by Karina Halle
That’s probably why I clung so hard to Levi. Because he understood me. He didn’t judge. He saw my parents and he saw the good in me. He took me under his wing. He helped me escape. He helped me be free. How could I not love a man, let alone anyone, who did that for me?
His parents were wonderful too. They loved him so much, they moved to Colorado just so they could be closer to him. I guess they thought he’d work in the state forever, maybe settle down eventually. Not with me though, I was nothing more than a friend. But I was someone to them and that counted.
Of course, now they hate me. They blame me for what happened to Levi and in turn I can’t blame them. I blame myself too. I’ve tried to keep in touch with them, to find out how he is. He’s been in a coma for so long and they keep clinging to the hope he’ll come back to them. But I had to move out of Colorado and move on, leave it all behind, even though they were really the last real friends I had.
Now I’m here, alone in a basement suite, nearly shivering in my bed with the loneliness rolling through me. I feel like I’m still on that cliff edge, on my stomach, staring down into the black abyss. But instead of Mav by my side, his long, hard body pressed to mine, there’s nothing but the dark. It goes and goes and goes, fathomless.
Even going back to sleep doesn’t seem like a good idea. More darkness. My dreams will be unkind. So I get up and get dressed and make pancakes and scarf them all down. Then I watch Wayne’s World and Wayne’s World 2, because they always make me laugh.
Then I put on some makeup and make myself go to The Bear Trap, because after a while, even Mike Meyers isn’t a good substitute for real people.
It’s fairly early when I go, so I’m not expecting it to be busy at all. Delilah waves at me from behind the bar. So far I think I’m the only person in there, except for the old dude who is always at the same booth, trying to sneak a cigarette when she’s not looking.
“Hey, how goes it?” she says. “I thought I would have seen you more.”
“Been busy,” I tell her, taking a seat at the bar. Delilah is super pretty. She’s tall, with broad swimmer’s shoulders, and she carries herself gracefully. She’s got a super sweet face, big big smile, big white teeth, cute cheeks, long brown hair that swings around her face.
“Mav’s working you hard, is he?” she says and then smirks. “Sorry. Bad joke.”
“It’s too early for jokes,” I tell her. “I think I’ll get a glass of white.”
“You got it,” she says, fishing out a cheap bottle from the fridge and pouring me a generous glass.
I take a long sip, letting the cold wine slide down my throat, then give her a grateful smile. “This is exactly what I’ve needed. And the company.”
Delilah looks flattered. “Well, thank you. I guess you don’t know anyone in town, do you?”
I shrug, trying to make myself look less desperate. “No one other than the people I work with, and I don’t think they’re the types I’d hang out with or vice versa. I’m still not sure what they think of me. We went on our first call last night.” I tell her all about it. When I’m done, she’s wide-eyed, clutching the edge of the bar top.
“That’s crazy,” she says in a hush. “That was your first call here in North Ridge?”
“Yup. Talk about being thrown into the fire.”
“Wow. Honestly, I’ve heard Maverick talk about what he’s done and I’ll read about it in the paper or hear about it if it’s something big, and I don’t know how he does it. Or how you do it. Risking your life for people you don’t know.”
“It’s why we do it. It’s exciting. And once you start, it’s hard to stop.”
“I guess,” she muses, leaning on her elbows on the bar. “But how many of them have families, you know? It’s probably easier to do it if you’re alone.”
“And that’s probably why so many of us are loners,” I point out.
She gives me a small smile. “You consider yourself a loner?”
I let out a wry laugh. “Well, yeah. I moved all the way here by myself. Didn’t know a soul. Still don’t, really.”
The door to the bar opens, bringing in a blast of cold. My heart starts beating fast and hot and I find myself hoping that it’s Maverick. I want to see him again, talk to him, be near him. It’s not just the crazy sexual attraction I feel for him, it’s this strange sense of comfort he brings.
But when I turn and look it’s not Maverick. It is his younger brother, Shane, and his fiancée, Rachel.
“You guys are here early,” Delilah says.
“We just wanted a quick drink before dinner,” Rachel says. “We’re classy like that.” She stops at the bar and gives me a quick smile. “Hello,” she says, offering her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”
“Riley,” I tell her, shaking her hand. Like Del, she’s also pretty, except in this haunting way, like she stepped out of a gothic painting, all black hair, sharp bone structure and vivid eyes.
“I’m Shane, Mav’s brother,” Shane says, and I shake his hand too.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I tell him teasingly.
“Oh really? I’m always curious on how Mav paints me. The hapless cowpoke?”
“Something like that,” I say. I can tell Shane is related to his brothers—they all have the same eye shape and set brow—but he’s lighter in eye color and hair color, his face a little prettier than Mav’s or Fox’s. He definitely takes after one of their parents more than the other. I wonder if he resembles their mother, maybe that’s part of the reason why Fox apparently has issues with him?
“Riley was just telling me all about their call last night,” Delilah says excitedly.
“I heard about that,” Shane says, leaning against the bar. “My grandpa said a hiker broke his leg. He knew one of the skiers who found him, guess he buys cows from us sometimes. Sounded pretty rough.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I say. “But we got it done. In Aspen there were a lot of SARs around, I guess because of the popularity and population. Here it seems like we’re going to be working all the time. We’re all there is for like, what, one hundred kilometres or something?”
“You were in Aspen before?” Rachel asks. “And now you’re here. What made you want to come all the way out to North Ridge? I couldn’t wait to blow this popsicle stand.”
Shane reaches out and grabs her hand, kissing the back of it. “But you did come back, raven girl.”
How cute.
I clear my throat, giving the happy couple one of those sickly-sweet smiles I reserve for those who are sickly sweet. “I needed a change. I’m actually half Canadian and thought it was about time I start living on this side of the border.”
“Smart choice,” Shane says.
“Riley doesn’t really know anyone here, other than your brother and the dudes she works with,” Delilah pipes up again.
Rachel and Shane both look at me with pitying looks on their faces.
I raise my glass of wine, which is almost gone. “But hey, that’s what your local watering hole is for, right?”
“Well, we’re having dinner tomorrow night,” Rachel says. “It’s Sunday and there’s usually a roast that my mother and I make for everyone. Why don’t you come over?”
“No, that’s okay,” I say quickly. I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case.
“No, seriously,” says Shane. “That’s a great idea.” He looks at Del. “You and Jeanine should come too.”
“Sure,” Delilah says. “Just make sure Fox and Maverick go.”
“I’ll try,” Rachel says. “Those two are always trying to weasel their way out of things. Fox more so than Mav.”
I look at Shane and see a brief tick in his jaw. I think back to what Mav said about his mother and Fox and Shane’s relationship.
“Please say you’ll come,” Rachel goes on to me. “It’s super low-key. And you wouldn’t be imposing. Having dinner at Ravenswood Ranch is kind of like an initiation into North Ridge. When I was little, the Nelsons
were the first family to take my family in, so it’s only fair we do the same with you.”
She drives a hard bargain, this Rachel. But as much as I hate to impose, being around a family, a group of people who seem to like me well enough, does seem like something I need to do. Something I should do. Anything to get me out of this funk and get me back to my normal self.
“Okay,” I tell them. “That would be fun.”
“Great!” Delilah exclaims and starts pouring me another glass of wine. “This one is on me.”
“Ahem,” Shane clears his throat. “And one for your buddy Shane?”
“Do you want to take a look at your bar tab, buddy?”
He rolls his eyes and hands over some bills. She slides them both beers with a smug smile.
I end up having another glass of wine at the bar after Shane and Rachel go on to their dinner plans, just talking with Delilah until it starts getting busy. But even though I stick around, slowly sipping the wine, hoping to see Maverick, he never comes in. I contemplate texting him to tell him I’m here or even just hello, but I never get the nerve. Which is weird, because all week I’ve had too much nerve. Maybe it was because I didn’t really know Mav, I just thought he was a giant hunk of man-meat I wanted to roll around naked with. And while I still don’t know him too well, I know him enough that I’m actually starting to like him. As in, want to be around him and talk to him and not just use him for fucking purposes.
Though that would be nice, too.
That would be very nice, indeed.
But, that night he doesn’t show up at the bar and I end up walking home through the cold. I get into bed, bring out my vibrator, and end the evening on a high note.
The next day I’m set to come into work, so I show up at the office and find only Jace there.
Jace is a strange one. Quiet and mopey and emo to the core. He doesn’t talk much and I’m still not sure if he likes me or not. I don’t need him—or anyone—to like me, but I do get weird when it comes to awkward silences and when we’re together there’s nothing but awkward silences. So I talk to fill in the gaps. Which means I talk a lot. And when I talk a lot, I get weird and go off on a million different tangents, such as:
Do you like cheese?
I hate shopping for socks.
Michael Keaton is the best Batman.
Gluten is highly underrated.
What do you think is on the dark side of the moon?
* * *
So yeah, who knows if he likes me. He probably doesn’t. He probably can’t stand me but whatever, I would rather he not like me than me personally have to suffer through the stretches of silence.
Today is no exception. I’m filing paperwork about the rescue we did the other day and he’s doing something that looks like updating GPS maps or something like that. Apparently, every time you go over an area you haven’t been before, you have to record each coordinate.
There’s always something to do.
It’s only as I’m done with my shift and am leaving that Jace says, “Can I ask you something?”
I pause at the door and look at him in surprise. “Of course.”
I’m prepared for him to tell me that Christian Bale is the best Batman.
He licks his thin lips. “How long have you been doing this for?”
That’s a strange question. Not that I haven’t been asked that, but it feels strange coming from Tickle Me Emo. “Uh, well, my friend in high school was doing a boy scouts version of it and I started getting involved that way. Just doing what he did. Learning about the mountains, taking first aid classes, learning how to climb, all that stuff. But I’ve only been paid for this in the last two places I worked at.”
He gives me a barely perceptible nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
I frown, trying to smile. “Why?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
“Well how long have you been doing it?”
“A lot longer than you,” is his clipped answer. And then he goes right back to his computer.
Okay then.
I shrug Jace off and head back home where I quickly get ready. Delilah had said she’d come pick me up at five p.m., which gives me twenty minutes to look presentable. Even though I’m tired and usually can’t be bothered, I spend some time putting on my makeup and selecting the right outfit. I pick a pair of cheap skinny jeans, a tight-fitting black V-neck sweater, and furry boots that come to my knee.
By the time I slip on my parka and fluff my hair around my shoulders, there’s a knock at the basement suite door in the backyard.
Imagine my surprise when I don’t see Delilah standing on the other side of it, but Maverick instead.
“Hi,” I tell him as I open the door, so glad I put extra care into my appearance, even though he’s used to seeing me look ragged.
“Hi,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “You look amazing.”
I don’t usually blush but I think I’m blushing now. “Thank you. I didn’t know you’d be here. I mean, I was expecting Delilah.”
He nods, folding his arms across his chest and taking a wide stance. “Well, I only found out you were coming over for dinner the moment Del was leaving to pick you up.”
“So you came instead.”
“I don’t trust her driving,” he says. “Come on, the truck’s running.”
I grab my purse from the coat rack and follow him out. One of the more annoying things about the winter is how much it hides your body. But now, with this quick trip, Mav is dressed in Timberlands, jeans, a thermal, and a leather jacket, and I have a great view of his ass as he walks. He wasn’t kidding about it being hard. It makes me think about all his other hard places.
I get in his now familiar truck, immediately relaxing. Even though it’s thrown me off guard with him picking me up, I’m glad he did. Just breathing in the same air as him gives me a sense of well-being.
We drive off and I’m already smiling.
8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maverick
Fucking eh.
I had no idea that Riley was coming over for dinner until Del was literally about to leave the ranch house with her car keys. When Rachel first invited Fox and I over for dinner and was rather insistent that I come, I didn’t think much of it. She’s often insistent about most things, especially anything related to family matters.
Had I known they’d invited Riley though, fuck. I don’t know. After the rescue the other night, I was left feeling nothing but confusion over my feelings for her. On one hand, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife. Which I find almost amusing, considering it’s kind of all there on the table. There aren’t words unsaid because Riley is saying them, which makes the tension even thicker. All words and, so far, no action.
On the other hand, I feel closer to her, and not in a way I appreciate. If I was protective of her before, I’m more so now. I wish I could keep her all to myself and not share her with anyone else, and that includes co-workers and family. If that makes me a caveman, so be it.
And now she’s beside me in my truck, tapping her fingers along the window ledge to Tom Petty playing on the radio. She looks absolutely phenomenal and hot as fuck, her black sweater displaying just the tops of her full breasts. I have to fight to keep my attention on the road.
“It’s a shame he died,” she says.
“Who? Tom Petty?”
“He seemed immortal. Like Prince and Bowie. I always assumed death couldn’t touch them, that it only touched the rest of us.” She glances at me, brows raised curiously. “Who are your top three musicians? Like if they died, you’d go into mourning.”
“Honestly, I’m still not over Chris Cornell being gone.”
She studies me and nods after a moment. “I can see you being a Soundgarden fan.”
“I am,” I tell her, rolling up my sleeve to show her the band’s symbol tattooed on the back of my forearm.
“Nice,” she says and reaches over, her finger tracing the outline of the tattoo, a
s if it’s still raised. She’s creating goosebumps along my skin but thankfully she pulls her hand away before she notices. “What else do you got?”
“I’ve got everything, darling.” I grin at her. “But unless I’m naked, you won’t be able to see them.”
Her eyes widen, like she’s appreciating the fact that for once I’m the one throwing it out there instead of her.
Even though you shouldn’t be, I remind myself. This is a dangerous path and I can’t help but think back to what I said the other night, when I told her I didn’t play it safe. The more I push and play with this, the riskier it’s going to get.
“Well, well, well,” she says. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
Phew. I thought that was going to derail us for a moment, but she put us right back on track. Maybe I’ll be able to survive this dinner with her after all.
“Tom Waits, Willie Nelson, and Keith Richards.”
“Keith Richards? Really?”
I shrug. “If he died, it would mean he’s human, and honestly I’d be a little disappointed to find out otherwise. What about you?”
“Everyone I love is already dead.”
I look at her in surprise. “Really? Or are you just being morbid?”
She ticks them off her fingers. “Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, and Muddy Waters.”
Okay, now I’m really surprised. “I wouldn’t peg you for a jazz or blues lover.”
“We all get the blues, baby,” she says, voice husky. “Like you say about fear, the blues will find you. It’s better you go and find it first.”
Good lord. This woman is everything.
I’m so infatuated with her that before I know it, I’m crossing the Queen’s River and Cherry Creek and heading up to the main house at Ravenswood Ranch.
“This is it. Where I grew up,” I tell her.
She stares out the window, big eyes taking it all in. The sun is setting in the west, making the snow glow pink and purple, the barns and the buildings looking like a winter postcard. “This is magical.”