This Time in Timberline

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This Time in Timberline Page 9

by Jennifer Morey


  "I do miss the weather here," Mason said as he walked with her toward the next hole, looking up at the clear blue sky.

  She tried to ignore the way his big arm swung as he moved. That trim waist. Were his abs still iron hard and ribbed?

  "Did you just say you miss something about Timberline?" she teased.

  "I miss other things about Timberline." The deliberate way his head moved left her no doubt what he meant. Though his eyes were hidden by sunglasses, she felt him take in her upper body before going back to her face.

  Disconcerted by the spark that burned a little hotter, she looked forward down the beautiful, tree-lined fairway. "I'm sure your dad appreciates the time you're spending with him."

  "I wasn't talking about Dad."

  He meant her? Why was he talking like that?

  "I miss you , Utah. The way we used to talk. Our friendship."

  Casual. He was only being casual. "It's good to see you again, too."

  They walked the rest of the way to his ball without talking. It gave Utah some time to gather her wits. Getting tangled with Mason would be another mistake for the growing list in her life. She knew that. So why was it so hard to keep from falling into the way he made her feel? If only she could trust him not to do what he'd done fifteen years ago. Break her heart. He'd do more damage now. They weren't kids anymore. This time it'd be for real, without adolescence confusing her emotions.

  Mason stopped at his ball and prepared to swing.

  "Don't you ever get tired of never being rooted?" she asked with more bite than she intended.

  He paused mid-stroke and lowered the club, straightening to look at her. "I'm rooted as much as I want to be."

  He said it too carefully. "Don't you ever get lonely? Always devoting yourself to the military?"

  "My teammates are like brothers to me." His mouth pressed tight after he said it.

  Utah wondered if he regretted mentioning his teammates. It pricked her curiosity. "Are any of them married?"

  "Aiden and Eli are but Timon and Keegan aren't." He hesitated. "Neither was Silas."

  "Was?"

  His long hesitation convinced her he was about to hide something from her. Instead of responding, he faced his ball and prepared to swing.

  "There were six of you," she commented, letting him get away with ignoring her probing. Whatever happened with Silas, it must have something to do with why Mason was here. "Do Aiden and Eli have kids?"

  He stopped testing his swing before the ball and straightened again, turning only his head to look at her. "Aiden's wife is pregnant with their first. Eli just got married last year."

  "Do you ever want to get married?"

  He stared at her.

  "I-I mean...I'm not asking because...I don't mean to suggest...."

  He smiled and shifted so he faced her fully. "I know what you mean, Utah. I'm just wondering why you're asking."

  "I'm curious what made you so afraid to grow roots."

  "I'm not afraid. I'm never home. Aiden and Eli never see their wives. It's hard on them. If I ever get married and have kids, it will be after I quit special ops."

  His confession took her aback. He sounded as though he'd given it a lot of thought. Like he'd considered the possibility of quitting special ops to have a family. Timberline was full of families and neighbors who cared about each other. So what about that had pushed him away in the first place?

  "When will that be? When you're fifty?"

  "No, sooner than that."

  "And then what will you do?"

  "I don't know. Something in the States."

  He didn't sound as though he'd thought it through very well. "What does the military give you that Timberline can't?"

  "A career."

  She'd buy that. He had to make money. What would he do here if he quit? "Yet some day you might want to have kids."

  He just stared at her in that way of his. Reading her. Knowing what she was really saying. "Why's it so hard for you to accept that I don't want to live in Timberline?"

  She moved closer to him, until she could see the faint outline of his eyes through his sunglasses. "Because I don't believe you."

  "What. You think I'm harboring some secret desire to move back here?"

  Realizing that's exactly what she was starting to think, she retreated. "No." She shook her head. Trusting him to stay would be a huge error in judgment. "But you left because you're afraid to grow roots."

  "I left because I didn't want to end up like my dad. He's lonely and isolated in a nowhere town. I didn't want that."

  She angled her head, amazed by what he'd said. "You aren't living any different in the military. You go on faraway missions with only your team for company. What kind of life is that? You might as well have stayed here. You hide in faraway places just like you feel like you'd be doing here. The only difference is, here you'd have people around you who cared."

  "I have everything I need."

  She wondered. "Have you asked your dad how he feels? Do you really think he's so unhappy here?"

  He didn't answer and she knew he wasn't sure.

  "You only see what you want to see," she went on. "If you were really looking, you'd see how happy your dad is here."

  "He's alone."

  "No, he isn't. He has the entire town of Timberline."

  "Who does he go home to every night? Nobody."

  "Who do you go home to every night?"

  His mouth pressed into a hard line.

  "Nobody, Mason," she answered for him.

  But it was obvious to her he wasn't ready to face the truth about his phobia of small towns. Mason didn't see that it was possible to find happiness alone in a place like this. Andy had found love with his first wife, and would have found it with Mamie. Mason had seen the agony his father had endured when his wife had died and probably had seen it again when Mamie died. He'd translated that into his own interpretation of what staying in small towns could do to a man who fell in love. So he spent his life searching for happiness in other forms. The Army. His teammates. Always too busy to find the kind of love that his father had lost. Yet here he was, in Timberline after something terrible happened to him. Timberline gave him what no big city could. If only there was a way to make him see that.

  While she pondered that, he turned and prepared once again to swing.

  "I suppose I can see how someone would grow to dislike a place. I feel that way about Denver," she said.

  "That's because nothing good ever came to you living there." He looked down the fairway, gauging his aim.

  "No, it was more than that." She moved to stand beside him, behind the ball. "The sense of community is missing. People would rather flip you off on the Interstate than take the time to help you out."

  "And people here have opened their arms to you?"

  They would eventually. But as she thought it, she wondered.

  "You came here because this is home to you," Mason said. "Your mother loved it here. It feels safe."

  "What's wrong with that?"

  "You're running."

  Her first thought was of Arthur's stepson, Calvin. She might have a very good reason to run. Calvin was unpredictable. She didn't want to be anywhere near him, and hoped he never discovered where she'd gone.

  "You accuse me of burying things, but you're doing the same." He adjusted his footing before the ball.

  "I'm not running." From Calvin, maybe, but not from anything else. Not from bad press or any other form of bad.

  He straightened, abandoning his swing. "You belong in Timberline, Utah."

  So do you, she wanted to say, but kept it to herself. Mason wasn't ready to hear that. He had to learn to appreciate the quiet times first. Learn that sitting on a front porch with the one you loved was just as valuable as fighting to save the world. And both were equally risky, at least for Mason.

  When she didn't say anything, Mason positioned himself before the ball again and swung. The ball landed at the edge of the trees. He mutter
ed something under his breath.

  "Could be worse," she teased. "You could have bonked it into the stream."

  "It's not too late for that."

  The fun was back into the afternoon. They headed for the ball.

  "You remember that time you took me putt-putt golfing in Fort Collins?" Today reminded her of that game. "You never could score worth a crap at this game."

  "It was your fault I lost that game."

  They hadn't paid much attention to the game, but Utah had still beat him. "Just admit it, you can't play golf."

  He chuckled. "Not with you around."

  "A likely excuse." But his meaning warmed her as much as the memory. And was he talking about now, or the past?

  He looked over at her. "With you around, all I can think about is how I'm going to get you out of those shorts."

  Now. He meant now. She grappled with an unwelcomed reaction, one that had her pulse too quick and her blood too hot. "You're thinking of ways to get me out of my shorts?"

  "I was back then."

  Nice recovery. She let him get away with it. "You were a little bold that day."

  "You teased me."

  Kind of like now. "You kept making moves on me in public."

  He stopped near his ball, pulling a club from the bag. "You wanted me to."

  "I did not." This banter better stop or they'd be doing something they'd regret, or at least, she would.

  "You kept rubbing up against me."

  "Uh!" She tapped his shoulder indignantly. "I did not."

  "Between shots. Don't you remember?"

  She remembered kissing him a lot.

  "You remember." He grinned wickedly, golf club propped beside him.

  Warmth rushed through her and she laughed.

  He leaned down and kissed her, just a peck, but that's all it took to light the inferno.

  "Mason..."

  He kissed her again. Soft. Tentative. Warm and sweet. She closed her eyes. This was different than at Burl's.

  She heard him drop his club, felt his arm slide around her waist. Gliding her hand up his chest, she pressed her body against him and brushed her fingers along the soft edge of his hair. The drugging effect of his warm lips feathering over hers fogged her brain.

  He planted a wet kiss on her throat, his tongue brushing her skin, sending a shiver of heat trickling through her nerve-endings. She tipped her head back, parting her lips to get more air. He slid his hand into her hair and held her while he kissed her hard. She clung to his shoulders as the force of his passion enflamed her own. She strained with him, hearing a moan come into her throat. The instinct to move her pelvis against his jarred her. She didn't remember it being like this when they were teenagers. So strong. Or maybe it had just been too long.

  He pulled his mouth from hers. She struggled to regain her aplomb while she watched him look over her head at something.

  Releasing her, he stepped back and raked his fingers through his hair. Utah turned and saw two couples watching them, one man with irritation, one woman with disgust, the other two with unmasked amusement. They were waiting to play the hole. Utah felt awkward and not herself as Mason told them to go ahead of them.

  Did she want to have a fling with Mason? Could she? Would she be able to watch him leave her a second time?

  Mason turned from the golfers to look at her. Heat still lingered in his green eyes. He wanted her. And she was oh, so tempted to give in to the answer in her heart.

  ###

  Roanne's chatter drifted to the background as Utah stared out the window of Ro's Blooms. Driving home with Mason yesterday was the longest she'd ever spent in a car. He kept glancing at her. The sexual energy buzzed between them. By the time they'd reached town, her palms were sweaty. She dropped him off at his dad's office and he was slow to get out of the car. She could feel the question he never asked.

  Do you want to go to your place?

  But he'd said goodbye in a deep, gruff voice and stood on the sidewalk watching her drive away. She saw him in her rearview mirror.

  She really didn't want to run in to him anymore. The way her luck went, she'd wind up in bed with him and it would mean way more to her than it would to him. Just the thought of taking him home with her made her tingle inside.

  "Are you listening to anything I've said?"

  Utah turned from the view of Second Street Salon and a vacant building across the street. "Sorry. Something about Charlie and Gwen?"

  "What's the matter with you? You've been acting strange all morning."

  She tried to appear innocent. "Nothing. I'm fine. So, Charlie is still seeing Gwen?"

  "Megan said Melva saw him coming out of her house this morning. She came in for a haircut."

  "Never trust anything Megan says. You should know that by now."

  "But if it's true..."

  Utah felt terrible for being so wrapped up in her own thoughts to miss her friend's agony. "You think he'd sleep with her so soon?"

  "I don't know anything about him anymore. I don't understand why he's so hateful toward me."

  "He's hateful?"

  "He's got to know what his being with Gwen does to me. Does he think I won't care if he sleeps with another woman when he was engaged to me just a week ago?"

  "Men don't think like that."

  "I just don't get it. He was crazy about me and all of the sudden he flips out. What happened to make him fall out of love with me? Is it me? Something I did? I just want to know."

  Utah went to her. "Come on, let's get out of here. You're slow today anyway." It was closing time anyway.

  "Where do you want to go?"

  "The church is having a softball tournament today. They have concession stands. We can pig out on hot dogs and potato chips."

  "Is there beer?"

  "No more alcohol for you. Come on." She tugged Roanne out of her flower shop. They walked down Second Street under a perfect blue sky.

  Five minutes later, they reached the softball field. People sat on small bleachers and milled around two concession stands. An announcer was perched in a wooden tower, yelling as a runner slid home. People cheered.

  "Wow, everybody's here," Roanne said.

  "Must be the weather."

  They walked up a dirt path that led past one of the bleachers. Roanne stopped walking before they made it to the concession stands, and Utah could see why.

  Charlie stood there, smiling down at Gwen as he handed her a Coca-Cola cup. His gaze shifted and he saw Roanne. Utah sensed her stiffen.

  "Ignore him." She hooked her arm with her friend's and led her to the short line in front of the food stand.

  "Hey Roanne," Charlie said as they passed. He sounded uncomfortable.

  Roanne ignored him.

  "How's the golf course coming along, Utah?" he asked instead of pressing her.

  "Great," Utah replied, sliding an accusatory glance at Gwen, who caught it and fluttered her gaze elsewhere.

  They stood in line.

  "I can't believe he brought her here," Roanne said.

  It was their turn and Roanne ordered. Utah didn't know what to say to make her friend feel better. She looked over her shoulder and saw Charlie and Gwen had gotten in line behind them.

  Roanne turned from the concession stand and handed Utah a thin, white cardboard container stuffed with a hot dog and potato chips. Her gaze flitted to Charlie and her hand shook as she handed Utah a soda. Though she made a valiant effort to appear stoic, her weakening defenses were no match for the plain and obvious ache inside her.

  "How've you been, Ro?" Charlie asked. He must need a lesson in tact. Asking his ex-fiancé how she was in front of his new girlfriend had to be among the stupidest things she'd ever heard.

  "I'm just great, Charlie. I'm really glad I broke our engagement. It's good to know it was the right decision. I can't believe it took me so long to see what an ass you really are."

  Utah hid a triumphant smile.

  "You're the one who threw your ring at me," Ch
arlie said.

  "You got what you wanted. And it isn't me, thank God." She looked at Gwen standing next to him, his cruelty in showing her off like this evident.

  "I never cheated on you."

  "I didn't give you the chance. But I bet you would have if I'd have been stupid enough to marry you."

  "You're over-reacting just like you did the night of Andy's birthday party."

  "Apparently, I wasn't." She sent Gwen a pointed look.

  Gwen's chin lifted a little and she fidgeted with her hands. At least she had the decency to be uncomfortable. It was Charlie who'd brought her here.

  "We'd still be together if you'd have kept your cool," he said.

  Roanne leaned closer. "What did you want me to do? Invite her home with us so I could watch you fuck her?"

  Gwen's head flinched backward a little. "Hey."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I was just talking to her."

  "Yeah, you were just talking," Roanne sneered. "And I suppose it's a coincidence that you're now dating."

  "You broke up with me."

  "And you wasted no time moving on, did you." Roanne turned right as tears began to shine in her eyes. She tossed her untouched hot dog and drink into the trash and stomped off.

  Utah started to follow, but Charlie was faster. He stormed after her. Hooking his hand above her elbow, he stopped her and swung her around. A riot of emotion ravaged Roanne's face. Charlie spoke rapidly to her. She averted her head, looking away, dejected. But Charlie kept talking, and the earnest way he looked told Utah plenty.

  She turned to Gwen. "How does it feel to be responsible for coming between two people who love each other?"

  Gwen put her hand on her hip. "I didn't do anything wrong. He came on to me."

  "He's confused." She gestured to Charlie and Roanne. "It's obvious they still have feelings for each other."

  "Then why is he with me now?"

  "Why are you with him?"

  "I've always liked Charlie."

  "And nothing will stand in your way of having him?"

  Her uncertainty showed, and Utah wasn't sure she was the one to blame.

  "If he wanted Roanne, he wouldn't have come looking for me," she said.

 

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