A Dark Love (7 page)

S
TORM
P
ASS
, C
OLORADO

C
aroline woke at dawn’s first light, cocooned inside the lumpy double bed with Pippin nestled at her feet.

A collection of paperback novels, worn and yellow, was neatly arranged on the nightstand next to an untouched Gideon’s Bible and a hurricane-style lamp that had been in fashion long ago. High up in the corner, where the paneling met the ceiling, was a network of tiny spiderwebs that most people wouldn’t notice. Porter would have noticed. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut against the image and rolled over, rousing Pippin.

She rubbed the little dog’s chest and kissed him on top of his head. “We’re okay, Pippin,” she whispered. “So far, so good.” But her throat closed around the lie, and tears leaked out, hot and salty, one after another until they soaked a spot on the scratchy pillowcase.

Pippin pushed his cold nose against her, and this made her want to cry even more. But she did not. Caroline Hughes hated to cry. She was afraid that once she started, she would never stop.

She went to the bathroom and blew her nose into a wad of toilet paper, showering afterward in the vinyl stall, letting the hot spray wash away her tears. She lathered using the pink sliver of motel soap and put her Capris back on, still grimy from three days’ hard travel, and her T-shirt, now stiff from air drying. She had washed it in the tiny sink last night with the bottle of traveling shampoo she had bought in CVS drug store.

The smell of coffee and frying bacon wafted through the house. Pippin raced ahead of her through the hall, where sunlight dappled the faded carpet runner and a brilliant sky showed through the windows.

“Breakfast is served,” Maebeth said by way of greeting.

Caroline hesitated, her stomach rumbling so loud she was certain it would wake the retrievers, who were dozing in a corner.

“It’s included in the room rate,” Maebeth added.

Caroline smiled. “Good.”

She ate by herself in the dining room, and when she was finished, carried her dirty dishes to the kitchen, where Maebeth was elbow deep in suds at the sink.

Maebeth looked up, surprised. “Goodness, you don’t have to do that.”

“I worked in a restaurant for a while, summers in college,” Caroline offered.

Maebeth continued scrubbing her fry pan. “One thing about this place, we have a tough time getting help. Our kitchen man just quit. They come, they stay awhile, then leave if they get an offer at one of the big resorts.”

“I could help out,” Caroline said slowly. A flutter of hope, the first she’d felt in a long time, rose inside her. “I could clean rooms or do washing up.”

Maebeth took her time rinsing the pan, considering things. Alice Stevens was well-spoken and had nice manners. But college kids didn’t often pitch up in Storm Pass, even in summer. There was no nightlife to speak of, no fancy hotel school nearby to grant credit for changing beds at the Burkle’s Inn. Besides, summer was finished. Maebeth glanced at Alice, taking in her tense eyes and hollow cheeks, and got an idea. “Season’s about done so I can’t use you. But I know someone who might.”

Old Gus Kincaid’s words came back to Maebeth. He had ambled in early this morning just as Maebeth set the coffee on.

“Sent a customer your way last night,” he said, handing out treats to the dogs before helping himself to a muffin. “She make it here okay?”

Maebeth nodded. “I appreciate the business, Gus.” As if there was someplace else within thirty miles, other than his son’s hunting cabin.

Gus took another bite of muffin. “Nan Birmingham needs some help out at her place, I expect.”

“Is that right?”

He nodded. “Filled her tank yesterday. First winter at the ranch since the Colonel died, you know. Her niece is after her to move to Florida for the winter, but you know Nan.”

“Yup,” said Maebeth. “Everyone knows Nan.”

Gus thanked her for the muffin and left.

That had been the extent of their conversation, but it occurred to Maebeth that Gus had never dropped in for breakfast before. She made a quick decision now, one of which her husband would disapprove. “Turns out I’ve got a friend, an older woman, who could use a live-in housekeeper for the winter.”

Alice Stevens’s face lit up and she all but danced on her toes. “That sounds great.”

She was pretty when she smiled, Maebeth thought. “Are you planning to stay around for a while?”

Alice Stevens’s cheeks reddened and she dropped her head to stare at the checked linoleum floor. “Um, yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll give her a call.”

Nan Birmingham stopped in later that day. Caroline liked her on sight. The woman was tiny and birdlike, energetic, with eyes the color of Colorado sky. She lived on a ranch a few miles outside of town with a feisty Jack Russell terrier named Scout.

“We don’t get many visitors out where I live,” Nan warned.

Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. She would be able to avoid showing her face even to the sparse population of Storm Pass. As further insurance, she kept her sunglasses in place as much as possible, along with a red St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap she had acquired and wore low over her face.

These things, she hoped, would keep her safe.

Nan Birmingham arrived at the inn bright and early the next day in an aging Buick station wagon to bring Caroline and Pippin up to the ranch.

Caroline was taken aback when Nan handed her the keys.

“You drive.” Nan climbed in on the passenger side door and tossed her cane in the back with Caroline’s possessions, which had grown to include a brown paper grocery bag to hold the few additional items of clothing she’d purchased at the local dry goods store.

Caroline hadn’t driven a car in years. Porter didn’t allow her to touch the Saab. But she was anxious to get away from the town and its tiny Main Street, so she walked around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and turned the key.

Nothing happened.

She tried again, turning the key and pressing harder on the gas.

The Buick only groaned.

Caroline’s heart fell.

“Finicky old boat,” Nan said. “Give it a minute and try again.”

Caroline waited and turned the key again. Nothing more than a clicking noise. She wanted to cry.

Nan sat watching a leaf flutter through the air.

Caroline tried once more. There was a soft whirring noise and then silence.

“Alternator,” Nan said, still staring as the leaf landed on the hood. “Gus said this would happen.”

Caroline closed her eyes and wished she were someplace else.

“I’ll head over to Gus’s garage and get him to take a look,” Nan said.

Caroline knew she should offer to go but there were people about, and Nan had already grabbed her cane and set off down the sidewalk.

Caroline pulled her cap down low and pretended to nap.

Nan returned a few minutes later with Gus by her side.

He opened the hood. “Give her some gas, Alice,” he called.

Caroline turned the key. There was only silence. She sighed.

Gus slammed the hood. “Well, Nan, it’s like I told you last time. Looks like the alternator. But what you really need is a new car.”

Nan harrumphed. “This is a good car.”

Gus grinned. “But it’s getting old.”

“Like the rest of us.”

The big man laughed. “No arguing with that. And I can fix her up again. But winter’s coming, and I want you to be safe on the roads.” He looked up at Ute Peak, where clouds were building as if on cue. “Colonel wouldn’t forgive me if you broke down.”

Nan harrumphed again.

They must have had the conversation many times. Caroline wished they would finish it now, so she could get away from here.

“I’ll think about it,” Nan said finally.

Gus brightened.

“In the meantime, let’s try a new alternator.”

Gus let out a breath. “You’re the boss. I’ll run you home now, ladies. And gentleman,” he added, with a nod to Pippin in the backseat.

But it was his son who showed up to drive them to the ranch in his Jeep Grand Cherokee.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ken,” he said in a voice that was as deep and smooth as an easy chair. He took Caroline’s hand in his, and it was by far the biggest hand Caroline had ever held.

“I’m Alice,” she said, looking up into a face that gave new meaning to the term “ruggedly handsome.” Large brown eyes set in a wide face with a jaw that looked as though it was chiseled from the same granite as Storm Pass.

“Welcome to town.” His face, with its wide jaw and
deep-set eyes, would be intimidating if not for his smile, which was bright and warm and a perfect match for the one she’d just seen on Gus Kincaid. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice.”

After a quick nod, Caroline was first to draw her hand away. She couldn’t help but notice the warmth of him lingering where he had touched her. Flustered, she looked down to where Pippin was skittering around Ken’s hiking shoes.

He shifted his weight, which set Pippin off barking at the top of his lungs.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay.” Ken crouched, dangling his hand so Pippin could sniff it.

The dog gave Ken’s hand one lick but backed away when Ken tried to pet him.

Ken straightened up and grinned. “Tough guy.”

Ken was even bigger than his father and then some. He had the same easy way, the same slow smile, and this was now aimed at Caroline, despite the dog that raced snarling around his feet.

“Sorry,” Caroline said. “Poppit, hush.” She had chosen a name similar to Pippin’s real name in the hope that he would obey. At the moment, it was a strategy that seemed doomed.

“Poppit,” Ken repeated with a chuckle, extending his hand to pet the dog, who continued to bark. “C’mon now, Poppit.”

Ken Kincaid didn’t ruffle easily, Caroline decided. She smiled. “It takes him a while to warm up to people.”

“Like the rest of us, I guess.” He shrugged, a quick movement of massive shoulders under his polo shirt. “I happen to like dogs, Alice.”

The name, chosen only because she’d never met anyone
named Alice, sounded good on his lips. She snuck a look up at him and met his glance. He was still grinning at her like he had all the time in the world. Relaxed. Carefree. And something else.

Interested.

The realization hit her like a jolt that was both powerful and unexpected. She worried that he could see behind her dark glasses into her eyes and beyond, to how she felt inside.

And the way she felt was anxious. Alert. Afraid. And, more than anything, attracted to him.

She reached down to scoop Pippin into her arms, then busied herself shepherding the dog and her few belongings into Ken’s Jeep.

Nan sprang into the backseat over Caroline’s protests, proving she was still spry.

Caroline climbed into the front seat, almost light-headed at what she was doing. Looking back, she liked everything about that ride, from the camp smell of the worn leather seats to the mountain’s rich scent that drifted through the open windows, to the way Ken kept turning his head to smile at her and point out sights along the way.

He showed them the cutoffs to his favorite hiking trails, the middle school he had attended growing up, and the sheared-off pieces of granite left over from the last Ice Age. He and Nan did most of the talking, but Caroline understood the tour was for her benefit. He pointed out the drive that led to his place, a handsome A-frame built of hardwood logs just outside of town.

Nan bustled around after they arrived at the ranch, showing them into the front room, which was comfortably furnished and up-to-date, like the rest of the place, from what Caroline could see. Nan insisted they
sit, bringing tall glasses of iced tea on a tray before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ken settled into an easy chair by the living room fireplace. “So, you wear shades inside?” His tone was teasing.

Caroline hesitated. Keeping them on now would make it seem like she had something to hide. Forcing a smile, she pulled off the glasses and cap, ruffling her short locks into waves around her face. She was aware of his gaze on her, and despite the approving look on his face, she reddened.

“Now I get to see you without the disguise.”

Disguise. Caroline’s stomach lurched. She looked up sharply to see if he was testing her. But the smile on his face was innocent. Not to mention the look in his eyes was one of admiration. Something she wasn’t used to. “I’m sensitive to sunlight,” she said finally.

He sipped his iced tea and considered this. “Guess that makes today my lucky day, getting a look at you minus the cover-up.”

Flustered, Caroline took a gulp from her glass, more for something to do than because she was thirsty.

“So, how do you like Storm Pass?”

The directness of the question caught her off guard. “I wish I could stay forever,” she blurted.

“No reason not to.”

There were a million reasons. But Caroline wasn’t about to explain them. She had learned long ago to reveal as little as possible about herself, the things she wanted and the things she wished for. Doing so only fed Porter’s rage. Aware that she had just broken one of her basic rules, she felt compelled to change the subject. “Did you grow up here?”

Most people didn’t notice when someone changed the subject, but Ken Kincaid wasn’t like most people. He cocked his head and looked at her. “You should stay if you feel comfortable here. Storm Pass is a small town but there’s always room for one more.”

Caroline felt her cheeks heat up.

“And the answer to your question is, yes, I grew up here. Left for college. I went to USC on a football scholarship. I played safety.” Seeing her quizzical expression, he smiled. “That’s a defense position, by the way. And it’s fine with me if you don’t follow football. In fact, I’d kind of like it.”

His words implied a shared future. The realization gave her a pleasure that tinkled inside her like music, and she smiled, flirting back. Her alma mater did not have a football team but its basketball team was top-ranked, a fact she was about to mention when an alarm bell clanged inside her mind. “I just never watched much football,” she said at last.