“Trey?”
He opened his eyes. “Yes, darlin’?”
“What are you thinking?”
“That I shouldn’t have come up here, because resisting you is harder than I ever imagined.”
I stayed in the river.
Trey stayed on the shore.
We stood that way for what seemed like an hour, maybe a lifetime. Finally I turned and stepped deeper into the water—and right into a hole in the sandy bottom. Arms flailing, I went down with a splash, skidded with the current, and went under completely.
Before my bare feet found level ground, Trey lifted me up and into his arms. I was cold, dripping wet, and trembling all over. Holding me tight, he tucked my head against his sun-warmed neck. My wet shirt dampened his dry one, and I felt him trembling as much as I was. I didn’t dare move—didn’t want to move. He kissed my temple, my cheek, but stopped short of kissing my lips.
Instead his breath caressed the shell of my ear as he murmured in a shaky voice. “Let’s go back to the ranch before I forget myself even more than I just did.”
“Wait.
“Joanie, I—”
“I love you.” The words flowed out of me. Gushed really as I said them again. “I love you—”
“I love you, too.” He kissed me then with a passion that tempted us both. But I knew Trey well. He needed his honor, especially in the dishonorable situation of the divorce, so I stepped back first.
We rode home in silence, each alone with our thoughts, but something in our relationship shifted during the ride. When we arrived back at the barn, Trey seemed distant, even nervous. I assumed he was resisting the desire to consummate our relationship. I respected him for it, yet every nerve in my body cried out for him.
Still. Married.
But was he really? In his heart, he was already divorced. He had assured me of that over and over. A mere piece of paper was keeping us apart, and I didn’t like it.
The next day, he told me he wanted to camp alone at the river. “Just me and the stars. It’s time God and I had a talk.”
“Why?” Our time together seemed so precious.
“I promised myself I would.”
That wasn’t much of an answer, but I understood the need to face one’s conscience alone.
I planned to stay away, but the next day, I received a phone call from Time magazine. They wanted to interview me for an article on the Equal Rights Amendment soon to be introduced in Congress. I was proud and eager to share the news, but Graciela had the day off. I could have called Shirley or Linda from my grad school days, but the person I most wanted to tell was Trey.
It was late in the day for a long ride, but I didn’t care. I saddled up my horse and rode out.
Sunshine poured down from the bluest sky imaginable, and a soft breeze played music in the trees. My mood soared like an eagle in flight. It soared even higher when I reached the rise above the river and saw Trey knee-deep in the current, wearing fishing waders and a white t-shirt that clung to his shoulders and back. The same sunlight pouring into me glistened in his raven-black hair, and I thought of his Indian heritage, that roguish smile that slayed me, and his great love of the land, horses, and creatures in need.
Reining in my horse, I watched as he whipped a fly-fishing line over his head. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until it flew high and plunked into the heart of the river. I’d never seen a more beautiful man, and I haven’t seen one since.
Still. Married.
But at that moment, those words struck me as irrelevant and just not true. I loved him, and I wanted to share my life with him. As bold as brass, I rode down to his campsite. He’d set up a tent, hoisted his food up so bears wouldn’t get it, and set his horse to graze. That horse whickered and Trey turned. When he saw me, I knew.
I wasn’t going home that night.
Chapter 18
The Riverbend Steakhouse was known for its thick steaks, loaded mashed potatoes, and the wandering path that hugged the banks of the Refuge River. Gently lit by a million tiny lights, the path twinkled and glowed as it followed the lazy current around a bend to a secluded lookout on a rocky bluff.
Daisy was smitten—both with the view and with Rafe, who had arrived at her door in a dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and a stylish tie. She’d never been on a date where the man brought her flowers. Even more charming, he had offered his arm as if she were a princess and opened every door for her. If he was trying to melt her heart, he succeeded—and that made the talk even more necessary.
Over dinner they shared silly quirks, political views, stories about the best days of their lives—and the worst days. They talked about music and movies, too. Rafe liked dark comedies; Daisy couldn’t stand them, but they agreed on the Christmas classics, especially Polar Express.
By the time dessert arrived—one plate with two forks—they were content to be silent together, leaning into the candlelight, relaxed and smiling.
The meal was over now, and they were outside and alone, arm in arm at the lookout, peering into the dark night and the darker river. Daisy didn’t want to have the talk now—not on this perfect night with Rafe’s arm warm around her waist, chasing away every chill in her life. Surely it could wait . . . but then he kissed her gently on the lips, then gentler still behind her ear. His breath warmed her skin, and she trembled as he trailed kisses back to the soft corner of her mouth.
She kissed him back, but alarm bells clanged in her head. Grown-up Daisy, who knew how to draw lines and respect herself, needed to protect the scared, frightened child who would do anything to feel loved. She needed to take control. But God help her . . . Rafe knew how to kiss.
Mustering her rational mind, she eased out of his arms, stepped back, and dropped her hands to her sides without taking her eyes off his face. Shadows hid everything except his square jaw and the glint of the lights in his raven-dark hair.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him. “Me first. Please.”
“Whatever you’d like.” His voice came out low, raspy, full of all the feelings she shared but needed to hold inside.
Would he accept the line she needed to draw? Or would the night end with a cool kiss on the cheek and a promise to call, which he wouldn’t keep? Or would he mock her, and— Stop it!
“We have to talk.” Her voice came out husky, not strong and steady like she’d intended.
He put his hands in his pockets, pulling the suit coat back as he rocked back on one leg. “Something pretty amazing is happening between us, isn’t it?”
“Yes . . .” She couldn’t deny it—didn’t want to deny it. Could this good, steady man really have feelings for her? Could those feelings keep him in Refuge? Tears threatened to flood into her eyes.
Stepping out of the shadows, he offered his hand. “Let’s see where it goes.”
She longed to cry out, Yes! Let’s find out! But first she needed to set clear boundaries to protect herself. Trembling inside, she channeled her inner Miss Joan. “I like you a lot, Rafe. I care—but I need to make something clear. I take sex seriously now—”
His eyebrows lifted.
“If you’re hoping I’ll hop into bed with you, the answer is a big, fat no. I’m waiting for marriage.”
He stared at her, his jaw hanging open. She couldn’t read his expression at all. So this is it. It’s over. No sweet summer romance. Humiliation burned through her. She fought it by crossing her arms to look tougher than she felt. For good measure, she squeezed out the strongest glare she could manage.
He raised his arms over his head like a suspect under arrest, but his mouth curved with the hint of a smile. “Guilty as charged when it comes to finding you attractive. You’re beautiful, Daisy. But anything physical is your decision. I respect you—as a person and as a woman.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I do.” He lowered his arms, slowly, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just to be clear, seducing you wasn’t part of the plan tonight.”
A hint of
anger hardened his words, and she wondered if she had insulted him. She’d been braced for anger, emotional pressure, even mockery. But Rafe wasn’t Eric—not even close. She was proud of herself for speaking up but felt silly for overreacting. Embarrassed, she pressed her hands to her cheeks.
He reached her in two strides, gently clasped her biceps, and looked her in the eye. “Something good is happening here. I say we be careful with that something. Because, Daisy? You’re worth waiting for. And I don’t mean hopping into bed.” He paused, then waggled his eyebrows like Flynn in Tangled¸ her very favorite Disney hero. “Though I wouldn’t mind—”
His teasing erased the last of her nervousness, and she played along with her haughtiest look. “Forget it, buster!”
“Yeah, I know. All men are dogs.”
“Not all men.” Not Rafe. Her heart melted even more, and it was already so soft her chest ached. Did his words mean he might stay in Refuge? It was too soon for either of them to make that leap, but the possibility tantalized her. She had learned to trust God by taking baby steps. Were those steps leading to an even bigger leap of faith—falling in love and trusting Rafe with her heart?
He smoothed her short hair back behind her ear. “So kisses only. How does that sound?”
“Good.”
He hesitated. “It’s not my usual style, but you’re not like any woman I’ve ever dated.”
“You’re not like anyone I’ve dated, either.” Confident now, she stepped safely into his arms and they kissed—long and slow, tender and wise. And so full of promise she dared to believe that he really did care for her, and maybe—just maybe—he would choose to make Refuge his new home. Her toes curled with that kiss, and they didn’t stop curling for the entire weekend.
Chapter 19
On Monday morning, Rafe borrowed Jesse’s truck and joined the group helping Daisy and Chelsea move to their new apartment. He didn’t know Refuge well, so he’d checked crime stats online. Aside from occasional car break-ins, the complex suffered very little crime. The second-floor location of Daisy’s apartment offered another layer of safety.
Even so, before he carried up a single box, he inspected the door locks. They were tarnished and scratched, a sign they hadn’t been replaced. Any number of former residents could have copies of the keys.
Shane came up behind him, a box balanced on his shoulder. Like Rafe, he looked at the closed door, then jiggled the knob with his free hand. “What do you think?”
“The locks need to be changed. When we’re done here, I’ll head to the hardware store for new ones.” He didn’t know what Daisy’s lease allowed regarding lock changes, but she’d be covered as long as she gave the new key to the manager.
“Go for it.” Shane clapped him on the shoulder, a sign of trust and respect, and they went back to work.
The day couldn’t have been better. Rafe even enjoyed getting to know Chelsea. When she didn’t try so hard, she was fun to be around. Single moms didn’t have it easy. While everyone relaxed after the furniture and boxes were unloaded, Chelsea left to work the dinner shift at her server job, leaving Hannah with Daisy.
Rafe should have slept well that night, but despite changing the locks, he tossed and turned with worry for Daisy’s safety. The nightmare about Kara lurked on the fringes of his mind, but the milder thoughts Dr. Susan called “squirrels in the attic” plagued him without mercy. According to the psychologist, Kara’s death—particularly Rafe finding her alive and failing to save her—had rammed a hole in his subconscious. The therapist compared his mind to a house with a hole in the attic. Squirrels slipped inside and camped out. He tried not to hear them, but sometimes they went berserk, raced in circles, and generally made pests of themselves.
With Dr. Susan’s help, he was patching the hole and cleaning out the attic. As much as he disliked those pesky squirrels, the infestation could have been far worse. Some people lived with monsters in the attic.
Rafe felt good about his progress and was confident he’d be ready to go back to police work. But what did that mean for a future with Daisy? He knew how much she loved being close to Shane, MJ, and Cody, and she glowed when she talked about her job, particularly her work on Miss Joan’s history book.
Daisy loved Refuge as much as Rafe loved being a city cop. Could he be happy in Refuge if he joined local enforcement? The thought left him cold inside. He could work for Jesse, but that idea left him even colder. If he wasn’t a cop, what purpose did he have? Purpose . . . A man needed a mission—at least Rafe did.
By the time he arrived at Waffle World for breakfast with the crew, the squirrels were going full bore. Jaw tight, he headed for the back corner reserved for Donovan Construction.
Howie and Drake greeted him with a wave, and he set his phone down on the table in the middle of six others. Not checking messages was part of the breakfast ritual and a bit of a game. Anyone who picked up his phone during the meal was required to cough up five dollars. The money went into a pot called the Bad Luck Bucket, because it was used to help crew members pay for things like car trouble and root canals.
Rafe pulled out the empty chair across from Drake and Howie. A crumpled five-dollar bill already sat in the pot. “So who’s the latest victim?”
Jesse, seated at the head of the table, let out a snort. “Who do you think?”
“Again?” Rafe laughed and so did the guys. Jesse tossed in more five-dollar bills than anyone, only because he owned the business and took every call and text. He could have opted out of the game but didn’t. The men respected him for it, and so did Rafe.
Huge plates of food arrived and the men dug in, some quiet but others fussing about this and that. The phones chirped and vibrated several times, and everyone joked about being too broke to check them.
The meal was almost over when Rafe’s phone sang out with the breezy tone he’d assigned to Daisy.
A new guy named Webber chortled at him. “Nice ringtone. Must be a woman.”
Drake joined in. “I bet it’s that cute blonde who works for Miss Joan. What’s her name again?”
Rafe laughed. “Come on, guys. Chill.”
Ben crossed his arms over his chest, but his eyes held a twinkle. “Are you going to cough up the five bucks or not?”
Rafe was already pulling out his wallet. He tossed down the money, picked up his phone, and saw a text from Daisy.
Dinner tonight with Chelsea and Chad? She wants us to meet him.
A row of cute emojis smiled up at him, but what he most liked was the “us.” Rafe tapped back.
Count me in. Anytime after 6. Pick u up?
Every eye at the table stayed on him until he grinned. “Yes, it was Daisy. We’re having dinner tonight.”
“Woot! Woot!” Howie raised his coffee cup in an awkward toast. “Let’s hear it for Romeo!”
Rafe played along, shooting back nicknames as he and Daisy finished texting plans for the night. When she sent the last kiss emoji, they were set to meet Chelsea and Chad at seven o’clock at a restaurant called the Green Light Café. Rafe set his phone back on the table. For now, the squirrels were quiet and he was grinning.
After thirty minutes in the restaurant, Rafe wasn’t grinning anymore. He worked with a bunch of ex-cons who insulted each other all day long, but Chad Rodney Whittaker was the most obnoxious person Rafe had encountered in Refuge, possibly in the state of Wyoming—maybe all of America.
Chad-Rod, as he liked to be called, worked as an adventure guide and wore a man-bun. He used the word vibe way too much, and Rafe couldn’t have cared less about his granola recipe. The guy didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders, and the way he winked at Chelsea was nauseating—even more nauseating than the vegan menu. Cincinnati chili? No joy. A plain old cheeseburger? Not a chance. Even the fries were weird—some kind of squash with a seasoning that tasted like lawn clippings.
At least the corner booth was comfortable. He and Chad were on the ends, with Daisy and Chelsea next to each other. A restaurant worker cleare
d their plates while Chelsea mooned over Chad-Rod and his over-the-top stories of scaling mountains and living in the wild for a month on fish and berries. Not so humbly, he announced he was preparing for Naked and Afraid, the survival show on the Discovery Channel.
“You must have seen it,” he said to Rafe with a big grin.
Rafe shook his head, then gulped down some of the organic honey-sweetened tea that wasn’t too terrible. He could have told his own stories, but he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the meal. Daisy feigned interest, but early on, she’d given Rafe a couple of secret eye-rolls.
Their server arrived and asked about dessert. To Rafe’s dismay, Chelsea insisted they order some berry concoction because life was short and she wanted to savor every minute of it. Rafe declined, but Daisy went along with Chelsea and Chad, though she only ate a few bites. When their server finally returned with the check, Chad signaled for it. Rafe and Daisy protested appropriately, but not too much. Paying for the meal was a nice thing to do, and Rafe figured Chad wanted to impress Chelsea.
“Thank you,” Daisy said. “This has been fun.”
Not. “Yeah, thanks, man.”
Chad set the black bill holder on the table and hiked up his hip to pull out his wallet. His face wrinkled in confusion, then he groaned and dropped back down on the seat. “I can’t believe this.”
“What is it?” Chelsea’s brows crashed together.
“My wallet. I forgot it. Maybe it’s in the car.” He started to get up, but Chelsea stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. This is on me tonight.”
Relief washed across the man’s face. “Thanks, Chels. You’re the best. I’ll get it next time. I promise.”
No way would Rafe let Chelsea pick up the tab. Her chatter drove him nuts, but she was a single mom and a good friend to Daisy. When she wasn’t trying so hard, he even liked her. Sliding out of the booth, he half stood, snagged the bill, and sat back down. “I’ve got this.”
A Gift to Cherish (Road to Refuge Book 2) Page 17