A SEAL's Vow (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 2) (7 page)

He glanced back at the director. Despite her nonchalance, Clay had a feeling he’d gotten under Renata’s skin, and that was interesting. The hard-bitten Brit had some vulnerabilities of her own. Good to know, since she’d spend the next twelve months trying to find his.

“Clay Pickett,” she said, switching seamlessly into interviewer mode. “In the next year you’ll have to work all day to build a sustainable community on this ranch. But from what I just heard, you’ll have to work all night as well to get your wife pregnant. Is Nora Ridgeway going to audition for that part?”

Fuck. Clay struggled to recover from the sucker punch she’d delivered so neatly, all too aware of the camera catching every expression that crossed his face. His fingers clenched into fists, but he held back from snatching the movie camera out of William’s hands.

“Keep Nora out of this,” he ground out.

“Nora’s in this up to her eyeballs,” Renata countered. “If you don’t answer the question, I’ll ask her. Of course, I’ll probably ask her anyway. This is the way it works, cowboy. I ask questions. You bare your soul. So are you and Nora an item? There were a lot of expressive looks passing between you in the bunkhouse just now.”

He wanted to deny everything because he knew Nora would hate for him to talk about her on camera. But Renata was right, this was exactly what he’d agreed to. And lying wouldn’t help.

“I’d like us to be,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how Nora feels yet.” That wasn’t exactly true, of course. He had a pretty good idea what she was feeling right now, but he wished he didn’t.

“She’s awfully handy, at least. Living just a quarter mile away in the manor.”

“That’s true.” It wasn’t the reason he was pursuing her, though. He hoped like hell Nora didn’t think it was.

Renata leaned closer. “Is she the one?”

Clay grinned suddenly. He could play this game. “I’m going to damn well find out.”

Roald raised his
broad-sword high and sent it crashing down on Finn’s head. “That’s for the destruction of my village.” He struck again. “And that’s for the innocent lives you took.”

Finn parried the first blow, ducked the second one and swung his ax to meet the third. “No one is innocent in this war—”

“Nora Ridgeway!”

Nora jumped and dropped her pen when Renata strode through the manor’s front door and into the parlor, where she’d been snatching a few minutes to work on her novel. She’d made it back to the house, high-tailed it up to her room and sat on her bed, breathing hard, counting from one to ten and back again, over and over like she’d done with Clay several days before, until she’d finally gotten hold of her emotions and her pulse had slowed back to normal.

Nora didn’t know what was happening to her. Why had her fear popped up now when she’d kept it under wraps for so long? Was it really because her interest in Clay had distracted her all this time—and now that distraction was gone?

She couldn’t let her stalker take control like this. She’d made a new life here and it was a good one despite Fulsom’s and Clay’s actions. Maybe it was knowing her stalker would be able to watch her on television each week that had turned her into this gibbering mess. She’d hoped if she kept to the manor, she’d be left alone.

Obviously that wasn’t meant to be.

She hurriedly shut her notebook to hide her novel. It was an epic historical romance set in the Scottish Highlands. She’d always been a sucker for an accent and a kilt. Still, she found crafting a story harder than she’d expected after all those A’s she’d received in her English classes back at Boston College. She was fine for a paragraph or two, and then she’d get stuck.

For hours.

Focusing on the story was far easier than thinking about what had happened this morning, though. Or the way her throat had closed and she’d fought to breathe in the bunkhouse.

A cameraman followed Renata in, and then another man who held a microphone on a boom, and suddenly the airy, sunlit parlor felt small and cramped. Nora stood, shoved her notebook in a desk drawer and shut it tightly. Normally she’d write on her laptop when she was at home, but since all of them were short on cash, and their original plan had been to do nothing except work on their dream goals for six months, they’d made many concessions when they’d arrived at Westfield, including using as little electricity as possible. They charged up their laptops and the single phone they shared during “cell phone hour,” as they’d taken to calling it. She’d forgotten to plug in her laptop yesterday and was now paying the price.

“Let’s see. Let’s have you stand in front of that gorgeous piano. That will look stunning.”

Reluctantly, Nora stood and crossed the room as directed, her dress swishing around her ankles as she moved, reminding her how strange she’d look to the audience. Could she make a run for it?

No, Renata would follow and make a big deal over it. She’d end up getting more screen time, not less.

I’m here to write
, she reminded herself.
There’s nothing remotely interesting about me. Viewers will get bored of me in about two minutes and then everyone will leave me alone.

She felt pretentious posed by the piano, especially since she didn’t play, but Renata seemed happy with the arrangement. When the cameraman was satisfied that the light was acceptable, she began.

“Clay’s pretty hot, huh, Nora? All those muscles?”

Nora blinked. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I… uh…wouldn’t know,” she finally gasped.

“Funny, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him in our meeting just now.”

“I… I’m not—I didn’t… That’s not true!” Nora was appalled. She hadn’t pictured anything like this when she’d agreed to be on the show. It wasn’t that she was naive—she knew what reality television was like, but she didn’t expect to be attacked for looking at Clay.

“So you’re telling me you don’t find him the least bit attractive?”

“I didn’t say that!” Nora felt her cheeks heat. Damn it, she hadn’t meant to say that, either.

“So you do find him attractive.”

“I didn’t—” Nora broke off in confusion.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Renata retorted. “So which is it?” The smile she flashed at Nora was downright evil. Nora promised herself she’d get her revenge.

“I guess… I guess I do find him attractive,” she admitted through gritted teeth.

“He needs to marry in the next forty days.” Renata eyed her shrewdly. “Will you be the blushing bride?”

“Absolutely not,” Nora snapped. “Now, if we’re finished here—”

“Oh, no—you don’t get to leave yet.” Renata moved to intercept her when Nora headed for the door. “We’ve only gotten started.”

Clay didn’t see
Nora again until that evening, after Renata had made it clear to everyone who’d listen that she wasn’t happy with the lack of interplay between the men and women so far. With Nora, Savannah and Avery up at the manor all day, Riley and Boone off on their honeymoon, and the rest of them working on Base Camp, Win was the only woman in contact with the men, and she’d spent most of the day separating and transplanting seedlings.

“I want everyone to eat dinner together,” Renata had finally snapped. “I’ll send word to the women and tell them to be here at five-thirty. I want lots of interaction.”

“We’ll do our best,” Jericho had said. Now Kai Green, an ex-Marine from Long Beach, California, who was slated to help Jericho with the solar, hydro and wind power projects, was serving up a version of all-in-one mini quiches he’d baked in oversize muffin tins in an array of solar ovens he’d positioned around the site. Clay had never considered quiche a manly food, but you could hold these in your hand while you milled around or sat on a log near the campfire, and Kai had packed them with enough cheese and tasty bits to fill him up when he’d eaten two or three. With a tossed salad on the side, and a bottle of beer, it did the trick.

When he spotted Nora negotiating the rough ground, a plate in one hand, her long skirts held up with the other, he motioned her over. “Sit here beside me.” He patted the log.

“I was going to eat with Savannah and Avery.” But she hesitated long enough to give him an opening.

“Come on, Nora—we need to talk.” He led her to a log set a little apart from the others and waited until she sighed and sat down. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Nora’s stiff answer let him know that wasn’t true.

“Did Renata come after you? She grilled me like an Italian sausage.”

“Me, too.” Despite his quip, Nora didn’t look at him. Instead she concentrated on her quiche as she took a bite of the crust.

“What did she ask you?”

Nora didn’t answer at first. She took another bite and chewed it. Finally swallowing, she said, “About you. Whether or not we are an
item
, as she put it.” Her tone was so cold, Clay knew he had a lot of damage to repair.

“What did you tell her?”

Nora looked at him sidelong. “The truth. We aren’t.”

Ouch
. Clay guessed he shouldn’t have expected any other answer, no matter what had passed between them the night of Boone and Riley’s wedding. “I’d like to be. You know that, right?”

Nora shook her head sharply. “I’m not looking for a relationship, and I’m definitely not interested in marrying you.”

“Why not?” He set his plate down, his appetite gone. This was worse than he’d expected. Surely Nora knew he didn’t want things to go this way.

“For a lot of reasons.”

“Have you seen this?” Jericho approached them, his tablet in his hand again. Clay was beginning to think the thing was surgically attached to his friend. “They’ve already posted videos on the site. I didn’t think they were going to do that for at least a week.” He lowered himself onto the log between them, oblivious to the tension in the air, and Clay snatched his plate out of the way just in time before Jericho sat on it. “There are a ton of comments about you two.”

Nora leaned in to see, and Clay fought back his impatience, knowing this couldn’t be good.

“‘Clay and Nora, Perfect Together? Or Perfectly Awful?’” she read aloud. “What is this?”

“It’s a poll,” Jericho said. “Visitors to the site get to vote on if they think you should be together. It’s about fifty-fifty right now.”

Clay growled and snatched the tablet out of his hand. “Fuck them.”

Nora grabbed it away from Clay. She scanned the site. “Listen to this.” Her brows drew together in an angry slant. “‘Nora Ridgeway just wants Clay’s land,’” she read from the comments.

“What?” Taking the tablet back, Clay looked again and saw that Renata’s team had filled the site with new content. There were new photos, excerpts from interviews and
fun facts
.

And then there were the pop quizzes and opinion questions, such as, “How Sustainable Are You?” There was a ten-question quiz to get an answer. “In a Tent, Or Under the Stars?” That one had elicited a number of dicey responses. “Who’s the Hottest Navy SEAL?” Clay scrolled quickly by when he noticed Jericho was winning.

He found the post Nora had referred to and scanned through the comments. Some of them were nice enough, with people pulling for them to be together. Others took sides. “Clay’s too good for Nora.” “Nora should find a man who owns a real house.”

Interspersed among them were nasty comments that set Clay’s teeth on edge. “To hell with Nora. What about Savannah? She’s hotter.” “Clay’s just using her.” “Good on ya, Clay. The quiet ones are the best in bed.”

What kind of people wrote things like that? Who even cared what happened on a television show? For all they knew, the whole thing was staged.

None of that mattered; if it bugged him, he could only imagine how Nora felt. “Jesus.”

Nora kept quiet. Jericho, finally taking in the atmosphere between them, took back the tablet and stood up awkwardly. “Sorry. Guess you didn’t really need to see that.”

“They’re just a bunch of idiots,” Clay told Nora when he walked away. “Who gives a shit what these people think?”

Nora set her plate down on the log with a thud. “I do. I’m a teacher, for God’s sake. Have you thought about that? And now people are talking about my personal business on the Internet. Anyone can look in and make a judgement.”

“They’re talking about whether or not we should marry. You know my answer.”

“That’s never going to happen.” Nora turned away.

“Why not?” He glanced up, became aware that one of the camera crews had approached them during their conversation and wondered how much of that last bit they’d captured. The boom dangled over Nora’s head. The cameraman, standing behind Nora, kept his camera focused on Clay. Clay knew he should warn Nora. Knew, too, if he did he’d be up to his ears in hot water with Renata and Fulsom.

Besides, he wanted to hear Nora’s answer. He held still and waited.

“I don’t know you well enough to marry you,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. “And you have a deadline to marry
someone
, so I’ll never know if you really want me, or just a random body to fit the bill.” She stood. The crewman yanked the boom higher so she didn’t hit her head.

Clay stood, too. “You know I want you. And if you don’t know that, I’ll gladly prove it any time, day or night—”

“Stop it,” she hissed.

Had she noticed the cameras? No, not yet. She was concerned with the people around them. Clay continued. “I can’t make it any more clear how I feel about you.” He reached for her hand.

She pulled hers back. “Why me?” she said.

“Why do I want to marry you?” He chuckled. “Hell, women talk about romance, but I’m starting to think they don’t know anything about it. You all pick and choose when it’s the right time to fall in love, you decide how much time has to pass before you know if you’ve met the right man. You think about how much your potential husband will earn. You consider whether he’ll be a good father, and on and on. Men just see a woman and—” he snapped his fingers “—that’s that.”

For the first time she hesitated. “So you saw me. And now you want to marry me. It’s that simple?”

“That about sums it up.” He willed her to understand. Sometimes you just knew, and that’s how he’d felt the first time he’d seen her. She was the woman he’d been searching for without even knowing he was looking.