by Lisa Jackson
As the pickup idled, Carlie reached for the door handle.
“You don’t have to go in,” he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Her fingers froze in midair. “It’s late.”
“Not that late.” He turned off the ignition and the ensuing silence was suddenly deafening. She could hear her own heartbeat and the hum of the security lamps that shed a blue light over the pockmarked asphalt of the parking lot.
“I’ve got to work in the morning.”
“So do I.”
She turned to face him and barely dared breathe. Lounging against the driver’s side door, Ben was openly staring at her and his eyebrows were drawn together as if he were trying to piece together some complicated, mystical puzzle. He fingered his keys. Silence was thick in the truck. She swallowed hard.
He reached across the cab, lifted a lock of her long black hair and let it drop again. “Why did you show up at the cabin tonight?”
“I told you—”
“I know what you said, but I was wondering if there was another reason.”
“No.”
“You’re sure that it’s over between you and my brother?”
Her heart was beating so loudly, she was embarrassed. “It never really got started, Ben. It just didn’t work,” she said honestly.
“Why?”
“I liked Kevin…I still do, but he wanted to get more serious than I did….” Before she realized what he was doing, his fingers slid beneath her hair, found the back of her neck and drew her face to his.
“So what are you? Just a party girl?” he asked, his breath fanning her lips.
Oh, God, she could hardly breathe.
“No, but—”
His lips found hers in a kiss that was hot and wet and promised so much more. His mouth moved easily and Carlie couldn’t help the little groan of pleasure that escaped her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that kissing him was asking for more trouble than she could ever hope to handle, but she couldn’t stop herself and she didn’t protest as his arms surrounded her, pulling her close against him. His chest was rock hard and bare where his shirt didn’t quite close and his mouth moved easily over hers.
She felt as if she were melting inside when he finally let go of her.
Her heart was thundering as he slid back to his side of the truck and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Damn!” His breathing was loud and he cast her a glance that could cut through metal. “You—”
“I what?” she asked, bristling a little. After all, he’d kissed her. Not the other way around.
“You’re…well, you’re just not what I expected. Son of a—”
“Gun?” She tried to break the tension building in the cab.
“Close enough.” His fingers still shook a little as he placed them over the steering wheel. So he had been as affected as she. That little bit of knowledge helped because she was surprised at her own reaction. She’d kissed her share of boys during high school and some of the kisses had been pleasant, but she’d never felt so downright shaken to her toes.
“I’d better get going.” He reached for the keys still dangling in the ignition.
“You want to come in…for a soda, or some coffee or something?” Lord, that sounded so immature. They’d just been at a beer bash and shared a kiss that was as deep as the night and she was offering him coffee like a middle-aged woman in a commercial on television.
Hesitating, he glanced in her direction, appeared to wrestle with a silent decision, then pocketed his keys. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Probably not.” Relieved, she laughed and climbed out of the truck.
Now what? she wondered as she waited for him to round the fender and walk to the front door. Her fingers fumbled a little as she pushed the key into the lock and turned softly. The door opened silently and her cat, in a streak of gray, bolted inside.
“Get locked out, did you, Shadow?” Carlie said, thankful for the distraction. “That’s what happens when you don’t come in when you’re called.” With the cat at her heels, Carlie walked quickly and quietly down the hall to the kitchen where she snapped on the light. Shadow sprang to the counter and perched on the windowsill.
“You’ve got a friend,” Ben observed.
“Most of the time, but she’s a little fickle.”
“Like you?” he asked and she felt heat flood up her neck. Of course he’d think she was as flighty as the stupid cat. There was no telling what Kevin had told his brother.
“I’m a lot of things,” she said, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a carton of milk. She sniffed the edge to be sure the contents weren’t sour, then poured some into a saucer and placed the dish in the corner by the back door. “But definitely not fickle.” The cat hopped off the sill, trotted over to the saucer, wrinkled her nose, then began to lap greedily.
“No?” Ben twisted a kitchen chair around and straddled the back.
“We’ve got cola, or lemonade or I can make coffee.”
“The soda’s fine.”
She poured two glasses, rattled ice out of a tray and plopped a couple of cubes into each glass. “I just want to know that we’re not together because of Kevin,” Ben suddenly tossed out.
“What? That’s crazy!” She nearly dropped the glasses. Was he serious?
“Some girls would date a guy’s brother to get back at him.”
“I don’t want to get back at anyone!”
“And some would try and make him jealous.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked, dumbfounded.
His eyes turned sober. “I don’t want to.”
“Good, because I’m tired of talking about your brother, okay? I told you that I was never really serious about him. Either you believe me or you don’t.”
“I just want things straight.”
“Me, too.”
He stared at her a long minute, then took the glass from her outstretched hand and lifted it a bit. “Cheers.”
“Here’s mud in your eye.”
“Better than a foot in the mouth, I guess.” He smiled then, a long slow smile that touched a corner of her heart, before he placed the glass to his lips.
Carlie’s heart did a stupid little somersault and she knew that she’d misjudged her reaction to him. She’d hoped that after meeting him, her fascination for him would fade, but instead, the more she was with him, the more intrigued she was and try as she might, she couldn’t forget that single, long kiss.
“I heard you plan to leave town,” he said. She guessed his information had come from Kevin. “That you’ve got big plans to model. L.A. or New York. Right?”
She felt heat flood her face. “It’s a dream,” she admitted. “I worked on the school paper, taking pictures. And so after I graduated, I took a job in Coleville at a studio, just doing grunt work—filing, typing, developing negatives—that sort of thing. And then the owner of the studio—his name is Rory—asked me to pose for him. So I did.”
Clouds gathered in his eyes. “So the rest is history?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Hardly.”
“No contract with the Ford Agency?”
“Not yet.” She relaxed a little. He was teasing her and the twinkle in his hazel eyes wasn’t malicious—just interested.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to get out,” he admitted, then drained his drink.
“You don’t?” She didn’t believe him. Kevin had acted as if Gold Creek was the end-all and be-all. She’d suspected that he hadn’t always believed it, but that once he’d lost his basketball scholarship and his dreams in the process, he’d forced himself to settle for a job in the mill and now was rationalizing…or pouring himself into a bottle. Though she’d never voiced her opinion, she thought Kevi
n spent too many nights on the third stool of the Silver Horseshoe Saloon holding up the bar and watching sports on television. He’d even given up on city-league basketball with friends. She expected his brother to feel the same.
“Sure. I don’t plan to hang out here any longer than necessary.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“See as much of the world as I can. Maybe join the army. My dad thinks I should enlist first and let the military pay for my schooling when I get out.”
“You want to go into the army?” she repeated.
“Why not?” He slanted her an uneven grin. “You know, join the army, see the world.”
“I don’t know. It sounds so…rigid and well, kind of like prison.”
“It’ll be a challenge.”
“You have a thing for guns, or something?”
“I have a thing for adventure.” His eyes glimmered a fraction as his teeth crunched down on the ice cube. All at once she could imagine him creeping through some foreign jungle, rifle slung over his back, searching out the enemy. There was a part of Ben Powell that seemed dangerous and forbidden—a part of him that longed to walk on the edge.
“It’s peacetime, remember?” she said, feeling more than a little nervous. She hated guns. Hated war. Hated the military.
“There’s always action somewhere.”
“And you want to be there.”
“Beats sitting around this Podunk town and ending up hoping that the mills don’t shut down and praying that some jerk like H. G. Monroe III keeps on handing out paychecks that barely cover your bills.” He frowned darkly and his jaw grew hard. “I don’t plan on working at the Bait and Fish for the rest of my life and I’m sure as hell not going to sign up with the Monroes or the Fitzpatricks.”
“But you would with the army.” Carlie didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm. Her father had worked at Fitzpatrick Logging for nearly thirty years. He was a foreman and made decent money. Time after time Weldon Surrett had told his only daughter that Thomas Fitzpatrick had given him a job when there was no work, he’d kept the logging company running in bad times and good, he’d spotted Weldon as a dedicated worker and promoted him. Carlie was convinced her father would lay down his life for Thomas Fitzpatrick, even though she didn’t completely trust the man.
When Roy, Thomas’s eldest son, had been killed last fall, her father had cried and forced his small family to attend the funeral. It had been painful that rainy day and the fact that Carlie had sided with Rachelle in defending Jackson Moore had caused friction in the family as well as friction at Weldon’s job.
Almost everyone in town believed that Jackson Moore had killed his rival. Everyone but Rachelle and her friend, Carlie. It had been an argument that simmered around the apartment for weeks after Jackson Moore left town.
She took a sip of her drink. “I, um, think Thomas Fitzpatrick isn’t all bad,” she said, though, truthfully, the few times she’d met him, she’d been uncomfortable. Thomas, tall and patrician, had looked at her intently each time and his smile had seemed to have a hidden meaning that chilled her blood.
“I’d hate to see what you consider ‘all bad.’”
She wiped a drop of dew from the side of her glass. “Look, years ago, Fitzpatrick gave my father a chance and he’s kept him on, even when Dad was out with back surgery. Dad never missed a paycheck.”
Ben’s jaw tightened into a harsh line. “Yep. Fitzpatrick. Helluva guy. He and Monroe. Peas in the same dirty pod.” He scooted back his chair, handed her his glass and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I guess I’d better shove off. Big day at the Bait and Fish tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said, hating the fact that they’d come very near an argument.
“It’s late.” With a bitter smile he strode to the front door and she followed. “Thanks for the drink.”
She thought he might kiss her again and he stared at her for a heartbeat that caused her throat to catch. His gaze lingered on hers a second longer than necessary. “Good night, Carlie,” he whispered, his voice rough.
She leaned forward, expecting to be taken into his arms, but he opened the door and disappeared, leaving her feeling empty inside.
Disappointment curled in her stomach as she watched him through the narrow window. The pickup bounced out of the parking lot and disappeared into the night. Touching the tip of her finger to her lips, she closed her eyes and wondered if she’d ever see him again.
* * *
“I HEARD YOU were with Carlie.” Kevin lifted his head from beneath the hood of his Corvette long enough to stare his brother hard in the eye. “At the lake the other night. Some of the guys said you met her at the Daniels’s place and wound up taking her home.”
“Does it bother you?” Ben asked, wishing he hadn’t stopped by Kevin’s rented house unannounced. His brother was checking out his one prized possession—a six-year-old Corvette with engine problems. Keeping the car running cost Kevin nearly every dime he earned at the sawmill. Glossy black and sleek, the car seemed to hug the asphalt of the driveway.
“Bother me?” Kevin slammed down the hood and leaned a hip against a low-slung fender. “’Course it bothers me. She’s trouble, man. I told you that before.”
“You also said that you were through with her, that you were going with someone else…a girl from Coleville.”
“Tracy,” Kevin agreed, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “I am.”
“So it doesn’t matter—”
“Like hell!” Kevin said, bending a little so that the tip of his nose nearly touched Ben’s. “That little bitch gave me nothing but grief. Nothing! If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from her!” He opened the car door, slid inside and started the Corvette with a roar from the powerful engine. Blue smoke jetted from the exhaust as the sports car idled for a second, backfired and died. “Great,” Kevin ground out. “Now what?”
Ben ignored his brother’s question. “You’ve still got a thing for her.”
Kevin stiffened, but his mouth twisted into an ugly little smile as he glared up at Ben through the open window. “No way. I’m through with her. Used goods.”
Ben’s fists clenched and he gnashed his back teeth together to keep from uttering a hot retort. He hadn’t come over to Kevin’s to pick a fight with him. No, he’d just stopped by to clear his conscience and make certain that Kevin didn’t still hold a torch for Carlie because, for the past three days, ever since taking her home from the lake, Ben had thought of little else than her easy smile, glossy black hair and blue eyes. During the day, when he was supposed to be stocking the shelves or selling fishing tackle, thoughts of her had invaded his mind. And the nights were worse—he’d already lost three nights’ sleep, tossing and turning, remembering the feel of her body against his when he’d kissed her.
Muttering under his breath, Kevin climbed out of the car, checked under the hood one more time and, in exasperation, tossed the dirty rag into a box of tools. He reached into the pocket of his shirt for his cigarettes and his face creased into a frown. “Probably needs a whole new engine.” Then, as if he remembered why his brother had stopped by, he added, “Look, if you want Carlie Surrett, I’m not standin’ in your way. She’s all yours. She doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“You’re sure?”
Kevin flicked a lighter to the end of his cigarette, then let out a long stream of smoke. “It’s your funeral.”
Ben wasn’t convinced that Kevin didn’t still harbor a few unsettled feelings, but it didn’t really matter. Ben had laid all his cards on the table. “So how’d you find out that I was with her at the lake?”
Kevin snorted. Smoke curled from his nostrils. “This is Gold Creek, remember? Bad news travels fast.”
CHAPTER TWO
BEN DIDN’T CALL. Not the next day, nor the
day after. Carlie began to believe that she’d imagined the passion in his kiss.
“Face it,” she told her reflection as she stared into the oval mirror mounted over her bureau. “It wasn’t a big deal to him.” She brushed her long hair until it crackled, then braided the blue-black strands into a single plait that fell down the middle of her back. Shadow was curled on the window seat in her room, washing her face and obviously unconcerned about Carlie’s love life.
“I shouldn’t care, you know,” she said with a glance at the gray tabby. Shadow did her best to ignore Carlie and continued preening. In disgust, Carlie tossed her brush onto the bureau. “You make a lousy sister, you know,” she said, wishing she had someone in whom to confide. She considered Brenda, but shoved that idea quickly aside. Brenda was too gregarious; she didn’t know how to keep a secret. But she could always confide in Rachelle.
Or she could just forget Ben. He obviously wasn’t interested in her and she wasn’t the type to go chasing after boys. Or she hadn’t been until she’d become interested in the younger Powell brother.
Grabbing her purse, she headed for work. Upon her mother’s urging, she snatched an apple from the fruit basket on the table, and walked outside. The morning air was already hot, the dew melted away. She left the windows of her car rolled down and turned the radio up as she drove the few miles to Coleville and her summer job. What she’d do come September, she hadn’t really considered.
She didn’t have enough money to go away to school, and she’d applied at a local junior college, but she wasn’t convinced that academics was in her future.
Neither is Ben Powell, she told herself firmly as her mind strayed to him. Why had she met him this summer, when she was already confused about the rest of her life? She didn’t need to be so distracted by a boy who hardly knew she existed.
Disgusted that she couldn’t put him out of her mind, she spent the next five hours in the photography studio concentrating on her work. She developed negatives, helped frame some of Rory’s, her boss’s, most recent shots and generally tidied up the studio. Rory didn’t seem to believe in the connection between cleanliness and God.