Chapter Three

Blood pumped through his veins in a molten flow as he zigzagged through the trees, stumbling and going down hard in the dense underbrush. Heaving to his feet with a grunt, he brushed dirt off his hands onto the seat of his jeans and raced onward beneath the star studded sky. Close, so close.

A flash of white in the trees ahead. Tricia.

He smiled and gasped for air. The woman had spunk, fire! Qualities that had attracted his attention all those years ago were turning the chase into a challenge. She had nearly escaped on the road the previous night. If she hadn’t stopped running when Brooke Wakefield almost hit her…

A surge of adrenaline gave wings to his feet. He didn’t usually take the same woman out two nights in a row, but he hadn’t been able to resist. His quarry lost speed. The moonlight illuminated her trembling arms as she pushed through a thicket of bushes. Glancing back over her shoulder, she screamed, long and shrill. The primitive cry raised the hair on the back of his neck.

Leaping forward, he sunk his fingers into a cloud of dark hair and jerked her off her feet. She kicked and shrieked, fighting for freedom with every ounce of strength she possessed. Tightening his grip, he pulled a damp rag from his pocket and clamped it over her mouth and nose. As she slumped into his arms, he howled in triumph.

****

“Hurry up, Otis. I want to go back to bed.”

The dog ambled around the yard and stopped to sniff a bush before finally lifting his leg.

Brooke wrapped her arms across her chest and shivered in her fleece robe. A cold wind blew through the trees, chilling her to the bone. “You peed. Now let’s go.”

The dog ignored her. Lifting his nose to the breeze, he gave a deep woof and loped toward the woods behind the garden. She ran after him, the wet grass soaking her slippers before she reached the edge of the lawn.

“Otis, get back here,” she yelled. “Come here this minute!”

A three-quarter moon cast shadows across the yard and washed it in a pale glow, but its silvery light couldn’t penetrate the dark forest. A few thumps and crashes sounded in the underbrush, followed by silence.

“Otis!”

A shrill scream echoed deep in the woods, carried faintly on the wind. A prickle shot straight down her spine. Turning, she ran back to the house, her heart thumping. She waited on the back porch, listening. Should I call someone? The sheriff? Dillon? She’d feel like an idiot reporting a noise in the night, even if it had sounded like a woman in trouble. She gnawed her lip and strained her ears. The forest was still and silent.

Otis will just have to fend for himself. Not wanting to wake her grandmother, she quietly shut the kitchen door and tiptoed up the stairs to her room. Tucking her knees against her chest, she huddled under her comforter until warmth seeped back into her body. But sleep eluded her, the sound of the scream reverberating in her head. It was nearly dawn before she finally slipped into an uneasy slumber.

****

Brooke stood on a ladder scraping paint off the side of the house. White flakes showered down around her, speckling her hair and clothes. She yawned hugely and nearly toppled to the ground.

Time to take a break before she did some permanent damage. She backed down the ladder and frowned at the dog. Otis lifted his head and thumped his tail against the ground.

“It’s your fault I’m tired. What the heck were you chasing last night, anyway?”

June leaned on her rake and smiled. Her wrinkled cheeks were rosy from the cold air. “Probably a squirrel.”

“I imagine. Grandma, why don’t you make us both a cup of tea, please? I’ll haul the debris to the compost pile and then join you.”

June pressed her hand to the small of her back, her slight frame swallowed up by an oversized, quilted jacket. “I suppose my old bones could use a rest. I’ll have our tea ready in a jiffy.”

Brooke bagged the fir needles and cones her grandmother had raked from the flower beds edging the house and dumped them on the compost pile behind the garden. She paused to stare into the woods before putting away the gardening tools, then went inside.

“I think I’ll take Otis for a walk this afternoon.” She hung her jacket on the peg by the back door and took the cup of tea her grandmother handed her. “Maybe if he gets a little exercise, he won’t feel the need to run wild in the middle of the night.”

“That’s a fine idea. A walk would do you both a world of good. You’ve been working harder than a lumberjack at a timber sale all week.”

Brooke sipped her tea, burned her tongue, and grimaced. “Scraping paint isn’t the most stimulating job in the world.”

“Well, you’ve made great progress. Oh, I almost forgot. Gabe Wilson said he’d have the porch repairs finished by tomorrow.”

“And the yard looks terrific thanks to you. The place is really shaping up.”

June smiled. “It’s a good feeling.”

“Yes it is. I want you to rest this afternoon while Otis and I take a nice long hike. You look tired.”

“I’ll nap until Zack gets home from school. It isn’t easy to rest with that boy around.”

“Let him rake up all the paint flakes. That should keep him occupied.”

Brooke finished her tea and changed into hiking shoes. Outside, she called Otis and headed up the trail behind Dillon’s house. The path meandered through the grove of old growth redwoods surrounding the town and continued into the newer area of forest. Here the trees, though still towering, were far less massive and grew further apart. The redwoods and Douglas fir had been planted decades ago after loggers clear cut the forest.

She and Otis blazed onward through sword ferns and red huckleberry bushes, climbing steadily. Eventually they emerged onto a barren tract of land consisting of stumps and small saplings. The cold winter sun shone down on the desolate area. Logging left brutal scars, but someday trees would soar above the land again.

Whistling to the dog, she started back. The sun rode lower in the sky, casting the forest in shadows. Late afternoon gloom had settled in when she realized she wasn’t on the trail. Brooke stopped and looked around. Uneasiness slithered down her spine. Otis leaped into a salmonberry bush, and a squirrel chattered angrily in response. She wasn’t lost, exactly. If she continued walking west she would find her way back to town.

She took a sip of water from her bottle, stuffed it into her backpack, and trudged onward toward the glow of the setting sun through increasingly dense underbrush. When a light appeared ahead, she smiled and let out a breath.

“We made it, Otis.”

She skirted a Sitka spruce and stopped. The cabin nestled beneath a giant redwood wasn’t one of the homes on her grandmother’s road. The door opened, and an old man with a long white beard stepped out. He wore a plaid flannel shirt and overalls and pointed a shotgun in her direction. Her heart leaped into her throat.

“Didn’t you see the signs? I shoot trespassers.”

Otis responded with a growl. Brooke grabbed his collar and steadied her voice before speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m a little lost.”

“Damn fool tourists. Thought I was safe from your kind in the winter.” The man gestured to his right with the shotgun. “Trail to town starts over there.”

She edged toward the place he indicated. “I’m not a tourist, but I’ll try to be more careful about trespassing in the future.”

“Nothing wrong with my eyesight, and you’re no local.” He squinted at her with familiar green-gold eyes.

“Jesse?”

Dillon’s grandfather stepped forward, the shotgun leveled at her. His bushy white brows lowered.

“I’m Brooke Wakefield, June’s granddaughter.”

The shotgun lowered an inch or two. “Little Brooke?”

“All grown up.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? I could have shot you.”

Her heart rate slowed a fraction. “I’ll keep introductions in mind the next time someone points a gun at me.”

His beard twitched. “You always did have a smart mouth.” He lowered the barrel of the gun to the ground. “Come in and visit for a spell.”

“I’d like to, but it’s getting late, and I don’t want to get caught in the dark without a flashlight.”

“Dillon called a few minutes ago and said he was bringing me some groceries. He’ll walk you back.”

“In that case, I’d be pleased to stay.” She let go of the dog and followed him into the cabin. The furnishings consisted of a single bed against the far wall, a wooden table with two chairs, a wood stove, and a tiny kitchen area with a sink and an ancient propane refrigerator. Apparently any cooking was accomplished on the wood stove. A kerosene lantern sat on the table next to a cell phone.

“You here visiting June?” he asked, waving her toward one of the chairs.

She sat. “I’m staying for good. Grandma and I are opening a bed and breakfast in the spring.”

His eyes widened. “What sort of fool talk is that? Eli would roll in his grave.”

“He would not. Gramps was very progressive. He’d be proud of our enterprising spirit.”

Jesse grunted. “Maybe. Eli did have some strange notions.”

She smiled at his grudging admission. The cabin door squeaked open, and Dillon came in carrying a paper bag brimming with leafy greens and a loaf of bread. He paused when he saw her, and his lips quirked in a smile.

“I didn’t know you had company, Grandpa.”

“She wasn’t here when you called.”

Brooke stood. “I misplaced the trail a ways back.”

His grin broadened as he set the bag on the table. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “All right, I got lost.”

“That’s what I thought. When I asked June to watch Zack while I brought up Grandpa’s groceries, she said you’d been gone for quite a while.”

She met his gaze. “Is she worried?”

“Not anymore. I told her I’d bring you home.”

“It’s a big forest, Dillon. I’m surprised you were so confident you’d find me.”

Jesse leaned back in his chair. “It isn’t hard to see where someone left the trail and blundered into the undergrowth.”

“Grandpa’s right. If you know what you’re doing, tracking is a simple matter in these woods.” Dillon frowned. “But I did see something strange. I noticed several different places where someone crashed through the thimbleberries and tan oak. I knew it wasn’t you because the damage was done more than a few hours ago.”

“Probably some other nitwit out hiking, or maybe a poacher.” Jesse pulled canned goods and fresh vegetables out of the grocery bag and scowled. “Why the hell did you buy spinach? I can’t stand the stuff.”

“It’s good for you. Let’s go, Brooke. It’s getting late, and Zack is probably starving by now.”

She smiled at Jesse. “I’ll try to warn you before I trespass again.”

“Next time I’ll recognize you, so it won’t matter.”

Dillon gave his grandfather a pat on the back as he headed for the door. “Eat the spinach. I’ll see you in a day or two.”

Outside, dusk had fallen. Otis raced around the side of the cabin and stopped next to them. Dillon scratched the dog’s ears, snapped on his flashlight, and looked over at Brooke. “Did Jesse threaten to shoot you?”

She nodded. “Does he always greet visitors with a shotgun?”

“I’m afraid so.” He headed down the trail, the light illuminating the path ahead. “After my parents and Gail died, Grandpa fell apart. He signed Big Timber over to me and moved up here. Losing his only son broke his spirit and turned him into a hermit.”

“He still has you and Zack.”

“Yes, he does, and I think he’s getting a little better. Every now and then he’ll come down to the house for dinner or even into town for lunch. A couple of years ago, he wouldn’t leave the woods for any reason.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece jacket. “That sounds promising.”

“I hope eventually he’ll move in with us. That cabin of his doesn’t even have electricity.”

“I don’t suppose he’d give up his shotgun.”

Dillon laughed. “Not a chance. Jesse isn’t really dangerous. He’d never actually shoot someone. At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

She stepped over a branch that lay across the path. “He seems perfectly lucid to me.”

“He’s sharp as a tack. But if he keeps waving that gun around, I’m afraid the authorities will lock him up for posing a public threat.”

“It’s a difficult situation.” Something rustled in a bush near the trail, and she edged closer to Dillon. He stopped and turned to look at her.

“Brooke Wakefield, are you afraid of the dark?” Laughter rang in his voice.

Her back stiffened. “Not exactly.”

“Then what’s making you so nervous?”

She released a long breath. “I heard a scream in the woods last night. I guess I’m still on edge.”

“What sort of scream?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy, but it sounded like a woman. I contemplated calling the sheriff, then reconsidered. He already thinks I imagined the person on the road the night I crashed my car.”

Dillon frowned. “The scream was loud enough to wake you?”

“I was out in the yard with Otis, and the sound was pretty faint.”

“It was probably a rabbit. Owls hunt at night, and a rabbit’s scream is unnerving.”

“I figured there was an explanation for it, which is why I didn’t make the call.”

“Harley would have had a good chuckle.” Dillon started back down the trail, and they reached his back yard a few minutes later. His outdoor lights were on, and she could see the humor in his eyes as he stared down at her.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He took a step closer. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a nervous female you find amusing.”

He touched her cheek. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m smiling because I enjoy having you around.” His hand moved into her hair, and she quivered.

“Funny little Brooke.” Her voice was breathless.

“Funny. Smart.” He pulled her up against his chest. “Gorgeous.” His head lowered, and his breath caressed her face. “Sexy.”

His lips touched hers, and her legs nearly gave way. The kiss was whisper soft, teasing her senses. She drew in a breath when he raised his head.

“What was that for?”

He smiled. “Just testing the waters.”

“And?”

“I have a feeling I could drown if I went in any deeper.”

She bit her lip. “I wondered why you haven’t remarried. I thought maybe you were still in love with your wife.”

He frowned. “I got over Gail years ago. Our marriage was in trouble long before she died.”

“I’m sorry, Dillon. Grandma never mentioned it.”

“We didn’t advertise our problems.” He shrugged. “Gail was bored here and wanted to move back to Seattle. I didn’t. I’m not sure we could have worked out our differences if she hadn’t died.”

She touched his arm. “I’m sure you would have tried, for Zack’s sake.”

“Yes, but don’t imagine I’m one of those brooding heroes from English lit class, pining for my dead love.”

She laughed. “I can’t picture you reading Wuthering Heights.”

“I did so with great reluctance.” His grin broadened. “I’m no saint, Brooke. I do occasionally date, but I’m not involved with anyone right now.”

Warmth crept in around her heart, but she made certain her defenses were firmly in place. “You know my sad story of love and rejection. I don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

He touched her bottom lip with his finger. “Relationships are overrated. We could just have a bit of fun together. Do you see a problem with that?”

She could see a dozen problems. “Fun is good.”

Dillon kissed her again, stealing her resistance. This time his mouth was more insistent, his tongue demanding and gaining entry as her lips parted. His teeth nibbled. His tongue stroked. She nearly melted into a pool of lust at his feet. She wanted to jump him on the spot.

When he finally released her, she grasped his forearms for support. “Wow.”

His eyes glazed as he stared down at her. “No kidding, wow. I got more than I bargained for. That sort of fun could leave a man disabled.”

Her body throbbed. She concentrated on getting her breathing back under control. Somewhere, Otis barked, shattering the stillness, and June’s voice carried on the night air.

“Brooke, are you out there?”

“Coming, Grandma.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “We should go inside. I need to make Zack’s dinner.”

She nodded, and they headed through the yard. Dillon collected his son, thanked June, and left without another word. While her grandmother mashed the potatoes, Brooke tossed the salad and made an amusing tale of her encounter with Jesse, but her mind was on the kiss she’d shared with Dillon. She was still thinking about it when she went to bed, and for the second night in a row, she didn’t get much sleep.

****

Brooke swirled a French fry through a pool of ketchup and popped it into her mouth. Across from her, Stephanie picked at her salad and sighed. “I’d kill for a fry right now.”

Brooke smiled. “Have some of mine.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m determined to lose ten pounds. I still can’t get into my old jeans.”

“Give yourself a break. You just had a baby.”

“Bonnie is six months old. I can’t use her as an excuse forever.” She pointed out the window of the diner. “Look how skinny Marnie is. I swear that woman must starve herself to stay so thin.”

Brooke looked, and then looked again. Marnie Palmer was standing on the sidewalk deep in conversation with Dillon. Her hand lay on his jacket sleeve. She lifted it and patted his cheek. Brooke scowled. “Isn’t she married?”

“Divorced, has been for a couple of years. It looks like she’s trying to get her hooks into Dillon again.”

Brooke paused with a fry halfway to her mouth. “Again?”

Stephanie nodded. “They dated all last summer, but something must have happened because I haven’t seen them together lately. For a while, Marnie was acting like there was another trip to the altar in her near future.”

Brooke dropped the fry on her plate, her appetite gone. Dillon and Marnie’s conversation continued. “Strange, he hasn’t mentioned her once since I arrived.”

“Maybe that means they broke it off. I hope so. Marnie was irritating when we were in school, and she hasn’t changed much over the years. Dillon deserves better.”

“I thought you two were friends back in the day.”

She made a face. “We hung with the same crowd and were on the cheerleading squad together, but we never liked each other much. Probably because we both dated Rod and Carter while we were in school.”

Out on the sidewalk, Dillon frowned at something Marnie said, then threw back his head and laughed. The burger Brooke had eaten felt like a rock in her stomach. “Well, Rod married you.”

“Yes, he did, and Marnie has been divorced twice.” Stephanie’s tone was smug. “She moved back here after her last husband dumped her, then got her real estate license.”

Marnie kissed Dillon’s cheek and walked off, her hips swaying in her pencil skirt and high heels. Dillon watched her go before turning toward the diner. His gaze met Brooke’s through the window. She lifted her chin and looked away.

Stephanie pulled her wallet out of her purse and laid a ten dollar bill on the table. “It was great seeing you, but I have to go. My mom has a hair appointment in a half-hour, so I need to pick up my kids.”

“We’ll have to plan lunch again soon.”

“I’d like that. If I don’t get away from my children every now and then and have an adult conversation, I feel like I’ll lose my mind.”

Brooke smiled. “We can’t have that. I’ll give you a call.”

****

Dillon stepped inside the diner and looked down the row of red vinyl booths to the one Brooke occupied. She dug in her purse and came up with a handful of bills as he slipped onto the seat opposite her.

She glanced up. “Hey, Dillon.” After tapping the bills into a neat stack, she laid them on the plastic tray. “I was just leaving.”

He reached out and touched her arm. Even through her long-sleeved shirt, he felt a spark. “Stay and keep me company.”

The waitress, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, paused by the booth to scoop up the money and gather the dirty dishes. Dillon ordered a bowl of chili and two cups of coffee.

Brooke’s eyebrow shot up. “Maybe I have somewhere to go.”

“Do you?”

Her lips tightened. “No.”

“Then stick around and tell me what I did to piss you off.” He smiled at the waitress as she delivered their coffee. “Thanks, Irene.”

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll be right back with your chili.”

Brooke ripped open a packet of sugar and poured it into her cup. “What makes you think I’m angry?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve been frowning at me since I walked through the door.”

She sipped her coffee while the waitress set a bowl of chili smothered in cheese in front of Dillon. Brooke’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. “I’m not mad. There’s no reason for me to be mad.”

He dug into his chili. “It sounds to me like you have a reason. I’m asking what it is.”

She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and wiped a spot of ketchup off the table. “I’m a little disappointed you lied to me, but I’m not mad.”

Dillon set his spoon back in the bowl and stared at her bent head. “What are you talking about?”

“Marnie. You told me you weren’t involved with anyone.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

He waited until she looked at him. Her blue eyes gave nothing away. “I’m not seeing Marnie. I was last summer, but I’m not anymore.”

“Are you sure she knows?”

He choked on his coffee. “Of course I’m sure.”

“She looked pretty friendly to me.”

“That’s just Marnie’s way. Our breakup was amicable.”

“I’ll bet.”

He sighed, wondering why he cared so much that she believe him. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was involved with another woman.”

She leaned against the red vinyl seatback and gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry, I’m in a pissy mood. I spent the morning talking to people about permits and zoning for the B and B. Paperwork gives me a headache.”

“I’m with you there. I’d rather be out in the woods than sitting at my desk, which is what I’ll be doing this afternoon.” He reached across the table and traced the faint red line on her forehead. “I see you got your stitches out.”

“I stopped by Carter’s office before I met Stephanie. According to the doc, I’m healing nicely. I’m in terrific shape to go home and scrape paint.”

“Lucky you.” Dillon finished his chili and paid the bill, and they left the diner together. Outside fog rolled in from the coast. Brooke shivered.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. Her hair brushed his chin, sending a jolt of awareness through him. “Cold?”

“I was thinking about the night I arrived. Remembering that woman darting out of the fog in front of my car still makes me shake.”

“I’m not surprised.” He left his arm where it was, enjoying the feel of her curvy body tucked against him. “Can I give you a ride home before I go back to my stack of paperwork?”

“I drove Grandma’s VW bus.” She nodded toward the mottled green vehicle parked across the street.

“Does that relic still run? June rarely uses it.”

“It got me to Crescent City and back. I’ll have to buy a new car eventually, but right now it isn’t in my budget.”

“I suppose I should go.” Reluctantly he released her. Brooke looked up at him, her eyes a clear, beautiful blue. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and Dillon swallowed. “Would you like to do something tonight?”

“What sort of something?”

Her eyes sparkled, and he stared into them, mesmerized.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

He cleared his throat. “Sure. We could catch a late movie after I get Zack settled for the evening. June won’t mind watching him.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Great. I’ll see you this evening.”

Brooke crossed the street, her figure trim in a pair of tight fitting jeans and a short jacket. Had he made a mistake asking her out? God knew he was attracted to her. Just watching the sway of her hips gave him ideas that definitely weren’t suitable for a public street, but he wasn’t looking for a commitment. Zack and Jesse were all the responsibility he needed or wanted in his life.

It was the niggling fear that Marnie was beginning to take their summer fling too seriously that sent him running for cover last fall. He didn’t want to make the same mistake with Brooke. Didn’t want to hurt her. After what she’d gone through with her ex-fiancé, the last thing she needed was to have her heart broken again. He should back off and settle for an uncomplicated friendship, but he couldn’t do it. Brooke Wakefield was just too damned tempting.