Wild Iris Ridge (Hope's Crossing) (20 page)

Was she having the same trouble sleeping as he was?

He could have seen her anytime these past two weeks but he had decided it wouldn’t be wise.

He lost his head when he was with her. That night in Pop’s kitchen, he had been so hungry for her, he would have taken her right there against the cabinets if she hadn’t forced him to come to his senses.

He hadn’t thought for a second about the fact that anybody could have walked in on them.
She
had been the one doing the thinking for both of them.

Afterward, he had sat out on the patio with his gut a tangled knot of emotions as he watched her with Aidan or talking to his sisters or smiling at Pop.

After two years, he had just begun to feel as if he had found steady footing again. The kids were doing well, he was coping. The battle had been hard-fought and bloody, but they had all emerged to an okay place.

How could he let Lucy into their lives to shake everything up again?

He didn’t want this. The vulnerability. The need.

She would be leaving Hope’s Crossing eventually. He just figured it was better for all of them if he did his best to keep her at arm’s length until she finally took off.

So much for that grand plan. It was a little tough to keep a person at a distance when he was forced by circumstances—or meddling friends and relations, he wasn’t sure which—to spend several hours alone with her in the backcountry.

He finished running his chainsaw through a deadfall tree that blocked the trail and tossed the cut logs into the thick undergrowth beside it just as Lucy headed toward him through the trail carrying another bag of trash to the four-wheeler.

She looked fresh and beautiful and young out here with the sun on her face and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wanted to yank off her gloves, pull off those sunglasses and tangle his mouth with hers for about three or four hours.

How was he going to get through this? And why couldn’t she have been assigned to some other project today?

Lucy hefted the bag into the wagon hooked up to the four-wheeler. “I went all the way up to the overlook and back. That’s as far as we were supposed to go, right?”

“Yes. Beyond that, it’s the U.S. Forest Service’s responsibility.”

“That’s three bags of garbage in only a mile of trail. I had no idea the hikers of Hope’s Crossing were such slobs.”

“It’s been a few years since this area has had attention,” he said tersely. “Hope’s Crossing has a large trail system. It’s impossible to clean every inch of it annually.”

“Well, I cleaned every inch of this one this year. What can I do now?”

Leave me alone. Take your curls and your green eyes and that delicious mouth and just head back down the mountain.

“Hydrate. Take a break. Your water bottle is still on the four-wheeler.”

“Are
you
taking a break?” she asked.

He knew he shouldn’t. What he
ought
to do was send her back down to Hope’s Crossing but he was weak when it came to her.

He
was
thirsty from running the chainsaw. Might as well quench at least one of his needs.

He set the chainsaw in the wagon of the four-wheeler and grabbed two water bottles for them. Lucy took hers and headed for a sunny boulder alongside the trail that offered a nice view of town through the trees.

After a pause, he followed her. Though he knew it was a mistake, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from sitting next to her on the boulder, feeling the heat of her skin that warmed him more than the June sunshine.

A couple of squirrels chased each other up an aspen trunk, chattering the whole way, which sent a nuthatch flitting from branch to branch.

The air was cool and smelled of pine and the wildflowers just beginning to burst out along the trail. This area was spectacular when all the flowers were out, an explosion of color from blue-and-pink columbine, vivid red Indian paintbrush, the pale lavender plump-petaled wild irises that gave the trail its name.

He needed to spend more time outdoors with the kids. When he was younger, Pop was always taking him and his brothers—and then Charlotte, after she came along—up into the mountains for fishing trips.

Sometimes he wondered if those trips were intended more to give their mother a break from them all than to actually catch fish, but some of his best childhood memories had to do with a mountain setting like this, a fishing rod and a slow-moving creek.

“Genevieve was right,” she murmured. “It
is
peaceful up here. I don’t think most people in town realize how lucky they are to have this within a ten-minute walk of their house.”

“Probably not.”

He certainly didn’t take advantage of all the recreational offerings around Hope’s Crossing, though now that Faith had conquered the two-wheeler challenge, maybe he could take the kids mountain biking this summer.

“Are you going to the gala tonight?” she asked.

She was trying to make polite conversation. He couldn’t see the point in being rude in response.

“Not by choice. Galas aren’t really my thing, but I promised Claire McKnight I would represent the fire department and handle any first aid needs. You never know when a fistfight might break out during the silent auction, especially if Gen is involved.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard the story of how she and Dylan first connected? She started a bar fight at The Speckled Lizard last year at Christmas and Dylan stepped in to protect her. They were both arrested and ended up serving community service at A Warrior’s Hope. The rest, as they say, is history.”

She looked as if she couldn’t quite grasp the concept. “Genevieve Beaumont? Are we talking about the same person?”

“One and the same. The mayor’s daughter. Your interior decorator. My elegant lovely future sister-in-law. From what I hear, she’s got a nasty right hook and she’s really good at pulling hair. I’m sorry to say, I missed the whole thing. Who knows? Tonight might be a repeat performance. A guy can always hope. You’re going, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I still haven’t decided. Like you, grand galas aren’t really my thing and, well, I don’t have a date, which makes it that much more awkward.”

Color the same shade as the wild roses blooming behind them burst over her cheekbones. Did she worry he would construe her words as a hint that he should take her to the gala?

If he were any kind of decent, he would. But how could he possibly spend several hours with her making small talk, brushing against her, maybe even dancing?

Sitting here alone with her on a sun-warmed rock was tough enough on a guy’s self-control. Holding her soft, lithe form in his arms even for a five-minute foxtrot would be torture.

“Half the people there won’t have dates,” he said curtly. “You’ll be fine.”

He felt like a jerk when she pressed her lips together and he thought he saw a trace of hurt in her eyes.

“I still have a few hours to decide. The auction is really the only reason I might go. I’m intrigued by all the items I’ve heard are up for bid. I mean, a couple of original Sarah Colvilles! I would kill to have one of those, especially when all the proceeds go to a good cause, I understand.”

“Yeah. The money from the silent auction goes to fund college scholarships for deserving students. It’s in honor of Layla Parker, Maura Lange’s daughter. She was killed in a car accident a few years ago. The whole Giving Hope day was started in honor of her. Over the last few years, it’s become something much more than a celebration of one girl’s life, though.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” she said softly. “The volunteer work, the auction, the gala. All of it.”

He loved how his town reached out and helped others. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

“Crystal loves it here,” Lucy went on. “She doesn’t want to leave.”

“When does she go?”

“Tomorrow. Dad and Pam are taking her and Max back to Denver. She has to start summer school on Monday to make up for everything she’s missed if she’s going to start her junior year on track. I’m going to miss them.”

“I’m sorry. But you did a good thing, having her here, Lucy.”

“I know. That doesn’t make it any easier.”

She didn’t cry, even though her chin wobbled at the words. His chest felt tight and achy. He couldn’t bear seeing her sad.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and then he did the one thing that seemed natural and right. He slid an arm around her and pulled her against him.

She froze for just a moment and he thought she might yank away from him and scramble off the rock. It would probably be better for both of them if she did. Instead, after a pause, she seemed to collapse against him.

She still didn’t cry, simply rested her cheek for a moment against his chest, her breathing a little ragged. He had been married for eight years. He knew when a woman sometimes only needed a minute to compose herself so he kept his trap shut, just let her deal with her stuff in her own way while the squirrels chattered at them and some meadowlarks sang out from a nearby bush.

Finally she gave a long sigh and slid away.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little. Thanks.”

She gave him a tremulous smile, and she looked so beautiful there in the sunlight, as soft and as lovely as any wildflower, he knew he had to kiss her. Even though he knew it was a mistake, even though he had been telling himself for two weeks to stay away from her, even though he knew he was only creating more trouble for himself in the long run, he reached for her and was overwhelmed when she came with a soft willingness.

Her mouth was sweet and deliciously cool from the water bottle. For two weeks, he had been dreaming of kissing her, touching her again. Now that she was finally here in his arms, he wanted to savor every taste, every sensation. The thick churn of his blood, the soft curves pressed against him, the alluring scent of strawberries and vanilla that made him want to lick every luscious inch of her.

After her initial startled reaction, she kissed him back, her mouth opening for him with an eagerness that both humbled and aroused him.

She made a soft, sexy sound, and he had no choice but to deepen the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and snugged her body closer to his.

Oh, he had missed the sheer pleasure of a woman’s body next to his, all those curves and enticing hollows. Even more, he had missed this sweet tenderness that seeped through him like rain on parched earth.

He loved hearing that sexy little catch in her breath when he kissed the corner of her mouth, when he lifted the edge of her T-shirt and clasped bare skin at her back.

He wanted her, right here, right now. He wanted to yank everything off, to touch that curvy body, to kiss her and listen to her cries of pleasure as she exploded in his arms....

The squirrels chattered at them from even closer than they’d been before, and the sound yanked him back to his senses.

What was he doing? They were making out on a rock on a public trail, for hell’s sake, where anybody could wander past.

As usual, their timing was impeccable—and, as usual, he lost any grain of reason or sense where she was concerned.

He was furious, suddenly—at her, at himself, at the whole tangled situation.

He glared at her. “For two weeks, I’ve tried to stay away from you. It was working until you had to go and screw everything up.”

She looked dazed, aroused, and he almost tugged her back into his arms.

“I...did? How?”

“This.” He jerked his hand in a sharp gesture between the two of them and then wider, to encompass the trail. “Today. The fact that we were so conveniently assigned together on this trail project.”

“Conveniently?” She gave a raw-sounding scoff.

“You probably didn’t have to work too hard to convince Gen. She already thinks she’s an expert matchmaker. No doubt she was over the moon at the chance to meddle in our business.”

Her color rose higher. “Wait a minute. You think I engineered this whole thing to throw us together?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No! Seriously? Can you possibly be such an arrogant, self-absorbed
ass?
”

The heat of her words started to filter through his frustration. She was every bit as angry as he was, and he started to wonder if he had made a mistake.

“You want the truth?” she bit out. “Okay, hotshot. Here it is. I would rather be changing bedpans at the senior care center than be here with you right now. I was
trying
to make the best of the situation. Do I think Genevieve and Charlotte are attempting a little matchmaking? Yes. Am I on board with that matchmaking plan? Absolutely not!”

She jerked to her feet. “I had nothing to do with any of this. I will also point out that, as usual,
you
kissed
me.
So before you go all high-and-mighty, ‘you screwed everything up,’ blah blah blah, maybe you better think about why you apparently can’t keep your hands off me.”

She gave him one more glare and then started stomping down the trail.

Yeah, he was an idiot. She was right. It wasn’t her fault he was so tangled up over her. He had done that all on his own.

“Lucy—”

She didn’t stop, just kept on heading back the way they had come, leaving him no choice but to follow after her.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. We’re done here, aren’t we?”

He wasn’t sure if by
done
she meant the trail cleanup or everything else between them.

It took him about three steps to catch up with her. He moved in front of her, blocking her progress on the trail.

“Lucy, stop.”

“Why? So you can kiss me again and then somehow turn everything around in your head so you can blame me for it?”

He sighed, knowing he had earned every ounce of her anger. “I’m sorry. Look, you’re right. I can’t keep my hands off you. I could give some excuse about how it’s been a long time for me and you’re a beautiful woman. But we both know it’s more than that. I...have feelings for you.”

“And you’re obviously so very thrilled about that, aren’t you?” she said quietly.