4
IT DIDN’T SEEM QUITE FAIR that while the rest of Mercy Falls swayed to the music of Ben King’s newest single, Willow ended the evening snuggled up with a hot date who had floppy golden ears and an insatiable urge to eat the gelato turning to mush on her car seat.
“Stop it, Gopher.” She pulled the puppy onto her lap and earned a swipe of love across her chin. At least he had pretty eyes and adored her with abandon. “We’ll be home in just a minute.” And yes, she could have house-sit, but when Jess heard about her agreement to watch Gopher, she practically begged Willow to bring him home.
Apparently, Jess had a soft spot for troublemakers with big sad eyes.
Willow braked at the light, glancing at the crumpled bag from the Griz containing their specialty, Simeonson’s caramel gelato, with chocolate chips. And, for Gopher, puppy treats and food.
Peace offering or therapy, Willow wasn’t sure just how to present the treat to Sierra. Please let Sam have kept his promise to not tell Sierra about her impulsive kiss.
Not that she wanted to keep secrets from Sierra, but . . .
Gopher jumped up on her shoulders, and she had to press the brakes, move the dog back onto the floorboard. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you were not the plan tonight, Goph.”
However, her father’s text, shortly after Sam and Pete’s epic fight, had given Willow exactly the excuse she needed to cut and run.
Are you coming to pick up Gopher?
Um. Apparently when her father’s new family said they were leaving tomorrow, they meant 4:00 a.m. tomorrow. Not conveniently tomorrow night after her hike into the park. They’d tied the knot quietly, two nights ago on the lookout over Blacktail Mountain, only the kids and Willow in tow.
Distraction accepted and appreciated, because the last thing she needed was to stick around and join in on the musing of why Sam had decided, finally, to lay out his kid brother.
Do the math, she wanted to say to Ty and Gage.
Because Sam dated Sierra. Who lived with Jess. Who had been noticeably absent tonight.
Instead of here, with them. With Pete.
Even Willow wanted to land a kick in Pete’s shins. Had he no clue how Jess felt about him?
Willow pushed the golden retriever’s snout away from the bag as she turned off the highway, toward town and Jess’s place. Lights blazed out the front windows of the kitchen and the bedroom-slash-family-room. It cascaded onto the dilapidated porch, out into the barren yard.
Admittedly, Jess’s house looked like a place where squatters might reside, but then again, since Sierra’s house had sunk into the earth after the flood four months ago, Willow and Sierra had become exactly that—squatters. They’d even purchased their sleeping bags from the local Goodwill.
Thankfully, the place was insulated, had a decent roof and the camaraderie of Jess and Sierra. Willow could think of—had experienced—worse, much worse, accommodations.
Gopher had the determination of many of the SAR guys she knew. He was licking the bag where the moisture from the cold gelator turned it soggy, but she’d reached the house and stopped at the curb. “Sorry, sweetie.” She grabbed the bag in one hand, the puppy in the other, and headed into the house.
A song drifted down from the stairs, a country-western tune. She recognized it as a Ben King original.
“Hey there, pretty girl, let me sing you a song . . . In this mountain boy’s arms is where you belong.”
At least some people ended up with the one they loved.
The thought came fast, sharp, and she shook it away before she entered the kitchen.
Before Sierra could see her face. While Willow felt fairly sure that her guilt wasn’t tattooed on her forehead, if Sierra told her that she and Sam had broken up, Willow just might burst into tears.
Good thing she had purchased an entire half gallon of gelato.
Gopher wiggled out of her arms, hit the floor, and scampered toward the kitchen. Sierra looked up from where she was emptying the trash.
“You’re home early,” Sierra said. Her gaze landed on the gelato. “Oh.”
“Are you okay?” Willow asked, testing her sister’s expression for anything amiss. Sierra nodded, and her smile seemed warm, authentic. The fist in Willow’s chest loosened just a little.
“Gelato?”
“Caramel and chocolate chip.”
“You are my hero.”
While Sierra took the garbage outside, Willow found a bowl, filled it with water for Gopher, added food in another, and set them by the back door.
Gopher scampered away into the next room, and she chased him down, fished a sock from his mouth.
Sierra had produced two spoons when Willow returned, Gopher squirming under her arm.
Sierra came over, flopped the puppy’s ears, pressed a kiss to his snout. “Hey there, big guy.”
Willow put Gopher down, and the dog sat and started to whine.
“Shh,” she said, taking the carton to the table. She set it in the middle and opened it while Sierra sat down opposite her.
Sierra dipped her spoon right into the carton. “Yum.”
Willow did the same, then scooped gelato from her spoon onto her finger, reached down, and let Gopher lick it off.
“Willow—that’s not good for him.”
“Aw, it’s just a little treat. Look at those eyes. How can I say no?”
Gopher licked his lips.
“You are too much of a softie,” Sierra said.
Silence, except for the music drifting down from the bathroom remodel upstairs.
“Are we going to tell Jess about seeing Pete with Tallie?” Willow said, her voice low as she reached for another spoonful.
“I could murder Pete Brooks. Especially after he nearly kissed Jess.”
“Nearly being the important word,” Willow said. “Besides, sometimes a kiss doesn’t mean anything. It can be an accident.”
“Are you kidding me? A kiss always means something.” Sierra shook her head. “That’s the problem.”
Willow froze. The problem?
Sierra was staring at her empty spoon.
“I think Sam is going to break up with me,” Sierra said. “And I’m going to let him.”
“What? No. Sam is a great guy, so worth fighting for.”
The words seared a little coming out, but when Sierra sighed as if in disbelief, Willow pressed on. “Why would you break up with him?”
A knock sounded at the front door, and Sierra put her spoon down as Gopher raced toward the sound, yipping.
Willow heard Jess coming down the stairs.
Shoot—what if it was Pete? This wouldn’t be pretty. Willow got up to follow, intercept, maybe call 911.
Where was Sam when she needed him?
Sierra reached the door first and opened it.
Froze.
Ian Shaw, billionaire and Sierra’s former boss, stood at the door. Six foot two of dangerous playboy charm, honed muscles that photographed well in the tabloids, and tonight, looking way too devastating in a starched white dress shirt and a leather jacket, the light on the porch picking up the gold threads of his tousled short brown hair.
As if that tootsie he’d been dancing with might have run her fingers through it.
Willow wanted to slam the door.
“Hello, Ian,” Sierra said, way too much warmth in her voice for Willow’s taste.
“Hey,” he said, and Willow had the crazy urge to search for his Vanquish, see if Tootsie might be hanging out in the front seat.
“What are you doing here?” Willow said instead, and Sierra glanced at her, frowned.
Oops. But Willow gave her an “are you serious?” expression.
Which Sierra ignored. “Come in, Ian.”
Ian the Destroyer stepped foot over the threshold.
Sic ’em, Gopher.
But Ian only crouched and ran his manicured hands over the pup, picking the animal up, laughing as Gopher gave him a slurp.
Apparently, Willow would have to teach Gopher some discernment.
“I didn’t know you got a dog,” Ian said, looking at Sierra with those dangerous, hypnotizing eyes.
“It’s my dad’s dog,” Willow said and swooped the animal out of his embrace.
Sierra shot her another frown, but Willow lifted a shoulder.
Ian got up. “I was hoping Sam might be here.”
If he’d driven a knife into Sierra’s heart, it would have probably hurt her sister less. Maybe only Willow knew it, but Sierra was only dating Sam in a desperate attempt to rid herself of her feelings for Ian—feelings that clearly Ian didn’t share, for him to so casually accept her dating his close friend, Sam.
As if he didn’t care that Sierra had loved him during every minute of his journey through suffering and back, had sacrificed her social life during the last three tense years helping him search for his missing niece, holding his life together as his executive assistant for Shaw Holdings.
And after he’d fired her, she’d managed to land on her feet and put her life back together, thank you.
Sierra, the consummate peacemaker, however, kept her smile. “Sam’s not here. Why?”
“Oh, I saw you two leave together from the Gray Pony tonight, and, well, I wanted to talk to him about—”
And Willow could have stepped in, filled in the words for him.
“The hunt for Esme.”
Yep. Willow glanced at Sierra, testing her expression.
It stayed sweet, soft, even willing to help. Because that’s who Sierra was, even when someone betrayed her.
Right then, Willow determined to throw her heart in front of a bus if that was what it took to keep Sam and Sierra together, if only to show Ian that he didn’t own her sister’s heart. Not anymore.
Willow sensed Jess behind her, mostly because Gopher was rooting to get to his next love interest.
“How’s it going?” Jess said. “Have you tracked down any leads?” Covered in dust and plaster, Jess’s hair hung down around her drawn and tired face.
After Willow dismantled Ian, she’d track down Pete and run him down with her car.
Men.
Except for Sam, of course. She was a little worried about him too after the fight tonight, but she could hardly go running after him.
“Nothing,” Ian said in reply to Jess’s question. For the briefest of seconds, the flash of despair on his face turned a knife in Willow’s heart.
Maybe he deserved a little grace—after all, she couldn’t imagine someone she loved going missing. She, too, might spend every waking hour trying to find them, for as long as it took.
“I submitted Esme’s name to the registry for missing persons and got an artist to run an age-progression sketch. Right now I have ads running in all the major papers and on the internet. Now I just have to sit back and hope I get a call.”
“I’m sorry, Ian,” Sierra said quietly.
“Yeah, well, they ruled out her DNA as a match to the body Ben and Kacey found this summer, so, I’m not giving up hope. Especially not after the eyewitness at Saint Mary Lodge.”
An eyewitness who supposedly spotted Esme and put her on a train heading to Chicago. With that news, Ian simply couldn’t let go of the search. Even if it seemed Esme had wanted to vanish.
“She’s out there, and I plan to find her,” Ian said. He offered a quick smile. “If Sam stops by, can you ask him to swing by the ranch? I tried his cell, but he’s not answering. Then again, after tonight, maybe he’s just at home, cooling off.”
Sierra nodded. “Thanks for being there. I don’t know why he freaked out on Pete tonight.”
“Sam freaked out on Pete?” Jess said, and Willow wanted to wince. “Why?”
And how could Ian know about the near romance that went on only a few nights ago in Jess’s kitchen? So, of course, he spilled the beans.
“I’m not sure. Pete was dancing with this girl, and I think he bumped into Sam. Sam freaked out—”
“He did not freak out!” Willow couldn’t just let Ian throw Sam under the bus.
Willow glanced at Sierra for a little support. But Sierra shrugged. “He did freak out. I mean, yeah, I was a little mad at Pete too, but—”
“Why were you mad?” Jess said. “What was Pete doing?”
Willow set Gopher down, and he scampered away, probably to the kitchen to finish off their gelato.
Willow suppressed the urge to follow him.
“Nothing. Dancing,” Ian said.
“With Tallie Kennedy,” Sierra added quietly.
Jess stared at her, only her lips betraying her reaction to Sierra’s words. A quivering smile, a glance at Ian. “Oh.”
“Jess—” Willow said, but Jess held up her hands.
“That’s great for him. Pete’s been single way too long.” She blew out a breath, and on the tail of it created an Academy Award–winning grin. “Seems like a strange reason for Sam to hit him.”
“Indeed,” Ian said.
Sierra offered a tight smile. “I’ll let Sam know you dropped by.”
Ian gave a quick frown, then nodded. “Okay. Good to see you . . .” He cast his gaze around, as if he didn’t know how to end that sentence.
“You too,” Willow said bluntly.
She gave in to the urge to check out his car as he left.
No bimbo in the front seat. So maybe he’d dispatched her before coming to harass the woman he should let go of.
Sierra shut the door, and Jess headed to the kitchen.
“Jess . . .” Willow said.
“It’s fine.” She stopped at the utensil drawer, however, and pulled out a spoon. “Pete is just a friend.”
Ho-kay, so that’s where they were going to land tonight.
Willow returned to the table. Sierra sat down opposite her.
Jess dug into the gelato.
“Cute,” Jess finished. “And it doesn’t matter. Like I said, Pete’s been single way too long. How was your evening? Ben’s new song?”
Sierra let the question sit for a minute, and Willow didn’t know what to say.
Finally, Sierra picked up her spoon. “Sam brought me home before Ben took the stage.”
“Really?”
“The fight managed to kill the mood,” Willow said. “Especially with Pete bleeding.”
And Tallie fawning over him, although she kept that aside to herself.
“I was pretty disappointed in Sam,” Sierra said. “Sure, I wanted to choke Pete, but Sam nearly took his head off. I have a feeling there was a lot more to that fight than just Pete showing up with Tallie Kennedy. Something else is bothering him.”
Willow lowered her spoon down, found Gopher, let the dog lick the spoon. Closed her eyes.
“Did he say anything?” Jess asked.
Willow braced herself.
“He was fine earlier—we were at his mother’s house. He agreed to go hiking tomorrow with Willow’s youth group. Then we got to the Gray Pony and suddenly he turned dark and possessive. Even kissed me on the dance floor.”
Willow let the dog finish cleaning the spoon, then got up to put it in the sink.
At the mention of the kiss, a tiny fist had latched onto her heart, started to squeeze.
Probably the claws had been there all night, digging in the minute Sam walked in and sat down in the booth, his arm around Sierra.
Sure, he’d tried to make it all okay—he gallantly looked at Willow, flashed her a smile.
For a minute, made her believe that yes, she could forget the way he’d kissed her, hungry, as if she’d awoken something inside him.
As if he wanted her.
Thankfully Willow hadn’t seen the part where Sam kissed her sister in just that way.
She braced her hands on the sink.
“Are you okay, Willow?” Jess, the EMT, too observant.
“Fine.” Willow turned to face them. “Don’t be too hard on Sam. He did nearly get eaten by a bear last week. That has to be hard to shake off. And he’s usually such a gentleman. He’s trying to woo you, Sierra. You need to let him.”
Crazily, her eyes pricked, burned. “Sam Brooks is the most honorable man I’ve ever met. Self-sacrificing, kind, patient, and responsible. Not to mention cute, right? With those pale blue eyes and that hard-won smile?” She met Sierra’s gaze. “Give him a break. I’ll bet that tomorrow he shows up with apologies and spends the day trying to charm you.” Willow finished with a smile.
Sierra was staring at her, wearing an enigmatic look. Slowly, she nodded. “He is all those things, isn’t he?”
Willow slid into the chair. “If anyone can make you forget stupid, arrogant Ian Shaw, it’s Sam Brooks. So let him, okay?”
Jess wore a strange frown.
“Okay, Willow,” Sierra said. “You’re right. Sam is worth fighting for. I’ll give him exactly the chance he should have.”
Oh. Willow should be cheering. Instead, her throat turned thick—she’d call it relief.
“I’ll make sure that tomorrow everything gets sorted out during the hike, okay?” Sierra said.
“You’re going on a hike in the park tomorrow?” Jess asked.
“Willow planned a youth group trip, a hike to Huckleberry Mountain.”
“You know you shouldn’t take this little guy in the park, right? He’ll be a bear snack.” Jess leaned down, picked up Gopher, put him on her lap. Casanova batted his big brown eyes at Jess. “Maybe you should stay here with me, huh?”
Willow grinned. Disaster averted. Tomorrow, as they hiked, and under the lure of the park’s inspiration, Sierra and Sam could find the footing they needed for a fresh start.
And once and for all, Sam could forget about the sister who shouldn’t have kissed him.
With the sun high, the temps in the valley rising to the mid-sixties, and the air smelling sweetly of pine, Sam just might have a chance at redemption.
He pulled his day pack from the bed of his truck, hiked it over his shoulder, and walked up onto the porch of PEAK Rescue HQ.
He’d agreed to meet Sierra and Willow here, on their way into the park after picking up the youth hikers from the church.
Meanwhile, he’d pack a few other essentials, just in case something went south today. Not that he expected trouble, but . . . lately he seemed to find it without looking.
Like last night. Trouble simply slid into his periphery.
He may have slightly overreacted.
He spent the entire night wrestling through any of the other reactions he might have attempted, ones that didn’t include laying out his kid brother.
Or resulting in Sierra looking at him as if he’d turned into a grizzly.
Yeah, he’d made a fantastic impression on Sierra. But today bore all the earmarks of a fresh start.
He’d simply show her that he could be the kind of relaxed, easygoing guy who didn’t let circumstances have their way with him.
The bright, sunny day confirmed it. Hiking into the beauty of the mountains, the clean forest air, a day of simply exercising, working out the kinks of the last week . . . He planned on wooing his way into Sierra’s heart by the end of the hike.
Sam opened the door to the house, and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee reached out, tugged him in.
Chet sat at the table, nursing a cup of java and reading the weather and incident reports in the park. He looked up, gave a one-sided smile. He wore a PEAK Rescue hat over that salty gray hair and a jacket with the logo on the breast. He always reminded Sam of the older version of Harrison Ford, a wry, hard-won wisdom in his eyes. His crutches leaned against the table.
“Hey, Sam,” he said and nodded toward the kitchen area.
Sam took the hint and poured himself coffee. “Heading into the park with Willow’s youth group today. I was hoping we might take an emergency pack with us, just in case.”
“Help yourself,” Chet said. He scooted his chair out and massaged his legs for a second. “But before you go, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Sam leaned against the counter, glancing out the window as he saw the church van pull into the yard. “Sure.”
“Your brother wants to be an incident commander.”
Sam jerked his gaze back to Chet. “What?”
“Yeah,” Chet said, reaching for his crutches. “He was hoping I might put in a good word for him. I told him it was up to you, of course, but if you’re wondering, I think Pete is ready—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sam leaned up. “Pete is not ready to command the local Boy Scout troop, let alone lead a callout. And he never will be.”
Chet frowned. “With his smoke jumper training and the courses he’s taken this past year—”
“What courses?”
“FEMA has an emergency management course online. He’s nearly finished with it.”
Sam just stared at him.
“He’s current on all his EMT certifications, as well as his Wilderness Rescue Technician training, and a few specialized certifications, like swift water rescue and mountain search and rescue.”
Sam took a sip of coffee, just to clear his head, make sure he heard Chet right. “When did he have time to do this?”
“The last couple years, during his off seasons from the Jude County Smoke Jumpers. It’s one reason why I hired him on last spring.”
A decision Sam hadn’t been involved in, as back then, Ian Shaw controlled the PEAK team resources and the SAR team was not yet under the funding and jurisdiction of the Mercy Falls Sheriff’s Department.
Too bad Pete hadn’t given Sam an on-the-job reason to fire him.
He took another sip of the bracing, dark coffee, then set the mug on the counter. “I can’t have Pete in charge of anything, Chet. He might pull his weight here, but away from here, he’s reckless and irresponsible.” Sam walked over, poured out the coffee into the sink. “I’d put my life in the hands of one of those high school kids before I’d ever trust my brother to find me.”
Harsh words, he knew, but someone had to speak the truth. He turned, met Chet’s eyebrows-up gaze. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”
Chet’s mouth tightened in a grim line. “I don’t think you really know your brother, Sam. Pete is—”
“Trouble. Full stop. Trust me, I do know him.”
For a second, he was standing over his brother, breathing hard, watching Pete stare up at him, holding his bloodied nose. He couldn’t believe Tallie and the entire community of Mercy Falls fawned over the jerk, as if he were the one who needed understanding. As if he wasn’t the one who’d started the entire thing.
Sam must have settled in memory too long because when he looked up, Chet had a concerned gaze on him.
“You keep feeding that anger, Sam, and someday it’s going to consume you.”
Sam looked out the window and spotted Sierra and Willow in the yard with a handful of kids. “I’m not angry. I’m just stating the facts.”
“Oh, you’re angry, Sam. You just can’t face—”
“Okay, fine. I’m angry.” Sam turned back to Chet. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t know how to forgive him. Every time I try, he does something stupid, and there it is again. Like yesterday. Pete was supposed to pick up my mom from the hospital—”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He tugged it out and read the text message.
Of course. “And he did it again.” He shook his head. “Pete’s not home, and Mom needs a ride to Bible study—she’s still too weak to drive.” He pocketed the phone. “There goes my hike.”
“Sam—”
“No, there’s not a snowball’s chance that I would hire Pete. For anything.”
“I was going to say that I could drive your mom to church. Ty is on call today.”
That was Chet. Always trying to help people. As Sam glanced again outside, trying to locate Sierra, he wanted to take him up on it.
Just once, let someone else share the mantle.
The door opened and he looked over just in time to see Sierra come in. She held a puppy in her arms, a cute little golden retriever who squirmed free. She put it down, and it scampered over to Chet.
“Whoa, who’s this?” Chet leaned down to scoop the dog up.
“It’s Gopher, Jackson McTavish’s puppy. We’re dog-sitting.” Sierra looked at Sam. “Which is what I have to talk to you about, Sam.”
As a SAR professional, used to hunting for clues, he should have seen it coming, especially with Sierra dressed in a pair of yoga pants, flip-flops, and an oversized T-shirt.
“I’m not going with you today.”
Despite the warning, her declaration felt like a punch in his gut. He even emitted an incoherent, “Huh?”
“Jess doesn’t think we should take Gopher on the hike and she was going to watch him, but the bathroom sprung a major leak this morning, and she needs help—”
“Call Pete!”
But he realized his folly as soon as the words emerged.
“We’re not going there, Sam. It’s the least I can do after her letting us live there. And Willow can’t stay back because, well, she’s in charge. So . . .” She lifted a shoulder, an easy shrug as if she hadn’t decimated his entire day. His hope of redeeming their wretched date.
“I’m not going if you’re not.” The words came out more rebellion than clear thought.
Sierra frowned. “Sam, you have to go. Willow needs you.”
Willow needs—and that put a very fine point on exactly why he shouldn’t go. “Your sister has been a trail guide—she knows how to handle herself in the park. Besides, it’s just a day hike. It’s not like anyone is going to get hurt. And isn’t the new youth pastor going with them?”
Sierra put her hands on her hips, gave him a look she’d probably used on Ian for years to get him to snap out of his despair about Esme and rile him back into the land of the living. “You can’t abandon her.”
Abandon. Interesting word.
“Besides, have you taken a look at the new youth pastor? He’ll probably get blown off the top of the mountain by a stiff wind.”
He looked out at the group, couldn’t spot any adult but Willow.
“He’s the ten-year-old wearing jeans, his Cons, and a You-Don’t-Scare-Me-I’m-a-Youth-Pastor T-shirt. Very hip and most likely to be the one to perish.”
“No one is going to perish today.”
“Because you’ll be with them.” Sierra stepped closer then, her voice softening, her gaze in his. “Please? Willow and I sort of promised the pastor that you’d go. Besides, I won’t feel okay about Willow going out there if you’re not with her, either.”
Oh man.
Then she touched his arm. “And when you get back, come over for pizza. I’ll make it from scratch.”
She offered a smile, so much warmth in her eyes, what could he say?
“No black olives.”
“Deal.” She looped her arms around his waist, leaning in for an embrace. “You are my hero.”
Oh. Well.
He gave her a quick hug back, his day suddenly brightening.
“So that’s a yes on picking up your mom?” Chet said.
Sam felt fairly sure Chet didn’t mean it like it sounded. “Yeah, that would be great if you drove her to Bible study.”
Chet winked then, and Sam hadn’t a clue what to make of that. Then, “Where are you headed today, just so we know?”
“The Huckleberry Mountain Lookout trail,” Sierra said. “It’s one of Willow’s favorites. It’s an easy six-mile hike, nice views.”
“There might be snowfall higher up,” Chet said. “We’re starting to get some dusting in the mountains, so keep an eye out for weather.”
“Willow and I looked at the weather this morning,” Sierra said. “Looks like a chance of rain tonight, but you should have a nice day.”
Nicer with her along, but . . .
Sam picked up his pack. “I’ll grab an emergency pack from the barn.”
Sierra opened the door for Gopher, who bounded toward the barn, his big paws and floppy ears a magnet for the high school girls.
They, at least, resembled hikers. In fact, as he joined Willow, it seemed she’d given them instructions to dress like she did because all of them, except for Youth Pastor Blessing, wore layers—thermal shirts, fleece jackets, windbreakers for a couple, and sturdy boots.
He’d have to keep an eye on the pastor, make sure he didn’t turn his ankle or slide down a scree of rocks in his hipster shoes. Sam would grab a fleece for him instead of the canvas jacket.
“Hey, Sam,” Willow said. But she looked at him as if he might bite.
Oh, this would be fun. “I’ll grab a pack, meet you back here.”
She nodded, her smile wavering, but as he stepped away, she got up, jogged after him.
“Hey,” she said, catching up and walking with him to the barn. “I just wanted to say thank you for coming with me. I . . . I tried to talk Sierra into going, but she has a high responsibility gene and feels like Jess needs her more.” She made a wry face. “I told her I’d stay but—”
“You can’t stay. This is your trip.” He stopped, put a hand on her arm. Met her eyes. “It’s okay, Willow. It’s all okay.”
She stilled then, her breath catching. Swallowed. For a second, he thought he saw tears glisten in her eyes.
His frustration softened. “We’re going to have a great day. Fun, sunshine. A beautiful view. What could go wrong, right?”
She grinned, the sun in her eyes turning them a deep blue, rich with hope. It took another layer off his darkness. “Right.”
Jess didn’t want to believe that her house had betrayed her, but frankly, after an hour of trying to figure out where the leak was coming from, she felt pretty sure 303 Sycamore had it out for her.
This was what happened when she tried to prove that she didn’t need help.
Especially from a six foot one, too-charming former smoke jumper.
Jess stood on a folding chair in her grimy basement, fighting with the wrench that would cut off the water, once again. Soggy to her bones, she’d worn her tennis shoes into the murky, primordial sludge in her search for the broken pipe. A dim shop light illuminated the debris, and she could see the lath ripped out as she followed the pipe through the ceiling.
So much for her spectacular installation of her new toilet and sink in the upstairs bathroom. She wanted to kick herself for not checking the pipes to the upstairs before turning on this section of plumbing.
The wrench slipped off the bolt and she lost her balance, fell back, hit an old sheet metal sink. In a flash of heat, the rim sliced across her back.
She let out a cry that echoed through the house. She followed it by flinging the wrench at the pipe. It clanged and the copper shuddered. The wrench skittered off into the recesses of her dungeon.
“Stupid house, stupid pipe, stupid . . .” She didn’t know how to finish, except maybe with life. Because despite her stiff upper lip, she just wanted to sink down into the dirt and fold. More, she longed to call home and hear her father’s voice on the other side.
But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? Not ever.
And she only had herself to blame.
Jess blew out a breath, put a hand on her back. She hoped she hadn’t cut herself—the last thing she could afford was a trip to the ER.
Although tetanus might be more expensive.
She heard footsteps upstairs and she closed her eyes, willing herself to pull it together. Sierra didn’t need her unraveling today—not when she’d given up her perfect day in the park with Sam.
At least she had one loyal friend.
“I’m down here!” she shouted but headed for the stairs.
Please let Sierra have brought donuts.
The door to the basement hung ajar, and light was streaming down the steps when a shadow crossed it.
She looked up.
Pete stood in the doorframe.
Her night of tossing and turning, telling herself that she didn’t care that he’d been out with Tallie, because she most definitely did not have feelings for him, died at the look of worry on his face.
He wore a pair of faded jeans, a gray Mavericks T-shirt under his jean jacket, and worry in his pretty blue eyes. “Are you okay? I thought I heard a cry?”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t mean to snap at him, but yes, she’d most definitely hurt herself. Her back felt like it was turning to fire as she hit the top of the stairs.
Pete stepped back from her, and he looked even better in the light, wearing a layer of golden-red whiskers, his blond hair wavy and loose behind his ears. Worse, he held a bag of donuts from the Avalanche Bakery.
Jerk.
She grabbed the bag and walked past him to the kitchen. Set the bag on the counter. Lifted the back of her shirt. “Am I bleeding?”
Pete didn’t move, so she turned, glanced at him.
He had his hands in his pockets, his expression just a little undone.
“Pete. How bad is it?”
He glanced up at her. “You’ve got a pretty good bruise there.” He moved into action then, opening her freezer and pulling out a bag of peas. She reached out for it, but he shook his head, put his hand on her shoulder, and pressed the vegetables to her back.
She jerked, but he held her steady.
“Don’t be a baby.”
And just like that, she thought it might be okay. She might be able to live with the image of Tallie in his arms, come to terms with the fact he’d chosen a night out with a reporter over fixing her plumbing with her.
Because he was still here. Her friend. She at least had that.
Now she just felt pitiful. Jess put her hand on the peas and inched away. “Thanks for the donuts.”
“Aw, Jess, I’m sorry.”
Huh?
She just stared at him, his words so unexpected she felt as if he’d reached into her heart, put a hand around it. Squeezed.
“Um, for . . . what?” She tried a casual, easy smile, but heat had rushed to her face and she knew he could see right through her.
Crazily, she thought she just might start to cry. Talk about an overreaction.
She grabbed the donut bag, brought it to the table, and opened it. She stared into the bounty without seeing it.
“For not showing up to help you with your plumbing yesterday.”
Right. That.
Not for the Tallie thing, because, really, why might he apologize for taking out a cute girl on a date?
“It’s fine, Pete,” she managed, and thank you, even kept her voice even.
She pulled out a raised glazed. Handed him the bag. “You are most definitely forgiven.”
He had a sort of sweet confusion in his eyes, and it flushed all the annoyance out of her.
Then, “Really?”
“Pete, you don’t have to apologize. You have your own life and are under no obligation to help me put my house together.”
She looked down at her exceedingly grubby clothing. Paint had covered her T-shirt, turning it hard and crispy. And her jeans were so soiled with dirt, grease, plaster, and dust she could probably prop them up, assign them their own project.
Pete selected a cake donut with chocolate frosting. She could have predicted that.
“I did stop by yesterday around lunchtime, but you weren’t here. I probably should have simply made myself at home.”
Oh, he hadn’t a clue how his words stirred hope in her.
A home. Preferably with Pete in it.
Yep, she was going to cry. She walked past him to the fridge, hunting for a container of orange juice, blinking fast.
“Like I said, Pete, this is my mess. You don’t have to help.” She put the orange juice on the counter, found a napkin, and set the donut on it, then wiped her fingers and found two glasses.
Pete leaned against the counter. “I know. But that’s what friends do, right?”
Hmmm. “Right.” She poured the orange juice.
“Besides,” he said, “when I didn’t see you last night at the Gray Pony, I thought maybe, well, I should probably stop by today and see how it’s going.” He made a face as he took in her appearance. She had so much grit in her hair, she should call it a spa treatment. “Losing the war, are we?”
“Just the battle.” She lifted her glass to him. “But I am undeterred. There is a plumbing leak in them thar walls and it can’t hide from me.”
His mouth tweaked up and again, strangely, all was right with the world.
He drank to her toast, then shucked off his jean jacket. “How about if we hunt it down together?”
Oh, her traitorous heart. “Pete, you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to do that. Besides, if I go home, Sam is going to kill me for not picking up my mom yesterday from the hospital.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I forgot. I . . .” And then it appeared like maybe he’d gone too far into that conversation because he blew out a breath, gave a half-chuckle. “Okay, I drove into the park with Tallie Kennedy for the day, and sort of . . . well, lost track of time.”
And if she needed proof that they were Just Friends, that was it. Pete, telling her about his romances. Super.
But she could take it, because Pete was here with her, not with Tallie, at least right now.
She didn’t want to think beyond that fact.
“Did you have fun?” Her words came out on their own, clearly unattached to her heart, from the part of her that was just Jess, his buddy. Then, “Tallie’s really cute.”
Pete glanced at her, then gave a quick shrug. “She’s okay.”
Okay. And the green-eyed monster inside Jess wanted to give a fist pump.
“She wrote an article about me.”
“I know, I read it.” She held the glass to hide her smile. “You’re such a hero, Pete.” She batted her eyes at him, affected a damsel-in-distress voice. “Will you save me?”
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” But he grinned, and finally, finally, it all reset. Their friendship, the easy flirting and banter between them.
They would be okay. And when he picked up the peas and tossed them to her with a “Don’t make me dig out the carrots,” she stopped feeling pitiful.
“Let’s see if I can find that leak and put a plug in it,” Pete said. He touched her shoulder as he walked past her. “And yes, I will save you.”