by Vella Munn
“I feel as if I have no right to do this.”
“What did you find?”
“Dishes.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Most kitchens have those.”
She laughed and opened another cupboard. “Glassware. So far no reason for us to call the FBI. You have Jan’s number, right? I want to talk to her.”
“And tell her what, that you’re going to take it?”
Instead of answering, she left the kitchen. He followed her into what he assumed had originally been a bedroom. It was now an office. The master bedroom was on the other side of the hall with a king-sized bed, two dressers, and walls covered with pictures he figured were of family members.
“Neutral colors.” Amber patted the brown and white bedspread. “Maybe the result of a couple compromising.” Her fingers lingered over a throw pillow. “I wonder if it’s hard for Jan to sleep alone in this bed. Maybe she’s planning to get different one.”
Amber’s compassion for a woman she didn’t know brought him closer. He had to work at not touching her, but he wanted his presence to count for something.
“My parents have separate bedrooms,” she said. “They always have.”
“It must work for them.”
“I don’t want it like that for me.”
She might be waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t think of the right words. Hopefully she understood he didn’t want separate beds for her, for either of them. What, he wondered, kept a couple together if they didn’t want to sleep under the same blankets? Maybe the time would come when he and Amber pondered the question with her parents in mind.
“Done deal,” she said.
“You want it?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I like mine better.”
“Oh. Why?”
“For one because it overlooks Flathead Lake.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that, but I’m sold. I can hardly wait to get out of the motel.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, or rather, it would be if not for his unease. He tried to remind himself that Jan wasn’t bothered about living where she couldn’t see her neighbors.
“One thing first,” he said.
“What?”
“I’m going to put in a deadbolt.”
She focused on him. “You can’t just—”
“I’ll let Jan know what I have in mind.”
“What if she objects?”
“Why would she? I’m surprised she doesn’t have one.”
Amber fluffed the pillow. “You sound like my brothers except they’d also insist on a security system.”
“Good idea.”
“What are you saying? Isn’t Sweetheart as safe and serene as it feels?”
“It’s not that, but you’ll be living alone. You can’t be too careful.”
She raked a hand through her hair. “I’m not going to live in fear. To make my point before you do, maybe I’ll live to regret my decision, but I need to embrace where life has taken me, not be looking over my shoulder all the time.”
He wanted her to be able to embrace this chapter in her life, and Sweetheart had a nearly nonexistent crime rate but she’d be coming home to an empty house every evening. Also, even though she hadn’t intended to, she had ruffled the feathers of some cabin owners.
If they were lovers, he’d insist on having his way—or would he? He’d tried to do that when he’d told Carole she should know better than to plan a solitary overnight trek into the wilderness. Things had already been strained between them because, according to her, he didn’t give her enough breathing room. He didn’t see it that way, he’d told her. As someone who spent large chunks of time in the wilderness, he was well-aware of how many things could go wrong. She’d countered by pointing out that he’d spent much of that time alone. Her being female didn’t or shouldn’t be a factor.
“You’re quiet,” Amber said. “Does that mean you get where I’m coming from?”
“I’m trying to.”
She walked around to the side of the bed he was on and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But I’m a big and stubborn girl.”
Big she wasn’t. Stubborn, yes, almost as much as he was.
Serious thoughts faded to be replaced by sensation as his shoulders warmed. A few more seconds and he’d toss her onto the bed and join her. He didn’t need to draw a diagram of where things would go from there and judging by how her expression was softening, neither did she.
“All right.” She pulled her hands off him, her fingers dragging over his collarbone. “I guess—I’m going to call Jan. See what she and I can arrange.”
“I hope it works out.”
“Do you?”
Amber wasn’t paying attention to where they were on the highway when Garret slowed and turned left. She shook herself free of questions about his reluctance to having her live at Jan’s place and noted a mailbox with his name on it. Someone, him probably, had put gravel on the narrow road leading into the woods. Trees surrounded them on both sides.
“Your place is more secluded than the one I’ll be living in,” she said. “How do you handle that? With a guard dog?”
“I’d love to have one, a dog that is, but I’m gone so much it wouldn’t be fair.”
“That’s what my folks said when I asked for a pet.” She debated telling him she would have settled for guinea pigs or even a turtle but didn’t want him thinking she’d had a lonely childhood. There’d been a lot of people around, just not one she could cuddle with.
“I keep debating widening the road,” he said as he maneuvered around a tree that came within inches of scraping the side of his vehicle. “But I don’t want to cut down any more trees.”
She leaned forward as they reached an opening with a two story house built off the ground in the middle of it. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I can’t—oh, my goodness.”
“Is that your way of saying it’s different?”
She couldn’t think of anything to say so settled for a nod. Stairs led to a wood and metal deck that looked as if it went around the tree house-like building. It had been built on a slope with the downhill part of the house over what she thought of as the basement area. Massive windows dominated the two elevated sides. Even though she couldn’t see Flathead Lake from where they were, she guessed the house had been positioned like it had so whoever was inside had a view of it.
“It’s awesome.” And it’s right for you. “No wonder you wanted it.”
“You should have seen it when I bought it. No one had been living in it for several years. The roof and siding in particular were in bad shape.”
Now that he’d mentioned the siding, she noted it was made of wooden shakes that blended with the trees. The four by four pillars supporting the deck looked new, and the windows gleamed in the setting sun.
“Amazing. Unique.”
“Unique is what I kept saying about the stairs. They weren’t built to code so I had to start from scratch.”
“By yourself?”
“Jake and Hunter were nearly here every weekend last summer. Other rangers gave of their time, and Hunter convinced some of his tribal members to lend a hand. Now that the exterior is weatherproof, I can concentrate on the interior.”
“Please show me.”
“That’s why I brought you here.”
She wondered if he still felt the impact of the moments they’d spent in Jan’s bedroom as keenly as she did. A move or word from him and she would have asked him to join her on the king-sized bed. What did she mean ask? It had taken all the willpower at her command to keep from hauling him onto it and ripping off his shirt. The man got her hot. There was no better way of putting it, and if she had a lick of sense she wouldn’t step inside his home.
Belatedly realizing he was waiting for her, she exited the vehicle that smelled and felt like him. When he indicated he wanted her to climb the stairs ahead of him, she first tried to keep her rear end from mo
ving around too much then let it have its way. Fine. If he wanted to watch her ass, she’d give him something to look at. Remind both of them that she was a woman.
The stairs and railing were hardwood with some kind of finish she guessed was weatherproof. She imagined him putting them in one stair at a time, working late into the night compliments of the outside lights over the windows. Bats would protect him from mosquitoes and maybe an owl would critique his progress. His hand clutching a hammer, he’d contemplate bringing a woman here. She hoped she was the first.
“How did you learn about this place?” she asked when she was on the deck. Being this high off the ground made her a little light-headed. She could see the lake through the trees. Felt it reach out to her.
“William helped build it. I first saw it when I was around twelve. Fell in love with it.”
“Of course you did.” She took hold of the railing and stared at the distant lake. From here it was part reality, part mystery. From what she could tell, no trees had been sacrificed to improve the view. Another owner might have clear-cut, but the original owner and now Garret understood, as she did, that lake, sky, slope, and trees were part of a whole.
“It’s amazing.” She closed her eyes in an attempt to cool the sudden heat in them. “Perfection.”
“I don’t want to, but I’m going to have to pave the road in. A number of times last winter I had to park out by the mailbox so I could get to work.”
His voice, so close, turned her toward him. The dying sun made his eyes glitter. She’d never forget how he looked right now, one with his world. “I think I’d love getting snowed in. Of course I wouldn’t want the electricity to go out so I could read and cook.”
“That’s why I have lanterns and candles in addition to a generator.”
She vaguely knew a generator could substitute for electricity, but that was practical when being inches from Garret was turning her primitive. If they’d been alive hundreds of years ago, they’d live in a cabin without indoor plumbing and only wood heat. They’d spend their days doing what they had to so they wouldn’t go hungry or freeze, but there were still the nights.
Together.
“The trees help shelter the house from the wind,” he said, “but storms are still severe.”
“I’d love to experience that.”
“Yes, I think you would.”
His words were simple enough. Someone else might not make anything of them, but she found depth in what he’d said. He was starting to understand her—just as this place was telling her vital things about him.
“How much of a hand did William have in designing it?” she asked.
“A lot. I’m going to tell you something only a few people know. There’s a certain boulder between here and the lake. If you look close, you’ll see where someone carved into it. The carving is of an eagle with its wings outstretched and a fish in its beak.”
“Someone?” She was having trouble speaking. “Not you?”
“No. The carving was done hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago.”
Thousands? If that was so then a Native American had to have been responsible. Certain he wouldn’t have said what he had if he didn’t intend to tell her more, she waited with her fingers still on the railing and her body needing his.
“William told me that’s where one of his ancestors spent his time while on his spirit quest. We can only guess what happened, but he and I believe that ancestor chose an eagle to guide him through life.”
A tear broke free. “I’m so glad you had William in your life. The things he shared with you...”
Garret wiped away the tear. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”
“I’m glad you did.” Her fingers tingled which made keeping her hands off him nearly impossible. “Do you think William knew how much of an impact he had on you? Even as a boy, you must have realized he was introducing you to things most people never experience.”
“I told him I wished he was my father.”
“I’d love to have had one like that.”
When he frowned, she thought he’d ask for an explanation. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her to the front door. As she stepped inside, the smell of wood met her. She realized there weren’t any curtains or drapes, but if she had a view like this, she wouldn’t have wanted any either. They stood in a living room with white walls, a hardwood floor, massive windows, recliners, a coffee table made from a redwood burl, and photographs of mountains on the wall without a window. There was an unimpressive TV, a couch, a telescope aimed at the lake, several floor lamps, a large fan hanging from the high ceiling, a wood burning stove set on a brick base.
She noted several doors, but this room held her attention. The house had been built before the concept of open space. As a result, the living room was a whole, a statement.
“Will you marry me?” She blurted. “Please. That way I can live here.”
“We don’t have to get married.”
She’d been joking. Surely he understood that. Just the same, he’d handed her a serious response. She held it close while returning his gaze.
“I’m trying to decide what you’d want to do in this room,” she said when that wasn’t what was on her mind. She hadn’t had sex for a long time and need was all around her, inside her, fueled by him. “It looks perfect.”
“This room’s in pretty good shape. I want to caulk around the windows to make them airtight and weld a larger box to hold the firewood. The metal’s in the garage.”
Don’t lose yourself in the power of his sexuality. “The welding, is it difficult?”
“Not if a person has the right equipment and knows what they’re doing, which I believe I do.”
“Something else William taught you?”
He nodded, a short, simple gesture she tucked away so she could replay it. The man wasn’t simply getting to her. That deed had already been done. She’d never go back to the person she’d been before he’d entered her life. Didn’t want to.
Being here with him wasn’t just an adventure. She wasn’t simply seeing his house or discovering what his hands on her felt like. He was enlarging her universe, making her aware of her sexuality in ways that might keep her off balance from now on. Add light to her life.
“I’ll show you the kitchen.” He pointed. “That’s what’s going take the most work.”
“All right.” She wanted to stay where she was, with him so close it hurt.
Chapter Seven
“I see what you mean,” she said after she’d taken in the undersized refrigerator, cracked countertop, and stained sink. “It’s stuck in what, the sixties?”
“I should start on it but that means not having a kitchen for longer than I want to think about. Mom and Grandma have the same conversation about their place.”
She hoisted herself onto the counter and studied faded orange vinyl flooring. He stood at the opposite side of the room flanked by windows. Breathing was getting difficult.
“There isn’t much cupboard space,” she managed to say, “but you’d have to take out at least one of the windows in order to give you what you need.”
“I’d never sacrifice the view to give me room for dishes.”
“Neither would I.”
Her comment didn’t have as many layers as her proposal had, but neither was it innocent of meaning. She decided to let it stand instead of trying to sand away its essence. As he explained that one possibility was to turn a corner of the dining room into a pantry, she again pictured him swinging a hammer. His muscles would ripple as he attacked an unwanted wall. He’d have brought whatever he used to provide music into the room. When he stopped to ease the burning in his shoulders or assess his progress, his music choice would center and relax him. Hours would pass with little notice as he transformed the dated into something that made a statement about what kind of man he was. Maybe, if he knew he’d be living here alone, he’d focus on getting the job done as quickly as possible, but she suspected materials an
d workmanship were important to him. Whether he shared this space or didn’t, he’d want it to be part of him, for it to make a statement about the man beneath the surface.
“What about a tile countertop? You could probably do the work yourself.”
He gave her his full attention. “I’ve thought about that, looked at some. One reason I haven’t done anything is because I don’t know what colors I want to use.”
“Earth tones.”
“Yes.” He breathed the word. “Earth tones.”
She got down, walked over to the closest window, and looked out at a primitive world. “Rich browns like tree bark. A little white or cream for contrast. Some green. No yellow or pink.”
“I agree,” he said from behind her.
They could work together on this, see it through the same eyes. Create something beautiful.
“I know better,” she said. “At least I should. But I can’t stop myself from imagining what a home of my own would look like.”
“Why do you think you shouldn’t do that?”
She faced him. Shadows had pushed into the room. He was no longer a forest ranger or the accommodating tour guide who’d offered to bring her to Sweetheart. With the wilderness all around, a lake a short walk away, and a boulder with a carving of an eagle on his property, he’d become bigger than life.
“Because that kind of thinking gets in the way of reality.”
“Reality doesn’t have to dominate twenty-four seven.”
You’re so wise. “No, it doesn’t.”
“I’m glad you feel the same way.”
At the moment she’d probably agree with him about everything. When he indicated the opening leading to his bedroom, she headed toward it with him a couple of steps behind. What had they been talking about, something about a time for reality verses the necessity of taking a break? That was what she was doing by wanting to observe his most intimate space.
He’d pulled up the blankets and spread on his queen-size bed, but it had been a hurried task. The spread was mostly blue stripes of various shades with a handful of white ones thrown in. Like the living room and kitchen windows, there weren’t any curtains. He walked over to a window and flipped a switch. Muted light settled over the woods beyond their reach.