Rocky Mountain Shelter

by Vivian Arend

  Randy hesitated. “If we take the horses, we’ll be gone all day. You sure you don’t mind?”

  His dad looked too excited to disappoint. “It’s a been a while since we’ve had a full day together. We can pack a lunch.”

  “I’ll pack for us both,” Randy promised. “Five a.m.?”

  God. The sun got up too early in June. “I’m surprised you didn’t suggest four thirty.”

  “You need your beauty sleep,” his dad teased.

  Trevor headed home with a whole lot of plans rumbling through his brain. He didn’t have time to stop in at Becky’s, not if he had to be saddled up and ready by five.

  He slowed as he drove past her house, a faint light shining in one of the upper rooms, the rest of the house dark.

  Like a single star shining in a dark sky.

  Chapter Ten

  Two months earlier, Paradise, Saskatchewan

  She’d hit the asphalt and kept running, not toward town like people might’ve expected, but away from it.

  The edge of the road was slick with ice where the plows had scraped away the recent snowfall and left behind a thin layer. The clothes she’d stolen weren’t warm enough to fight off the weather, but she kept moving fast enough it didn’t matter. Her exertions sent her heart pumping, her breath escaping rapidly.

  Whenever a set of lights appeared in front of her, she’d duck into the ditch and hide. The fewer people who saw her on the road, the better. The way she wanted to go was west, and every time a set of high beams showed in the distance at her back, she’d glanced behind to see if it was a possible ride.

  She’d taught herself what big-rig lights looked like, and that was the only thing she’d dare to flag down. Anyone else might be related to the family, or think she was being delusional.

  Or worse, they might insist on taking her to the police, and that wouldn’t end well either.

  It was probably four in the morning before she finally heard the rumble of a diesel. Her fingers were numb, and her toes icy cold, and she’d settled into a shuffling trot because she had no energy left to run anymore. She turned and raised a hand, waving at the fast-approaching truck.

  His brakes engaging was the most terrifying and wonderful sound she’d ever heard in her life.

  The truck came to a stop on the edge of the highway far enough ahead that she had to hurry forward. The high door swung open, and she glanced up as warmth poured out of the cab, and she shivered involuntarily.

  Blue eyes in a weathered face looked down at her. An older man, with a baseball cap on his head and serious expression on his face. “What the hell are you doing out here at this time of night, girl?”

  “I need a ride.”

  He looked her up and down, and she was dreading further questions. Thankfully, he nodded briskly and motioned for her to join him.

  Becky scrambled into the cab as quickly as possible, closing the door behind her and pulling the seatbelt across her body without thinking too hard that she might’ve stepped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  “Where are you headed?”

  She couldn’t read his emotions, one way or another, in the gruff tone of his voice. She’d planned this part out. “Calgary. But if you’re not going that far, you can drop me wherever.” Her fingers tightened on the backpack clutched in her lap. “I can give you gas money. I appreciate the ride.”

  He nodded, slipping back onto the highway, then they sat in silence for a bit while the road stretched in front of them in a razor-straight line. She stared out the window at the mile markers, and the snow fences, and tried to will her heart rate back to normal.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She snapped her head to the side as something jabbed her arm. Her ride held a granola bar. It was obviously what he’d used to get her attention.

  He nodded toward it. “Go on. We won’t be stopping to eat breakfast for over an hour, so you may as well have this now.”

  She promised herself to get through this she’d do anything to make it somewhere safe. And if that meant taking a bit of charity along the way, her ego would have to get over it.

  She pulled the snack from his fingers gratefully. “Thank you.”

  The heat inside the cab, the exhaustion from her escape, plus a little food in her stomach meant her eyes were rocking closed before too much longer.

  It wasn’t until the noises changed that she woke from her hazy sleep. The wheels were slowing, and the turn indicator clicked in a steady rhythm. She looked out the window, horrified to discover they weren’t outside the gas station. He was pulling off in a way station in the middle of nowhere, with no signs of another vehicle.

  Becky dropped her fingers to the seatbelt release, ready to make an escape if needed, as he brought the massive vehicle to a complete stop.

  He glanced her way and swore softly.

  “Damn, you should see your face. I’m not going to hurt you.” He shook his head. “I wish to hell I could go back and give whoever put that look in your eyes a taste of his own medicine.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Why’d we stop?”

  He stared at her with those blue-edged knives. “Because I want to know what the hell I’m doing before I pull into a truck stop and get arrested for kidnapping some teenager. It doesn’t matter that you were hitchhiking, no one will believe me if you decide to start screaming for help.”

  “I won’t. I mean, I’m not.” This wasn’t something she had considered in her plan. “I’m not a teenage runaway. I’m twenty-one, and I—”

  He choked. “Twenty-one? Shit. Okay, that helps. But why were you on the road at four a.m. willing to get a ride to Calgary or wherever?”

  She forced herself to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  He grunted, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “At least you didn’t give me some bullshit story about going to see family.”

  Rebekah shivered. “I don’t want to tell you anything. I’m not trying to make trouble, but I think it’s best I do this on my own, except for the ride. I need a ride.”

  “As far away from here, as fast as possible?”

  She nodded.

  He stared back, his expression sad and yet kind. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, and she fidgeted on the spot, seconds away from bolting before he finally nodded. “Girl, you need more than a ride, you need a friend. Let’s see what we can do to get you straightened up.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rocky Mountain House, present day

  Instead of his father, Trevor’s mom met him at the barns at the bleary-eyed hour just shy of five a.m. Her expression said it all.

  “He’s sick, isn’t he?” Trevor asked, looping Tigger’s reins around the post while he talked.

  Kate nodded. “He was looking forward to going, but he can’t. Something threw him off last night, whether it was the food, or the excitement.”

  “Family dinners aren’t that thrilling, Mom.” Trevor was disappointed. Not only that he’d miss the chance to talk to his dad about a few pointed items, but he’d been looking forward to a day with just the two of them a surprising amount. “Tell him we can wait. We don’t have to move the cattle to new fields for a couple weeks, so if he’s feeling better in a few days, we’ll go then.”

  His mom offered him a beaming smile. “He’ll be happy to hear that. Now, can I entice you into taking some fresh-baked muffins with you before you go?”

  “Twist my arm.”

  His mom forced a half dozen on him. Once they were out of the yard, he let Tigger take her head, peeling back the paper wrappers and enjoying the warm buttery muffins as the sun inched its way skyward to paint the fields with a gentle light.

  Too many jobs called his name to laze about all morning and simply ride, but he enjoyed the interlude, putting Tigger back in her stall in the barn behind Rafe and Jesse’s place, a final pat to her rump before focusing on work.

  He and his brothers met a dozen times over the day as t
hey worked. At one point he passed his dad going the opposite direction, albeit in the tractor. Randy waved but didn’t stop.

  His dad looked green around the gills. Stubborn man. Couldn’t even let himself be sick for a full twenty-four hours.

  Trevor packed it in early since he’d started before five. By the time he grabbed a shower and headed into town in the hopes of catching Becky before she started walking, it was still early afternoon.

  He pulled to a stop outside the rental shocked to see she’d beat him home.

  Damn stubborn woman.

  Once again Becky was in a high place, although clearly not happy about it. She stood on a tall ladder, her jawline tight as she focused intently on the window in front of her. She had a scraper in one hand, and a spray bottle of something hanging off the top of the ladder as she worked on the exterior seals.

  He approached as cautiously as possible, driving into the yard and getting out of the truck quietly, but once again he was stuck in the position of saying nothing until she noticed him because he didn’t want her to fall. They’d been lucky that first time when he’d spooked her off the roof. He wasn’t willing to risk it happening again and have her hurt.

  Instead he waited, ready to move in an instant, but in the meantime, he enjoyed the show. The late-spring day had warmed up enough that with the heat reflecting off the white-board siding, she’d stripped to nothing but a T-shirt and shorts. Her arms were smooth and muscular. Strong enough for the task she was doing without losing her feminine curves.

  And those legs. She was shorter than him, but she was all legs. Yeah, he wasn’t sad to have to watch for a minute or two.

  He breathed a sigh of relief nearly as loud as hers when she finally climbed down and her feet hit the ground.

  “Head’s up. I’m here,” he warned.

  “Of course, you’re there,” Becky replied without missing a beat. “That’s what stalkers do. They lurk in the shadows, watching.” She tilted her head to the side and examined him more closely. “Dare I ask what you’re doing?”

  “I came to give you a hand.”

  “That much I figured. The Good Neighbour manual again.”

  “It’s amazing how often it has relevant information for us.”

  She went to get the ladder but he anticipated her, grabbing hold and taking it down.

  “Face it, Trevor, you’re not being neighbourly, you’re nosy.”

  He couldn’t even pretend to be shocked. “Well, that too.”

  Becky shook her head. “I meant, what are you doing here at this time of day?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. I started early.”

  “The shop closed at two. Hope says nobody comes shopping the afternoon the schools have early dismissal, and she keeps consistent hours all through the summer because it’s easier.”

  A coincidence he was happy to use to their benefit. “Perfect timing, then.”

  She followed him to the shed where he hung the ladder along the sidewall. “You’re sticking around?”

  “Steve suggested I could help you with that list your landlord wanted.” He pointed above their heads. “Like checking the caulking around the windows.”

  “Which I’ve got nicely in hand, thank you.”

  “Never said you didn’t, but some jobs go faster with two people.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you dare get in trouble with your family, hanging out helping me while you’re supposed to be doing stuff for them.”

  That was the last thing he was worried about. “It’s my time. I can spend it how I choose.”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay with me, I guess.”

  She rambled off a list of things she planned on checking, and Trevor listened, but he also thoroughly enjoyed a chance to keep looking her over.

  She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, and the dark length poured down behind her like a soft waterfall his fingers itched to dip into. Her lips were a deep red, soft and plump, and he bet if he bit softly on the plump lower one, he could make her moan.

  Trevor snapped his gaze back up to meet hers, forcing aside his distracting but very entertaining ideas for a moment.

  He could tell what projects she was more enthusiastic about, and which ones she was dreading by her face. Although not really her face, but her eyes.

  When she spoke, her eyes dipping toward the ground, he knew she was either worried or as excited as he was about dishwashing. At other moments, her face would light up and glow.

  It was like watching a wild spring storm through a window, with all the changing moods that entailed.

  “What’s the main goal for tonight?” he asked.

  Becky paused. “I have to find what needs fixing, and we should talk about what you think I need to learn, but I really want to empty the living room so I have somewhere other than the kitchen to sit.”

  “Makes sense to me. Let’s clean it out. Garbage first?”

  She nodded. “I’ve got a couple boxes I can tuck aside for the stuff that should be saved or given away, but most of it can be burned. Part of the packrat collection.”

  They went to work, the first loads filling up fast as Becky tipped a towering stack of newspapers and magazines into her box, and he did the same. She was efficient and direct in all her motions. No wasted time, no wasted energy, but always mesmerizing.

  Until she zigged and he zagged when they met in the middle of the hallway, her box piled too high.

  He caught the top item before it could topple to the ground, reaching underneath to catch the load. His knuckles brushed the sides of her body as she pulled away, and she took a little breath, seemingly as aware of him as he was of her.

  “How about I’ll wait at the door, and you bring the boxes there,” he suggested. “We’ll be able to move a lot faster.”

  “Good idea.”

  They moved faster, but it still gave him plenty of time to enjoy watching her both coming and going, her trips taking slightly longer to gather the bits and pieces into the boxes than for him to march to the burn pile and dump the contents.

  He leaned against the doorframe and waited for her to come around the corner, hips swaying as she stepped. The frayed edges at the bottom of her shorts caressed her thighs. Trevor’s gaze dropped happily along smooth limbs all the way to her bare feet as she padded down the hall. Bare toes he wanted to nibble on.

  He took the box she passed him then paused long enough for her to turn away. This time he got to enjoy watching her sweet heart-shaped ass waving at him like a flag. With her T-shirt tucked in neatly at the waist, the curve of her breast would appear for a second before she’d turn the corner and disappear from sight.

  He had his short journey to and from the burn pit to wait in anticipation for the next enticing visual tease.

  Trevor strode through the door to find Becky standing on a small stool with old paint cans in her hands, lifting them toward a shelf in the hall. Only they must have been heavy, and with her hands full, it was impossible for her to keep her balance.

  He rushed forward, matching his hands over hers and steadying the buckets, suddenly aware of their proximity. Of the way her ass rested back against his groin, and how the heat of her body pressed his through her thin T-shirt. The silky-smooth touch of her skin under his hands as his fingers grasped hers over the thin metal handles of the buckets.

  “Are you steady?” he asked, but it came out half a breath above a growl, lust riding him hard as his cock reacted and the urge to drop the pails and kiss her senseless shot skyward.

  The next second a subtle change in her body position screamed a warning. She was breathing hard, but not in a good way. Not as if she were feeling the lust that had fired his blood to maximum.

  It was fear. Fear made her fingers tremble where he held her trapped—

  Shit, he was such a fool.

  “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to scare you. Slip your hands out from under mine, I’ve got the pails.”

  There was none of the false oh
, I’m okay some other woman might have said. He loosened his grasp, and she stole away, disappearing like a ghostly wind. The final caress of her torso against his enough to remind him what he couldn’t have.

  But only a bastard took what he wanted when a woman wasn’t ready. He moved quickly, placing the pails on the floor and turning to face her. “You okay?”

  Becky had retreated to the other end of the hallway, arms wrapped around her, fingers clutching her upper arms tightly. She made a face. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I still scared you.”

  She nodded. Slowly she twisted to look at him, forcing a reluctant smile to her lips. “You’re a good man, Trevor Coleman. I mean that, and I sure like doing things with you. And you’ve been a big help already, in more ways than you know, but I don’t know if I’m someone you should be hanging around with.”

  Now she was talking bullshit. Trevor brushed his hands on his jeans as he marched forward, moving slow enough she could escape if she needed, but she didn’t seem afraid anymore. Him grabbing her had done that. “Sounds like you’re getting ready for a goodbye, or to shove me out the door, or something.”

  Becky shrugged. “Honestly? You said you liked me. I assume that means all the ways a man can like a woman, and…” Her chin trembled for a moment before she fixed him with steely gaze. “I’m an awful lot broken inside. Even though you make me feel things I never expected to feel, I won’t be a good girlfriend. You deserve somebody else.”

  Trevor reached a hand up slowly, gentling his movement to keep from spooking her. “Now, maybe you need to let me decide what type of girlfriend I need.”

  “I can’t give you the things a girlfriend usually gives,” Becky insisted.

  “You’re right,” Trevor agreed.

  Her eyes widened.

  He brushed the tips of his fingers over her cheek, sliding back until he was able to stroke his thumb over the curve of her blushing skin. Moving carefully, watching for any cues to back off. Grateful when none came.

  “But considering everything I’ve been taught by my brothers and cousins, it’s not about what a woman can give me that’s the bit that counts. It’s a hell of a lot more about what I can give you that matters.”