Читать книгу Where He Belongs - Gail Barrett - Страница 9

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.