Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) (17 page)

Oh God, he was lying. It was obvious. But why? Because of a woman? Was it any of her business?

“Come on, climb on.”

She situated herself on the snowmobile and secured her legs around him. Maybe he was a womanizer. Maybe he’d met a woman at the bar and took her home. Just because he didn’t want to sleep with her didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in others.

Chayton and Naomi had disappeared in Chayton’s Jeep, and now she and Garret were alone in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere. Snowflakes dotted the earth, surrounding her vision in a shell of white. Reagan’s heart pattered as they clambered higher up the slopes. When he finally stopped on top of a hill, he killed the machine and stood, taking her hand to help her stand. Her stomach plummeted as she glanced down at a creek.

The spongy ground threatened to give way. Or at least, she felt it did. It could have been Garret’s hand in hers making her feel so unstable. A cavity beyond the creek in front of them opened to reveal an infinite sky. A canvas for the caricature clouds. For miles and miles, the land leveled into prairie but to get there, one would have to climb down the mountain. From this angle, it wasn’t difficult to perceive forever. Behind them, the rolling hills and trees caged the sky and wrapped them in a snow globe, reminding her that her time here on this earth and with this man was temporary.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” she said.

“That’s why this is called Big Sky Country.”

“Whoa.” Reagan swayed and reached for Garret’s arm to steady her balance, only that made it worse. She tumbled backward and shrieked, landing against a soft knoll.

Garret laughed and took out his camera for a picture. She glared, only the smile cracking her face didn’t allow the glare to linger.

“You okay down there?” he asked as he lumbered toward her and reached out his arm to help her up. Taking his arm, she pulled him forward and down, maneuvering herself so he didn’t fall on her, then leapt up and left him on the ground.

“That’s what you get for laughing at me,” she said as she dusted the snow from her legs.

“Hey, I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“Uh huh.” She flounced away from him.

A snowball thumped her in the back. She pivoted, and Garret blasted off running. Balling snow into her hands, she chased after him and threw, missing him by a mile.

She hid behind a rock and waited for him to emerge, her throat bursting with laughter. A naked tree, clothed only in a splendor of white, danced behind her, twirling with the wind. She felt like dancing, too, joy riding in her as she relaxed. Snow-dusted greens towered her in a welcoming trail, and she peered behind each one. Like a cat ready to pounce, she waited for Garret and planned her ambush.

He tapped her on the side of her cheek. She launched up and released a giggly scream, whirling to face him. Wadding the ball of snow she’d hidden in her hands, she swiped it across his cheek. She ran, but he seized her by the arm before she got far. They both tumbled downhill.

They came to a stop near an embankment, trees flanking them. Some rose stiffly from the ground, others lined in a silhouette with those ahead, and still others relaxed and accepted their lot in life. Something Reagan was trying to learn to do.

She lost her hat on the way down, and snow matted in her hair. Shivering, she planted her gloves around her ears. “It’s cold.”

Garret recovered her hat and parked it on her head, his fingers lingering before he stood and took her hand. Hand in hand, they climbed up the mountain to the snowmobile.

He didn’t attempt to kiss her. Most men who were interested in a woman at least tried something, a peck on the cheek, anything. Garret didn’t even look at her a bit longer than necessary, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

It hurt. Being friends with a man when she craved so much more. She shouldn’t desire anything, and she couldn’t ruin a good friendship. She should be grateful to have his companionship. She usually pushed men away, but for some reason she wanted more with Garret. Probably because he didn’t want more with her. Wasn’t that how human nature usually worked?

“You want to drive?” he asked when they stopped at the snowmobile.

Glancing at the machine in terror, she planted her palms crosswise on her chest and shook her head. “What? Me? No.”

“Why not?”

“Did you not see me tumble on my ass? And you want me to drive that thing? No way.”

“Come on. I’ll steer it away from the overhang, then you drive us downhill.”

He drove them to a place that seemed safer, or at least one where she wouldn’t drive them over the mountain and into infinity. He showed her the maneuvers and though it didn’t look difficult, once his strong, steady legs were on either side of her back, she froze.

He was a friend, a friend a friend a friend. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because she was attracted to him? Friends could have chemistry without sleeping together. They could. They could. And she would.

“There’s nothing you can do to hurt us,” he said, his breath a little too close to her ear, even if they were covered by her cap.

She hadn’t stalled because she’d feared hurting them, but she went with that excuse. “Right. Except run into a tree and kill us both.”

He reached around and started the engine. The machine rumbled beneath her. Everything pulsed, as if unseen energy fields were on high alert, bouncing off the earth, the trees, the sky and roosting into a hard knot in her belly. Her legs quivered.

“You’ll be fine.”

Letting out a roar, she set off downhill. Hills curved around them, creating a white path to the earth’s horizon. The drive was exhilarating. She laughed, she shrieked, she sideswiped several trees at a crawl, but still, she had a blast.

At Garret’s indication, she came to a stop.

“I want to take you to a place you can’t get to except by a long hike or snowmobile. You game?”

A place he wanted to take her? Did it involve taking off their clothes in a warm bed?

They switched seats and he drove through tall pine trees she imagined lounging in the snow much like she’d relax at the beach. The sky opened, loosening its grip on the sun as it stretched downward, trailing sparks of orange past mountains and irradiating the pines.

He stopped under a canopy of trees where they remained a moment, her face inches from his back. Her body tightened as she visualized his physique.

He dismounted the machine and took her hand. She sensed his touch through the gloves they both wore, inflaming her.

It looked like the entire forest was on fire. She sniffed, but instead of smelling smoke she smelled the freshness of snow, pines, mountains. Even sun. She swore she tasted the sun on her lips. Not the muggy, salty, stagnancy she was used to but something much more powerful. Appetizing. Piquant.

Fresh. Free from a city’s pollution. A city’s lights, a city’s commercialism. Natural.

“The creek rolls through here, and you can see frozen waterfalls,” Garret said as he pointed in the distance.

Reagan turned to him, feeling reckless and powerful and playful. She stepped into him, grabbed his coat, and kissed him.

He let out a sharp gasp of breath before returning her kiss. Good, she had shocked him. He should feel safe knowing there was nothing they could do here. If they took off their clothes, they’d freeze to death. His mouth was warm but his lips were cold, creating a fire in her throat. She fought the urge to open herself and consume him. Right now, she only wanted a kiss and was taking control. To prove it, she ended the kiss and stepped back.

She plopped on the ground and leaned against a rock, soaking in the grandeur. “You’re right, this is beautiful,” she said nonchalantly, as if they hadn’t just shared the most magnificent kiss of their life. Well, maybe he hadn’t, but she had. Still, the way he stood there, as if shell-shocked, made her pretty damn proud. “There’s something new to see every day,” she continued.

He always wore those damn shades, so she couldn’t see his eyes. Were they hazy and full of desire for her? He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word.

She’d wanted to surprise him. Tease him. Make him want her like she wanted him. It empowered her, but her whole body quaked as she strived to remain composed.

Was it possible the chemistry she felt wasn’t reciprocated? On one hand she feared losing his friendship if they slept together, but on the other hand she feared losing his friendship if they didn’t sleep together. She didn’t want to be friends. She wanted to be lovers.

As she adjusted herself to get comfortable, she turned and caught a glimpse behind the rock that made her take a second look. Everything — her desire for Garret, sensual sensations, and her quest to make him want her — fell away.

Glassy eyes stared straight into hers. A pale arm encased in white icy powder stretched toward her, the palm held straight up. The rest of the body was covered in white. Except his face. His grotesquely frozen face.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she surged upward and screamed. She slipped and fell, rearing up as she darted her gaze across the icy mounds of snow, biting down panic, afraid she’d fall on another dead body.

Garret reacted, his body stiffening as he bounded toward her. “What is it?”

Glassy eyes, glassy eyes, glassy eyes. She’d never seen a dead body before. Well, not like this. Usually, they had their eyes closed. Made to at least appear peaceful.

Hysteria bubbled in her throat. Losing her balance, she tumbled to the ground. Digging her heels in the snow, she crawled backward.

Instead of straining to talk any sense into her, Garret veered to see what caused her hysterics.

“Shit.” Even in panic mode, he remained controlled. He grabbed his phone. Opened it, punched in numbers. Closed it, opened it again. Punched more numbers. Reagan’s heart beat too loudly to hear the cadence of the digits, but it must be 9-1-1.

“I can’t get a signal out here.” He approached the body — that dead body — and poked.

“What … what are you doing?” Reagan asked, teeth chattering. She was cold, so cold, where earlier she was warm and secure in her winter garb.

“Making sure he’s dead. Making sure I can’t revive him.”

“Re … revive him?”

Garret used his gloved hands to close the dead guy’s eyes. Reagan looked away. She didn’t want to see anymore.

“We need to go back and report this.”

Chapter Thirteen

Steam fogged the bathroom mirror as Reagan killed the water flow and stepped from the shower. She toweled off, then wiped the mirror, smearing the haze. As she stared into her eyes, she thought of the dead guy. His eyes, lifeless. His face, bloated.

She shuddered.

She’d been too panicked to notice anything other than the fear he’d miraculously rise and, like a mummy, give chase. As if the deceased could render harm.

Queasy, she turned from the mirror. When she considered her absurd behavior, she remembered most women, including her, behaved ridiculously over a spider. Terrified that a small creature could suddenly turn into a huge monster. She’d found a dead guy. She had every right to be frightened and no reason to be embarrassed by her reaction.

She flipped her head upside down and swathed her hair with a towel. When she came up, her head spun. The bathroom was hot and moist. Muggy from the steamy shower and the heater that ran full blast. She unplugged the heater. All was quiet. Too quiet.

Cracking open the door to let in some air, she purred a soft tune as she glossed lotion on her body. She couldn’t bear the silence. Not now. Not with that stiff body etched in her memory.

He looked like part of the rock at first. If it’d hadn’t been for the eyes, she would have assumed he was part of the rock.

She finished applying lotion to her feet and straightened.

Squeak. Thump. Squeak.

Jolting, she stood still, straining to hear the noise coming from the bedroom. Not a loud noise. Footsteps, maybe, but something that led her to believe she wasn’t alone.

“Naomi?”

The floor in the bedroom squeaked again. Did Garret have access to the condo? She’d never asked.

Bundling her body with a towel, she cautiously peered out the bathroom and into the bedroom. Listening. She stopped humming. The bustle in her chest made it impossible to breathe.

Was that a shadow on the wall?

She was imagining things. Seeing that body today … she shuddered, straining to block the image from her mind. She closed her eyes. Forced herself to see the bright blue sky, the majestic mountains. Not the tragedy. Not the dead body.

But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the man and his eyes. Vacant and icy.

Abruptly, she opened hers. A shadow passed across the door. This time she was sure it was a shadow. Her heart cracked against her chest. Was that her heart, or did the floor just squeak again?

A loud crash rendered her motionless. The music box tolled a resonance that wheedled her into action. She kicked her feet into gear. Gripping her towel, she ran out of the bathroom. Out of the bedroom. Imagined someone behind her, reaching for her, grabbing her.

She tried to scream, but the terror lodged in the middle of her throat. Her thighs shook, her limbs grew weak.

Reaching for the door, she struggled with the lock. Wait, it wasn’t locked. Hadn’t she locked it before? Naomi had a key.

Naomi would have said hello. She wouldn’t have been sneaking.

Managing to yank open the door, she whammed it behind her and banged on Garret’s.

Please be home. Please be home.

The towel on her head had fallen and her hair hung down her back like a limp rag, but she didn’t care what she looked like.

Garret opened the door. Thank God. His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. “You run out of water?”

She nudged him aside and slammed the door behind her, nearly losing her other towel — the only thing between her and her nakedness — in the process.

She didn’t care. Not after seeing that dead body, not after hearing those footsteps. She hadn’t imagined the footsteps, now a boom in her chest. Make believe noises didn’t generate loud crashes. And make believe shadows wouldn’t crash her music box to the floor.