Timber Creek (Sierra Falls #2)

Timber Creek (Sierra Falls #2) Page 15

“Hey, cool. What’d they want?” Something about the surprise on his face was deeply gratifying.

“They found out about all the Buck Larsen stuff,” she said, referring to the letters Sorrow had found, revealing the secret affair between their ancestor and one of the most famous figures from California history. “They’re talking about doing a documentary on the town.”

There was nothing like the interest of a television network to feel like validation. She’d been working her fingers to the bone—it was what the Baileys did—and her efforts had brought their family business to the brink of real success. Finally, she’d have her chance to make up for her past failures. She could prove to herself, prove to the world, just how talented she could be.

“That’s great news,” he said, sounding actually genuine. “Sorrow might’ve found those letters, but the rest is all you, you know that, right?”

Taken aback, she stammered, “I…yeah…thanks.”

“Seriously, Laura, congrats. I hope Bear understands what he has in you.”

The unexpected warmth broke down a wall she’d had erected since junior high. No longer able to monitor her excitement, she found herself revealing more. “We’ve been booked solid ever since the call. Film types are flying out from LA, if you can believe it. Dad even let us hire someone to help around the place. We’re on the brink of something real, with the lodge, I mean. We’re so close to becoming something big, or at least, you know, bigger than just a run-down family operation. This would really put us on the map. So now you really do have a reason to call it off with Fairview.”

“That’s all awesome,” he said, but his voice sounded suddenly strained. “I’m excited for you.” He grew quiet and stared at the ground, kicking at a rock.

If he was so excited, then why couldn’t he look her in the eye? She pressed him. “But?”

“But I don’t see how it affects this project.”

Embarrassment choked her, a pained, self-consciousness that sizzled through her till her cheeks burned with it. Why had she just told him all that stuff? Why had she thought he’d understand?

“Don’t you get it?” She turned and stabbed a finger back in the direction of the ranch house. Distance made it seem even older—but for the men swarming the roof, she might’ve been looking through a window back in time. “You can’t change something that’s historic, you know, when the History Network is coming.”

“I’ve got permits,” he said. “I signed a contract. We’re all buttoned up, no matter how many times I remeasure the place. Look, I’m glad things are turning around for you. People will always want to stay at the Big Bear. I genuinely hope this Fairview thing doesn’t hurt you. I really do believe that maybe it’ll even bring in more business for you.”

“You can’t really believe that,” she cut in. With a sharp exhale, she took a few steps closer to the water. Stupid Fairview would probably build a little bridge over the creek—a silly-looking faux Japanese Zen thing, that people would stand on and flick their cigarette butts from.

How could the sight of all this nature make her feel better and so much worse at the same time? The low, loud rumble of a saw cut through the air, followed by a sharp crack. It galvanized her.

Everything she’d worked so hard for was falling apart. She was falling apart. Just when she’d made peace with Sierra Falls, it would be taken from her.

She burst forward, needing to be closer to the creek, to touch it for herself. Fed by the snowmelt, it would be cold, and she wanted to dip her hand in and pluck out a stone to skip across its surface. Why had she once resented all this so much? Why had it taken her so long to see how these mountains brought her such peace? She’d fled for the city, but it was here that she knew herself. Her throat burned with emotion, but she refused to get emotional in front of Eddie Jessup. She put more distance between them, wandering closer to the banks, walking in among the thigh-high grasses.

“Laura,” he shouted.

She spun a slow circle. “How can you build on this?”

“Watch it.”

“What? Am I trespassing now?”

He laughed, and it was an aggravating sound. “Not hardly. I just want you to watch where you’re going.”

“What is your problem?” she demanded. “You refuse to see what’s in front of you.”

He approached. “Believe me, I see.” There was a husky, suggestive note in his voice, and it made her defiant.

The damned man—why did he have to do that? She whirled around and plunged deeper into the grass. This time, when he called for her to stop, she ignored it. Instead, she challenged over her shoulder, “When was the last time you really saw how pretty this all is?”

It was so exhilarating to reconnect with the land she’d known as a child. She’d spent so many years chasing other things—how had she forgotten this? She plunged into the waist-high grass, stroking her hand along the tips of leaves.

His hands were hard, grabbing her shoulders. “Jesus, Laura. Stop.”

She flinched away. “You’re an ass.”

He began to walk backward, pulling her with him. “And you’re in a field of poison oak.”

“I…” She stopped her struggling and froze. “What?”

“Poison oak.”

“I thought it was red.”

“Sure. In the fall.” He scooped her up and simply carried her out.

She stiffened in his arms, shoving against him. He was hard and strong, and the heat of his body burned through his T-shirt. She fought dueling urges, wanting to either shove away from that hard chest or simply give up and curl into it. “Put me down.”

Why did she keep feeling embarrassed in front of him? Exposed? She had the stupidest urge to cry, and she never cried in front of people.

Eddie ignored her and instead calmly said, “For the record, I see how pretty this place is every day. Almost as pretty as you,” he added, a hot whisper in her ear. “Come on.” His voice was gentle as he put her down, but he didn’t take his arm from her shoulders. “I’ve got some stuff back at the house that’ll wash off the worst of it. But we’ve only got about twenty minutes before you start to have a reaction.”

As they emerged from the grass, she looked down at her clothes in dismay—a pair of khaki shorts and flip-flops. Was it her imagination, or was her skin already crawling with itchiness? She realized he’d been eyeing her, too, and she gave him her best glare.

He laughed, damn him. “I don’t know what were you thinking, city girl…wandering into a patch of poison oak.”

“How would I know that was poison oak?”

“Don’t you know the saying?”

She tried to storm ahead, but he kept pace. “I thought it was ‘leaves of three, okay for me.’”

“No, goof. ‘Leaves of three, let it be.’” He opened the passenger door of his truck. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”

She hesitated, and he simply took her waist and hoisted her high onto the seat. She had to shove a couple of rain jackets and a pile of blankets out of the way. “What do you need all this stuff for?”

“The great outdoors, darlin’.”

“Can’t you stow it in the back?”

“It’d get wet.”

“It’s rain gear.”

“Mm-hm,” was his only, maddening reply before shutting her door and walking around to the driver’s side.

She craned around, peering out the little rear window, and saw that there already was gear in the back. A toolbox, some tent poles, and a giant set of waders.

“You’re trusting,” she told him the moment he got in. “That stuff would last twenty seconds parked in San Francisco.”

“I’ve been meaning to get a lid for the truck bed.”

He turned the ignition, and the truck rumbled to life. He put it in gear, and they bounced and jostled out of the rocky lot.

She braced a hand on the dash. “This thing is ridiculous.”

“She’s got a V-8 engine. Over four hundred horses under the hood.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled. She’d have protested more, but already she felt a prickling sensation. It was probably just adrenaline, but her legs were shaky with it.

When he pulled onto the main road, she demanded, “Where are you taking me?”

“I told you. I’m taking you to my place.” He reached across the bench, and with a casual confidence that rattled her, he swept the hair from her face. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I’ll take care of your legs.”

Twelve

He pulled into his driveway and hopped out of the truck, headed to the passenger side. He felt intensely self-conscious that she was seeing his cabin for the first time. He wished for her to like it but braced for some sassy comment to spill from her pretty mouth instead. Preoccupied, he plucked her down from the high bench seat.

She twisted in his arms to give him a funny look. “You don’t need to carry me, you know.”

He put her down with a laugh he hoped didn’t sound nervous. Why was he so uncomfortable all of a sudden? He’d had scads of women at his cabin, so why was this one any different? “Yeah, sorry.”

Who was he kidding? He knew why he was self-conscious. It was because the girl was so damned judgmental. He took the porch stairs in two quick steps, unlocking the front door. “It’s not much.”

When she didn’t follow him in, he peeked back out to find her staring at the cabin, an unreadable look on her face. Here it came. “What, Laura? Did you think I lived in a cave?”

“Kind of.” The smile she gave him made it impossible to get too mad. Then she shocked him by saying, “It’s actually kind of…darling.”

“Oh. Seriously?” He joined her on the porch. It was a small thing, just one bedroom, one bath, a small kitchen and living area, with a wall of windows and a panoramic mountain view to knock your socks off. It wasn’t anything good for raising a family, but just right for a confirmed bachelor like him. “I built it myself.”