by Costa, Bella
"Where's Dog?" I question through a mouthful of toast.
"He comes and goes as he pleases."
"Don't you worry that he'll get lost or run away?"
He tilts his head and regards me through thick lashes. "Dog doesn't belong to me, Acacia. He wondered in one day and stuck around. He chose me. As much as I can't chase him away...I can't make him stay."
I swallow hard, the half-chewed toast scratching as it is forced down. "That's a beautiful relationship to have with an animal." I take a sip of my coffee to sooth the pain. His eyes widen just fractionally.
"It's rare to find that kind of mutual respect. Most human to animal relationships are a battle of ownership and control.” I finish. He says nothing as he sips his coffee, but his eyes regard me intensely. It's unnerving.
"Your name, it's unusual.” I state, aiming for distraction.
"Yes?" His eyes continue their deep steady gaze. The room is starting to feel very warm.
"This is where you tell me a little bit about yourself." It comes out a little harsh so I quickly follow it up. "So does it have a meaning? Where is it from?"
"Falcon." His face is deadpan but his eyes, at least, have stopped doing that I-can-see-right-through-you thing.
"Excuse me?"
"My name means Falcon. My mother was Sioux."
Oh. Was? She must have passed away.
"I know there are a lot of reservations in Washington State. I didn't realise the Sioux were from these parts though."
"They aren't." Sheesh, talk about pulling teeth!
"I can see a hint of Native American." Like that gloriously tanned skin. "I'm guessing your father isn't?" I try to make it sound like casual conversation but my curiosity is piqued.
"You are the inquisitive type aren't you?" He gazes at me broodingly.
Perhaps I have gone too far.
"Wasn't. My father wasn't Sioux. He was European. Part Swiss, part something else equally European." He flips his left hand carelessly through the air.
"I'm sorry." I mumble. I suddenly feel a deep compassion for this beautiful man.
"For what?"
"For the loss of your parents." I know what that’s like. I take my last mouthful and set my utensils down.
"Shit happens!" he replies gruffly and rises from his seat. He sweeps the empty plate off my lap and strides purposely to the kitchenette. I try to remember the last time I met anyone with such extraordinary mood swings.
I jump when Chayton pulls up a small low stool and sits in front of me. The man is a master at stealth. He pulls my ankle onto his denim-clad lap, that action alone making my mouth arid.
"It will be alright." I protest pulling my foot back in a desperate attempt to put space between us. This feels too intimate. He grips my leg just above the injured ankle and holds it firmly in place.
"Acacia, I don't bite," he soothes. He starts to massage the toes gently, all his attention focused on the job at hand. I try to ignore the quickening of my pulse as his fingers softly squeeze the tip of each toe. Reaching the last toe his starts the process again, this time moving his thumb in small delicious circles. This feels so good and I sigh as my body slowly starts to relax.
He moulds a hand over the top of my foot, holding it in place, while the knuckles of his other hand, poise to press into the bottom of my foot. Instinctively I tense my foot, wincing as pain shoots through the tendons. His hand freezes before his knuckles make contact.
"Acacia, relax your foot. This will only hurt if you're tense."
"I'm ticklish." I mumble in embarrassment.
"Are you now?" His mouth turns up at the corners and his eyes glint dangerously. "Ticklish is a delightful and very useful trait in a woman." I frown at him for joking at my expense and his face softens.
"Trust me Acacia. Relax! To let it heal you need to rest the muscle, but increasing the circulation will allow it heal faster."
I try to do as I am told and his knuckles start to press into my foot. It doesn't tickle. I'm surprised. It also doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels good. Too good. As his hands work their magic kneading and pressing, I gaze at the light glinting off his thick shiny hair. It is so dark, it's almost black and the wayward waves swirl around a double crown on the apex of his head. He has pulled on a fitted black shirt with long sleeves and a low V-neck, the colour making him look enticingly dangerous. I can see the muscles in the tops of his shoulders, move and ripple under the fitted fabric of his shirt, as his fingers and hands dance around my foot. He must be very fit working outdoors, up here in the mountain, I muse.
I frown, wondering why his, neatly manicured fingers seem out of place, but they find a spot on the ball of my foot which is pure heaven and I melt into the sensations, closing my eyes.
"Acacia?" his low voice breaks the spell. "Where you ran out of fuel; that's a private road to Donavan's Pass. It's closed at this time of year. Were you lost?"
"I had been earlier, that's why I ran out of fuel but yes, I was heading for Donavan's Pass. How close was I?" I stifle a groan as he works on a knot caused by the high heels.
"You would have made if you had stuck to the road. You were about half a mile away."
"The snow was falling too thick and fast. I couldn't see and lost the road." This time a groan escapes my throat and I curse myself as my back arches slightly on its own accord. I cringe in embarrassment when I hear his sharp intact of breath. Shit he's noticed. Thankfully, he keeps his head down and his fingers keep up their excellent work.
"So your meeting was at Donavan's Pass." It is more of a statement than a question but I nod anyway.
"You know the Donavan's then?” I ask
"Quite well in fact." I am frustrated that I can't see his face properly and his voice isn't giving much away. "You work with a charity?" he asks. He doesn’t really sound all that interested so I gather he is just making conversation, although I briefly wonder where the assumption that I worked with a charity came from - perhaps the Donavan’s work with lots of charities.
"Yes. Yes I do." Oh, this feels good.
"I think you'll find the Donavan place perfect for whatever you have in mind, but may I suggest a more practical wardrobe?" His eyes crease with amusement at the corners and I can’t resist.
"Why Sir! I thought my designer 'boyfriend' sweats were the recommended latest in professional work wear." I giggle, surprising myself at my unusual display of flippancy. "Actually," I sober, “I probably won't get a second chance after missing the meeting yesterday."
He lifts his gaze to meet mine, smiling that sunshine smile, and desire pools like liquid gold, deep down inside. "I'm glad you're feeling a little perkier. I am sure another meeting can still be arranged. I'll drive you over in about half an hour." He lifts my foot, and puts it gently on the table.
"But if my V.W. will be here soon, I can drive myself over. Besides, Savannah was adamant that I wasn't to be late so I'm not sure there is much point in going now."
He gazes down at me, annoyance plain as day on his face. "Acacia, do you honestly think you'll be able to press the clutch in that tank you drive?"
My heart sinks. He is right. Oh, shit! How do I get back to Tacoma?
"And as for Savannah, I will take care of her,” Chayton states with confidence.
~.~
Roughly forty-five minutes later we pull up to the back of a large complex of buildings, the largest of which is a huge, timber and glass house, set firmly in the middle, facing the mountain. An odd direction to face a home but everything feels a little odd this week.
"Ready?" asks Chayton.
He leans against his door casually, watching me as I look up at the large two-story building. Walls of wood framed glass reflect the forest and set off at odd angles, topped with thick gold timber. While modern, the house sits sympathetically in its surroundings. I wonder what this says about its occupants.
"I'm not sure I am. The Donavan's, sound like difficult people and I am almost a day late."
Chayton gazes a
t me for a moment longer, his face unreadable, and doesn't comment. He climbs out the Jeep and I feel the sudden rush of cold air through the open door. Striding around he opens my door and I steel myself to be lifted and carried to the door.
Great! I arrive for a meeting a day late, carried in the arms of a hillbilly mountain-man – albeit a sexy one – barefoot and dressed in borrowed men's clothing. Here is one for the grandkids you will never have!
Even through the nerves, I feel a rush of excitement, uninvited, as he lifts me. Without knocking he pushes a door to the big building open and sets me down inside. He must know the Donavan's very well. We are in the kitchen and I take in the modern decor. The decorator has kept true to the natural forest feel of the place, and has found that compromise between cosy and minimalistic, without losing functionality. Past the kitchen, I can see a large dining room, matching the kitchen perfectly and I can immediately feel and hear the homely babble of large family dinners around the large polished wood table. Chayton guides me through an arch and I find myself standing on top of three stairs, looking down into a large, breathtaking open space.
The elongated, hexagonal living room has enough furniture for two families and plush sofas are separated into two groups at either end of the room. The focus of each set of chairs is a large stone fireplace. It is the first time I have seen a living room large enough to warrant a fire at each end of the room and both fires are crackling happily. My original impression that the building is double storied was wrong, although there is more than enough height to the vaulted ceiling to add a mezzanine floor.
I try to step down the first step but it is just too much and the lancing pain makes me grab onto both Chayton's forearm with both hands. He swiftly lifts me and carries me to a soft brown leather sofa in front of the nearest fire.
"Thank you. I'm starting to wear those words a little thin!" I mumble self-consciously.
"It's my pleasure. Can I get you something to drink? I happen to know the kitchen and bar are both fully stocked here." Gosh, he really is at home here! My nerves shoot up a notch.
"I'll have some coffee please, but only if you're sure the Donavan's won't mind."
"I can almost guarantee it. They are good people, really! Well...mostly!" He corrects, a wry smile spreading across his face. "I'll go and get your coffee then. Try and get comfortable."
Chayton returns quicker than expected and hands me a steaming cup of glorious smelling coffee.
"Thank you. Again."
"Acacia, you really should relax. I have to go. I believe Savannah will be along shortly.” I offer a brief, uncertain nod. "You'll be fine. Just be gentle with her okay?" he ends, striding out the room.
Nervously, I tap my fingernails against my coffee cup. I feel trapped, overwhelmed and confused and so very, very out of control. I have suddenly become very reliant on this strange, beautiful man and a woman with a nasty bite, who I am supposed to be gentle with.
I push myself upright, leave my cup on the coffee table and hobble across the vast room to a large glass wall, using furniture to steady myself along the way. The staggering vista before me makes me gasp. Like a fairytale glade in an enchanted forest, a copse of tall trees I don't recognise, their high branches spread out like umbrellas, cast magical shadows on the gleaming snow covered floor of the circular front yard. The trees form an encompassing barrier around the substantial open space, holding the natural forest at bay. At the farthest end the glade, the natural barrier opens up to provide an unhindered view of a partially frozen waterfall, towering above a dark pond.
This is why the house was built facing this way. I can easily imagine this space through all four seasons. In a few weeks, the waterfall will melt completely and young fern leaves will begin to unfurl. Small spring bulbs will poke their buds through the last of the snow and frost bringing the first colour to the crisp white landscape. As summer draws on, the canopy of the trees will thicken and mosses, grass and ferns will cover every surface possible; framing the bubbling surface of the pond and the white veil of the water dropping from high. Finally, in the autumn the sharpness of the evergreens and the mosses will be contrasted against the fall of burnt red, orange and yellow leaves creating a carpet of glorious colour before welcoming the first cover of snow.
It's breath taking.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" I jump at the soft feminine voice and spin to I face the young woman standing stiffly in the middle of the room. She is dressed in black leggings and a long, flowing, caftan styled blouse that reaches to mid-thigh. A pair of stylish but comfortable flats adorns her feet and her long black hair is swept up in a pony. She wears no jewellery and there is no makeup on her flawless pale skin, as far as I can tell. She certainly does not need makeup.
"Savannah." She holds out a hand and I notice the movement does not extend to the rest of her body. Awkwardly I hobble forward. Her hand is cool and her grip soft.
"You've injured yourself!" She frowns at me. It is an uncomfortable look on her beautiful face. "Please have a seat." She walks stiffly to a straight-backed chair and I notice the outline of a severe looking back brace showing through the fabric of her blouse. The Donavan sister!
I settle, stiffly, into the nearest sofa. Savannah gazes at me thoughtfully a small smile hinted on her lips and I offer her a tiny smile in response.
"Acacia. Did I pronounce that right?" I nod. "Are you always this quiet?" I blush furiously; something else I have been doing a lot of recently.
"Sorry, it has been a surreal twenty four hours. No, I'm not usually this quiet, or apologetic or flustered."
"Mmm. I can see how spending a night with Chayton in the cabin can do that to a girl." I hear the mirth in her voice glance up. Her face has split in two, in a broad friendly smile and her eyes are twinkling with merriment. I slump with relief and join her in laughter. I like her.
"I'm sorry that you nearly spent the night in the forest. Chayton has explained what happened, although he didn't mention that you were injured in the process," she frowns slightly. "You can still look around if you want, though I'd understand if you're no longer interested." Her eyes look pained and apologetic and I suddenly feel sorry for her.
"Um, it's not your fault, I should have been better prepared, it was very irresponsible of me. I am grateful for the opportunity, but I don't want you to offer it to me out of pity."
She looks at me incredulously. "Don't be silly! Actually when I first got the message that someone would be coming out, I assumed it was another reporter. We are a very private family and they are very good at resorting to cheap tricks."
Don't I know it!
"Oh Acacia, I'm sorry if I was rude on the phone. Reporters and pain, make me rude and grumpy,” she pouts apologetically and points her thumb over her shoulder at her back. "We would love to put the place to more use! Besides," she adds quietly, "I do at least owe you a change of clothes. No offence, but the only person who looks hot in Chayton's clothes is Chayton," she grins. "We're about the same size. The doctor will be here soon. As soon as he's looked at your injury we'll see what we can find you."
I am monumentally confused. She called a doctor? For a sprained ankle? She must notice my confusion.
"My doctor is due here soon to review my pain medication. He can look at you at the same time. He won't mind!" I am burning to ask about her back brace but hold my tongue. She doesn't volunteer the information. Savannah grills me on the charity and what we do and it is nearly an hour later when the sound of footsteps interrupts us.
"Here he is!" She says cheerfully, smiling at the handsome man who walks down the stairs from the kitchen. The neatly groomed, blonde doctor stops in front of Savannah's chair and takes her hand, kissing her knuckles gallantly.
"My Lady!"
"My goodness!" She replies, feigning surprise and suppresses a giggle behind her fingertips.
"And you must be Acacia?" he bows theatrically in my direction. "I'm reliably informed that you two striking ladies have ailments, to which I may just b
e the cure."
I cannot help but laugh. Under Savannah's instruction, he tends to me first and before long, my ankle is snugly strapped and a bottle of strong anti-inflammatory painkillers is enclosed in my hands.
"You'll need to stay off that ankle completely for at least four days. After that, keep it light until you feel comfortable on it. I have a few sets of crutches in the car. I will have a look and see which ones will suit you best. But first, I need to play doctor with my favourite girl." He winks at me moving around to Savannah. He is nice. Savannah giggles frequently as the good Doctor tends to her. I cannot hear what he is whispering but I know he's flirting outrageously with her.
Half an hour later, the doctor has left. Arrangements have been made for me to stay the night and have the full tour in the morning. I have taken a painkiller and I am getting the hang of the crutches. I'm not looking forward to trying the stairs though.
"Chayton is going to the city tomorrow afternoon. He can take you back to Tacoma and we can have someone bring your vehicle."
"I guess. It's not like I'll be driving for a while," I reply mournfully.
"You can have my old room and we can raid the wardrobe for some clothes."
"Great," I reply, trying to drum up some enthusiasm.
Savannah leads me through to her old bedroom. It is pretty. It takes me by surprise. This is a very feminine room, all pale pinks, lace and flowers. Not a typically couple’s room. I wonder if she redecorated after her husband was killed, but then she said this is her old room – he was only killed three months ago. She indicates for me to sit on the end of the bed and flings open her wardrobe doors. Standing stiffly in front of the racks of clothes, she taps a long slender finger on her mouth.
"This one!" she finally says, pulling out a soft, cotton knit, wrap around dress. She holds the coat hanger in front of her for my approval. The navy dress is simple and elegant and hangs calf length. It looks like it has three quarter length sleeves and I hope the V-neck isn't too low.