Читать книгу The Wedding Arbor - Valerie Hansen - Страница 9

“Watching history on television does not prepare a person for this,” Sara shouted. “How in the world did the women cope in long skirts back then?”

“They probably didn’t go brush-busting in the first place.” He lifted her feet off the ground as he pulled her up behind him on a rocky ledge. “We aren’t taking the usual trail. It’s too far that way. The sooner I get out of this blasted weather the better I’ll like it.”

“How much farther is it?” She was breathless.

“Just up this hill and through the little valley beyond.”

Sara didn’t want him to let go of her wrist because she was afraid she might not be able to keep up without help. The ground beneath her ruined sandals was slippery. She’d lost her footing repeatedly. She’d barked her shins and torn her skirt on brambles and briars. Not to mention almost winding up impaled by a deadly-looking tree with thousands of three-inch-long thorns!

“What happened to your dog?” she asked.

“Knowing Samson, he’s bringing up the rear to make sure we both get home okay.”

“Good. I’d hate to have anything bad happen to an animal that likes me so much.”

Adam gave a hard tug and pulled her up beside him. They were balanced on a narrow rock ledge beneath the canopy of a gigantic oak. The leaves didn’t stop all the rain but they did offer a slight respite from the wind-driven torrent.

“Yeah. I don’t understand that,” he said, scowling. “He’s supposed to treat his family like a flock of sheep and be really leery of outsiders.”

“Guess he could tell I was friendly.” Sara looked up into her companion’s deep-blue eyes and wondered for an unguarded instant if she was crazy to have placed all her trust in the rugged-looking, taciturn stranger.

Sensing her uneasiness, Adam softened his expression. “Look, lady. I promise I won’t hurt you. I really am trying to keep you out of danger and get us both back inside before we catch pneumonia.”

“I know.” She gave him a sweet, trusting smile. “If I had to get stuck anywhere, I’m glad it was on your road.”

His approachable countenance faded. His eyes darkened to the color of the foreboding sky. “I wish I could agree with you.”

Sara wasn’t sure exactly what kind of home she had expected Adam’s to be. Certainly not anything as tiny as the cabin to which he led her.

The house sat at the edge of an apparently large clearing. The farthest perimeters were obscured by continuing rain. Square and made of stacked logs, his home looked like something straight out of a history book. Except for electric lighting and, she fervently hoped, indoor plumbing.

Adam led the way onto the porch, shook himself free of his slicker and stamped the loose mud off his boots. He turned to look down at Sara as if just now realizing who and what he had dragged home.

“Looks cozy.” She managed a fairly convincing smile even though her teeth were chattering.

“It is—for one person.” He paused at the door.

Sara understood his reluctance to invite her in, given her disgusting, filthy condition. “Is there any way I can get the mud washed off my back before we go inside? I don’t want to dirty your nice cabin.”

Adam’s expression was cynical. “I’m a bachelor. What makes you think the house is any cleaner than you are?”

“Well, I…” She knew she was blushing but there was no way to stop. In spite of the man’s contentious attitudes and mercurial moods she kind of liked him. Which meant that his teasing affected her more than it normally would have.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, checking the parts of her clothing she could only assume were as ghastly as they felt.

“You’ll do,” Adam said. “Rain washed the worst of it off. By the time we both get clean and dry the place will be a mess, anyway. Come on.” He opened the door and ushered her inside, giving her a cautious but firm shove between the shoulder blades.

Sara felt Samson try to scoot through the door beside her. Only Adam’s presence of mind and stem command kept the sopping-wet dog from joining them. “No. Out!”

“Can’t he come in, too?”

“You and I will dry him off later. After we get ourselves taken care of.” Adam paused and frowned. “That is, providing I can come up with enough towels.”

Hugging her pack to her chest, Sara scanned the narrow, rectangular room. The place looked more like a hunting or fishing lodge than it did a house. There was a half-full dog dish the size of grandma’s Dutch oven tucked beside a long-legged, antique gas stove in the kitchen area. Next to the food sat a water bowl nearly as big.

The remainder of the room seemed to be centered around a coal-black, wood-burning behemoth. It sat on abbreviated legs, silently radiating heat and looking just like a pudgy oil drum with cast-ron decorations.

Sara hesitated. The place smelled very masculine. Oh, not like old socks or anything. Just different. As if a man, this man, had made it his private den. Clearly, the cabin was his special sanctuary. And she was an intruder.

“Really, I…” Embarrassed, Sara hung back close to the door. She didn’t want to impose any more than she already had. Yet what choice was there? All her camping gear and clothing, except what she carried in the one small pack, was back at the car, inaccessible. If she were in her companion’s shoes she would gladly offer shelter and assistance, so why did it bother her so much to accept the same from him?

Adam had removed his boots and was stoking the wood stove, oblivious to her uneasiness. “Slip off your shoes and leave them on the rug there by the door.” He flipped open the cast iron door with a noisy clank and poked the dying embers with a stick. “I’ll take care of them later.”

Sara suddenly felt his gaze settle on her, warming her far more than the stove. She tensed. “What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

Grumbling, Adam looked away. “No. Just hurry up, will you? I’d like to get out of my wet clothes.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“There’s only one bathroom. I don’t intend for us to share it, okay?” He gestured with a tilt of his head. “Over there. Through that door. And don’t use up all the hot water.”

Sara giggled softly. “The bathroom is inside, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not going to tell me I have to walk across the yard and back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s inside.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile, then quickly resumed its usual moody position. “I have a generator for the electricity to pump the water, too, so you won’t have to go fetch it from the well in a bucket.”

“Oh, good.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that.” The wry smile threatened to reappear. “There are towels in the cabinet under the sink, I think. If not, that means I didn’t remember to do the laundry and we’re both up the creek.”

“Please,” Sara said, “don’t mention creeks or rivers or anything else pertaining to water. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet.”

“Stick around these hills long enough and you’ll get used to it,” he told her. “Locals say, if you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes and it’ll change. It’s kind of a standing joke.”

“I can believe that.” She was eyeing the bathroom door. “Um, I do have one other request, if you don’t mind.”

“What is that?”

“Well, there’s a sweatshirt and some personal things in my pack but I don’t have any other dry clothes with me at the moment. Do you suppose you could loan me something to wear? Just till my skirt dries.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I can find something that will fit you.”

To Sara’s surprise he went to the bed instead of the dresser and dragged a low, flat, storage box from beneath it. Straightening, he tossed a pair of jeans her way as if they were of no consequence, but she could tell by the expression on his face that he cared very much about whoever the clothing belonged to. Or had belonged to.

Was he was hiding out up here in the wilderness to lick his wounds? Recovering from a disappointing love affair? Well, why not? She was.

“Thanks,” Sara called back, as she headed for the bathroom and ducked inside. The room was spartan but definitely adequate. Turning on the shower she quickly shed her ruined clothes and stepped into the spray. Oh, it felt good to be clean!

Reveling in the warmth she let her mind wander where it wanted. Life was so confusing. Sometimes, it seemed as if she were stumbling along without purpose or guidance. At other times, like now, it was as if God had taken an interest in her future, after all.

She sighed. If that were so, there would be no real accidents in her life, would there? Not even slippery roads and unbelievable thunder storms.

Not even meeting Adam Callahan.

Adam sat on an upended log beside the wood stove and stared at the bathroom door. How long had it been since anyone else had been in his house? It seemed like forever.

He vividly recalled Gene’s last visit. They’d had a great time getting reacquainted. Older by ten years, Adam had always felt responsible for his brother’s welfare, even after they’d both grown up and gone separate ways.

Adam had even offered to quit the force so they could go into business together. Gene had insisted he had his own plans. Plans that didn’t include settling down to a regular nine-to-five job. He wanted to have fun. Explore the wild side of life. If he hadn’t had a cop for a brother, he might have succeeded.

Blinking away the final scene in his brother’s short life, Adam got to his feet. It should have been him who died, not Gene. Adam was the unlucky one. The jinx. It wasn’t safe to be around him. Which was one of the reasons he always gave for his life of isolation.

His thoughts returned to his guest. Sara Stone was spunky. Most women in her shoes would have collapsed in tears. She was definitely not his type, though. Which was for the best. The last thing he needed or wanted was to become involved in someone else’s personal life.

As if on cue, Sara called out from behind the bathroom door. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I hate to bother you, but I just unwrapped my sweatshirt and it’s damp. Got one I can borrow till it dries?”

“Sure. Hang on.” He found a gray fleece that would do. “Here.”

The slim, smooth arm she held out from behind the almost closed bathroom door gave him a start. She had long, tapering, expressive fingers, and delicate, unblemished skin that looked softer than satin.

Adam slapped the rumpled sweatshirt into her hand and turned away. What was the matter with him? Had he been alone so long that any woman, even Sara Stone, looked good to him?

What’s wrong with the way she looks? he admonished himself, analyzing his curious thoughts. What difference did it make? He didn’t intend to relinquish his hard-won tranquility for any reason. All he wanted was to be left alone. Period. End of story.

Reaffirmed, he hunkered down by the fire to wait his turn in the bathroom. He was fine. Content. He had his dog and the wilderness, enough to eat, and a roof over his head. Plus, he could always check on the status of his investments or draw more cash by merely driving to the mom-and-pop grocery store a few miles away and making some phone calls. It was a perfect system. A perfect life.

The bathroom door slowly creaked open. Steam bearing pleasant, feminine fragrances accompanied Sara into the room. Adam found it suddenly difficult to breathe. She’d wrapped one of his towels around her wet hair and twisted it on top of her head. Her long, graceful neck arched above the loose neckline of his sweatshirt. Wisps of light, golden hair had escaped the confines of the towel to curl gently downward and caress her pale skin. Her feet were bare. And she was still lugging that ridiculous pack.

His gaze traveled Sara’s full length and back to her face where she greeted him with the warmest smile and the most appealing hazel eyes he’d ever seen. This beauty was under all that mud? Heaven help him when her hair dried!

“The waist is kind of big but the jeans fit pretty well,” Sara said. “Thanks.” She shook out the fleecy red shirt she’d had wrapped around her laptop computer. “This isn’t nearly as wet as the rest of my clothes. It should dry by the fire in no time.”

“Good.” Adam swallowed hard. Having her staying there, even for one night, was going to be a lot harder on him than he’d imagined. “Are you through in the bathroom?”

“For now.” Sara padded across the floor to stand beside the warm stove. “I left my other clothes on the floor in the corner. As soon as you’ve had your shower I’ll clean up everything. Okay?”

“Sure.” He hoped his consternation didn’t show.

“I kept my shower short so you’d have plenty of hot water.”

“Thanks.” Adam disappeared into the bathroom. What in the world was the matter with him? Why was he so uptight? Anybody would think he’d never been alone with a pretty young woman before.

Stripping off his shirt and jeans he threw them forcefully to the floor. Pretty was an understatement. How could he have been so wrong about Sara’s looks? And how in the world could she have managed to smell so good when all he had on hand was his usual generic shampoo?

A quick glance at the shelf in the shower answered his question. She’d packed for any emergency, the way women did, and brought along all sorts of potions. The bottles were lined up on the lip of his shower stall like little tin soldiers.

Adam closed his eyes and stepped under the stinging spray. He placed both hands on the wall of the shower and bowed his head, letting the water cascade over him. This was the feeling he’d dreaded; the moment he’d tried with all his might to postpone. For the first time in nearly two years he was forced to admit that maybe he didn’t really want to spend the rest of his life alone, after all.

Sara heard her host turn off the shower. She had hung the red sweatshirt next to the stove to finish drying and was carefully checking the condition of her portable computer. It seemed to be functioning well.

“You still there?” he called from behind the closed door.

Sara thought the question totally absurd. “Nope. I went out for pizza. Why?”

“Can’t you give a simple, straight answer?”

Approaching the door she laughed lightly. “Apparently not. Is that all you wanted to ask?” She heard unintelligible muttering.

“No. I wasn’t thinking. I came in here without clean clothes. Would you please hand me some?”

“Sure.” Sara stifled another laugh. “Boy, with a memory like yours it’s a good thing you weren’t going to the store or something, huh?”

“Very funny. Just hand me a pair of jeans and a shirt. There’s a stack of clothes piled on the chest at the foot of the bed.”

“Okay.” Complying, she noticed that nothing was folded. Not that it surprised her. She supposed a bachelor did well to just wash and dry the dirty stuff once in a while. Never mind put it neatly away.

“How shall I get them to you, shove them through the keyhole?” Sara waited for him to open the door.

Again, she overheard muttering. The poor man must really be used to his solitude. Still, even a certified grump needed a little humor in his life. And besides, she was so thankful to have been rescued she was feeling the need to share her elation.

A damp, hairy arm emerged from behind the door, fingers grasping impatiently. “Well?”

“Here.” She crammed the clothes into his hand in a wad. When he didn’t express any thanks she added, “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Callahan.”

Adam flung open the door seconds later, catching her by surprise. This was the first time she’d taken a really good look at her reluctant benefactor. He was tall and muscular. Adam Callahan was clearly a man who used his muscles. Oh, boy, was he!

Stop that! Sara lectured herself. Since when have you been nuts about grouchy Neanderthals?

“I’m not nuts.” She realized belatedly that she had spoken aloud.

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll step out of the way I’ll go tend to Samson.”

“Oh, sorry.” In moments she had recovered her lucidity. “Can I help? I feel like I owe it to him. After all, he did rescue me.”

One of Adam’s dark eyebrows raised. His deep-blue eyes peered down at her. “Who rescued you?”

“Well, you did, in the end. But if Samson hadn’t heard my car and gone looking for me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“Don’t remind me,” Adam grumbled, “or I may leave him out on the porch for the rest of his miserable life.”

That stern warning sounded far too genuine. Sara placed both hands on her hips, her expression defiant. “Now look, mister. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble for that poor, innocent animal, so knock off the threats. Samson didn’t do anything wrong and you know it.”

“Well, well, you do have a serious side, after all, don’t you? I was beginning to wonder.”

“I can’t help finding humor in lots of different things. It’s just my nature. I guess that’s one of the reasons I’m good at my job.”

“Which is?” Adam grabbed a couple of large bath towels from the laundry pile and started for the door.

“I teach kindergarten and first grade.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Kids. You know, those cute, short people who like to play in the sand and eat cookies?” She chuckled at the droll expression on his face.

“I have heard of them, yes.”

“I love children.” She smiled sweetly, recalling the students she had just passed on to second grade. If it hadn’t been for Eric’s unnatural obsession with her, she’d probably have volunteered to teach summer school. The disappointing recollection wrinkled her brow.

“So, do you have kids of your own?” Adam asked.

She sighed. “No. I’m not married.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop a lot of women these days.”

“I’m a Christian. I have different rules of behavior. At least I’m supposed to.”

“Ah.” Adam nodded. “I used to be one, too.”

“Used to be?”

“Yeah.”

Sara could sense how uncomfortable he was so she changed the subject. “So, what do you do up here? Live off the land?”

“In a manner of speaking. Why? Do you disapprove?”

“Of course not I’m sure lots of people do it.”

“I get by.”

She smiled sincerely. “Good. Which reminds me. I have a whole box of freeze-dried meals in my car. If you’re short on food, I’ll be glad to share mine.”

“No need. There’s a fresh-stewed owl in the refrigerator. We’ll have plenty for supper.”

Speechless, Sara gasped.

Adam’s mouth began to twitch at the corners. “You should see the look on your face!”

“We’re not having owl?” She swallowed hard.

“No. We’re having chicken. I take it you’re not opposed to eating dinner with Samson and me.”

“Not a bit. As a matter of fact, I was in such a hurry to get to the Leatherwoods I didn’t stop to eat. I’m starving.”

“Then let’s hurry up and dry the dog so we can let him in and get to the food.”

“It really will be a normal meal, won’t it?” she asked, hoping for further confirmation that he had been kidding.

“As normal as you’d find in any big city. I never serve ants or grubs when I have company.” He was working to stifle a chuckle. “And possum is way too greasy. Too much cholesterol.”

“Oh, good. Then I suppose skunk is out, too?”

“Uh-huh. Samson isn’t partial to it, although he does get a kick out of chasing the little black-and-white stinkers. Tries to herd them like sheep, sometimes.”

Adam opened the door to admit his soggy dog. He caught hold of the animal’s ruff as it tried to push past him and quickly draped a towel over its back.

Sara grabbed another towel and followed his lead. She was almost in time to ward off a shower as the dog gave a mighty shake. “Eesh! He’s a mess, isn’t he?”

“Not as big a mess as you were when we found you.”

“Which reminds me, thanks for the great rescue.” Her voice took on a lilting, childish quality. “You were wonderful.”

Adam was about to offer a modest response when he realized she was talking to his dog.