Better Together
Page 23
How could she have forgotten how easily Wyatt’s touch could calm her? All the numerous phone conversations and thousands of text messages couldn’t replicate the comfort of his touch. The miles between them had always multiplied Harper’s anxiety. The pictures he sent hadn’t helped. Standing at the top of some snow-covered mountain with only clouds and sky in the background, or his arms outstretched, moments before he leapt from a who-knows-how-high cliff with only a thin bundle—hopefully a parachute—strapped to his back. Of course, she wasn’t sure which was worse, the pictures, or the times when she didn’t hear from him for days. He always warned her when he might be adventuring out of service areas, but that was one instance when knowledge wasn’t power, as her ragged bloody nails could testify.
“Do you think we’re halfway?” she asked.
“Why are you whispering?”
She shivered—she hadn’t noticed she was whispering. “Just in case there’s a bear hibernating in one of those alcoves you talked about.”
“It’s June.”
“Maybe it’s waking up late this year.” Even to her ears it sounded asinine. Her cheeks heated. She looked over, but they were so deep in the mountain that she couldn’t see a thing. The darkness hid her flush. Lifting her chin, she tried to focus on the stories she’d heard as a child. If they found what they were looking for, it would be worth facing her fear.
“I can’t believe someone has actually hired you to teach college students.” He squeezed her hand, and she didn’t need a light to know he smiled beside her.
“I revert to my inner child when I’m scared spitless.”
Wyatt activated his cell phone light. “There.” He pointed it at the wall. Sure enough, just ahead an arched area was chiseled into the side of mountain. “Maybe three feet deep, three feet long and,” he looked up, “seven or so feet high. We’d both fit in there easy.”
“Us and the serial killer that eludes the cops by hiding in here.” She tugged on his hand. “Come on. Faster.”
“Didn’t you ever hear you gotta enjoy the journey?” Harper could hear the grin in Wyatt’s voice, but he did speed up a notch. For her. Heck, this was child’s play compared to the stuff he normally did.
But it was Wyatt, and she didn’t have to pretend to be brave. “I’ll enjoy it once we’re out of here.”
“It’ll be over then.” He chuckled. “Oh, except we have to walk back through.”
She stopped so fast her feet probably left skid marks. But she wouldn’t know since it was darker than sin, and she couldn’t see a blasted thing except for the far tunnel opening which didn’t seem to be getting any closer.
“We only have to go to the middle hidey hole. That’s where it’s supposed to be. No one said anything about walking through.” Fear had turned her backbone into an icicle. “I know you’re an adrenaline junkie, but I’m allergic to the stuff.”
Wyatt snorted. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be moldering under your books and lab rats. How many times have you left the state?”
“Three. And it was three too many. I like being home. I like moldering.” She kept her eyes fastened to the circle of light on the ground from Wyatt’s cell phone until he put it away.
“I like being home, too. But being home is sweeter after you’ve left it for a while.” His thumb moved lightly over her knuckles.
A little of her tension eased. “I always assumed you had itchy feet like your mom.”
“A little, I guess.”
“If that’s not it, why not come home? You know Fink and my mom would love to have you back helping out on the farm.” She’d love to have him back, too. Gosh, she missed him. She hadn’t realized how much.
Even though he’d been away more than home the last few years, she still considered him her best friend. They had always told each other everything.
Well, except anything that even hinted of romance. Growing up, she’d always been very aware that her mother had gotten pregnant with her at fourteen. Harper had determined not to go down the same path, closing herself off to the very idea of boys or boyfriends. Studying instead of dating. She supposed, at twenty-eight, it was probably okay to crack that protective shell.
“Come on, Pickles. We’re almost half-way. The next hidey-hole is probably close.” His deep voice rumbled above her.
She smiled at the nickname he had gifted her with years ago.
Light cut through the darkness parallel to the ground—the wrong angle for Wyatt’s cell phone—just before he tensed beside her. The rumble in the air and the vibration under her feet confirmed what her brain had suspected. She turned to be sure. The entire mouth of the tunnel was blocked out by the massive shape of a train engine. Like a flesh-eating bacteria, magnified, with teeth bared, it bore down on them.
Acid shards cut through her trembling body. She barely felt Wyatt yanking on her arm. She couldn’t get her feet to move. The engine powered closer like a black avalanche, chewing up the distance between them.
He swept her up in his arms and jogged the two steps to the nook, flattening himself against the side wall so his back was toward the train. The roar of the engine and the squeal of metal on steel reverberated throughout the stone walls. The vibration seemed to be alive, monstrous, so close and big and loud she could almost see it. She pulled her body into a ball and pressed against him. She wrapped her arms around his head, wanting to protect him, too.
Her breath came in short gasps. Panic rolled through her like a bowling ball heading toward the king pin.
She closed her eyes tight, until it was only Wyatt’s solid, comforting warmth pressing into her and the deafening noise all around. He cradled her and bent over slightly. The tangy, heavy stench of diesel exhaust filled the air around them, burning Harper’s nose.
Eventually the engine noise faded away and, although the train was still loud, the cars passing had a more rhythmic feel. Loud clack-clack, then fading out before coming back combined with the occasional earsplitting screech of metal on metal.
Wyatt’s stubble rubbed her cheek. She closed her eyes and moved her cheek back over his. Her chest tingled. She froze and her eyes snapped open. This was Wyatt. Her best friend. She would not allow their friendship to be ruined because she all of a sudden had some wild ribbon of desire winding through her. No matter how delicious it was.
His breath warmed her ear as he said, “Now we know there’s no air suction.”
“I’m going to poison the next meal I make you,” she hissed into his neck, only half-joking.
“I’ve heard that before.” His heart beat steady and strong against her. The dratted man wasn’t even scared.
The last of the cars went by. The noise faded.
She loosened her arms from around his head. She didn’t know what she was trying to protect him from anyway.
It was probably time to remember she was a grown-up. A professor up for tenure vote at the end of the summer. But Wyatt’s warmth and strength were alluring. She didn’t want to pull away from the hardness of his chest or lose the comfort of his touch. But she couldn’t let him stand here holding her forever.
“Okay, put me down.” She lifted her head and smacked his shoulder lightly, pretending she hadn’t been clutching him like two oxygen atoms on a hydrogen, and praying her knees wouldn’t buckle when he complied.
She wiggled to prompt him to move, but a new sound echoed in the darkness and she froze. A hiss. Followed by a rattle.
“Holy crap.” Her arms tightened around Wyatt’s neck. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah. Someone’s practicing the maracas.” She could feel his head tilt in the darkness. “They’re pretty good.”
Her teeth rattled together, but she snorted a laugh. “That’s a rattlesnake. It sounds close.”
“I don’t think we need to worry. I thought it was a stick when I first stepped on it, but sticks don’t typically wrap themselves around your leg.”
Chills raced up Harper’s spine. Her mouth opened, but it took a min
ute to make her voice work. “You’re standing on the snake?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sound like stones shaking in a tin can echoed throughout the tunnel again.
She ignored the note of sarcasm in his voice. “What are we going to do?”
“You’re the one with the doctorate. How about I keep standing on the snake while you think?”
Her throat slammed shut. She struggled to swallow. “I study nutrition. In a lab. That’s what the doctorate is for. Food.”
“Branch out a little.”
Despite Harper’s all-encompassing fear, she smiled. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. If he wasn’t worried, if he thought it was funny, well, she could do humor, too. “I’m thinking about white sandy beaches, relaxing waves, warm sun…”
“Try again.”
She grinned—still petrified, but Wyatt exuded calm. “Hey, that was helping.”
He snorted.
Ideas were not exactly filling her mind. Her brain had diverted all her blood flow to the areas that made her want to pee and run at the same time. She went with the only plan she could think of. “How about I grab your cell phone out of your pocket. I’ll shine the flashlight down at your feet…”
“Um, close your eyes while you do it, just in case…”
Harper twisted gingerly in his arms and felt for the phone attached to his belt, not wanting to make him lose his balance, although he seemed rock solid. Funny, because she still pictured Wyatt as a gangly teen instead of the unflappable man holding her in his arms and not even breathing hard. “Just in case what?”
Silence.
“Wyatt. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Not really.”
Not really? That meant there was something. What could be worse than a rattle snake? “If there was a bear in this hidey hole, I’d have figured it out by now.”
“I’m sure you would have, Pickles.” He shifted ever so slightly. “Would you just shine the light down?”
She paused with the phone in her shaking hand. “What does ‘not really’ mean? You’re standing on the snake, right?”
“One of them.”
“Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap.”
He gave her the password to his phone. She pulled up the flashlight app with shaking fingers. Something caught her eye in a crack in the stone behind Wyatt’s head. Her racing heart jumped. She squinted to see more clearly. She’d forgotten the reason they were in the tunnel in the first place.
“Harper? Tell me you’re not playing Candy Crush.”
“Uh. No. Of course not.” She juggled the phone to her other hand. Once they got the snake figured out, she could examine the crack more closely. There was definitely something there. Faded blue fabric, maybe?
She shone the light at the ground, keeping her eyes trained on the wall. Now that she knew something was there, she could see the shadow that marked the spot.
Wyatt shuddered. “Eh, I was wrong.”
“Thank God.” Cool relief flooded her. Her fingers lifted and skimmed the smooth surface of the stone.
“There’s three.”
She tensed.
Then yelped.
She dropped his phone.
Wyatt jerked.
With her free hand, she slapped at the wall. A small object landed in her palm.
Don’t stop now. Keep reading with your copy of JUST RIGHT available now.
Don’t miss book of the Sweet Haven Farm series with JUST RIGHT and join Jessie Gussman’s Reader Group at: tinyurl.com/JessieReaders
While waiting to audition for a rare tubist seat opening, Avery Williams intends to cheer up her cancer ridden neighbor. She plans a throwback Christmas party in the barn where the sick woman got engaged forty years ago. It will be the highlight of the year, unless the building gets destroyed first.
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In town for a short while to help his sick mother, Gator Franks expects to grab a side job and make some quick cash to help pay her hospital bills. Unfortunately, he has to get past the ugliest cat he has ever seen, which happens to be attached to a little blonde with sparkling pink fingernails, a city-girl attitude, and a fixation on saving the barn he just contracted to tear down.
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Slowly, using simple words, Avery explains to the uncouth mountain man—the one with the ferocious, tuba-player-eating dogs—that she can’t have a party in the barn if he bulldozes it first!
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When circumstances force them to work together, it’s a race to see who will win first, and if they’ll give in to the growing feelings between them.
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Acknowledgments
My husband spoils me beyond words. It's been a joy to share the journey with you.
My life has been enriched by my children. Thank you for making me laugh.
Every chapter in this book contains the impressions of my critique partner, Carlyn Jones. You point out the weaknesses in my writing with the graciousness and class of the Southern Lady you are. You have been a huge blessing in my life. Thank you.
A massive thank you to the wonderful folks at City Owl Press, especially my editor Mary Cain.
Thank you so much to my beta readers and Critique Group: Ramla Zareen, Kimberly Dallaire, Tiara Giles, Lydia, Maryanne Fantalis, Negeen Papehn, Shoba Sadler.
About the Author
Jessie Gussman is an award-winning author who writes sweet, contemporary romance from her home in central Pennsylvania. She is a member of RWA and ACFW and is contracted with City Owl Press and Pelican Book Group. Jessie and her husband own and run several businesses from their rural farm. Find her on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter, and join her Reader Group at: tinyurl.com/JessieReaders
Website: www.jessiegussman.com
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About the Publisher
City Owl Press is a cutting edge indie publishing company, bringing the world of romance and speculative fiction to discerning readers.
www.cityowlpress.com
Additional Titles
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JUST RIGHT
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Sometimes a match that’s all wrong, turns out to be just right.
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ALL I EVER WANTED
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BLACKBIRD FALLING
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When the world fears you, being Gifted is a curse.
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BOHERMORE
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When your dreams become reality, being cursed can be a real nightmare.
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INISH CLARE
By: Jennifer Rose McMahon
When your dreams become reality, hidden secrets come to light.
&nb
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BALLYCROY
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When your dreams become reality, the legends become truth.
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CRAZY ON YOU
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Romantic suspense meets comic relief with this amazing, car chasing adventure romance!
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A delightful re-imagining of “The Taming of the Shrew,” sure to enchant longtime Shakespeare fans and newcomers alike.
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FORBIDDEN BY FAITH
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Sara knows her life would be easier if she married a man of her faith, but when has love ever been easy?
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LOVE IN HIDING
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