in the positive column?”

He pressed a graham cracker down over a beautifully browned marshmallow and slid out the stick. “Why not? You wouldn’t want to pass along any wimpy genes to your kids.”

“True.”

“Enough about me. I want to hear all about the near miss you had with marriage.”

She suppressed a smile. “Why?”

“Well, duh. If I’m going to lure you to my snowbound cabin, I need to know what turns you off.”

“Is that your goal?”

“Sure. You can cook and clean and…do other things to keep me happy all winter.”

Rolling her eyes, she reached for the chocolate bar sitting between them and broke off a square. Popping it into her mouth, she savored the rich flavor. “Are you ever serious?”

“On occasion. Spill it. Who’d you almost marry?”

“Not almost. Remember that ski trip I mentioned while I was in college? My boyfriend talked me into eloping to Reno.”

He juggled the s’more, swore then sucked on his marshmallow coated thumb. “Why’d you do something stupid like that? How old were you?”

“Nineteen. He was twenty-three. My parents were living in North Dakota—don’t ask why—and I hadn’t seen them in nearly a year. Ian was a grad student. I met him when he was a teaching assistant in one of my classes. He was finishing his master’s and planned to move to Seattle where he already had a job lined up.” She shrugged. “I was feeling a bit lonely and left behind.”

“So you actually married him?”

“Yep. I was already regretting it before the Elvis impersonator who performed the ceremony told him to kiss the bride. It wasn’t until the next day…” She pressed her lips together.

His warm hand covered hers where it rested on the chair arm. “What happened?”

“For some reason, I insisted he drive by our old house. I told him I wanted to show him where I used to live. Your mom was on her front porch doing something with a bunch of pinecones—”

“She made Christmas decorations out of them.”

“I broke down and started crying. All I could think about was how nice she’d been to me and how much I’d missed you after we moved….” She drew in a long breath. “Ian probably thought I was a complete loon. Anyway, our parents freaked when we told them, and I had their full support when I went to court to get the marriage annulled. Everyone but Ian was completely relieved when it was over.”

“He wanted to make a go of the marriage?”

She nodded. “He was still pretty angry when he left the Bay Area. I haven’t heard from him since, though, so I guess he got over me and moved on with his life.”

“Wow. That’s quite a story.”

“Not one of my prouder moments. I’ve thought about Ian a few times since I decided to pursue this article. His degree was in physical anthropology, and he had a thing for Bigfoot. His theory was Sasquatch are an offshoot branch like Neanderthals with distinct human characteristics, but the species never went extinct. Not that he was alone in his thinking. When I did some research before driving up here, I discovered there’s a whole community of scientists and pseudo-scientists who follow his reasoning.”

“So is this Ian guy part of the group camped out in the woods?”

Claire’s boot slipped off the rock and hit the ground with a thump. Beside her chair, Scoop let out a snuffling snort and a moan.

“Oh, my God, I suppose he could be. I know he still works in the field. A couple of years ago I ran into an old friend of his who mentioned they’d attended the same conference. Wouldn’t that be a trip—first you and then Ian?”

“Are you going to dump me for your first love? I swear you’ll break my heart if you do.”

“Ian wasn’t my first love. You were. Why do you think I cried so hard sitting in front of your house that day?”

Jed sealed the bag of marshmallows with a twist tie then dropped it into the food box before giving her a slow smile. “I’m touched.”

“I was nine. My taste in the opposite sex wasn’t exactly discriminating at the time.”

“Ouch.” Ducking his head, he winced then smiled. “And now it is?”

“Let’s just say I’ve learned a few things over the years, but enough about me. Your turn to bare your soul.”

“I would, but there isn’t much to tell. I’ve had dozens of short-term relationships. Honestly, I never let myself get involved enough to be hurt when they ended.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not that I’m against falling in love. The problem is most of the women I meet are on vacation. They go home, and I move on to the next one.”

“Wow. You should come with a warning label tattooed on your forehead—Love ’em and Leave ’em Lafferty.”

“I’m not that bad. I only go for the women who know the drill. I don’t prey on naïve innocents.”

“I guess that’s a point in your favor…an extremely small point.”

He grinned. “I can be rehabilitated. Give it your best shot.”

“Sounds like a daunting task.” She levered herself out of the chair. “Maybe tomorrow. Right now I’m going to bed, but can I help put away the food first?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

They stood close between the fire ring and the chairs. The dancing flames cast shadows across his face but didn’t disguise the heat in his eyes.

He reached out a finger to touch her cheek. “This has been great.”

She swallowed. “I agree. Of all the friends I left behind over the years when my family moved on to the next town, you were the one I most wanted to see again.”

“Am I living up to your expectations?”

Her gaze slid upward from his broad chest to the pulse beating in the hollow of a strong neck, then over chiseled lips curved in a smile and on to the blue depths of his eyes.

“It may be a little too soon to say. We’ve made a good start, though.”

“I’m a big fan of new beginnings—that initial rush when you’re getting to know someone, discovering what makes them tick.”

Her toes curled in her boots. “What do you think makes me tick?”

His eyes searched her face. “Emotion.”

“You’re wrong. I’m all about logic.”

“Maybe when it involves your job….”

“No, pretty much all the time. When it comes to relationships, when the going gets tough, I head for the hills. I’ve learned the hard way that trying to force something that isn’t right just doesn’t work in the long run.”

“Your old college boyfriend?”

She nodded. “Among others.”

“Good to know, but I have one thing working in my favor.”

His teasing smile heated her more than the fire. “Oh, what’s that?”

“When you head for those hills, I’ll be waiting at the top. Remember, I live in the mountains.”

She let out a small laugh then shook her head and grinned. “Thanks for the reminder. On that note, I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Good night, Claire.”

If she took one step forward, she’d wind up in his arms.
Too soon.
She inched around him. With a groan, Scoop rose to his feet and followed.

“Good night, Jed.”

Claire slowed as the dirt track narrowed and snaked around a giant redwood. Her teeth clanked together when she hit a rut, and the steering wheel jerked in her hands. Thank heaven she’d accepted Jed’s offer to drive his SUV. Her motor home would have gotten stuck at least a mile back. Several bone-jarring minutes later, she pulled into a small clearing where a big tarp-covered shelter stood beside several smaller tents. She parked next to an ATV.

Sliding off the high seat to the ground, she slammed the car door and surveyed her surroundings. A blue jay squawked from the branches of a tree, but nothing else stirred. To ward off the early morning chill, she pushed her hands into her jacket pockets then strolled toward an area set up with a table and chairs. A large map stuck full of colored push pins rested on an easel. The swirling lines and different shades of green that might or might not represent changes in elevation meant absolutely nothing to her. When it came to maps, if there wasn’t a big
you are here
arrow, she was lost.