Maggie's Mountain (7 page)

He knew the story. It was hard to live in this house and not know. But he also knew what kind of marriage his parents had, and though it wasn’t one plagued with physical abuse, there had plenty of cold blooded arguments. No, the Warrick marriage hadn’t been filled with enough passion for any sort of knock down drag out fights. Cordelia Anderson Warrick certainly didn’t lower herself to such displays of excitement; it would go against her natural grain. But his father had been a very passionate man and if Maggie was even half as arousing as her mother, Hale could understand Royce’s tattered loyalty, even if he didn’t approve of it. Still, there was the quiet echo of memories that carried the sound of his mother’s tears. Whether she liked to admit it or not, the pain had been about more than shame. It had pierced her heart.

When he spoke again, his implacable voice was laced with understanding. “Mother, I’m sorry for what happened between you and Dad. I love you and you know I’d do whatever I need to for you. You’ve got to try to trust me, and not just with the business.”

“You stay away from that Cooper girl.”

“Her last name is Brannon now, mother.” A small growl escaped his throat as he stood, ignoring her sharp look, and headed for the door. His mother wasn’t going to give one red inch. “I’m going over to see Trent at the stables.”

“And the Cooper place is only a stone’s throw away. How nice for you.”

He stopped, turned, and leveled the well coifed woman with an inflexible stare. “Don’t make me say something we’ll both regret, Mother.” He took a half step closer, a warning that he wasn’t going to allow her to steal even a fraction of his freedom. “My personal life is my own. It’s best if you understand that right now. You might have some interest in the family business and I might have to keep you apprised of that, but who I spend my time with, who I take to my bed, is not fodder for you
or
the town.”

She gave a small gasp, but never once showed any outward sign of anger. He strode out the front door without looking back, quietly muttering a curse as he went.

****

Maggie leaned back on her knees and wiped her rough work glove across her forehead. The autumn garden was thriving, which meant she would have extra vegetables to can. Not a bad thing since the homemade foods sold remarkably well. Hale wouldn’t get half of what she did out of this property. He wouldn’t know how to cultivate it, care for it, coax it into growing and nurturing the plants that depended on it. Hale Warrick had no idea how precious this land was or what it could produce.

She slammed her eyes shut against his name. For three days she’d been avoiding any thoughts of him, busying herself whenever her mind strayed toward him. She did well during the day. It was the nighttime that was difficult. She couldn’t control the dreams that picked up at their explosive kiss and spun out of control into a full blown fantasy. Waking to shaking hands, gasping breath and a sweat-glazed body wasn’t conducive to her state of mind.

“I’m not going to think about him.”

He’d wanted her to think about him, about what he could do to her, about the pleasure he could draw out of her body. He’d practically dared her to consider the physical attraction.

“So what? He’s good looking. I’ve known that most of my life.” She thrust the trowel into the dirt and dug at the small weeds with furious pulls. “A nice body doesn’t mean a nice heart.”

Chris had been kind. He had been loving and understanding. He hadn’t been as ruggedly handsome as Hale, but there had been a charm to his boy-next-door looks. He’d been her friend, her champion, the man who’d promised to fill the void of a life spent alone. Her husband had been everything she should have ever wanted. But she knew in her heart that he wasn’t. The self-reproach was there again, cutting as a frigid shard of glass.

“Vegetables. Just take care of the damn vegetables.”

Hale was a dark, vital man, full of barely leashed passion and the mind shattering knowledge of how to use it. Even the timbre of his voice had been pitched to seduce her. Her body had been eager to respond, eager to know what he could do to her.

What would it be like to have all that desire, all that protectiveness, focused on you?

“No, I’m not thinking about that.” Maggie yanked at a weed with vicious intent. “Physical is all I’m going to admit and it’s what I’m going to stay away from.”

She was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn’t realize the fresh scent of the woods had changed. A breeze stirred the trees and rolled up the small hill, tickling her nose. She knit her brow as the subtle differences sank into her senses. Something smelled…wrong. She looked up, curious, then gasped when she saw the small curl of smoke.

She squinted and tried to focus on the woods. No flames were eating the trees nearby. No flare of orange and red shot up into the sky. But something was definitely on fire. Something not too far from her house. Considering her nearest neighbor was the Warrick horse farm, she knew this couldn’t be a controlled burning. She’d found the remains of campsites often enough to know that people camped in the woods surrounding her property, either not seeing the no trespassing signs or ignoring them all together. If someone had been camping last night they would have needed a fire. If that fire hadn’t been quelled correctly….

Leaping up from the garden, she raced inside to call the fire department.

****

Hale stood at the outside paddock, his foot propped on the bottom rung of wood as he watched his brother work with the horse inside. Trent had been right; Hestia was one hell of an animal. She was gorgeous, with a flawless mahogany coat, white socked fetlocks, and the regal personality of a queen. Smart, too, and vain enough to know her own worth. She’d win Warrick Farms shelves of ribbons and cups in the hunter/jumper classes.

“What do you think?” Trent called with a grin.

“I think you should start considering asking Wayne Blackburn about buying a piece of his property.”

His brother nodded at the mention of the owner of the land skirting the other side of their stables. “Glad you agree. It might not be as suited as the Cooper land, but it’s still a workable area.”

“You already had this all thought out, I see. Wonder why I bothered coming back since you have such good business sense.” Hale tilted his head, doing his best to hold back a laugh at his brother’s expression.

“If you hadn’t come back I think I would have ended up under Mother’s heel. God only knows what she would have done with all our businesses.”

“Sold everything but the real estate, called in half the loans and started a ruthless little empire, I suspect.”

Trent chuckled as he turned his attention back to a demanding Hestia. Hale watched as the other man stroked the horse’s muzzle, cajoling and praising the animal until she gazed at him with adoring eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that his brother might not have the hot blooded reputation that Hale had, but the way he was gentling the high strung filly said that Trent was just as dangerous when it came to women. That thought brought up the image of Maggie and the way Trent had defended her. His brother had never given him an answer to the question of whether or not he was after Maggie. The stab of jealousy was shameful but couldn’t be denied.

Grinding his teeth against the unfamiliar feeling, Hale turned his gaze in the direction of the Cooper cabin. He tried to imagine what she was doing right now, if she was boxing up products, labeling jars, answering e-mails. There was a barely suppressed desire to find some excuse, any excuse at all, to see her.

He wasn’t sure how long he looked at the horizon before he recognized the slender column of gray as smoke. It billowed up, all grace and cunning, then fanned out to coat the sky.

“What the hell…?”

He’d just whispered the words when he heard sirens approaching, their loud scream echoing off the trees. Police was his first thought. But the pitch wasn’t the same; there was more depth and a static-like undertone. No, not police, but—

“Fire. Shit!” Hale spun around and sprinted toward his car.

“Hale! Hey, Hale, what’s wrong?” Trent called.

He spared a quick look over his shoulder but kept moving. “Fire, the Cooper place.”

A few seconds later he was in his car, revving the high powered engine as he wheeled away from the stables and onto the winding two-lane road. His mind raced with possibilities, all of them grim. What if she was trapped in the cabin? What if she was watching her only home being eaten by flames? What if she were being an idiot and trying to save her house with a garden hose and a prayer?

He whipped the Mercedes into her paved drive, searching for a glimpse of the fire truck, the fire personnel, and Maggie. Slamming on his brakes, he came to a full stop behind a blue Toyota Corolla with the trunk open. The cabin wasn’t in flames, thank God, but it was impossible to miss the bright red truck that had wheeled itself around back. The fire personnel were scrambling around, looking surprisingly competent for volunteers. But he didn’t see Maggie. His heart was pounding so hard he wondered if it would hop right out of his throat. He was halfway around the other car when he finally spotted her.

She was rushing down the ramp, balancing boxes in her arms before shoving them into the trunk of the Camry. He took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched his hands, all in a bid to find his composure.

“What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing?” he bit out.

She didn’t even bother to stop when she answered. “Baking a cake. What does it look like I’m doing?”

She disappeared inside, her round, jean clad bottom rocking provocatively in her hurry. Of all the times for his libido to send up a roar, now was not the best. Sucking in a full breath, he lunged up the front stairs and through the door.

“The woods are on fire, Maggie Mae,” he said, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” She spun to shovel boxes into his arms and he took them without thinking. “Take those to the car.”

“Damn it! You should be up at the main road at the very least. Back at the farm would be better.”

“I’m not leaving my home. No matter what happens to it, I’m not abandoning this place.” She heaved up another stack, this one of sturdy plastic tubs rather than the shipping boxes he held. “This is the last load. Once I have these in the car, I’ll drive up to the end of the driveway and wait.”

She didn’t give him time to argue as she swerved past. Exasperated, Hale followed, acting like the pack mule he was while she piled her things into the backseat. Once his arms were empty he grasped her upper arm and slammed the door shut.

“You’ve got your things. Let’s go.”

He slid her into the drivers’ seat and strode to his own vehicle. He didn’t bother to start his car until he saw the Toyota come to life. With careful backing he made his way up the rise, stopping with enough room for her to park in front of him. Seconds later he was leaping out to confront her.

“Of all the stubborn, idiotic—”

“Shut up, Hale.”

Anger born from fear exploded, sending him around to grab her by the shoulders. “You’re supposed to be an intelligent woman, but instead of taking off, getting out of the way of the firemen, you stay and pack like you’re going on vacation.”

Her lavender eyes flashed hot with indignation. “That’s my life. Sad that it can all fit into a few boxes in the back of a sedan, but it’s all I have. Most of it is other people’s work, the things I sell. You should know how important it is to save what you can of your money flow.”

“Work? You stayed behind for…? Damn it, Maggie, if this was about your job then somebody needs to shake some common sense into you.”

She wiggled in his grasp and he pressed his hands tighter. “It wasn’t
all
work. I grabbed the boxes that had my mother and Chris’s things in them.”

He conjured up the image of her scampering around the cabin, gathering things from drawers and closets while the fire crept closer. He barely recognized the fingers of dread that skimmed his spine.

“You could have died while you were busy shoving things into boxes.”

“They were already packed,” she protested. “I don’t leave their things just lying around. I’m not
that
morbid.”

“You wear your husband’s shirts!” He could have bitten his tongue off for that little gem. Luckily it didn’t seem to register that he was bothered by that fact.

“I keep a few flannel shirts for when it gets cold. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

This time when she pulled away he let her go. He hated himself for the instant relief that she kept her husband’s shirts to be practical and not to wear them as some sort of widow’s weeds. He glanced into the back seat of her car, and sure enough the plastic containers she’d last loaded up were neatly labeled. One read “Mother”, the other, “Chris”, and the last, “Albums”. When his focus came back to her he felt some of the fear and most of the anger drain away. She was safe, no matter how crazy her actions had been.

“Next time you shouldn’t wait. You should just leave.”

“And I would have if it had been the cabin on fire. In case you hadn’t noticed the fire started in the woods, several hundred yards from the house. I was lucky; I had time.”

Sadness bled into her gaze, changing the depths from deep purple to light lavender. The urge to hold her, to ease her pain, was nearly overwhelming. Heʼd begun to reach for her when she turned away to stare down at the scene below them.

“I’m going to have to string barbed wire,” she said in a soft voice. “Campers ignore the signs and use the woods back there anyway. I haven’t wanted to before, didn’t think it was really necessary, but now….”

He eased up behind her and slid gentle arms around her, one at shoulder height across her chest, the other around her waist. When she stiffened he began to rock, a slow movement that seemed to sap her energy. Resting his cheek against the crown of her head, he inhaled her scent, smooth and spicy and erotic. He felt his sex twitch and ignored it. She didn’t need that sort of handling right now.

“It’ll be okay, Maggie. They’ll get the fire out and you’ll be safe and sound in your own bed tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come out and help you get that wire up.”