Stay: Changing Tides, Book 1 (8 page)

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed. “Brack, I didn’t mean anything by offering. And I think it’s nice that he tried to consider the things in your life. Most kids his age could care less if they inconvenience their parents.”

“Sorry, long day,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I just wonder if I’m doing what’s right for him.”

Her hand fell away, not sure how the simple contact created so much heat through her arm or how his sharing those inner thoughts tugged at her heart. “You’ll both be fine.”

“You sound very certain.”

“Of course I am.” Pulling the elastic from her ponytail, she laughed when her hair stayed up. The mud caked around it wouldn’t budge. “I’d better grab a shower.”

His fingertips moved along her temple. “You are covered.”

She turned to walk away from the temptation of his touch when another thought struck. Turning back, she poked a finger into his chest. “Oh, by the way?”

His eyes widened at her scowl. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I’d be the one auctioned at the fundraiser?”

“More fun that way.”

“Fun?” She’d wondered if he knew the meaning of the word. Even after his semi-playfulness at the meeting the other night. “You’d have to know how to have fun before you could claim that reason. You have the sense of humor of a badger.”

“That’s not true.” The slightest grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I just reserve my humor for things and people who are
actually
funny.”

His chest blocked out the world around her as he stepped a bit closer, his gaze caressing her face.

“Maybe you have to find the humor in every situation,” she managed.

“Like you do?”

She was pinned between him and the truck, and there was absolutely nothing humorous about it. Hot, hell yes. But not in the least funny.

“I usually do.” She licked her lips, fighting back a shiver. She’d never been so confused by a man. One moment he was hot, the next he was—hot and angry. She should just plant one on him right there and get it over with. “To be fair, I’ve spent half of my time here in your company.”

“No humor there, huh?” His voice dropped to a husky, slow cadence.

“Zilch.”

And finally, he laughed. Deep laughter that vibrated from his chest to hers even though they didn’t touch. His blue eyes sparkled, the corners crinkling with his huge smile. Straight white teeth showed from between his lips, and a slight dimple appeared on his right cheek.

He braced an arm next to her on the truck, his laughter fading to soft chuckles. “Abby, there’s never a dull moment when you’re around.”

Her heart tattooed against her ribs in such violent thrusts she didn’t dare try to speak. He was too damn close and too damn sexy for her to think. The questioned attraction stood out in blatant reality. No more guessing. She wanted him, wanted his touch, his kiss and so much more. Her firmly placed rules against getting emotionally involved slipped from her mind. She wanted to enjoy what was simmering between her and Brack. Problem was, he didn’t seem like the quick turn kind of guy. He was all intensity—all seriousness. If he’d ever had a one-night stand, she’d be shocked. Even if the attraction bordered ridiculous, sex with the drifter she’d become was probably the last thing he needed.

For a moment they just stood there, every shared breath mingled, every beat of their hearts engaged. She sucked in a sharp breath that stuck. Mercy, she was going to suffocate if he didn’t come closer, or move away. Limbo was going to be the death of her.

Lynette’s laughter broke the spell, and he jerked back in the same moment she turned away. “I’d better get to that shower.”

She walked away then, not daring to turn back to see if his gaze followed.

After a quick shower, Abby hurried to her car. Brack’s touch and the moment they’d shared still refused to leave her mind. The cold evening air froze her damp hair, and she shivered as she unlocked her car. Climbing in, she turned the key. Nothing happened. Cursing the rotten piece of junk, she tried again. Several more attempts passed before she was ready to scream.

The sudden blare of a horn nearly sent her through the roof, and she glared through her window at Brack’s smiling face. He leaned out of the truck window, eyes alive with devilment. “Need a lift?”

Unable to control her scowl, she grabbed her bag, too cold to argue. She hurried around to the passenger side and climbed up next to Jonathon.

He signed with slow deliberation. “Middle.”

Brack flipped the heat to high as she was forced to take the seat between them in a jumble of awkward shifts. “You find this funny?”

As soon as she was situated, he gave her a soft nudge. “Didn’t you say I needed to find the humor in every situation?”

“I’m laughing,” she mumbled. “On the inside.”

Brack pulled out of the parking lot, and Jonathon lit off a flurry of signs. All she caught was “food” and “cold”.

Brack laughed. “Good idea.”

“What?” she asked, acutely aware of his overpowering presence in the vehicle.

“He wants to go ice fishing tonight,” Brack offered. “And he wants you to come with us.”

She didn’t stand a chance. How in the world could anyone say no to Brack when his eyebrows arched over puppy-dog pleading eyes? As if that wasn’t enough, Jonathon’s expression mirrored his father’s as he signed “please” over and over again. She shifted slightly, trying to create a tiny bit of space between her leg and the muscular wall of Brack’s thigh.

“I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Brack’s tone matched his pathetic expression. “You can say no to me, but you can’t disappoint Jonathon. Ice fishing is loads of fun. You have to try it.”

“I’m still freezing.” It was a weak excuse and she knew it. “And you want me to stand out in the cold—for fish?”

Jonathon waved a hand to gain his father’s attention and sent off another rapid fire of signs.

“Good thinking.” Brack laughed. “So you’ll come with us, right?”

With a capitulating sigh, she nodded. “Fine. But you have to tell me what he just said.”

That tiny dimple fell securely in place as Brack drove. “He said you can use some of his warm clothes and that we can’t stop by your place or you’ll find a way to escape.”

She tried to send Jonathon a harsh glance but couldn’t hold the expression. “I’m being held against my will by a couple of coastal pirates.”

Brack winked. “Argh.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence as Jonathon sent off text messages, and a few minutes later, Brack turned the truck down a small road. They followed a long, narrow path through the woods before he pulled into a gravel driveway next to a cottage. The cold air tugged at her hair when she stepped out behind Jonathon. “Where are we?”

“This is our summer camp, my workshop and occasional ice-fishing spot.” Brack waved a hand at the little house. “Generations of Elliots have spent numerous summers and winters here.”

Jonathon ran toward a small shed next to the house, and she took a moment to take in the beauty of the wilderness around her. She’d been many places, but something surreal encompassed the silence of the woods, something that always brought her comfort. Maybe it was the way nothing moved. No sound, other than the occasional movements of creatures she didn’t dare to hazard a guess at identifying.

Each breath she took streaked out before her in gray puffs, and she pulled her jacket tighter. “It’s really beautiful out here.”

“Nothing like it.” Brack moved close and the heavy weight of his coat curled over her shoulders, enveloping her in its warmth. The scent of his skin filled her, clinging to the soft flannel lining.

She inhaled the warm, woodsy scent that was so—him. “Thanks, but you’ll freeze.”

Her attempts to hand the coat back went unnoticed, or ignored, and she pulled the welcoming barrier tighter.

“The cold doesn’t bother me. There were many nights my family and I spent out here. Aunts, uncles, grandparents. We’d bring the snowmobiles up the trails and meet here for hotdogs and cocoa.”

Wistful longing laced his words, and a deep ache settled in her chest. At least he had those memories. She’d always craved what he’d just described. A place to call her own. Roots that ran deeper than a child’s beach shovel could dig, winding into something more substantial than the numerous new starts her mother had offered. “That sounds wonderful.”

“It was. A long time ago.” He stared out over the lake. “Ellen and I had good memories here.”

For the first time, she felt as though Brack had opened a door she couldn’t ignore. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but what happened to Jonathon’s mother?” The shaky breath he drew was a slap in the face. She’d overstepped their fragile truce. “Never mind. I shouldn’t—”

“She drowned,” Brack rasped. “Along with Jonathon’s twin brother, Jeremy. It happened when Jonathon was twelve.”

There was no inflection in his voice, just dead, sad fact. Tears burned at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I never imagined.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m glad you asked.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s a part of Jonathon’s past that you should know.”

“I’m glad you have the good memories to hold onto,” she offered through the thickness in her throat. Who he was… His control… His need to keep everyone safe made so much sense now. And it broke her heart. It was his way of coping. Not wrong, not right. God, what they both must have been through… “Some people spend a lifetime searching for memories like the ones you have. You’re very lucky to have them.”

The intensity of his gaze revealed the pain he kept so deeply hidden, and he smiled sadly. “Most times the good memories are balanced with the bad.”

There were people in the world who thought agreeing, or telling someone they understood their pain would help. She wasn’t one of them. He suffered in his own way, and all she could do was feel honored that he shared any piece of his hell in her company. Silence and an unbiased ear were her best comforts for this man.

An easy quiet spread around them, and she closed her eyes.

Just as quickly as it had overtaken them, Brack snapped the moment. “Come on, I’ll show you the house while Jonathon is getting the traps ready.” His hand tightened around hers, any lingering pain hidden behind his happy expression. “I have something you want as well.”

You sure do.
She squelched the sneaky thought.

He pushed the cabin door open revealing pitch black. “Wait here. I’ll get the light so we aren’t surprised by any critters.”

A shiver passed over her and she scanned the wooden porch beneath her for movement. “Critters?”

He disappeared inside, and a moment later a bright flash preceded the flickering flame of a gas lantern. He turned the knob and a soft glow filled the room. “Skunks, raccoons, you name it.”

“Great. If I get sprayed by a skunk—” His laughter stopped her midsentence, which was good since she really didn’t know what she’d planned to threaten.

She closed the door behind her as he bent to clear the fireplace. Thick waves of dark hair brushed his shirt collar, curving around his ear. The broad expanse of his shoulders and molded back tapered down to a trim waist where a thick belt rode his hips. Everything about the man, from his brooding silence to his good looks, enticed. The muscles of his tanned arms bunched as he piled some logs near the brick encasement. After wadding up some newspaper, he struck another match and quickly piled splintered pieces of wood on the ink-tinged flames. In moments he had the fire roaring. “There. Now we’ll have something warm to come back to.”

Her mind refused to focus on anything but him and the ways he could keep her warm. When a log fell and rattled to the floor, she let out a startled yelp.

He turned from the fire to meet her gaze, humor dancing in his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” She tried to sound brave, but her voice more resembled a shriek.

“You’re scared of little animals?” He stood, hands on his hips as he watched her carefully. “The woman who dives into frigid Alaskan waters? Rushes into burning buildings?”

“I’m not scared of animals.” She glanced around, hating the sensation of the creepy-crawlies. “I don’t like surprises. If they just made an appearance and went on their way, it wouldn’t bother me a bit.”

“Um-hmmm.”

“Well, I am afraid of rats.” Visions of the rat-infested hotels and rundown apartments her mother had made her sleep in filled her mind, and that panic resurfaced with a vengeance. “There aren’t rats in Maine, are there?”

“Mostly squirrels and chipmunks. Bats too.”

“I can handle all those.”

“’Course the wharf rats can get huge but you won’t see those here.”

Her jaw locked at the nauseating thought. Huge rats? Rats were bad enough, but huge ones?

The heat from the fire warmed the room and she pulled off his heavy coat. “You could have lied to me, you know.”

He took the coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. “Could have.”

“But where would the fun be in that?” she finished for him, certain that was what he’d planned to say.

He turned back to tend the fire. “Check my coat pocket. There’s something in there for you.”