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Where He Belongs
Gail Barrett
THE HARDEST TASK HE'D EVER FACE…Tongues wagged when Millstown's resident bad boy roared into town on the back of his Harley. Only a dire emergency could bring Wade Winslow back to the place where he'd never belonged and never would. But now someone else needed his help–the trusting young girl who'd given herself to him……in a searing night of lovemaking Erin McCuen would never forget. Then Wade left town, taking her heart with him. Twelve years later the lanky boy who's been her biggest defender was back–a risk-taking smoke-jumper tempting her with a passion that stunned them both.With Erin by his side, was Wade ready to slay the dragons of the past and take the biggest risk of all?
“Erin.”
His deep voice sent chills along Erin’s arms, and brought back a rush of sensation. That hot, pulsing night at the river. Whispered words and shocking pleasure. The devastating sound of goodbye.
His gaze stayed on hers for a moment, then dipped and traveled the length of her. Her pulse tripped, and for a wild second she wished she’d changed into something more appealing. But she’d kept on her faded jeans and sweatshirt to convince herself Wade didn’t matter.
His eyes met hers again as the cold wind whipped through the door. He looked tougher than before, stronger. Her gaze lingered on the lean cheeks and hard jaw beneath the stubble, his tanned and sinewed neck.
The lanky, sexy boy she’d loved had become an outrageously appealing man….
Dear Reader,
Well, we’re getting into the holiday season full tilt, and what better way to begin the celebrations than with some heartwarming reading? Let’s get started with Gina Wilkins’s The Borrowed Ring, next up in her FAMILY FOUND series. A woman trying to track down her family’s most mysterious and intriguing foster son finds him and a whole lot more—such as a job posing as his wife! A Montana Homecoming, by popular author Allison Leigh, brings home a woman who’s spent her life running from her own secrets. But they’re about to be revealed, courtesy of her childhood crush, now the local sheriff.
This month, our class reunion series, MOST LIKELY TO…, brings us Jen Safrey’s Secrets of a Good Girl, in which we learn that the girl most likely to…do everything disappeared right after college. Perhaps her secret crush, a former professor, can have some luck tracking her down overseas? We’re delighted to have bestselling Blaze author Kristin Hardy visit Special Edition in the first of her HOLIDAY HEARTS books. Where There’s Smoke introduces us to the first of the devastating Trask brothers. The featured brother this month is a handsome firefighter in Boston. And speaking of delighted—we are absolutely thrilled to welcome RITA
Award nominee and Red Dress Ink and Intimate Moments star Karen Templeton to Special Edition. Although this is her first Special Edition contribution, it feels as if she’s coming home. Especially with Marriage, Interrupted, in which a pregnant widow meets up once again with the man who got away—her first husband—at her second husband’s funeral. We know you’re going to enjoy this amazing story as much as we did. And we are so happy to welcome brand-new Golden Heart winner Gail Barrett to Special Edition. Where He Belongs, the story of the bad boy who’s come back to town to the girl he’s never been able to forget, is Gail’s first published book.
So enjoy—and remember, next month we continue our celebration….
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
Where He Belongs
Gail Barrett
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
GAIL BARRETT
always dreamed of becoming a writer. After living everywhere from Spain to the Bahamas, raising two children and teaching high school Spanish for years, she finally fulfilled that lifelong goal. Her writing has won numerous awards, including Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart. Gail currently lives in western Maryland with her two sons, a quirky Chinook dog and her own Montana rancher turned retired Coast Guard officer hero. Write to her at P.O. Box 65, Funkstown, Maryland 21734-0065, or visit her Web site, www.gailbarrett.com.
Dear Reader,
What a pleasure this is to introduce you to my debut novel, Where He Belongs, and especially to its hero, Wade Winslow. From the moment I began writing this book, Wade intrigued me, not only because of his smoke-jumping career and daring lifestyle, but because he’s a real hero—a man who can’t help but do the right thing, even at his own expense.
Like Wade, I grew up in a small town. And also like Wade, I spent years traveling and living in different places. But I’ve learned that while moving can be exciting, it also has a cost, the loss of roots and a sense of belonging.
Now Wade has his own lessons to learn. He must return to his hometown, confront his painful past and listen to his heart—because only love can show him where he belongs. I hope you enjoy his journey.
Gail Barrett
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter One
Wade Winslow wanted only one thing as he cranked the throttle on his Harley V-Rod and rumbled down the main street of Millstown, Maryland—to get the hell back out. Millstown. His home sweet hometown, where he was White Trash Winslow, no matter how many years had passed. Where bad reputations lingered longer than the antebellum town houses lording over the narrow street. Where even the ancient oak trees sneered down at him, their twisted branches reaching out like fingers of condemnation, trapping him in the past.
Battling the urge to kick up a gear and blast himself back into sanity, he tightened his grip on the throttle. Norm. He had to reach Norm. That goal had driven him for the past two days, straight from Miami, ever since he’d gotten the message that the cancer had spread and the man who’d taken him in as a kid lay dying. Dying. Hell. Didn’t anyone he loved survive?
With dread settling deep in his gut, he downshifted at the Stone Mill CafГ©, edged into the narrow alley beside the abandoned theater, and turned the wrong way onto the one-way street that served as a shortcut through town. Then he twisted back on the throttle and rocketed to the end of the lane, the roar of the engine matching his mounting frustration.
Norm had lived out of town back then, on a few rocky acres tucked against South Mountain on the fringes of Appalachia. A lousy farm, but the perfect place to teach a rebellious kid to survive. But Norm had sold the farm and moved into town when Rose died and Wade had left, and the smoking finally caught up to him.
At the end of the road, Wade dropped a gear and pulled into the driveway beside the duplex Norm called home. He parked the Harley beside a row of cars in the driveway, hooked his helmet over the backrest and straightened his aching body. Then he raked back his hair and tucked in the T-shirt he wore under his leather jacket. Sick or not, Norm didn’t tolerate disrespect. And he was the one man Wade owed too much to ever defy.
And now he was going to lose him.
His nerves tight, he strode to the door and entered a small, coffee-scented kitchen packed with neighbors: Jack Fleagle, who’d run the theater before it closed; Mrs. Cline, retired from the post office last year. And Battle-Ax Bester, a linebacker of a woman with a rigid, beehive hairdo. Good God. As if he didn’t have enough to contend with.
Her crayoned lips curled down. “You have some nerve showing up.”
Hell. A dozen years after high school and she still acted as if he’d kill a man and end up in prison like his father. No wonder he hated this town.
“Wade, you made it.” Norm’s younger brother, Max, in his fifties himself now, stepped around Mrs. Bester and reached out his hand.
Wade shook it and caught the tension in his eyes. His stomach dipped. “He hasn’t—”
“No.” Max clapped his shoulder. “Go on back. The nurse is there, but he’s been asking to see you.”
With foreboding weighting his steps, Wade threaded his way through the crowd and headed down the hall to Norm’s bedroom. He tapped on the door and pushed it open. “Norm?”
A woman he didn’t know turned toward him. “Excuse me, but Mr. Decker needs to—”
“Wade,” Norm wheezed. “You came…”
Wade’s heart stalled as the nurse moved away from the bed, and he forced himself to breathe. Good God. Was that Norm? Glazed eyes stared out from his bloodless face. Wrinkled skin sagged from his bones, as withered as the dry leaves clinging to the oak trees outside.
Sick dread speared his gut. What happened? Norm had looked fine last spring when he’d stopped on his way to Montana.
“You can only stay a minute,” the nurse warned. “He just took his medicine. If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“So what’s with the Mr. Decker bit?” Struggling to mask his shock, Wade pulled a straight-backed chair close to the bed and eased himself down. “You putting on airs now that you live in town? Hell, if I’d known you were getting formal, I’d have worn a suit.”
“Heard the bike. Knew you’d come…”
Damn right he’d come, instantly, stopping only for a few hours to sleep at the North Carolina border.
“Where…?”
“Florida. Found a great beach. You wouldn’t believe the babes down there.”
“Not…California?”
Still reeling, he fought to keep his tone light. “Nah. I went to San Diego as soon as the fire season ended, but the traffic got to me. It’s one big freeway from L.A. to the border now. So I headed to Florida instead. Thought maybe I’d fly to the Bahamas and hide out for a while.” And let his wrecked knee heal so he wouldn’t lose his smokejumping job. He stretched out his throbbing leg.
“Hurt?”
He grimaced. Cancer had ravaged Norm’s body, but not his mind. “Jolted my knee. Hit some down air on my last jump and landed hard. Nothing serious. I had to hike over the mountain after we got the fire out, though, so it could use a rest.”
Norm closed his eyes. “Good place, Millstown. Stay…” He winced, then wheezed.
Wade’s heart lunged. “What’s wrong? Should I call the nurse?”
“No.” He opened his glassy eyes. “Damn morphine…”
Wade glanced at the morphine pump hanging from the IV bag. The oxygen tank beside the bed. The wheelchair in the corner. Props to ease the descent into death. He tried to speak but failed. He swallowed hard.
Norm’s mouth moved and he leaned closer to catch the words. “Stay…”
“I’d planned on it.”
“Promise. Need you to…”
Norm wasn’t asking him to live in Millstown. He always knew Wade couldn’t stay. He just wanted him here when he died. Died. Oh, God.
“You need me to what? Cook you Thanksgiving dinner? Hell, Norm. Next thing I know you’ll be wanting me to polish the silver.” Like when Rose was alive. Panic surged, then buzzed in his head.
“Not here. Promise me, Wade…”
He was going to lose Norm. Oh God, no. Not Norm, too.
“Wade…”
Sweat formed on his brow. He couldn’t take this. Norm dying. Staying in Millstown. But he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t let down Norm. “I’ll be here.” For as long as he needed him.
“Not here,” Norm repeated.
“What’s not here?”
“Rent…room…”
Rent a room? He frowned. What was he saying? “I’m not leaving you, Norm.” His heart jerked at the thought. “I’ll crash on the couch, same as I always do.”
“No.” Norm’s voice was suddenly sharp. “Nurse is here. Max. Need you to stay…Mills Ferry…”
Mills Ferry? The old mansion on the outskirts of town? Why would he stay there? And why would Norm want him to? Unless….
His shoulders stiffened. “What am I, company now? Is that it? I’m not wel—”
“No, Wade.” Norm’s hand snaked from beneath the sheet and grabbed his wrist. The slight weight trembled cold on his skin. “Son. Always my son… Need help. Please…” His voice faded.
Dread knifed through Wade’s gut. “But—”
“Promise me. Promise…” Norm’s hand slid from his wrist.
His lungs squeezed shut. He’d do anything for this man, no matter how odd the request. “Fine, I’ll stay there.”
“Good.” Norm slumped back and closed his eyes.
“Norm? Norm?”
“Sir?” The nurse spoke from behind him. “Mr. Decker needs to rest now.”
He sucked in a shallow breath. Norm hadn’t died. He was just sleeping, thank God.
But for how much longer?
His legs unsteady, he stood. Norm had always seemed invincible to Wade, a big, burly man with thick arms and calloused hands. A quiet man who taught him to track and shoot deer. How to rebuild the truck he rolled when he took that curve too fast, and what to do when the girls started calling.
A calm, patient man who’d lost his temper only once in all those years, when Wade had smarted off to Rose. Wade had never done it again.
And now that strong man lay dying.
“Sir?”
A deep ache gutting his chest, he moved to the foot of the bed. His eyes burned as the nurse slipped the oxygen mask over Norm’s face and adjusted the pillows.
And suddenly he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed space. Air. He strode from the room and straight through the crowded kitchen.
“Wade. Hey, Wade!”
He shoved open the door and stalked outside. Damned cancer! He jerked his helmet off his bike and dragged it over his head. How could it spread that fast? And why hadn’t Max called him sooner? He yanked on his leather gloves.
“Wade, wait up.”
He straddled the Harley, then scowled at Max, who’d followed him outside. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d had a relapse?” he demanded. “I’ve got money, for God’s sake. I could have taken him to Baltimore to a specialist instead of using that quack out here.”
“He’s been seeing a specialist. At Johns Hopkins. He’s been going there for over a year.”
His stomach plunged. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to. We all did, but Norm convinced us to wait.”
“I see.” And suddenly he did. Clearly. The whole town had known Norm was dying and no one had bothered to tell him.
“We thought, well, with everything else you’ve been through…” Max spread his hands. “We didn’t want you to worry.”
“Right.” He snapped down the visor on his helmet, cranked the key in the Harley’s ignition and revved the engine. Like hell they didn’t want him to worry. They didn’t tell him because he wasn’t family. Because he didn’t belong here. Never had, never would.
Because in Millstown, nothing changed. He rammed the bike into gear and shot off.
The cold wind gusted across the Potomac River, thrashing the woods at Mills Ferry and rattling the stone mansion’s windows. Erin McCuen leaned against the bubbled glass and shivered. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to turn up the heat before her grandmother got sick.
Desperation surged but she ruthlessly quelled it. She couldn’t panic, no matter how deep in debt she was sinking. Somehow she’d pay those bills.
“Did you go to the bank?” her grandmother asked from the chair beside her.
“Yes, Grandma.” She sighed. “Everything’s fine.”
“…stealing my money. They think I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. The bank account’s just how you left it.” Empty, and likely to stay that way. She glanced at the red bird perched on the feeder outside the window. “Look, a cardinal. I think those sunflower seeds did the trick.”
She helped her grandmother hold the binoculars in her trembling hands so she could get a closer look. Thank goodness cardinals didn’t migrate. Her grandmother had lost so much in the car wreck—some speech and motor skills, short-term memory, the ability to make her beloved quilts. Watching birds from her sunroom was the only pleasure she had left.
And Erin was going to make sure her grandmother could watch those birds from the security of her home until she died—no matter how dire their finances.
Pushing back the familiar swell of anxiety, she set the binoculars aside. Then she picked up the faded quilt from a nearby chair and wrapped it around Grandma’s shoulders. Ever since that accident, the bills had mounted. Medicare covered the bulk, thank goodness, but without a supplement, she had to pay the rest. And while she struggled through the insurance nightmare, submitting claims and juggling payments, her historic home rotted away. She couldn’t begin to fund the repairs that money pit demanded.
So she’d started tutoring after teaching high school all day. She’d slashed expenses, sold furniture and even mortgaged Mills Ferry, the family’s estate for ten generations. In desperation, she’d borrowed money from their neighbor, Norm Decker. Still, the bills piled up.
Her stomach roiled. She was frugal by nature and any debt made her nervous. Hovering on the edge of bankruptcy like this drove her wild. But what could she do? Even small changes confused her grandmother and agitated her for days. Losing her home would destroy her.
So she struggled to hold on to the house. But unless a miracle happened soon…
She heard the front door close and she patted her grandmother’s shoulder. “Lottie’s here, Grandma. You keep watching the cardinal. I’ll be back as soon as I set out dinner.”
She crossed the front parlor they used as their family room and entered the spacious foyer. She’d closed off most of the house after the accident to cut utility bills—the attic and cellar, every spare bedroom, the dining room and entire third floor. She’d moved her grandmother into the first floor library for easier access, and herself into the smallest bedroom upstairs.
She’d also tried to rent out the master bedroom. Unfortunately, Millstown didn’t attract tourists and no one had answered her ad.
“It’s getting cold out there.” Lottie removed her long, woolen coat and looped it over the coat tree in the entry. “If this keeps up, we’ll get snow for Thanksgiving.”
“I sure hope not.” With their ongoing drought, they needed the moisture, but snow meant higher heating bills, which she couldn’t afford.
Lottie removed her beret and fluffed out her short, gray curls. “I put your mail on the hutch.”
“Thanks, Lottie. I appreciate it.” She glanced at the basket heaped with bills and rubbed the insistent throb in her forehead.
“Another headache?”
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. A retired nurse, Lottie had moved into their renovated spring house when her husband died. In exchange for room and board, she cared for Grandma while Erin worked. And she was a godsend. Erin couldn’t have managed without her.
She headed into the kitchen. “The casserole’s ready. I hope you don’t mind tuna again.”
“Tuna’s fine, but I thought you were going out with Mike tonight.”
“No time. I’ve got essays to correct.”
“You keep turning that man down and he’s going to lose interest,” Lottie scolded from behind her. “He’s a good man, too, something you can’t take for granted these days.”
Erin grabbed the hot pads from the counter and opened the oven door. Lottie was right. Mike was a good man, the type who’d cheerfully settle down and support a family. And she enjoyed talking to him at work. A lot. But she didn’t have time to date these days. “He’s got his own grades to do. He understands.”
“Maybe, but you still need to relax. You’re always working and volunteering.”
“Being busy isn’t a crime.”
“No, but people take advantage of you, hon. The town won’t fall apart if you say no for once.”
She removed the casserole from the oven, set it on the counter and took out the side dish of beans. So she did more than her share. She didn’t mind. She loved helping her community.
Lottie sighed and opened the silverware drawer. “Well, don’t blame me when you drop from exhaustion. By the way, I stopped at Norm’s on the way home.”
“How is he?”
“Not good.”
A heavy feeling weighted her heart. Norm was her grandmother’s closest friend and the most generous person she knew. She couldn’t bear to think of him dying.
“At least Wade made it here in time,” Lottie said.
Wade. Erin froze and for long seconds struggled to breathe. Lottie couldn’t know, she told herself desperately. No one knew, aside from herself and Wade. Lottie was just making conversation.
“That’s good.” She carefully hung the hot pads on the hook beside the stove and prayed that her voice sounded normal.
“And Norm said he’s staying with us.”
“What?” Erin’s mind blanked. “Who’s staying with us? Norm?”
“No, of course not. Wade is.” Lottie pulled out the silverware and closed the drawer. “Norm asked about the room the other day, but I forgot to tell you. I assumed it was fine since you keep running that ad.”
Erin’s heart tripped, then careened through her chest. Wade would be in her house? Renting her room? Wade?
“In fact, he’ll probably be here soon,” Lottie added. “I’ll set an extra place in case he’s hungry.”
Erin gaped at Lottie. Wade was on his way here?
Lottie cocked her head to the side. “Are you okay, hon?”
She blinked. “I’m fine. I just…I mean, I’d better check the room. Make sure the vent’s open so he’ll get heat. Do you mind helping Grandma?”
Lottie waved her off. “Go on. I’ll get Mae.”
Erin whirled from the kitchen. She took the stairs two at a time, rushed into the master bedroom and slammed the door. Then she leaned against the wall and gasped for breath.
Wade Winslow. Here. In her house.
Oh, Lord.
She placed her palm over her heart and dragged in a steadying breath. She had to get a grip. Wade had happened years ago. Twelve long years ago. One incredible, passionate night that had meant the world to her and nothing to him.
Not that she’d blamed him. She’d always known he wouldn’t stay. Even though she had hoped….
But she wasn’t the type to delude herself. Not then, and certainly not now. Especially when it came to Wade Winslow.
She straightened and crossed to the bed. Reaching up, she removed a picture frame from the wall. Then, for an endless moment, she gazed at the wrinkled paper inside and let herself drift to the past. Wade’s poem. That night. The sound of him driving away.
A huge ache lodged in her chest, that painful mix of longing and passion, sympathy and desolation that comprised her feelings for Wade.
Then she sighed. More than a decade had passed since then, and Wade was just an old friend now, a former high school classmate. A houseguest, whose rent would help pay her bills.
And she could handle him. She could. She marched to the dresser and stuck the frame beneath the quilt in the bottom drawer. She opened the heating vent, straightened the bedspread, and hung clean towels in the bathroom. Satisfied, she walked to the bedroom door.
And stopped. Handle him? Wade Winslow? Who was she fooling?
Oh, Lord. She’d better hold tight to her heart.
Chapter Two
Wade raced along the road that fronted the Potomac River, banking hard into the corners and venting the anger that simmered in his gut. By the time he slowed to cross the one-lane bridge at Mills Ferry, his temper had subsided into frustration.
Why had Norm hidden the truth from him? Why hadn’t Max told him how sick Norm was? And how in the hell could he fix it now?
His stomach knotted, he pulled into the turnout in the woods below Mills Ferry and cut the engine. Then he tugged off his helmet and scowled out at the leaden river. A ribbon of sparrows dipped over the water, twisting, contracting, and finally swooping away until the black specks merged with the tombstone-gray sky—the same damn color as the rocks, river and everything else in this blasted town.
A fierce ache cramped his throat and he tipped back his head and shut his eyes. Hell. The place even smelled like death-parched earth and rotting leaves. The same stench as when his mother died, and later Rose.
Fighting back the painful lump in his throat, he forced his mind to the bare branches creaking against the moan of wind in the pines, the weariness seeping through his body. When the cramp in his chest eased slightly, he again opened his eyes.
He needed to sleep. That was his problem. He was just too drained to think straight anymore. In the morning, when his head was clear, he could find a way to help Norm.
He cranked the key in the Harley’s ignition and felt it rumble to life. Not bothering to put on his helmet, he pulled back onto the road and drove the quarter mile to the ridge. He still couldn’t believe Norm wanted him to stay at Mills Ferry. Since when did Mrs. McCuen rent rooms? And what if he ran into Erin?
His gut clenched at that possibility, but he pushed aside the thought. No way was he dwelling on Erin. He had enough on his mind without going down that road tonight.
He stopped at the mansion’s iron gates and idled the engine, then scanned the small, hand-lettered sign advertising a room. So Norm was right. But why was Mrs. McCuen taking in renters? He never thought she’d need the money.
Still mulling that over, he turned onto the long gravel drive lined with oak trees and threaded his way toward the house. Potholes and dangling branches threatened to knock him off his bike, and he felt more off kilter. Growing up, Mills Ferry had represented everything he didn’t have: history, tradition, old-world society and wealth. And it was a showcase. The trim was kept freshly painted and flowers bloomed everywhere. But dried leaves blew across the rutted driveway and heaped against the stone fences now.
He parked his Harley at the end of the driveway beside a faded blue Honda Civic. With a groan, he rolled his shoulders and stretched, then climbed off the bike and hefted the saddlebag over his shoulder.
God, he was tired. And his knee had stiffened up again. He limped slowly around the giant azalea bushes spilling over the gravel and climbed the front porch steps. The warped boards bent and creaked beneath his feet.
Shaking his head, he crossed to the massive front door and pushed the bell. When it didn’t ring, he braced his hands on his hips. What was with this place? He couldn’t imagine Mrs. McCuen letting it go like this. Unless she’d sold it? But that was even less likely.
Frowning, he looked across the sagging porch to a broken tree limb in the yard and a sick feeling rose in his gut. All these years he’d kept a picture in his mind of Erin standing here on the porch—beautiful, secure in her elegant mansion, untouched, except for that night at the river. But what if she wasn’t so safe? What if he had been wrong?
Guilt surged, but he shoved it aside. He was definitely not going down that track, he reminded himself. Erin and Mills Ferry were none of his business. The only thing he needed to worry about tonight was sleep.
He turned back to the door, lifted the clawed knocker and slammed it down. Then he leaned his forearm against the doorjamb to wait.
The sharp rap on the door jerked Erin’s heart to a halt. For several long seconds she clutched her napkin, unable to move, unable to think.
“That must be Wade,” Lottie said cheerfully. “I’ll get it.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” Her heart suddenly hammering, she scraped back her chair and rose from the kitchen table. “I’ll let him in. I’ll need to show him the room, make sure he knows where the towels are, explain the meals…”
She was rambling. Avoiding Lottie’s perceptive gaze, she set her napkin beside her plate and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I’ll be right back, Grandma.”
She exited the kitchen and walked quickly down the hall to the foyer, her heart drumming louder than her footsteps on the wood floor. This was silly, she told herself firmly. She could act normal for the short time he was here. After all, he had nothing to do with her life anymore.
Summoning an image of herself as calm, friendly neighbor, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Her breath jammed in her throat.
Wade dominated the doorway, one leather-clad forearm braced on the frame, the other hand propped on his hip. He was taller than she remembered, broader through the shoulders and chest, and far more muscular than he’d been as a teen. But his short, shaggy hair was the same chestnut-brown, along with the stubble that lined his hard jaw.
Her gaze collided with those familiar, whiskey-colored eyes and her pulse fluttered madly. They were the eyes of a man who’d expected nothing from the world and gotten less. Bleak, cynical eyes set in a face etched with pain and exhaustion.
She swallowed hard. “Wade.”
“Erin.” His deep voice raised chills along her arms and brought back a rush of sensation. That hot, pulsing night at the river. Whispered words and shocking pleasure. The devastating sound of goodbye.
His gaze stayed on hers for a moment, then dipped and traveled the length of her. Her pulse tripped and for a wild second she wished she’d changed into something more appealing. But she’d kept on her faded jeans and sweatshirt to convince herself Wade didn’t matter.
His eyes met hers again as the cold wind whipped through the door. He looked tougher than before, stronger. Her gaze lingered on the lean cheeks and hard jaw beneath the stubble, his tanned and sinewed neck. The lanky, sexy boy she’d loved had become an outrageously appealing man.
He tilted his head. “Norm said something about a room?”
“Oh, of course.” Her face warmed. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a surprise to see you that I… Come in.” Silently berating herself for gawking like the lovestruck girl she’d once been, she moved back to let him pass.
He straightened and stepped through the door and she pushed it shut behind him. While his gaze swept the foyer, she rushed to fill the silence. “You’re my first guest, so you’ll have to excuse me if I seem a bit flustered.”
His gaze narrowed on hers. “You still live here?”
“Of course. I always intended to stay.” Did that sound too accusing? Her face warmed even more. “Besides, after I started teaching, there wasn’t any point in moving. I mean, where else would I live in Millstown? And then after the accident…”
Noting the weary set to his shoulders, she stopped. A surge of remorse flooded through her. Here she was rambling on about herself when he was clearly exhausted.
And suffering. Norm meant everything to Wade. He’d endured a childhood filled with death and rejection, especially when his father went to prison. Norm was one of the few who’d cared about the abandoned boy. She had been another.
“Listen, Wade. I’m really sorry about Norm.” She reached out to touch his arm but the hard set of his jaw warned her off. She dropped her hand to her side.
Wade had never wanted her sympathy, never even allowed her close—except for that night at the river. But if the boy had been adept at hiding emotions, this man had become an expert.
“I’ll need you to sign the register,” she said, taking refuge in a safer topic. She crossed the foyer to the hutch, opened a drawer and pulled out a clipboard and pen. “You can pay by the night or the week, which is a little cheaper. Breakfast is included with the room, but you can have full board if you want, although truthfully, lunch is just leftovers or sandwiches since I’m gone during the day.”
When he strode toward her, she noticed his limp. No surprise there. Anyone who made a living jumping out of airplanes was bound to get injured. And Wade always had taken more risks than most.
He reached for the clipboard and she saw scars on his hands. “The rates are at the bottom,” she said as he scanned it. “But you get a ten percent discount since you’re a friend.”
“I don’t care about the cost.” He scribbled his name on the paper and handed it back.
“Fine.” She set the clipboard back in the drawer. “The kitchen is just down the hall.” Of course, he would remember that. “We’re eating now. If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to join us.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather sleep.”
She nodded and started up the curving staircase. “Well, if you get hungry later, help yourself to any leftovers you find in the fridge. You can heat them up in the microwave. My grandmother sleeps in the room off the kitchen, but she doesn’t hear well anymore, so don’t worry about bothering her. I’m up here, just down the hall from you.”
She glanced back to make sure he was following. Despite the limp, he climbed the stairs quickly and she was struck again by his strength. She’d never quite believed Norm’s renditions of Wade’s smokejumping escapades—lugging a hundred-pound pack over steep mountains, carrying an injured buddy to safety. But judging by the width of those shoulders, she fully believed Norm now.
At the landing she crossed to the master bedroom, then waited inside for him to catch up. She’d always loved this room with its original, random-width flooring, the gorgeous fireplace mantel and bay windows overlooking the river.
But Wade wasn’t here to admire the scenery.
He dropped his bag on the braided rug, pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it on the bed. Her gaze traveled from his heavily corded arms to his flat stomach, up his wide, muscled chest to his face. When he pinched the space between his eyebrows, her heart rolled. The man was clearly exhausted.
“The bathroom’s straight through there.” She pointed past the armoire. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
When he didn’t answer, she turned to leave. She grabbed the door to close it behind her, hesitated and glanced back. “I might not be here when you get up in the morning, so help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen. The coffee should be on. I usually leave the front door unlocked since Lottie’s here with Grandma, but I’ll set an extra key for you on the hutch.”
She shut the door behind her and walked to the stairs, then stopped and clutched the railing. Her pulse heaved in her ears. Her knees trembled and threatened to buckle. Oh, Lord. As a teen, she’d adored Wade Winslow—his wild and reckless ways, his raw masculinity, the tough attitude that hid his soft heart. But this man…
She sucked in a reedy breath. The adult Wade Winslow rattled her completely.
And she had to be brutally honest. No matter how many years had passed, he still affected her. Always had and probably always would. But the grown man didn’t want her sympathy or love any more than the boy had. Maybe less.
Sighing deeply, she headed down the stairs. Wade had built barriers around his heart, all right, formidable ones that she’d never breach. Not that it mattered. Once Norm died, he’d leave, the same as he did before. Only this time, he’d never return.
Wade braced his hands on the shower wall and angled his head so the hot water pummeled his shoulders. He groaned as the heat seeped into his muscles and eased the stiffness and pain. After twelve hours of sleep and a shower, he felt almost human.
Not that feeling tired was new. Despite napping every chance he got—on the jump plane en route to a fire, on a folding chair in the ready-room, or even in a patch of shade on the tarmac—he lived with chronic exhaustion. And filth. Fighting wildfires was dirty work. He routinely spent days digging fire lines, falling snags with his chain saw and sifting through ashes for hot spots, all in the same, sweat-drenched clothes.
But as good as this shower felt, he didn’t have time to linger. Snapping off the water, he toweled off and pulled on a T-shirt and jeans. Then he tossed the quilt over the rumpled sheets on the bed and quickly jerked on his jacket. Max would have called if anything had happened to Norm, but he couldn’t afford to waste time.
The hot water had worked the stiffness from his knee, so he tramped easily down the wide, winding staircase and through the back hall to the kitchen. He wondered if Erin was still around. That had been a shock last night, finding her in the doorway.
She’d looked more fragile than he remembered, thinner, but still beautiful with that thick, auburn hair piled carelessly on her head. He’d seen that same, deep red in crown fires over the years. The color never failed to mesmerize him, reminding him of Erin’s long, gleaming hair streaming over her naked breasts in the moonlight.
He never understood why she’d come to him that night. It still seemed like his wildest dream. She hadn’t hung out with that crowd, shouldn’t even have been at that party. And when she’d kissed him, touched him, begging him to make love to her, she’d shocked him out of his mind.
He should have walked away. A decent man would have done that. But he’d ached for her, hungered for her for so damn long that he couldn’t deny himself—or her, when she’d whispered his name. He’d never had the heart to turn down Erin.
But no matter how incredible that night had been, Erin wasn’t his business now. He’d only come back to help Norm—which he intended to do as soon as he grabbed some coffee.
He entered the large, farm-style kitchen. Long counters flanked a deep sink topped with tall windows. Mrs. McCuen and another woman he vaguely recognized sat at a table drinking coffee. When he didn’t see Erin, he hitched out his breath.
“Hello, Wade.” The woman with the wispy gray hair smiled. “I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Lottie Brashears. I was the school nurse for a while.”
“Sure, I remember.” He nodded to Erin’s grandmother, a tiny woman with white hair piled on her head. “Mrs. McCuen.”
Mrs. McCuen frowned. “Are you from the bank?”
“The bank? No.”
“You remember Wade, don’t you?” Lottie asked her. “Norm Decker’s boy. He went to school with Erin.”
Mrs. McCuen’s expression eased. “Oh, yes, Erin’s friend.”
Friend. Right. The friend who took her virginity and then fled town. But he’d been right to leave. Erin deserved someone better than him. Someone respectable, stable, who’d keep her happy and safe.
He shifted his gaze to the counter. “Mind if I have some coffee?”
“Go right ahead,” Lottie said. “The cups are above the machine. Help yourself to the doughnuts, too. Or there’s cereal, if you’d rather have that.”
“This is great, thanks.” He filled a mug with black coffee, stacked three glazed doughnuts on a napkin, and headed to the table. He hooked a chair with his foot, pulled it out and sat.
“I’ll bet Norm’s glad you’re back,” Lottie said. “He always hoped you’d settle down here.”
A bite of doughnut stuck in Wade’s throat and he washed it down with coffee. “I’m not staying long,” he said when he’d swallowed. “I’m just here to see Norm.”
“Oh, I see,” Lottie said as if she really didn’t. He frowned. He didn’t owe anyone in this town explanations. Besides, he had a great life out west, making good money at a job he loved.
“Well, anyway, it’s nice of you to visit,” she said. “Norm’s a good friend. He really helped Mae after the accident.”
Wade glanced at Mrs. McCuen. Her hand trembled, slopping coffee over the cup. “Erin mentioned an accident last night.”
Lottie settled Mae’s cup on the saucer and blotted the spill with a napkin. “Mae hit a patch of ice last winter at the intersection with the highway and broadsided a truck. It was touch and go for a while, but she’s come through all right.” She smiled and patted Mae’s hand.
“A nuisance,” Mrs. McCuen said.
“You’re no such thing,” Lottie countered. She looked at Wade to explain. “I keep Mae company while Erin works. She needs a little help getting around.”
Wade’s gaze settled on Erin’s grandmother. A little help? The woman could barely drink her coffee unassisted.
He drained his own cup and rose for a refill. “So Erin teaches now?”
“History at St. Michaels Academy.”
That fit. He could see her in front of a classroom exalting the virtues of historic Millstown, though not in a private school. She’d never been a snob, despite her family’s background. Hell, she’d even been nice to him.
He snagged another doughnut and gazed out the window over the sink. Downed tree limbs poked through the ragged lawn. He thought of the sagging front porch and unease built in his gut.
“Erin’s a good teacher,” Mrs. McCuen said carefully.
“You bet she is,” Lottie agreed. “They’re darned lucky to have her. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard.”
An image of Erin rose in Wade’s mind, her green eyes lined with shadows. He slugged back his coffee and frowned. He didn’t want to think of Erin suffering. He wanted her insulated from the rough side of life—just the way he’d left her.
“My fault,” Mrs. McCuen whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” Lottie scolded. “Accidents happen. Don’t even think of blaming yourself. Besides, Wade’s here to help us now.”
“What?” He turned.
“Oh, I didn’t mean you had to do anything. Erin would never want that. But now that you’re renting that room, she can hire out some of those chores.”
Erin needed money to fix the house? Is that why Norm sent him here? Oh, hell. “I’m not staying long. A week, maybe two. It all depends on Norm.”
“Oh, I’m sure Erin realizes that.”
“I work in Montana now.”
“Yes, Norm told us about your adventures. You’re quite the hero around here.” Lottie rose to clear the table.
Hero? He mentally scoffed. He did his job like any smokejumper. And that’s exactly what he was, a smokejumper. They couldn’t seriously expect him to stay.
Not even to help Erin? The churning in his stomach grew.
He put his cup in the sink. “Look, let’s get this straight. I don’t know what Norm told you, but I’m not moving back to Millstown. I’m not even staying here long. Now, thanks for the coffee, but I’ve got to go.”
“Say hi to Norm for us,” Lottie called as he left the kitchen.
His agitation mounting, he strode to the front of the house. Once outside, he paused on the porch to zip his jacket. Bushes sprawled over the railing. Peeling paint glistened in the frosty air. He looked at the rutted driveway and the sick feeling blew into panic.
He wasn’t staying in Millstown. He couldn’t! Damn Norm anyway. Exactly what was he trying to do?
He stomped down the steps, determined to find that out.
Chapter Three
“So, if you just rewrite the conclusion, you’ll be set.” Erin glanced at her watch and exhaled. “That’s it. And don’t forget to study the flashcards. You’ll need to know those dates for the test.” She gathered the scattered papers and notecards and passed them to the student seated across the kitchen table.
“Thanks, Ms. McCuen.” Morgan Butler scooped up the stack of papers and smiled, her braces glinting in the overhead light.
Erin rose and glanced out the dark kitchen window, then forced her gaze away. She had to stop watching for Wade. So what if he hadn’t returned by dinner—or several hours after? He didn’t have to apprise her of every move. But according to Lottie, Norm’s condition had worsened that morning, and she couldn’t help but worry.
She followed Morgan down the hall to the foyer where the girl put on her coat. As she waited, she caught the distant pulse of a Harley. Her heart paused, then thrummed with expectation. Wade was back. She hoped that meant good news.
The throaty vibrations grew louder. She turned and pressed her forehead to the window. A moment later Wade’s headlight flashed and bobbed up the drive.
“Are you tutoring somebody else tonight?” Morgan asked.
“No, it’s just my renter.” The teen picked up her papers from the hutch and joined her at the window. The bike passed the porch and the engine abruptly cut off.
Suddenly in a rush to dispatch Morgan, she hurried the girl out the door. “See you tomorrow,” she called as Morgan descended the steps. “And drive carefully.”
Wade stomped up the porch seconds later. She moved back to let him inside and closed the door against the chill.
He paused under the chandelier and her gaze flew to his eyes. His bloodshot eyes. Down to the stark lines bracketing his mouth and the haggard cast to his features.
Her stomach swooped. “Oh, no. Did Norm—?”
“Yeah.” He turned and limped to the stairs. He climbed slowly, stiffly, his boots heavy on the creaking steps. At the landing, he crossed to the bedroom and slammed the door.
A deep ache lodged in her chest. Dear Norm. He’d been the nicest man. He’d adopted a boy no one had wanted. He’d used his savings to pay her grandmother’s bills. He’d dedicated his life to helping their tiny town. Why did someone that kind have to die?
Her eyes burned, but she willed back the hot rush of tears. Her grandmother had gone to bed early, so she’d tell her the news in the morning. But she should call Lottie—and Max to see if he needed help. And bake a coffee cake for the neighbors who’d gather at the duplex tomorrow.
But more importantly, she had to help Wade. Her gaze traveled up the stairs. Norm meant everything to him. How on earth would he cope?
She walked across the foyer to the staircase, then paused with her hand on the newel post. Wade hadn’t asked for her sympathy. He hadn’t even lingered to talk. He’d gone straight to his room and shut the door, isolating himself, just as he had as a kid.
Maybe she should give him some space. He obviously wanted his privacy, and he really was none of her business. But how could she leave him alone at a time like this?
And that was exactly how he’d feel right now—alone. He’d just lost his entire family. The one person in the world who cared.
Or so he thought. She cared, and always had. Enough to go to him now, even if he only rebuffed her.
Her feet heavy, she climbed the stairs. He didn’t answer her knock, which didn’t really surprise her. She tapped again, waited, then cautiously inched open the door. “Wade?”
Light spilled from the hallway into the darkened room. He stood with his arms crossed, facing the window, staring out at the night. He looked vulnerable standing there alone. Lonely. Desolation wedged hard in her throat.
He didn’t glance at her as she crossed the room or when she placed her hand on his arm. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence. But neither did he pull away.
Relieved, she hitched out her breath, then stood beside him in the darkness. She inhaled the scent of his leather jacket, along with a faint trace of whiskey. Her heart twisted. How typical of Wade to exile himself to a bar and deal with his pain alone. He never did believe anyone cared.
But Norm had cared, and Wade needed to remember that. “You know he thought of you as his son,” she said.
He tensed, but she kept her hand on his arm. “He saved every letter you wrote. He read them to us all the time—at the café, the grocery store, whenever we stopped by the house… We heard about your years on the hotshot crews, your rookie training. And when you made smokejumper, I’d never seen anyone so proud.”
She smiled at the memory. “He carried around a photo of you in your jump gear. He showed it to us dozens of times. It got so worn out you could hardly tell who it was anymore, but his face still lit up when he pulled it out.”
She heard him suck in his breath, felt his arm tremble beneath her palm. Tears thickened her throat, but she forced herself to go on. “We heard about every jump you ever made. And we’re experts on smokejumping now, thanks to Norm. You could give us a quiz—sticks and stobs, speed racks, streamers. He hardly talked about anything else.
“And that video you sent him…he watched it over and over…” Her voice broke on a sob. “He loved you so much, Wade, and he was so proud of how you turned out. You need to remember that.”
Wade covered his eyes with his hand. And suddenly she couldn’t bear it. Her own eyes burning, she stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Unable to speak, she pressed her cheek to his back and held tight.
He stood stiffly as she hugged him and she thought he might jerk away. But after several tense seconds, he eased back and she shut her eyes in relief.
She wasn’t offering him much, just human touch and kindness. But then, she never had given him what he needed. She’d tried, Lord, how she’d tried, but he’d always pushed her away.
Except that night at the river, when he’d finally lowered his guard. The time he’d shared his heart, along with his body. But afterward, he’d built up his walls again and pretended it had only been sex. But it had been love—deep, soul-baring love, at least for her. And she would have sworn he’d felt the same.
The minutes stretched in thick silence. Then, without warning, she felt the muscles of his back flex and his tension rise again.
“He had a damn DNR in place,” he said suddenly, his deep voice rough with anger. “An order not to resuscitate. Hell. I had to sit there and let him die.”
She tightened her grip, sensing the horror, the pain he’d endured. Wade lived in constant action—flinging himself into the slipstream, leaping into forests to battle fires. Sitting by helplessly while Norm died would have driven him out of his mind.
But Norm had made that decision and there’d been nothing Wade could do. “He’d been in a lot of pain,” she said. “He probably felt it was time to go.”
Wade retreated into silence. Minutes lengthened, along with the shadows in the room. Finally she heard him exhale. He understood, but needed time to process the grief.
And she’d done all she could. She eased her hold and stepped back. He turned to face her and she saw the despair in his eyes.
Sorrow clawed at her chest. She wanted so badly to take care of this man, to erase the grief from his heart. She’d give anything to have that right.
But she didn’t. She was just an old friend. She stepped even farther away. “Are you hungry?”
“No.” His voice was gruff and threaded with sadness. “But thanks.”
He peeled off his jacket and tossed it on the wing chair near the dresser, then sat on the bed and removed his boots. When he dropped back on the bedspread and threw his arm over his eyes, she knew she ought to go.
But she couldn’t bear to leave him yet. Her chest full, she picked up the lap quilt from the wing chair and spread it over his legs. Then she perched beside him on the bed and cradled his free hand in hers.
What more could she say? What could ease the pain of losing a father? She shook her head, knowing it was futile to try.
So she just sat there and held his hand until his breathing deepened and slowed. Until his grip slackened and she knew he slept in the darkness. She stroked the scars along the back of his hand, the calluses on his palm, felt the strength and power in his fingers.
And remembered other stories Norm had told her, of the terrible risks Wade had taken. How he’d jumped the most volatile fires and worked in the steepest terrain. Because he believed he was expendable. That no one would miss him if he died. That no one cared.
But he’d been wrong.
His arm fell back against the pillow and she gazed at his hard, shadowed face. Her chest tightened and swelled with longing. She’d loved this man her entire life. He’d been everything to her, from a childhood hero and teenage crush, to the man she’d yearned to marry.
She’d given him her virginity, along with her heart. She would have given anything if he’d loved her back, if they could have spent their lives together.
But he hadn’t, and she’d shelved those hopes long ago.
But not the memories.
Her gaze traced a path down the rugged planes of his face, and she dragged in a shaky breath. Maybe it was the moonlight, the way the smoky beams cast shadows over his face. Or maybe she was simply too drained, too weary to fend off the emotions tonight. But she couldn’t stop the images from flooding back, the wild need swamping her heart.
It had been hot, so hot, and the soft rush of the river, the languid buzz of insects permeated the night. She’d stood beside him on the wooded towpath, gazing out at the swirling water, far from the party downstream. The sultry heat slugged through her blood. Moisture beaded her skin.
And an awful weight pressed on her chest, blocking out everything except that one thought. That he was leaving in the morning. That she might never see him again.
That she only had this one chance, this last night, to do what she’d always dreamed.
She’d turned to him then. The moonlight teased the angles of his masculine face, shrouding his dark eyes in shadow. She dragged at the sweltering air. The buzz of the insects grew louder.
And she moved deliberately closer.
He stilled and his dark gaze locked on hers. Neither spoke. The damp woods rustled around them. Tension pulsed through the air.
She knew she was crossing a line, an unspoken boundary between them, but she’d wanted him, fantasized about him for so long. And sometimes, when those whiskey-brown eyes seared hers, she’d suspected he wanted her, too. But he’d always kept his distance and she’d never had the nerve.
Until now.
Now she had this one night to make those fantasies come true.
Hardly breathing, she reached up and ran her hand across his bristled jaw. His rough skin burned beneath her palm; the erotic texture thrilled her.
But he grabbed her wrist and blocked her. “Erin,” he warned, his deep voice flat.
She nearly lost her nerve then, and she flushed. But the heat in his eyes gave her courage. She sensed that he wanted this, wanted her, but wouldn’t let himself touch her. That somehow, in his need to protect her, he’d placed her firmly off limits.
Her heart stuttering hard against her rib cage, she shook off his hand and inched closer. Much closer, until her breasts skimmed his chest and his ragged breath heated her face.
“Wade,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”
His jaw turned rigid. His fierce gaze burned into hers.
“Please,” she whispered again, her urgency rising. She couldn’t bear it if he turned away.
“Erin…” His voice sounded strangled, tortured.
“Just a kiss. Just…” His gaze scorched her lips. Cicadas screamed in the air.
Then he lifted his hands and her breath stalled. And he blazed a trail along her jaw, stroking her neck, her throat with his thumbs, sending ripples of excitement splintering through her.
The air around them stilled. Her pulse ran wild in her throat. And then he tugged up her chin and angled his head, and moved his mouth over hers. Slowly, tenderly. As if she were something fragile, something precious.
As if he loved her.
Her lungs seized up. Her eyes fluttered closed and her heart refused to beat.
But then he probed the seam of her mouth with his tongue and she parted her lips on a gasp. And his tongue swept through her mouth, bold and sure, and insistent, until shivers blazed over her skin and hot blood pooled in her veins.
He widened his stance and pulled her against his arousal. The sensation shocked her. Excited her. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest.
And then he groaned and tightened his arms, and seemed to lose all control, devouring her in a deep, carnal kiss that blasted away every thought. Jolting her, flaying her, reeling her in deeper and harder. Until a fever of need scorched her nerves and her body quivered with pleasure.
She moaned against his mouth, feeling dazed, drugged, obsessed. She craved his big, rough hands on her skin. His hard body fused with hers.
But he pushed her head to his neck and clamped her tightly against him. Her heart thundered inside her chest. His breath rasped loud in her ear.
“Wade, make love to me,” she whimpered.
“No, Erin.” His voice was jagged, hoarse. “Don’t do this.”
“Please.” Desperate, she pressed herself against him. She’d die if he left her now.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He was trembling, sucking in air, as if he’d run ten miles.
“Yes, I do. I want you.”
She pulled her head from his grasp. His eyes were stark. Emotions warred in his face. Resistance. Frustration. Hunger.
“Wade, please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking.
“I’ll hurt you. Don’t you understand? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. You can’t.” She burned for him, ached for him to fill that void inside her. “I need you.”
He tipped back his head and shuddered. He made a deep, rough sound in his throat.
And then he hauled her against him and crushed his mouth over hers, ravaging her, scalding her, until need overcame thought. Until their senses burned and their bodies merged, and she knew what it meant to love.
It had been exquisite, the most thrilling night of her life. A perfect moment in time.
But reality returned with the dawn and he’d closed down that glimpse of his heart. And she’d realized that it hadn’t been enough, that she couldn’t convince him to stay. And she’d stood there alone on her porch, her heart shattering, her entire world collapsing, as the Harley’s rumble receded and the man she loved rode away.
Her deep sigh cut through the night. And now he was back in her life. Not by choice, of course. And nothing had really changed. He didn’t want a relationship. And he certainly didn’t want her love. All she could offer was friendship, for however long he stayed—which wouldn’t be long now that Norm had died.
She sighed again, heavier this time. She didn’t envy him the days ahead. Attending the funeral. Settling the estate. Dispensing with Norm’s belongings.
Then another thought occurred to her and a dull dread crept through her heart. With Norm gone, she had to repay the loan. Norm had never pressed her for payments, but now she didn’t have a choice.
But where could she get the money? She’d already taken out one bank loan and she had nowhere else to turn.
She also had to tell Wade. He would probably inherit Norm’s estate, so she’d owe him the money now.
She frowned at that complication. Wade had enough to contend with without burdening him with her problems. But she could hardly avoid telling him. She’d do it the first chance she had.
Uneasy now, she gently released his hand. She tucked the quilt around his legs, then rose, hoping in sleep he’d find the peace he deserved. A peace that would elude her until she found a way to repay Norm’s loan.
Chapter Four
Cars and trucks lined Norm’s street when Wade pulled up the next morning. He took one glance at the throng of vehicles and nearly kept on going.
But he’d already ridden for hours and it hadn’t done any good. After a miserable, restless night, he’d dragged himself out of bed, jumped on his Harley, and hurtled down the country roads—just opened the throttle and unleashed the V-Rod’s raw power. But the grief still clamped down on him, crushing him, like a huge vise squeezing his chest.
And the last thing he wanted to do right now was to deal with people. He didn’t want condolences and he sure as hell didn’t want pity. But he couldn’t leave town yet. He’d promised Norm he’d stay and he would, until they buried him in the ground.
A sharp ache knifed through his chest, but he sucked in a ragged breath. Then, before he could change his mind, he parked the bike, strode up the short cement walkway and pushed open the door to the kitchen.
As he’d expected, the house overflowed with neighbors. Max waved from across the kitchen to get his attention, and worked his way to him through the crowd.
“Wade, thank God you’re here.” Max clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Ed from the funeral parlor called. You need to call him back.”
Wade spotted the coffee machine on the counter, flanked by cakes and rolls. “Why does he want to talk to me?”
“He needs to know what you decided about the funeral.”
“What do you mean, what I decided? Why couldn’t you handle that?” He moved to the counter, tugged a foam cup off the stack and poured himself some coffee.
“Because you’re next of kin. And I wasn’t sure if you’d want a viewing or just the service.”
Viewing? Service? What the hell did he care? He wanted to bury Norm and leave town.
“They’ll send the obituary to the newspaper, too,” Max added. “As soon as you confirm the details. Norm left everything you’d need with the will.”
“Everything I’d need for what? What are you talking about?”
Max scratched his head. “You didn’t know? Norm told me it was all set.”
He slugged back the coffee, then narrowed his eyes at Max. “Exactly what am I supposed to know?”
“That you’re executor of the will.”
“Executor? You’re kidding.” How could he do that? Didn’t an executor have to file papers? Pay taxes? Jump through hoops of red tape? “I don’t even live here anymore.”
Max shrugged. “It shouldn’t take long. A few months maybe.”
“A few months!”
“Maybe longer. They can tell you at the courthouse.”
He stared at Max. He couldn’t stay here for months; he could barely tolerate days. And Norm knew that. So why had he saddled him with this job?
Because he knew Wade wouldn’t turn him down—which meant he’d wanted him to stay. But why?
He scowled. Norm had never asked him to live in Millstown, never even brought that subject up. Besides, what would Wade do in Millstown with Norm gone?
An image of Erin’s sagging porch came to mind. Hell. Was that what this was about?
Anger flared, then slammed through his gut. Did Erin know about this arrangement? Had she schemed with Norm behind his back? Just what the hell was she up to?
He thought of her sweet body pressed to his back, her gentle voice in the dark, and his fury abruptly deflated. No, Erin hadn’t done this. She would never manipulate him that way. Norm had hatched this plot alone.
But that still didn’t mean that he liked it.
The phone trilled across the noisy room. “Hey, Wade,” someone called a moment later. “It’s Ed from the funeral home again.”
Still seething, he dumped his remaining coffee in the sink and slammed the cup in the trash. He’d deal with the funeral parlor. And the paper. And the courthouse, and anything else that he had to.
He’d been boned from the bottom. He didn’t have a choice.
But damned if he would stay in Millstown one minute longer than it took to settle that will. Not one second longer. No matter what Norm had in mind.
Early that evening, with both his knee and skull now hammering, Wade returned to Mills Ferry. He hauled himself up the stairs, intending to gulp down some painkillers and crash into bed.
“Do you have a minute, Wade?”
He stopped partway up the stairs and looked down. Erin stood in the foyer, her red hair shimmering in the light. She clasped her hands together. “I need to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” He trudged back down the stairs. She probably wanted to talk about Norm. He hoped she cut it short. He didn’t want to chat after making funeral arrangements all day.
“Grandma’s watching TV in the parlor, so why don’t we talk in the kitchen?”
“Fine.” He glanced into the small front room as he passed. The older woman sat in an armchair, wrapped in a colorful quilt.
He limped behind Erin toward the kitchen. Despite the pain ramming his skull, he appreciated the view. Her tight, faded jeans hugged her lushly curved bottom and highlighted the flare of her hips.
Then she leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, and his gaze lodged on her breasts, just as it always had in high school. The corner of his mouth kicked up. She’d driven him crazy back then. He’d spent years in a haze of lust, imagining how she’d look and feel naked.
But no fantasy had matched the reality of Erin. The taste of her delicate skin. The satiny feel of her breasts. And when he’d been inside her…
He shifted, swallowed hard. “Dinner smells good.”
She flashed a nervous smile. “I made chicken enchiladas. I hope you like Mexican food.”
“I like anything I can eat.”
“It’s nothing fancy. I’m not that great a cook.”
Why did she need to apologize? “Believe me, I’m not picky. I’m a smokejumper, remember?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Constant hunger. Even ratted C-rations look good after a few days working a fire.” He tugged the waistband of his jeans, which had ridden low on his hips. “You can’t eat enough to keep the weight on. That’s why my jeans are so loose.”
Her gaze skimmed down his chest to his waist. And then lower. Her cheeks flushed and hot desire lashed his groin.
Thrown off guard, he pulled out a chair and sat. The abrupt movement jolted his knee but he welcomed the distraction. “So what did you want to talk about?”
Her forehead furrowed. “There’s something you need to know. Norm lent me some money a while back. Quite a bit, actually. Ten thousand dollars.
“Grandma’s accident generated a lot of bills,” she continued. “Medicare covered most of them, but she doesn’t have a supplement, so the extras added up. The drugs alone cost a fortune. And then there’s this house.” She sighed. “I love it, but it’s an absolute money pit. Everything’s breaking and rotting away. And then the roof started leaking and I had to have it repaired. It really needs to be replaced, but—”
“Erin, why are you telling me this?”
She sighed, more heavily this time. “Because I can’t pay it back. Not yet, anyway. I will, but I—”
“Forget it.”
“What?”
“I said forget it. Norm’s dead. He doesn’t need the money.”
“But—”
“Look, I read the will today and he left almost everything to me. And I don’t want the money.” Or the delay collecting the debt would cause. He stood.
“Wade, did you hear me? I said I owe you ten thousand dollars.”
“And I said I don’t need it.”
“But everybody needs—”
“Listen. I make good money at what I do, and I rake in the overtime pay.” He shrugged. “And I don’t have many expenses. Maybe I’m not rich by some standards, but I’m sure as hell not poor.”
She shook her head. “Even if I wanted to let you forget it—and I certainly don’t—you might not have a choice. I don’t know much about settling estates, but I don’t think you can just write off a debt like that.”
“So I’ll take the money out of my account and put it into Norm’s. What difference does it make?”
“It makes a difference to me.”
“Erin, Norm gave the money to you.”
“He lent the money to me. There’s a difference.”
“Well, I don’t want the money, so just forget it.” He started toward the door.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She stalked into his path and put out her hand to block him. “Stop right there! Just stop! You are not going to do this. I absolutely won’t let you.”
He frowned down at her. “Not do what?”
“Riding in here like some knight in shining armor, throwing your money around to solve my problems, and then bolting away again.”
Her green eyes blazed at him. She was actually angry. Because he didn’t want her money? Or because he was going to leave?
Dread spiraled through his gut. “This is about that night at the river, isn’t it?”
“What?” she gasped.
“You’re mad because I left.”
“I am not!”
He plunged his hand through his hair. “Erin, I couldn’t stay in Millstown.”
“And I never asked you to.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I knew all along you were leaving. You’d talked about it for months. So don’t you dare put that guilt on yourself. Don’t you dare! I knew exactly what I was doing.”
She sure did. She’d excited him out of his mind and he’d fantasized about it ever since.
Color rode high on her cheeks. “I was the one who suggested it, if you recall. And I got what I wanted.”
“What? A night of sex?”
“That’s right.”
His own temper flared. It had been a hell of a lot more than that and she knew it.
And it had scared him to death.
He stilled. Is that why he’d rushed off? Because he couldn’t deal with his feelings for Erin? Or had he been protecting her from himself, as he’d convinced himself all these years?
He’d been a rough, scrappy kid from the trailer trash side of town, not the kind of man she should marry. He’d had no skills, no way to earn a living. Of course he’d been right to leave.
The telephone rang in the tense silence. A second later it rang again. He motioned toward it with his hand. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
“The machine can pick it up.”
The phone rang again and the answering machine beeped on. “Erin, this is Mike,” the machine recorded. “I wanted to know if you’d like to go to the symphony tomorrow night. I’ve got the bank’s box, if you’re interested. I thought we could have dinner first, maybe around seven?”
Erin lifted a shoulder, her face still flushed. “Mike Kell,” she explained. “He teaches with me at St. Michaels.”
Mike Kell. Sure, he remembered. Class president and valedictorian. His father owned the bank. Wade’s jaw clenched.
“…so give me a call when you get in,” Mike finished. The machine clicked off, paused, then whirred as it rewound.
“I take it you’re dating?”
“Not really.”
He scowled. “Dinner and the symphony sounds like a date to me.”
“We’re just friends.”
But Mike wanted it to be more, he guessed. And Mike was exactly the type Erin belonged with. Classy, educated. Irritation surged in his gut.
His gaze settled on the shadows under her eyes, the fatigue lining her face, and his temper rose. So why wasn’t Mike taking care of her? He wouldn’t let her suffer if she belonged to him—teaching rowdy kids all day, slaving over her grandmother at night, scraping by on borrowed money while her house rotted apart. Why didn’t Mike grab a chain saw and cut up those limbs in the yard or pick up a hammer and fix the porch?
Erin’s gaze caught his. “Look, I’m going to pay back the money. I just need time to organize things, that’s all.”
“And I said I don’t want it.”
Her chin came up. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m still going to pay it back. This isn’t your problem.”
“Norm made it my problem.”
She crossed her arms, her pride apparent in the tilt of her head. But another emotion flitted through her eyes. Worry. Anxiety. And suddenly she looked vulnerable, lost, like that abandoned kid she’d once been.
The kid with rejection haunting her eyes from a mother who didn’t want her. The kid who’d flashed him that sweet, shy smile, despite his bad reputation. The one who had accepted him.
A hard fist twisted his heart. He didn’t mean to trample her pride, and he sure didn’t want to hurt her. He never could stand to wound Erin.
But she obviously couldn’t solve this alone. Even if she paid off the loan, the house still needed attention. And who knew what other debts she had, or what she’d do in the future?
Which meant he had to get involved, whether she liked it or not. She had no one else to help her.
“You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?” he asked slowly. “While I’m going through Norm’s things, I mean.”
“Of course not. You can stay as long as you want.”
“Good.” That would give him time to fix the house and solve the rest of her problems. He turned and strode toward the door.
“Wade.”
He paused and turned back. Her green eyes narrowed on his. “I’m serious. I said I don’t want a savior.”
But she sure as hell needed one. And it appeared it was going to be him.
Chapter Five
The early morning sunlight filtered through the third-story window, casting weak, dust-laden rays across the room. Wade clicked on his flashlight and aimed the beam at the sagging ceiling. Pooling water had stained and damaged the plaster and buckled the wood floor beneath.
Disgusted, he turned off the flashlight and crossed to the deep-set window. The old bubbled glass was still intact, but the wooden sill had rotted, letting cold wind whistle through. He shook his head. No wonder the house was freezing. Every window in the whole damned place leaked.
He propped the flashlight on the sill, tugged his notepad from his back pocket and added to his growing list. The house was in far worse shape than he’d expected. Chimneys had cracked. The exterior stone needed repointing. The foundation had settled, causing the ground floor to warp.
And the interior was even worse. He could paint, plaster, sand and refinish every day for the rest of his life and never run out of work. And he hadn’t even looked at the heating or plumbing.
He braced his hand on the window frame and scowled out at a sprawling oak tree. So much for repairing Erin’s house while he settled Norm’s estate. No way could he finish these jobs in the short time he’d be here.
So what could he do? Erin couldn’t afford to hire out the work, and she would refuse to let him pay. But he couldn’t leave Millstown with her house in this condition.
He straightened. There was only one solution and Erin wasn’t going to like it. She had to sell Mills Ferry.
“So here you are,” she said from behind him. “I wondered where you’d run off to. Max called to see if you have time to sort through some boxes.”
He turned as she crossed the room. His gaze swept her high, full breasts, down the length of her shapely thighs, then jerked back up to her eyes. Her gentle, knowing eyes.
His heart rolled in his chest. She had the damnedest effect on him, making him want to ravish and protect her.
She stopped beside him. “So what are you doing up here, anyway?”
He eyed the fiery hair smoldering in the soft morning light, the familiar set to her jaw, and knew that she would resist this. “I thought I’d check out the house, see about fixing some things while I’m here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Wade, I told you—”
“Yeah, I know. That you don’t need my help. But I’ll be bored just sitting around filing papers. Besides, I’m good with my hands.”
Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. The memory slammed into him again, that vision of his hands sliding over her bare, ripe breasts, her naked skin shimmering pale in the moonlight.
He forced himself to breathe. “I just want to help, okay?”
She looked back at him and a frown creased her forehead, her practicality warring with pride. After a moment she sighed. “Fine. Feel free to hammer away. Lord knows the place needs work.”
Did she have any idea how much? He rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to repair her beloved house and make her happy, but as every smokejumper knew, you couldn’t catch every fire. Sometimes you just had to let one burn. And it wasn’t practical to fix Mills Ferry.
“It needs more work than I expected,” he admitted. “And it’s going to be expensive. Have you considered selling the place?”
“Selling it?” Her soft mouth sagged. “Oh, I could never do that. It’s been in my family for ten generations. It was on the Underground Railroad, you know.”
“And it was a hospital in the Civil War, and there are bloodstains on the floors to prove it. You gave me that tour in fourth grade.”
The edges of her lips curled up. “That day was the highlight of my life until then. I couldn’t believe everyone wanted to see my house. It was the first time I felt important.”
“Yeah.” It had been the highlight of his life, too. The two motherless kids had forged a bond that day that had endured for years.
Of course, Erin had a mother back then; she’d just cared more about her jet-setting lifestyle than making a home for her daughter. She’d dumped Erin off in Millstown so she could flit around the globe.
Erin leaned against the wall. “I was stunned when my mom dropped me off here. After all those years of traipsing around the world, getting pawned off on strangers, I suddenly had a home, a history, a place where I really belonged.”
Her eyes met his. “I’d feel like a failure if I had to sell. My family’s kept this house through all sorts of disasters—the Civil War, the Depression… I’d feel awful if I lost it now. Besides, I love this house. I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
The place had character, all right. It had fascinated him as a kid—the slave quarters under the house, the ruined mill along the river, the bunkers from the Civil War…
But it was the turret off the third floor that really fired his imagination. He still remembered when Erin had grabbed his hand and led him to the top. He didn’t know which had impressed him more: the fairy-tale house or the princess who’d chosen him for her friend.
“It’s a great house,” he agreed. “But it needs a lot of work.”
“I know the roof still leaks.”
“The roof is just the start. We’re talking major repairs here. Foundation joists. Sagging floors.”
“Is it really that bad?” Her exquisite green eyes searched his.
He handed her the list he’d compiled.
Her forehead creased as she studied it, then she turned her gaze to the window. After a moment her shoulders slumped.
She looked defeated suddenly, vulnerable, and he wished that he could protect her. He wanted to kiss the worry from her wrinkled brow and shelter her from the harsh side of life. But this was her house and she had to know the truth.
His gaze roamed the smattering of freckles across her nose and the soft, lush curve of her lips. Then she shivered in the unheated air, and his gaze dropped to her breasts.
His body instantly hardened, which came as no surprise. He’d responded to Erin for years. And not just physically. Even when they were kids, he couldn’t resist her. He’d do anything to make her happy.
He’d sure as hell tried. He’d given her the night she’d wanted, then left so she could find the man she deserved.
She handed him back the list with a sigh. “It looks like a mess, all right, but I’ll figure something out.”
“What’s there to figure out? You have to sell.”
“And I told you I can’t do that.”
He jammed the notepad into his back pocket. “I know you don’t want to, but—”
“I can’t. So let’s just drop it, okay?”
“Drop what? Erin, you have to face facts. This place is falling apart.”
“And I said I don’t care.”
“But—”
“I’m not keeping it just for my sake. Oh, I love this place, and it’ll kill me to let it go. But I can’t sell now, not while Grandma’s alive. I owe her everything for taking me in. And I could never put her out of her house.”
He tried for a reasonable tone. “I’m not saying you should dump her on the street. But you could buy a condo, or maybe put her in a nursing home. It would be cheaper than maintaining this place.”
She shook her head. “I tried that. Well, not a nursing home exactly, but a day-care place for the elderly. It was after she got out of the hospital and I had to go back to work.
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