A SEAL's Vow (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 2) (19 page)

“That’s devious.” But Nora found herself smiling. “You still want Crow-centric textbooks for the children in your own school, though?”

Sue nodded. “Our culture foremost in every subject. Math, English, Social Studies… Otherwise we disappear.”

“And for the more general ones? Will you reference Crow history and world view in them, or is it more that you want a sense of Crow principles to underlie the information?”

“Walker was right,” Sue said. “You’re no dummy.”

“No.” Nora liked this woman—and her guerrilla tactics. “I’m no dummy. Which is why you’ll need to explain very carefully to me what those principles are.”

As Sue did so, Nora began to feel there was something to keep her here at Westfield after all—besides her friends and Clay, of course. It was something all hers. A new mandate. An idea so subversive she could get behind it. A project so big it could take years. Writing course material for the kids in Sue’s schools would be fascinating enough, but writing a textbook—or several textbooks—based on the principles that land and resources didn’t simply exist to be exploited, that the greater good—and long-term repercussions—should be considered before taking any action, and that the world itself is a gift we share with the generations who have gone before us, and those who come after… She could get behind that—because those were ideas she shared.

Other people shared them, too.

“When do we start?”

Late that afternoon,
Clay was sitting at a desk in the bunkhouse when Dell walked in. His father had made himself scarce these past couple of days, and Clay hoped Dell had finally gotten a lead on a job, but he knew the minute he saw the plans in his dad’s hands that wasn’t the case. “Hear me out,” Dell said. “If you add ten more square feet to those houses of yours, you can have a real kitchen.” He thrust a sketch into Clay’s hands. “You’d put the dishwasher here, double ovens there. And look—that way you could fit a full-size refrigerator in there.”

“We’re not doing double ovens,” Clay protested, looking at the plans in dismay. “And we’re definitely not doing a full-size refrigerator. Remember the power constraints I showed you? It wasn’t easy coming in under them, but I managed to do it, and my design offers plenty of counter space for food preparation.”

“No one’s going to prepare food when there’s no dishwasher to do the dishes. And before you tell me it’s more sustainable to do them by hand, I know that’s not true. I looked it up.” He thrust his phone into Clay’s face.

“I’ve read all of these reports,” Clay said. “I know that if a family fills a dishwasher daily then yes, it takes less water to wash them with a machine, but there are ways to handwash using less water, and we will be eating most meals communally cooked in the kitchen in the bunkhouse. We’re keeping the houses small, and we don’t have the space.”

“Women are territorial,” Dell argued. “They hate sharing kitchens and they hate being told to do things by hand. You’ll see. I’m trying to protect you. I don’t want to watch you fail.”

“I’m thirty-one, Dad. I don’t need protection and I won’t fail.” He hoped. Even now the first of the houses—the one slated for Boone and Riley to inhabit—was taking shape as he crafted its interior with Curtis’s help. All too soon he’d get to see Riley’s reaction to her new home. He knew Boone would love it, and Riley had liked the plans he’d shown her. Still, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned she might not like it in real life, so Dell’s assertions were hitting home.

And what about Nora? He hadn’t shown her the plans yet. Maybe he should, just in case Dell was right and she wanted something different. He couldn’t add square footage, though. Not now. Harris was already framing Clay’s house in.

“That’s what they all say.” Dell stalked out. Clay knew he should follow. His dad was still smarting over being fired, and their continual conflicts didn’t help, but what about his own self-confidence? He couldn’t help but feel Dell was trying to undermine him with his constant fault-finding.

Instead he decided it was time to call his mom. She’d had a break from his father for several days now. Maybe she’d changed her mind and wanted Dell back.

He dialed, stood up and paced the bunkhouse while his phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Mom, it’s Clay.”

“You held out longer than I thought you would.” Lizette seemed in good spirits, not at all like a woman who was missing her husband.

“It’s about Dad.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Can’t he come home?”

“Not unless he’s found himself a new career.”

“I’m not sure there are any jobs for him right now. You know he’s—”

“I didn’t say
job
, Clay. I said career.”

Clay perched on the edge of the desk, wondering what the distinction was. Before he could ask, she went on, “Your father never wanted to be a contractor, and he doesn’t want to be one now.”

“Could have fooled me; he’s all over my projects.”

“Because he’s bored. Clay, he’s been bored for over thirty years. Isn’t it time for that to change?”

“Most people are a little bit dissatisfied with their jobs, don’t you think?” He stood up again and crossed to look out the window. Dell stood near the empty fire pit, his hands in his pockets, watching the various members of their community busy with their work.

“I’m not talking about dissatisfaction. I’m talking about something far worse. The man needs a change, and I can’t make it for him.”

“But you can force him to make it for himself? Is that what you mean?” He turned away from the window. He couldn’t stand seeing Dell like that, shunted off to one side.

Useless.

“Exactly. I always knew you were a smart boy.”

“I’m not a—”

“Which means it’s about time for you to find your passion, too, isn’t it?” His mom hung up before he could ask her what she meant.

Hell. Why couldn’t one single thing be easy? He was working on his passions right now. Hadn’t he slaved over his tiny house plans—the ones Dell kept dismissing? Outside, a building was taking shape exactly the way he’d planned it.

Or it would be, if Dell stopped interfering.

Clay turned back to the window. Where had his dad gone now?

When Sue left,
Nora hurried down to Base Camp and found everyone already gathered for the meal Kai had cooked. In the early days at Base Camp, Boone had cooked over an open fire, but now that the population was swelling and they were building their community, they’d gotten serious about sustainability in the way it related to cooking.

“The guys are ramping up real solar service for the bunkhouse kitchen,” Kai said, when Nora asked how things were going, “but for now these babies will do the trick on a sunny day like today.” He pointed out the kitchen door toward a line of solar ovens that made Base Camp look like a hippie haven to Nora. She was amazed at the meal he’d managed to cook in them. Stew, corn bread—and a salad to round things out.

“I saved you a seat,” Clay said when she’d been served her meal and approached the logs around the empty fire pit. She liked the tradition of eating outside and happily took a seat next to him before she remembered the awkwardness of seeing themselves on television earlier. Nora found that couldn’t compete with her enthusiasm for the project Sue had brought to her, though. After her afternoon’s conversation with the principal, she felt energized. For the first time in days, she wasn’t worried about Clay, the show, her stalker, her novel or anything else.

“I’m looking forward to our date tonight,” he said.

“I didn’t realize we had one.” Nora had planned to start an outline of the first textbook. She couldn’t wait to dive into the project.

“You’d better believe it.” Clay kept eating calmly, but the fine lines around his eyes and mouth crinkled with humor as she struggled to formulate a reply. She had work to do, but… when he looked at her that way she wished there were more hours in the evening. Spending a little time with Clay wouldn’t be so bad.

She was glad that with the big crowd gathering around the empty fire pit, the cameras had too much to focus on to be filming them. “I’ve got to work for at least an hour before I can do anything else,” she warned him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She bit back a smile at his overdone drawl. “Why do I get the feeling you were a handful back in school?”

“What makes you think I’m not a handful now?”

Her gaze dropped below his belt buckle. “Several handfuls, is my guess.” Nora swallowed. Maybe Clay hadn’t heard that.

“Did you seriously say that out loud?” Clay cocked his head.

“I think I did.” Nora giggled, tried to cover it up and snorted instead. A laugh escaped her tightly compressed lips. She never said things like that. And she never snorted. Another unladylike sound slipped out. The whole textbook thing had made her giddy.

“Handfuls?” he repeated. He set his plate down. Leaned in. “Handfuls?”

“Several,” Nora repeated and giggled again.

“Did Kai slip you something in your salad?”

He must have, because suddenly, perched on a log next to Clay, eating solar-cooked stew, with a project to look forward to, she felt—good.

Clay leaned in and whispered, “We can measure those handfuls later, if you like.”

“I’ve got work to do, remember?” she whispered back primly, his breath in her ear sending shivers down her spine. She wouldn’t mind getting Clay out of those jeans, if she was honest with herself. But wasn’t there some reason not to? As charged up as she felt, it was hard to remember why.

“We can at least cop a lot of feels while you’re writing, right?”

Nora laughed out loud and several heads turned their way. “No, we can’t.” She was flirting with him, Nora thought. Flirting and joking about sex without a whisper of worry. That damn stalker hadn’t gotten to her after all, had he? Heady with triumph, Nora leaned toward Clay. “Handfuls.”

Clay shook his head. “That’s it. We’re going to your tent right now.”

“Nope. I’m hungry.” She took a bite of stew and slid him a look from under her eyelashes.

“That’s just it. I’m hungry, too.” The desire in his eyes was so powerful, Nora faltered.

Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all.

She glanced up and spotted Ed focusing his camera on them. “We’re being watched,” she said shortly and went back to her meal.

Clay scanned the fire ring, nodded and picked up his plate again. Some of her bravado faded away as they ate. There were lots of good reasons not to get involved with Clay, and those damn cameras represented one of them.

When they finished the meal and brought their dishes back to Kai, however, Clay took her hand. “Your tent or mine?”

“I’m supposed to write,” she reminded him. A breeze toyed with a strand of her hair that had come undone from her updo and she tucked it back into her bonnet. She was second-guessing herself. Nerves had kicked in and she wasn’t sure she was ready to be alone with Clay, after all. Mostly, she was afraid he’d do something that triggered one of her ridiculous reactions. She didn’t think she could stand it if she embarrassed herself again.

She didn’t want to feel anxious around Clay. Earlier, their banter had turned her on, but she knew if she went with Clay to his tent—or hers—they’d be well on their way to making love. Could she do that?

She wasn’t sure.

She wanted to.

Nora held back a sigh. Taking her stalker and her overreactions out of the equation, there was still the problem of the show and Fulsom’s demands. If and when she made love to Clay, it would be hard to pretend she didn’t know where their relationship was headed. Or that Fulsom’s timeline worked for her.

“Go grab your laptop and come back here. We’ll work in the bunkhouse for a while,” Clay said. “I’ll kick Boone out so you can take the desk.”

He must have read her hesitation. He was being a gentleman, which made it all the harder to resist him.

“Seems like Base Camp needs a few more workspaces,” she made herself say lightly.

“Base Camp needs more of everything. We’ll get there,” Clay told her.

Nora hurried to her tent, found her laptop and came back. Some of the men were still gathered around the fire pit, where they’d lit a small fire. She liked the homey feel of the camp, despite her reluctance to move down here. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to camp out for a while.

Or maybe it would be when she tried to sleep on the ground tonight.

When she entered the bunkhouse again some minutes later, the main room was empty, so she went to set her things on the desk. She heard the deep rumble of male voices in the kitchen and realized the other founders had gathered there with Clay. Kai was still in there, too. She could hear the clink and clatter of dishes as he washed up. Nora sat down, opened her laptop and waited for it to fire up. She didn’t mean to listen in to the men’s conversation, but it was hard not to.

“Looks like you’re making progress,” Jericho said.

“With Nora? A little,” Clay said. “I’ve got a lot of convincing to do, though. Fulsom didn’t give us enough time to do this right. How’s it going with Savannah?”

Progress, huh? She tried to feel grumpy about that, but in reality, her heart ached for him. Clay was trying so hard to be with her and she was working just as hard to resist him—when she wasn’t giving in to him. It wasn’t fair to him to keep playing this game. She had to break things off once and for all.

But she didn’t want to.

Nora’s ears perked up at the mention of Savannah’s name, and she turned to hear better, grateful for the distraction. Savannah had been cagey about Jericho for weeks.

“She’s not too happy right now. I asked if she wanted to help me prepare for tomorrow, but all she wants to do is play piano. She’s pissed she’s lost so much of her practice time.”

“It’ll work out,” Boone said. Nora rolled her eyes. Riley’s husband was a good man, but messing with Savannah’s practice time wasn’t going to make her more likely to marry Jericho.

“What about you?” Clay said. “We’re all screwed if you don’t play along with this, you know.” At first Nora thought he was talking to Boone, but then she realized he must be addressing Walker.