by Emily March
Glory. He’d called her that before. He’d said it on New Year’s Eve right before he’d kissed her. When he came out of the stockroom a few moments later, she repeated the word. “Why Glory?”
“Glorious gams. Gams doesn’t work because that sounds like a grandma, so Glory will do.” He shoved a box toward her. “Here, try these on.”
Glory. She liked it. “But I don’t need hiking boots. I don’t want hiking boots. I’m not going hiking.”
“Try these on.”
She checked the end of the box. “Whoa … I’m not spending that kind of money on something I don’t want or need.”
“You do need them. You just don’t know it yet. And you’re not paying for the boots. They’re a sales sample. You can test them and give me a review so I know if we want to stock them.”
“I don’t … I can’t…” She caught the pair of socks he passed her way.
“You do have jeans at home, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Try the boots while I gather a few more things.” He strode toward the stairs.
“Tucker!”
Halfway to the second floor, he paused and met her gaze. “You’re a businesswoman. I’ll bet you know the marketing tagline we use for my family’s bed-and-breakfast, don’t you? About Enchanted Canyon?”
Gillian knew the phrase immediately. The Fallen Angel Inn used it in all of its marketing. “Where troubled souls go to find peace.”
She knew Angelica’s cousin Celeste had proposed the tag for the Fallen Angel Inn and strongly insisted they use it. She swore by it. For that matter, so did Jackson and Caroline. Maybe Tucker was onto something.
As Gillian tried on the boots, she considered the Fallen Angel Inn. It had a lovely pool and garden area. The spa was first class. The food served at the Last Chance Saloon, the restaurant between the inn and the dance hall that was Jackson’s baby, was excellent. It sounded like a great place to spend the rest of this Cupid day. The boots fit fine, but she wouldn’t need them.
When Tucker returned downstairs moments later wearing one backpack and carrying another, she said, “Enchanted Canyon sounds lovely. This is a great idea, Tucker. The weather today is more like spring than winter. We can sit by the pool and enjoy a bottle of wine. I expect the restaurant is booked solid for tonight, but since you’re family, if you can finagle a table, I’ll buy dinner.”
He pursed his lips, thought about it, and nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll take you up on it. Another day. Today, we’re hiking. How do the boots fit?”
“Fine, but—”
“Let’s go, Glory. Daylight is wasting.” He strode toward the door, held it open for her, and waited.
Well, okay. She’d brought this on herself, hadn’t she? It was either do this or go home and plot ways to kill Cupid all alone. Maybe she could change Tucker’s mind. She would bring along a dress to wear to dinner just in case.
So, Gillian and her troubled soul headed out the door bound for Enchanted Canyon, looking for peace, and maybe a nice glass of sauvignon blanc.
What she found was trouble.
* * *
“For heaven’s sake, woman.” Tucker lifted his gaze toward the sky. “It’s a hill. It’s not a damned mountain.”
“But there’s not even a trail,” Gillian whined.
“Sure is.” He pointed. “Right there. It’s an animal trail.”
“I rest my case. I don’t like animals.”
Tucker laughed out loud. “Oh, yeah? Then explain the thousand dollars’ worth of dog toys lying around your living room and kitchen.”
“I never spent a thousand dollars on dog toys.” Gillian arched an affronted brow. “Two hundred, tops. Besides, Peaches isn’t an animal. She’s a furbaby.”
“Okay. Fine. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll go first and protect you from all the evil squirrels.”
“I’m not worried about the squirrels,” she grumbled. “The skunks and the snakes are another kettle of fish.”
“Now, that’s just bull.” They shared a grin over the wordplay, then Tucker continued, “Seriously, you are as apt to run across a snake or skunk in your backyard as you are while hiking this canyon. Now, if I may offer a bit of advice about partaking in the peace of Enchanted Canyon, it’s easier to do when you’re not complaining.”
“Bite me, McBride.”
“I fantasize about doing just that, Thacker.”
That shut her up, and they finished the climb to his destination, mostly in the peacefulness of quiet. Mindful of her lack of enthusiasm, but primarily due to the early sunset this time of year, he’d chosen a relatively short, easy hike for them. He was taking her to the cave he’d discovered while exploring the canyon last November.
So far, the ordinarily twenty-minute hike had taken thirty, and they were still at least ten minutes away from their destination. Guiding Gillian along the canyon wall was like herding cats. Climb a little, then stop. Climb a little more, stop. Adjust the straps of her pack. Rocks in her shoes and leaves in her hair and ick! She’d broken a spider web. Then, OMG, yuck! Something had been buzzing around her, then it flew into her mouth.
Tucker almost kissed her just to silence her.
However, that wasn’t how he’d imagined their next kiss, and he’d imagined it for weeks now. Almost daily. That didn’t include the dreams he had at night.
Now that she was single, another kiss was going to happen. A real kiss this time. Nothing friendly about it. It would happen soon, but not too soon. Tucker needed to be strategic in his planning, and sure of his actions before he took them.
He wanted to get to know Gillian better. He knew she loved her friends and family and bright nail polish and her little mop of a dog. He knew she was hurting over the breakup, and that her wedding was supposed to have been this coming Saturday. Too bad, so sad, on that one. A better man would be more sympathetic to that particular pain, but Tucker was who he was, and he was damned happy that Mr. Wedgefoot was out of the picture.
Now, Tucker wanted to learn her politics and her prejudices, her passions and her purposes. He wanted to know what her favorite foods were, and which she detested and why. He wanted to discover what sports she enjoyed, what books she read, if she binge-watched TV, and if so, which shows?
It went without saying that he wanted to know what she liked in bed.
Tucker wanted to know if Gillian could be his future, and he aimed to find out. Strategic planning and tactical execution with defined mission goals—he knew how to do this. He’d spent his career doing this.
He should have a campaign name.
His mouth twisted in a crooked grin at the thought. He liked the idea. He could go with something appropriate like Operation Smoke Show. Or Operation Glory Gams. No, hmm, maybe—
Movement on the trail in front of him caught his attention. He held up a hand, signaling for Gillian to stop. He wanted her to see this.
“What is it?” she asked.
Quietly, he said, “Shush. At your two. Sunning atop the rock. Haven’t seen one of these in a long time.”
“Oh. A horny toad!” Then she surprised him by adding, “I used to love to play with them.”
That effectively deflected his interest in the lizard, technically called a horned frog, rather than the common nickname Gillian had just used. Tucker gawked at her. “Wait a minute. You played with them? Queen of the girly girls?”
She nodded. “I did. They looked so ugly, but they didn’t bite or scratch or sting. They didn’t even stick you with their horns if you were careful. There used to be hundreds of them on vacant lots in my neighborhood.”
“Wow. This is a new side of you I haven’t seen before, and one I never guessed existed.”
“I was a tomboy in elementary school.”
“What happened?”
“Not what.” Her eyes sparkled. “Who. Travis Warren. He was the pitcher on my brother’s little league team. I fell head over heels, but he only had eyes for Gayle Simpson. She wore lipst
ick.”
“The hussy.”
Gillian flashed a smile he hadn’t seen of late, bright as a comet. It warmed him from within.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw a horned frog,” she said. “What has happened to them?”
“I’m not sure. I think I recall an article blaming fire ants.”
Gillian grimaced. “Fire ants are evil.”
“Won’t argue with you about that.” Tucker pulled his gaze away from her and looked to see if the lizard had scampered away. Nope. Still there. “Did you ever see one puff way up and shoot blood from his eyes? It’s a defense mechanism.”
She pursed her lips. Damn, Tucker wanted to kiss them. “I remember the puffing up. I don’t recall eye blood.” She let out a little laugh and added, “We used to name them. My favorite was Zeus. I remember I used to turn him over and rub his belly until he went to sleep.”
That’s it, Tucker thought. He had his campaign name. “Hey, Gillian?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you think I look like a Greek god?”
She laughed out loud and scared the horny toad away. One of them, anyway.
Tucker whistled beneath his breath as he led her the rest of the way to the cave. At its entrance, anticipating her protest, he reached for his flashlight as he said, “Here we are.”
“Um … okay. Where is here?”
“Look closely. The entrance is hidden. I imagine that’s the main reason why the stuff inside has remained so well-preserved.” He switched on the light and pointed it toward the shadows. “See it now?”
“A cave. It’s a cave?”
“Yeah. You ready to do some spelunking?”
“In a cave?”
“Well, that is where one goes spelunking. Although, to be honest, I don’t know if this one actually qualifies for the activity. No tunnels to crawl through. Once you get through the entrance, it’s a pretty large cave, about the size of our classroom at the shop.”
“I told you I don’t do the outdoors. Why in the world would you think I’d want to go inside a cave?”
“Because there is treasure inside.”
She gave him a sharp look, curiosity gleaming in her big blue eyes. “What sort of treasure?”
“Something right up your alley.” He said no more after that, deciding to wait her out.
Eventually, she grumbled, “My mother started warning me about men like you when I was ten years old.”
“Men like me?” he repeated, protest in his voice. “What do you mean, men like me?”
“Men who try to lure women into places they know they shouldn’t go.”
Tucker snorted. “It’s a cave, not an opium den.”
“Well, it’s probably something’s den, and that something hasn’t invited me inside. It’s rude to be an uninvited guest.”
“The McBrides own the canyon and the cave. I’m a McBride. I’m inviting you inside.”
“You’re the landlord. What about the tenant?”
“I didn’t take you for a scaredy-cat.”
“Meow.”
He laughed. “Okay. How about I go in first and make sure we’re not currently occupied?”
“But—”
“Be bold, Gillian. Trust me. You’ll be glad you did.”
She folded her arms and tapped her foot, but her gaze had focused on the entrance to the cave. Partially obscured by a bushy sage, the mouth was two shoulders wide, arched at the top, and had straight sides. It was vaguely reminiscent of a church door. The shape had caught Tucker’s notice that first day when he’d discovered the cave. After finding what was inside, he figured he wasn’t the first person who had thought that.
Finally, Gillian exhaled a heavy breath. “Okay. I’ll do it. But you go in first and make sure there’s nothing inside that will bite, scratch, sting, or eat me.”
“It’s a deal.”
Tucker slid off his pack, ducked inside, and shined his light around. “No snakes, skunks, or bankers. It’s safe to come in, Gillian.”
“Snakes, skunks, and bankers? That’s the Department of Redundancy Department, McBride. So, will you promise this treasure is worth my being terrified?”
“You’re not terrified.” Tucker used the fire starter on his keychain to light the trio of lanterns he’d left on one of his previous visits. Together with the sunlight that beamed through the cave’s mouth, the candles provided sufficient light to illuminate the space. He was confident she wouldn’t notice the animal tracks—bobcat, he believed—in the thin layer of dirt atop the stone floor. She might see the bat guano above. He moved two of the lanterns closer to the knobby stone wall in order to better illuminate the veins of quartz that added sparkle to the walls. Then he leaned against the rock wall, his arms folded, and waited to enjoy Gillian’s reaction to the cave. “Come on in, Gillian. It’s safe. I promise. Prepare to be amazed.”
Loose rocks crunched under her feet as she stepped through the entrance. Tucker experienced a satisfying sense of pride as he saw her gaze skim across the glittering crystals in the walls. “Oh, wow,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful. The walls look like stars.” She took a step forward, but stopped abruptly when her stare landed on the old trunk standing against the back wall. “How in the world did that get here?”
“Apparently a lapsed Methodist.”
She laughed. “Who?”
He shined the flashlight toward a line of letters scratched with rock chalk above the chest: Property of Rev. Frederick Fluesche. “I did a little research. Seems a Methodist preacher bearing the same name became infamous when he took to robbing stagecoaches in the 1880s. It’s not a stretch to think he ended up in Ruin.”
“That’s a stagecoach trunk?”
“Yes. It’s called a Jenny Lind. You can tell by the shape. If you look at the end, it looks like a loaf of bread. This one is in near mint condition.”
“Wow. How cool is this? It should be in a museum.”
“Maybe. But Angelica is still trying to find an appropriate home for some of the stuff we found when we renovated the inn. I figure this stuff has remained tucked away safe and sound in this cave for a hundred and thirty years, so a little more time won’t hurt. Besides, I get a kick out of knowing it’s here, and that I stumbled on it.”
“So, is it filled with anything? Wells Fargo gold?”
“There is something inside. Like I said, it’s right up your alley. Take a look.”
Gillian crossed to the chest and went down on her knees. She lifted the lid, and Tucker knelt beside her to reach the hinge that would hold the trunk lid in an open position when fixed.
The items inside lay in the order in which Tucker had initially found them. As he’d expected, she reached for the matching hair combs first. Made of tortoiseshell with gold filigree shaped like leaves that cradled red stones—rubies, Tucker guessed—they must have been a wealthy woman’s adornment.
“How beautiful,” Gillian breathed.
They glowed like fire. Tucker wanted to see them in her hair.
“These are no everyday hair combs.” Tearing her gaze away from the items, she looked at Tucker. “This really is a treasure. You shouldn’t leave it unguarded in this cave.”
He shrugged. “Again, it’s been a hundred and thirty years. It’s not like we have hundreds of tourists snooping around the canyon this time of year.”
“There are tourists here every weekend. Jackson’s show at the dance hall this weekend is sold out, and that’s definitely hundreds of people.”
“They’re all at the Last Chance dancing and drinking beer and listening to music. They’re not off hiking obscure animal trails.”
“The inn attracts plenty of hikers.”
“Who are given trail maps and are accompanied by a guide if they come into this part of the canyon.”
“Still…” She set aside the combs and picked up the lone other piece of jewelry in the box, a gold watch chain with textured oval links and smoothly moving clasps. “This is pretty too. Is there a w
atch to go with it?”
“Not in this trunk, but I have one that we found in the inn with some other stuff. It’s very cool; the gold case is etched and personally engraved. The face has Roman numerals. Keeps time like a charm.”
“What does the engraving say?”
“‘To my love.’ I have it at the trailer. Remind me to show it to you later.”
She shot him a look, and he sheepishly grinned. “I couldn’t get a table at the restaurant. Angelica tore a strip off my hide for even asking, but I managed to wrangle a kid to deliver our dinner. It’s gonna be a nice evening. We will sit out beside the fire pit and share an excellent meal and not be alone on Valentine’s Day.”
She nodded. “Okay. That sounds lovely except my offer earlier still stands. I’ll pay the check.”
“Let me provide the wine, and we have a deal.”
She held out her hand for him to shake. Tucker took it, briefly considered, then shrugged. What the hell. He tugged her toward him, signaling his intent with a look, and when she didn’t resist, he captured her mouth with his.
He’d intended it to be a quick, seal-the-deal smooch, but once he got his mouth on hers, he didn’t want to stop. She tasted, well, glorious. Sweet and something else … something exotic. Ginger. She tasted like ginger, like his favorite molasses and ginger cookies. Her lips were soft and moist and, oh yeah, kissing him back.
Tucker took his time, leisurely exploring with his tongue as his fingers twined through her hair. Thick and silky soft, just like he’d imagined it. He groaned low in his throat and pulled her closer. She fit him perfectly, her curves and mounds an ideal match to his angles and planes. Her arms stole around him, and her fingers laced at the back of his neck. He could have stayed right here, doing this, doing more, for hours. Maybe even days.
But this was a first real kiss, and he’d best not veer from the strategic route he’d plotted on the trail up. So reluctantly, he lifted his mouth from hers and released her. He cleared his throat. “Wow, Glory. You pack a punch.”
She blinked rapidly. “I’m a little shell-shocked myself.”
Tucker stared at her. He couldn’t help himself. Her lips were wet and swollen. Her blue eyes luminous and soft. It took all his willpower to stop himself from swooping in again.