by Nicole Helm
The few people who were up and out early, never looked askance. They didn’t ignore her. If they knew her from the café, they would say Hi, Hayley. If they didn’t know her name, she would still get a wave or a nod. Gracely might be dying, though she was loath to use a word so final, but the people here were fiercely, stubbornly determined to be a part of this town.
There was a belief in self that defied the reality of Gracely’s economic decline, and nothing could have resonated with Hayley more.
When she finished her stretches, she turned to walk up the short length of Hope that would take her to Aspen Street, where her apartment complex was. But she stopped short when she saw a familiar figure across the street on the opposite sidewalk.
Lilly was walking toward town, looking chic and put together in a way Hayley would never be in a million years. She wore a pretty, bright sundress and sunny-yellow fashion tennis shoes, her glossy blond hair pulled back into one of those ponytails that had to take effort and time, because Hayley could never get her riot of curls to look that way.
The little voice in her heart that was always telling her things she didn’t want to hear pointed out that perhaps if she let Brandon and Will be a part of her life, Lilly would technically be her sister-in-law, and might be able to teach her things about being so . . . classy. Pretty and confident.
Though the insecurity and fear inside of her still shied away from that thought, Hayley realized the shyness wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it used to be. She was half tempted to call out and greet Lilly.
Hayley made a noise before she could stop herself. It wasn’t quite Lilly’s name, but it was enough of something that Lilly glanced across the street and halted.
Hayley was immediately nervous and thought for about ten seconds about running in the opposite direction and hiding in her apartment and not coming out for the rest of the day.
But Lilly smiled so brightly and welcoming that Hayley had to cross the street and approach.
“Tell me you’re not running. That would make me feel terrible about my sedentary self,” Lilly offered cheerfully.
“Well, you shouldn’t be running when you’re pregnant, should you?”
“Bless you, my child. It’s about time I can use this baby as an excuse for not doing something I already don’t want to do. Although, I was about to use him or her as an excuse to get two donuts at the bakery. Walk with me a bit?”
Hayley tried not to back away, but she couldn’t quite stop herself from taking one step backward.
“Brandon’s going to meet me at my appointment in about an hour, so you don’t have to worry about him if that’s your concern. I stayed with my sister last night, which is why I’m walking. I live right on the corner there.” Lilly pointed to a pretty little row home on the end of the street Hayley’s apartment complex was on.
“You have a sister?” Hayley asked cautiously. She’d always wanted one, though she’d been quite thrilled to have a big brother, even if he was a stepbrother.
“Yes. I think you worked at the café with her? Cora Preston?”
“Oh, right. Sure.” That was the problem with small towns. Hayley might feel like she belonged, like she wasn’t ignored, but there were some weird ways that knowing people could sneak up on you. And eventually. . . eventually it was possible people would put two and two together about who she really was.
Some people were old enough to have known her mother, to have known the father she’d never met. The Evanses were a big enough name that it wouldn’t be hard to figure it all out if you knew everyone involved.
What would happen then? When people knew the secret that was Hayley Winthrop? She felt a little sick at the prospect.
Lilly’s slender arm hooked with hers, easily and gently. Lilly began to propel her toward the bakery even though Hayley hadn’t agreed to walk with her.
But who could say no to the ray of sunshine hiding all that steel will that was Lilly?
“So how is training with Sam going?” Lilly asked conversationally.
“It’s good. It’s really good, actually. I enjoy it.”
“And Sam’s not being too grumpy with you?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.”
At Lilly’s raised eyebrow, Hayley had to relent and laugh a little bit. “I mean, he’s grumpy. But not too grumpy. Just Sam levels of grumpy. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Well, I guess that’s all we can expect.”
“I think that’s true.”
They reached the bakery, Piece of Cake. There were all sorts of rumors about the bakery closing, but they were keeping afloat. Still, Hayley glanced at the window every day, wondering if this would be the day she saw a For Sale sign in the front window.
Lilly turned to her, that sunny smile at full wattage. “Come have a donut with me. My treat. Please? I hate eating breakfast alone. Especially what will amount to two breakfasts alone.”
Hayley swallowed. She wasn’t quite used to people exuberantly wanting to share company with her. But she kept having to remind herself that each choice was a step toward something she wanted. She’d come here wanting something.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to or you have things to do. Or you’re worried about running into Brandon. I promised I wouldn’t push you, and I mean it. I can give you space. I can try, anyway.”
“I really . . . I really do appreciate all you guys have done to try to make me feel comfortable.”
Lilly’s smile changed. If Hayley had to pick a descriptor word for it, she thought it might be . . . proud.
“They are really, really good men, the Evans brothers. I know you have no reason to believe me. I won’t say another word about it unless you ask me to. Just come have a donut with me. It’s just a chat. Between friends. We can talk about whatever you want.”
“Will you tell me about the wedding?”
Lilly looked surprised. “Since you’re the only one who actually wants to hear me talk incessantly about my wedding, I will gladly comply. If you’re sure you’re interested?”
It wasn’t that Hayley so much wanted to know about the wedding as she wanted to know about dynamics. She wanted to hear Lilly talk about something personal.
She was skirting around her issues. But having a donut with Lilly was something of a step, and Hayley had started to look at little steps less like her being a coward, and more like her taking the tiny little stairs up to where she wanted to be.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt nervous. It pissed him right the hell off. So, along with nerves, he was edgy and angry and one growly asshole.
At least when he was facing forward.
Anytime he glanced back at Hayley as they hiked toward their camping spot, his bubbling irritation would simply cease to exist, if briefly. She was always smiling. Constantly. All that cheerful happiness would normally crawl up his ass sideways, but something about it on Hayley, her excitement and enjoyment of what they were doing, it soothed all those hard edges inside of him.
She asked a million questions as they hiked, and he could tell she was filing the answers away. He could tell she sincerely wanted to succeed at this, and though there was a certain emotional family thing mixed up in her involvement with Mile High, it was clear she liked this job.
Hayley had one of those faces he didn’t think could be inscrutable if she tried. She was expressive and excitable. She was plain old genuine in her responses to everything, but especially about these excursions. Like her half brothers, like Sam himself, Hayley saw the beauty and soulfulness of being out here in this wild, vast land.
Not that he’d ever admit all that understanding and camaraderie to her or anyone else.
The most important thing here was that she really was going to be an asset to Mile High. It made the training feel less like a land mine and more like an imperative part of his job.
Or so he’d keep telling himself. It would probably be a little easier to believe if he could stop looking at her. At
the easy bounce of her dark, vibrant curls. The way the clothes she was wearing hugged every last all-too-enticing curve.
Sam had to believe at least part of his attraction was because he hadn’t been with anyone in years. Because this constant exposure to someone of the opposite sex was driving him slowly insane. It didn’t mean he had any special feelings for Hayley. That would be beyond suicide.
Except he wasn’t the man he’d been a month ago. Something had opened up inside him and he didn’t like it. Questions and feelings were surfacing—things he thought would be better left alone.
Before he could torture himself with attraction and opening up thoughts, they reached the designated campsite. Sam immediately set about directing her. Explaining what they needed to do, walking her through setting up her tent. He explained how he helped customers first, and how to give them something to do while he was setting up his own tent.
He talked her through starting a fire and discussed the different ways they dealt with feeding people on a backpacking trip. He focused on rules and regulations and processes and every nonpersonal, business thing he could think of, and Hayley ate it all up, clearly trying to memorize it all.
Eventually, though, the sun set, and the fire was going. They were sitting around the campfire eating their dinner, and Sam worked very hard to stare at the fire in front of him instead of her.
“Do you provide any kind of entertainment?” Hayley asked, cheerfully burning a marshmallow to a crisp. She had brought an entire bag. Apparently to torture him with, as he had to watch her lick sticky, white melted sugar off her fingers.
“Entertainment?” he grumbled, staring harder at the fire so he didn’t have to think about . . . licking.
“You know, like telling stories or playing an instrument?”
Which earned her a glare. “Do I seem like someone who plays a fucking harmonica before telling some kind of damn ghost story?”
Hayley laughed. “No, but I wanted to see that look of horror and recoil on your face when you answered me.”
“Ha.”
“You’re just too easy, Sam.”
“And I suppose nothing ever bothers you?”
“I mean, I’ve managed to spend a lot of time with you the past few weeks without being bothered. Maybe nothing does bother me.” She grinned at him.
It took every last ounce of control he had not to grin back, but he didn’t want to encourage this . . . this. Smiling and teasing and joking and all the very uncomfortable implications of attraction. Your attraction. Not hers.
“Why don’t you tell me a story?” she said, popping the blackened marshmallow into her mouth.
He struggled to return his gaze to the lick of flame instead of the pink of her tongue reaching out to banish a tiny bit of white marshmallow. “I don’t have any stories, Hayley.”
“Of course you do. Everyone has stories.”
“I do not.”
“Okay, so what would you do if a customer wanted to hear a story?”
“I’d tell them to go fuck themselves.”
Hayley laughed, that sound of ease and brightness sliding down his spine a mix of tension and . . . No, just tension.
“You would not. Even you.”
He glared at her because she was right. He’d never tell off a customer that way, no matter how much he might want to. And boy, there had been a few times he’d wanted to. Like that prick Raj asking Hayley out.
“Do you want me to teach you a story?” She smiled brightly at him, then stuck her thumb in her mouth, slowly licking the marshmallow off.
Sam had to close his eyes, trying to will his dick to calm the fuck down. She had no idea, that was the worst part. It had been easy to ignore any random woman customer who’d flirted with him. Not that his body had never reacted, but his brain had always been fully in control.
Hayley was all . . . well, the analogy he’d come up with the other day. A breeze. A pebble. Something non-threatening and small you didn’t notice had the potential to create an avalanche. Until the avalanche was upon you.
This could only end in disaster.
There was too much amusement in her expression, too much looseness to this moment. He should tell her no. No stories. Time to go to their tents where at least something solid would separate them.
There was no way in hell he should smile at her. There was no way he should encourage this ridiculousness.
But his mouth curved of its own accord and though he didn’t say anything, the very fact he didn’t leave and didn’t tell her to leave, was an invitation.
“Once upon a time,” she began, shoving another marshmallow onto her stick. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”
With a grunt he took the proffered stick. Hell, if he took it at least he wouldn’t have to watch her eat another damn one. “Campfire stories do not start with once upon a time.”
“I believe I’m the one telling the story. No one asked you.”
“I’m just saying you need to know the rules.” He thrust the marshmallow into the fire. He did not burn his to a crisp. Carefully he rotated the marshmallow at just the edge of the flame.
“There are no rules when it comes to a good story.”
“And you’re so certain you have a good story to tell?” There were all sorts of warning bells going off in his head. This was too close to flirting. Sort of jovial teasing. Giving each other a hard time while they all but grinned at each other. He was on very dangerous ground, and he had the awful feeling that if he pursued that very dangerous ground, Hayley would follow him wherever he went.
Which meant he had to be the smarter person here. He had to be the one to say no. The one to end this.
He made a gesture at her to go on with her story.
“Once upon a time there was a bear. He was a sad little bear, living alone in a sad little cave on the very top of a very beautiful mountain.”
“How can a cave be sad?”
She shushed him and continued. “The sad bear didn’t have any friends. Or at least, he thought he didn’t. But there were a lot of people—I mean bears—who very much cared about the well-being of sad bear. If only sad bear would let them in.”
Somehow, it didn’t piss him off. She was too obvious, too damn pleased with herself. He couldn’t muster up his usual irritation or anger or stomping away. “I know that story too,” he said conversationally.
“Oh really?”
“Only in my story sad little bear eats everyone instead of letting them in.”
Hayley burst out laughing, and he couldn’t help but join her. He was sitting around a campfire laughing happily, and no matter how dangerous all this was, he couldn’t extricate himself.
“The sad bear isn’t nearly as tough as he thinks he is.”
“Stop calling him sad bear.”
“Why? Do you feel a certain affinity for sad bear?”
Sam gave her a doleful look as he plucked the hot, perfectly browned marshmallow off the stick and popped it into his mouth. Despite his expertise, a few stray sticky spots of marshmallow remained on his finger. He made quick work of sucking them off, but for some reason made eye contact with Hayley on that last finger.
She was watching. Intently. Her top teeth biting into that lush lower lip of hers.
Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.
He dropped his hand immediately and handed the stick back to her. He could almost handle his own attraction. It was a crappy thing, but he could force it to the background.
He didn’t know what to do with her attraction layering on top of his. It was too much. Too big and possible and something he wanted.
You do not get what you want, Sam Goodall. Beginning and end of that story.
“Are you ever going to tell me what it’s about?” she asked softly.
He tensed. What was she even talking about? Being attracted to her or . . . ? “What what’s about?” he asked, praying she would chicken out and not answer.
“I’m sure it was very hard to lose her, but I don’t un
derstand why you still wouldn’t want to be friends with people. Why you insist on being so alone. Don’t your parents miss you?”
“No, they do not.”
“Are you sure, because—”
“I’m sure. Listen, don’t poke at that. Period.” Because he’d been feeling fairly good and she’d ruined it, but he didn’t want to ruin it permanently. “Got it?”
“Okay.”
Silence settled over them and Sam knew it was his turn or duty or something to break the silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He’d given her an inch and she’d tried to take a mile. He had no business letting her think she knew him, or deserved answers. Or, worst of all, that this attraction was anything more than a mistake.
No matter what existed between them, he sure as hell wasn’t going to bleed all over the place in front of her. He didn’t talk about this, he didn’t want to. That was the whole point of the life he’d built—not wanting to talk about pain, or about the guilt and the frustration. That stupid, aching hole in his heart because she wasn’t here, and that was partly his fault.
He had taken Abby to that party and left her alone. He had taken no responsibility at all for a nineteen-year-old at a party full of alcohol and drugs and bad behavior. He’d known what they were walking into, and he’d known his sister was unstable. He’d taken her anyway. He’d wanted to have fun, so he figured she could and should have some fun too.
He’d left Abby with those vultures and when he’d returned, it had been too late. Drug overdose. Everyone who knew the story blamed him. Every single person. Right down to his parents. Abby’s death was his fault, and there were no two ways about it.
He thought about telling Hayley, simply because she would maybe leave him alone if he did. But then what? Would she hide away? Would she tell him he belonged on a boat in Alaska? Would everything change simply because he couldn’t ever get over what he had done?
Sam stood, disgusted by the way his head had taken over. Worse, his heart. “We should get to sleep. Long day of hiking back tomorrow.”
He stood and waited for her to as well, so he could put out the fire and clean things up and—