Every Last Look

by Christa Wick

  I waved my hand again, gesturing at all the work the men had done.

  “All this building will be for the state’s benefit,” I finished.

  Barrett folded his hands around mine and rubbed lightly, the rhythmic pattern of his fingers over my skin calming me.

  “Those papers you showed me,” he said. “Jester has the state tied up more than you. What it comes down to is that all the state gets is a liability for the next hundred years. They have to maintain the property, but, aside from necessary culling of timber for fire control purposes and the existing cellular tower, they can’t exploit the land. If we build a house here for you and something happens, we’ll turn it into the Jasper Carey memorial museum—and the State will have to pay to maintain that, too.”

  I stared at Barrett. My head drifted back and forth, but my gaze stayed locked on his green eyes.

  “That can’t be,” I whispered.

  “Well, I’m not a lawyer and I don’t play one on TV, but I’ve seen provisions like that before, had my daddy and uncle explain how and why they’re used.”

  Insta-tears filling my gaze, I pushed into Barrett and buried my face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and patted soothingly at my back.

  “You’re not in L.A. anymore, Quinn. Up here, we never forgot how to take care of people. Never forgot why we should.”

  “Know another thing we never forgot?” Will joked, coming over with two paper plates. “How to fish. Now sit down and eat, kidlets.”

  12

  Barrett

  I placed another log on the fire. Copely and the rest of the men had stayed for about an hour, eating the fish they’d caught in Jester’s pond and regaling Quinn with stories about life on the ranch. I had heard most of the tales before and knew which ones were heavy with embellishments, but I didn’t chime in with the truth whenever Quinn asked if something had really happened that way.

  One thing I did while the men were there was stay close to Quinn. I'd had a few seconds of blushing on the inside when I realized I was being territorial instead of protective. There were a couple of guys on the crew who were single and similar in age. All of them had been quietly measuring Quinn in that way an interested male will fake disinterest.

  Never in my life had I worried about competition—not even when it came to women. This time was different.

  This time the woman was Quinn.

  “Was that your radio or your phone?” Quinn asked.

  I looked at her, confused. I had brought a two-way radio out to Jester’s from day one so I could communicate with my team in case there was a fire I needed to respond to.

  “There was a tone. I’m certain I heard it.” Standing up, she went over to the trailer and opened up her bag, pulling her phone out.

  “Hey, there’s a signal!”

  Retrieving my phone, I turned it on. After a few seconds of syncing, I had a notification for five new text messages and one voicemail.

  Dotty had sent three of the texts and the voicemail telling me to look at her texts.

  “Everybody complains about older people not using technology,” I joked. “Until they actually know an old person who texts and emails.”

  Quinn smiled. She had already stowed her phone back in the trailer. I had noticed how she never seemed to have a lot of messages to go through when we made it back to a location, such as my house, that had a signal. My phone pretty much blew up whenever we were back in range—but I did run a business.

  “So, Dotty sent me a schedule of the dates we should expect people out here. She says she would have sent it to you, but she doesn’t have your number.”

  Quinn winked. “You don’t have my number, either.”

  She dragged her camping chair over to mine, sat down and leaned over so she could read my screen. By the time I scrolled to the third message from my aunt, Quinn was sniffling.

  “I know it seems a little overboard,” I said. “But I got a sense at Sunday dinner that Jester meant more to her than pretty much anyone in my family realized, at least in my generation and my father’s.”

  “Yeah,” Quinn rasped, her voice skating the edge of a sob. “She was in love with him. Really, really in love with him.”

  Picking up a branch, she poked at the fire for a long minute then stared at me.

  “Do you think he deserved it?”

  I shrugged, the gesture joined with a snort. “Most men don’t.”

  Shaking her head, Quinn reached across and squeezed my arm. “But some do.”

  Just having her touch me, her gaze full of approval, filled my chest with hope.

  Hope I didn’t dare act on just yet. From everything I had learned and observed about Quinn, she had been used by people her entire life. I didn't want her to feel that any of my help was conditional.

  Clearing my throat with a cough, I jiggled my phone in her direction.

  “Signal may cut in and out for a few more days, especially since they didn’t plan on having it fixed this soon. Then we need to see how Cross wants to handle dropped signals. Doesn’t make sense for him to count on just two very discrete points in time each day.”

  Quinn returned to poking the fire and staring at its center.

  “He didn’t seem very reasonable, but maybe I’m just overly sensitive on the subject,” she said.

  I shrugged. “My guess is he wants to get as much out of administering the estate as he can. Sounded like Jester put a set amount of money into it, paying him in advance for finding you and monitoring your compliance. I imagine whatever is left over goes to you if you finish out the ninety days.”

  She gave the fire one last stab and dropped the branch.

  “It’s always got to be like that, doesn’t it?”

  I swept my arm toward all the work Copely and the other men had put in.

  “Yeah, sorry. I am deeply grateful for everything everyone has done.”

  She nailed me with that warm brown gaze.

  “Especially you, Barrett.”

  My lips parted, some corny reply ready to roll off my tongue so Quinn wouldn’t realize just how deeply invested I had become in her staying in Willow Gap. Air pushed up out of my lungs, the first word almost formed—

  A scream from down the mountain shredded my reply.

  13

  Barrett

  “Up,” I ordered, not giving Quinn time to react to the sound beyond the mask of pure terror that pulled at the sides of her face. Wrapping a big hand around her bicep, I lifted her out of the chair and headed straight for the truck.

  I opened the door, pushed her inside then climbed in after her.

  “Was that a person?” she asked, hitting the door locks.

  “Mountain lion,” I answered. I twisted the key in the ignition to power the windows. I lowered the driver side window a few inches.

  “Are you sure?” she pressed. “That sounds like someone being murdered. Like a woman…”

  I turned the dome light on and looked at Quinn. She was shaking, her arms locked tight around her torso.

  “First time I heard one, I was ten,” I said. “I went crashing through the trees screaming that Satan was in the woods.”

  She stared at me, her gaze uncertain. Small tremors raced across her flesh.

  “Here,” I said, motioning her closer.

  Quinn slid across the seat and into my arms. Reaching up, I turned the dome light off then rolled up the window.

  “Sutton’s already doing training for me tomorrow. After we drop by my place for breakfast and a shower, we’ll head out to my uncle Boone's place. He and Cassian put in a gun range. I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

  I rubbed her back like I would Leah's when the little girl was upset.

  “That sound good?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  She burrowed closer.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, her face pressed against my neck. “That’s just the scariest sound I’ve ever heard in real life.”

  “I told you, I ran out screaming for Da
ddy to grab the cross. Thank heavens Mama didn’t have the video camera turned on yet. I’d have a billion hits on YouTube by now.”

  Quinn’s soft, round body bounced with a laugh. Her grip on my jacket relaxed, but she didn’t pull back.

  “Please tell me you’re not thinking about sleeping in the tent tonight.”

  “No ma’am,” I answered, my hand coming to a stop at the base of her neck. “I imagine that’s a female out there. It’s late in the year for her to be in heat. She should have had a cub or two already and be tending to her offspring. But it sounds like she’s out looking for a mate. She’d get one sniff of us and likely head in the opposite direction—but I like both of us being all in one piece, so I won’t risk it.”

  “Thank you. I would have been up all night if all you had between you and a mountain lion was a little bit of nylon.” Quinn pulled back enough to look up at me. “And you can’t be thinking of sleeping in your truck.”

  I chewed at my lip. Sleeping in the trailer with her had its own dangers. But I also didn’t want her separated from me with the big cat prowling the woods. The truck was solid, no chance of a mountain lion or even a bear getting inside once the doors were shut and the windows were rolled up. The trailer was another thing. The door and windows were weak points.

  “Nope,” I answered at last. “Me and Betty will be in the trailer with you.”

  “Betty?”

  I tilted my head toward the rear of the cab where I had shoved the shotgun after I realized it wasn’t strangers up on the mountain.

  “Little Miss 12 Gauge,” I chuckled. “Guess I didn’t properly introduce you two ladies.”

  “Why Betty?”

  I sucked at my bottom lip.

  “Oh, I see,” she teased, her tone momentarily icy before she giggled.

  “Nah, nothing like that. It’s one of those ‘let’s not mention’ things.”

  “Okay, I’ll do everything short of pinkie swearing.”

  I chewed it over a little more then decided there was no harm in telling her the story.

  “I didn’t name it. The shotgun was Daddy’s. He named it after a woman in town.”

  “A woman in town?” Quinn teased the words around in her mouth. “That sounds ominous. Sure you don’t want me to pinkie swear?”

  “Still nothing like that,” I laughed. “You know how a blast from a shotgun has a wide spray?”

  “Now I do.”

  “Well, you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about tomorrow. Anyway, that’s why I pulled it out when we heard people up on the mountain. The pistol I pulled out and tucked away, that’s one bullet, one man. The shells I put in the shotgun were double-aught buckshot. That’s eight projectiles per shot with a spread. Much easier to disable two attackers at once if they are standing close together.”

  “So this Betty in town is like shooting eight bullets with one pull of the trigger?”

  Grinning, I planted a kiss on her forehead. “When it comes to news she is. You ever want to make sure everyone in Willow Gap knows something before end of day, you start by telling Betty Rae.”

  “Okay,” Quinn laughed, all the tension over the mountain lion’s appearance momentarily gone from her lush body. “So you, me and Betty in the trailer tonight.”

  Not trusting myself to say anything, I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and nodded.

  Quinn curled her fingers around the collar of my shirt. Her flesh was cold. I covered her hand with mine, tilted my head down and blew warm air. Feeling the shiver that ran through her, my flesh warmed a few extra degrees.

  “Probably time to get under the covers.”

  “I think so,” she answered.

  The air wanted to rush straight out of me, but I forced it to slowly leave my lungs. Quinn’s voice sounded so seductive, the tone deep and just above a whisper. I could tell myself all day it wasn’t her intent to sound like that, but my body responded anyway, my blood searing me from the inside out as it coursed through my veins.

  Sleeping anywhere near her in an enclosed space was going to be hell.

  “Stay put.” I opened the door, stepped out and grabbed the shotgun, loaded the shells in and racked the slide. “Don’t come out until I tell you, deal?”

  Her head bobbed vigorously.

  Hands wrapped tightly around the weapon, I walked to the fire, added two logs, the second one out from the center of the pit so it would take longer to heat and catch. I hoped it would burn straight through to morning with enough light and smoke to keep the big cat and her suitors from venturing up the mountain.

  Next, I picked up my two-way radio and sleeping bag and put them in the trailer. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the bag. There wasn’t enough floor for me to sleep on, but I could maybe have Quinn under the blankets and me inside the bag. That would keep things respectable and remove a good half of the temptation from the situation.

  Of course, I'd need to have her sew me inside if I wanted certainty I wouldn’t hold her a little too close, wouldn’t get drunk on her body heat or the scent of her skin.

  I pulled the cord for the dome light then closed the door on the trailer tight. I gave the handle a solid shake without turning it. When I hit it just right, like a mountain lion might, the door popped opened. I checked the inside of the door, my tension easing a fraction as I noted there were two interior locks, one for the handle and the other a slide bolt.

  Satisfied that the little trailer wasn’t going to get any safer until I was inside with both guns, I returned to the truck and retrieved Quinn and the pistol.

  Reaching for the handle she had just witnessed me bat open, Quinn paused.

  “Do you think it’s—”

  A fresh scream curdled the air, my blood running cold at the feline predator's shriek.

  “Gone?” I asked, finishing what I thought Quinn was going to say. “Nope.”

  “Nope,” she agreed, her laugh short and nervous as she quickly stepped into the trailer and took a seat on the bed, her legs pulled up to give me room to enter.

  Once inside, I secured the door with both locks then slid the safety on my shotgun and eased the weapon onto the floor. I checked the safety on the handgun then opened one of the built-in drawers under the bed to secure it.

  Quinn reached past the spot to put her tennis shoes and folded jacket on the floor.

  Turning slowly, I found her looking up at me. She blinked, her gaze settling on the bed.

  “Trailer’s not made for a man your size to stand up in.”

  “Yeah.”

  I stood stooped over, the back of my shoulders less than an inch from the dome light, my body throwing a shadow over Quinn and the little trailer’s interior. I dropped to my haunches, still not moving to sit on the bed.

  “Better?”

  “You’re not sleeping on the floor any more than you were going to sleep in the truck or in your tent.”

  She unzipped my sleeping bag and spread it across the mattress then crawled under it, the top blanket and the sheet.

  “I didn’t want to say anything, but it gets cold in here…you know how you can pick up a can of soda and it already feels cool?”

  I nodded. “Like how a can of soda also gets colder faster in the refrigerator than soda in a plastic bottle.”

  “Exactly,” she agreed.

  “I’m not going to lie, Quinn. There will be hard days as we get closer to winter. There’s no point wearing down your resistance before then. You should tell me whenever you aren’t comfortable.”

  “I’ll be comfortable tonight,” she whispered.

  She was doing it again, I thought, intentional or not. That low voice and her melting gaze reminding me of milk chocolate or a nice hot coffee with a dollop of cream, something to warm my belly, the heat sedating me even as the caffeine stimulated.

  Indecision rumbling in my chest, I reached up and turned the dome light off then sat on the edge of the bed. I felt her moving, guessed at what she was doing.

  Her
jeans rustled as she slid out of them under the sheet. She folded them and leaned out once more to place them atop her shoes. Reaching under her shirt, her elbow smacked the metal wall as she fought the fastener on her bra.

  My fingers twitched. No way was I helping with that contraption, I promised myself. No way, no way, no way.

  “There,” she said, extending her body over the side of the bed one last time to add the bra to the pile.

  I sighed, the quality of the sound reminding me of every time I’d ever been sent to the principal’s office at school.

  Slowly, I took my shoes and socks off. I hesitated, my thumbs hooked behind the waistband of my jeans, one finger pushing at the zipper pull.

  Chances were, the mountain lion wouldn’t come anywhere near the trailer. If it did, the beast was a lot less likely to get the door open with the inside locks set. I really didn’t need to worry about being caught in just my briefs and a t-shirt.

  “It’s safe, isn’t it?” Quinn asked, her voice small, all the seduction—intentional or not—wiped away at the thought of the big cat still out there and maybe, just maybe, creeping up the mountainside.

  “Absolutely,” I answered, unsnapping my jeans and pulling at the zipper.

  With a bounce of my hips, I got the jeans down to my knees then off my body and folded. I followed with the jacket before cautiously getting under the covers.

  The pocket of heat Quinn’s body had already created surfed over my bare thighs and arms. Telling myself I was going to sleep, I closed my eyes.

  The mountain lion had other plans, vocalizing them like a demon being driven from a holy place.

  “That’s really pillow talk for big cats?” Quinn asked, a fresh tremor running through her voice.

  “Yep. Sort of like people—takes all kinds.”

  Feeling her shake, I tried to ignore it. Either she or the demon cat screeching outside would settle down. Holding Quinn in the truck had been bad enough. Holding her in bed, both of us down to a shirt and underpants could only lead to me saying something stupid. Something like suggesting we get married when we hadn’t even had a proper kiss yet.