He freed a hand from his blankets and made a show of wiping his brow—even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Whew.”
“In case you didn’t know, it just so happens that I have a fiancé, thank you very much.”
“A fiancé?” That was news to Collin. The information bothered him. A lot—and that it bothered him bugged him to no end.
“Yes,” she said. “Well. Sort of.”
“Willa, get real. You do or you don’t.”
“His name is Dane Everhart and he’s an assistant coach at the University of Colorado. We met at UI. We’ve been dating on and off for three years. Dane loves me and knows I’m the one for him and wants only to marry me and, er, give me the world.”
“Hold on just a minute. Answer the question. You’re saying you’re engaged?”
She fiddled with her blankets and refused to turn around and look at him. “Well, no. Not exactly. But I could be. I promised to give Dane an answer by the end of the summer.”
He stared at the back of her head. Her hair was a tangle of wild, muddy curls from her dip in the floodwaters. It should have looked like crap. But it didn’t. It looked like she’d been having crazy good sex with someone—and then fallen asleep all loose and soft and satisfied.
And why the hell was he thinking about sex right now? Was he losing his mind? Probably. A few hours trapped in a barn with Willa Christensen could do that to a man, could drive him clean out of his head.
He sat up, too, then, and sneered, “You’re in love with this guy, and you’re not going to see him until September?”
“So? What’s wrong with that?”
“Well, I mean, if you’re in love with him, how can you stand to be apart from him? How can he stand to be away from you?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Are you in love with him, Willa?”
She squared her slim shoulders. “I just told you that you wouldn’t understand.”
“That’s right. I wouldn’t. If I loved a woman, I’d want her with me. Where I could touch her and be with her and hold her all night long.”
Willa gasped. She tried to hide the small, sharp sound, but he heard it. “Oh, please. As if you know anything about being in love, Collin Traub.”
“I said if I was in love.”
“Well. Humph. As it happens, Dane has gone to Australia until the end of the month. He gets only a short summer break before practice begins again. And do you know how he’s spending his limited free time? I will tell you how he’s spending it. At a special sports camp. He’s helping Australian children learn about American football. Because he’s a good man, a man who cares about other people. That’s how he is. That’s who he is...”
There was more. Lots more.
Collin let her heated words wash over him. The point, as far as he saw it, was that she hadn’t answered the main question. She hadn’t come out and said, “Yes. I’m in love with Dane Everhart.”
He felt absurdly satisfied with what she hadn’t said. She could rant all night about the wonderfulness of this Dane character while talking trash about him. At least she was acting like the Willa he’d always known. At least she was full of fire and vinegar and not shaking with cold, shock and fear anymore.
Collin smiled to himself, settled back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Chapter Three
Willa felt Collin’s presence behind her acutely.
But she didn’t turn to him. She sat on the edge of the pushed-together hay bales and stared resolutely out the tack room’s one window as waves of never-ending rain flowed down the glass.
She finished what she had to say about Dane. “It just so happens that Dane would have liked to have taken me with him. But he was going to be very busy with the Australian children and I had things I could be doing here at home. We have summer school at Rust Creek Falls Elementary, in case you didn’t know and I...” Her voice trailed off.
Collin hadn’t said a word for a couple of minutes, maybe more. Had he fallen asleep, for heaven’s sake?
She wouldn’t put it past him. He was such an exasperating, impossible man. Always had been. And no doubt always would be.
So why am I starting to feel ashamed of myself?
Willa’s cheeks were flaming. She tucked her chin down into the scratchy saddle blanket he’d wrapped around her. At least he couldn’t see her embarrassment at her own behavior—not as long as she didn’t turn and face him.
Which she was not going to do right now, thank you very much.
Stretched out on the floor by the hay bales, Buster huffed out a long sigh. Willa bent down and scratched him on the head. His tail bounced happily against the rough plank floor.
She gathered her blankets close again. All right, she probably shouldn’t have gone off on Collin like that. No matter how humiliating her history with the guy, he’d been there when she desperately needed him. He’d saved her life a few hours ago, at no small risk to himself.
Plus, well, she hadn’t really been honest while she was getting all up in his face just now, had she? She hadn’t bothered to mention that she had serious reservations about her and Dane. Dane was the greatest guy in the world and he did want to marry her, very much. But Rust Creek Falls was her home and he wasn’t about to give up his wonderful career at CU. And more important than geography, Dane somehow didn’t quite feel like her guy.
Whatever her guy should feel like. She wasn’t sure. She just had a certain intuition that Dane wasn’t it.
And worse than her doubts about her future with an ideal man like Dane, well, there was that longtime thing she’d had for Collin—oh, not anymore. Of course not. That night at the Ace in the Hole had put an end to her ridiculous schoolgirl crush on the town bad boy. But before that night she used to fantasize about him now and then.
Or maybe even more often than now and then.
She used to wonder what it would be like if bad-boy Collin were to kiss her. Or do more than kiss her...
Not that it mattered now. None of her past silliness over Collin mattered to anyone. It had been a fantasy, that was all. Her fantasy. He’d never been the least interested in her. He’d made that painfully clear on the night he led her on and then laughed in her face.
And really, after all that had happened today, her four-year grudge against him for not having sex with her was beginning to seem nothing short of petty. She really needed to let the past go. She needed to be...a bigger person than she’d been so far about this. She needed to be a better person.
And she needed to start doing that now.
Willa cleared her throat. “Um. Collin?”
He shifted a little, back there against the wall. “What now, Willa?” His voice was scratchy and deep. Lazy. What was it about him? He just always made her think of wrinkled sheets and forbidden passion.
In a purely impersonal, objective way, of course.
“I, um, well...”
“Come on. Spit it out.”
She made herself say it. “I’m sorry, okay?” She hauled her blanket-wrapped legs back up on the hay bales and wiggled around until she was facing him again. He lay sprawled under his blankets, his head propped against the wall, his eyes shut, his eyelashes black as coal, thicker than any girl’s, his full mouth lax and lazy, just like his voice had been, the shadow of a beard on his cheeks. A curl of that impossibly thick black hair of his hung over his forehead. She clutched her blankets tighter to keep from reaching out and smoothing it back. “I shouldn’t have jumped all over you like that. I shouldn’t have called you a tool. That was...small-minded and mean-spirited of me, especially after all you’ve done for me today.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. And he didn’t open his eyes. Again, she wondered if he’d dropped off to sleep and she had to resist the urge to reach out and shake him. But then those bad-boy lips curved upward in a slow smile. “So you don’t think I’m a tool, then?”
“Um. No. No, of course not. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.
I am.”
“And you think maybe you could stop racing off like your hair’s on fire every time you see me coming?”
A fresh wave of embarrassment had her cheeks flaming all over again. But what did it matter? He couldn’t see her blush. His eyes were shut. Also, she truly wanted to make amends. “Ahem. Yes. Fair enough. I will do that. I will stop avoiding you.”
“Well, all right then. I accept your apology.” He patted the empty space beside him. “Stretch out. Try and get some sleep. I’m thinking we’re going to be busy when the rain stops and the water goes down.”
His words brought reality crashing back down on her. She hung her head. “Oh, Collin. It seems like it’s never going to stop. I know my brother’s house is already underwater. And what if it just keeps rising, what if we—?”
“Shh.” He reached out and clasped her arm through the thick wool of the blanket. His grip was strong. Sure. It made her so very glad that he was here with her, that she wasn’t huddled in the family barn all alone, waiting out the endless storm. “Don’t go there.” His voice was calm and firm. “There’s no point.”
She lifted her head. His eyes were open now, steady on hers. Shamelessly, she pleaded, “Tell me that we’re going to be okay, that Rust Creek Falls will be okay, that we’ll make it through this, come back better and stronger than ever.”
He didn’t even hesitate. He told her what she needed to hear. “We will. Just watch. Now come here. Come on...” He lifted the blanket that covered him.
She didn’t think twice. She went down into the shelter of his offered arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He was so warm and big and solid. He smelled of mud and man, which at that moment she found wonderfully reassuring. He fiddled with the blankets, smoothing them over both of them.
Willa smiled to herself. All those crazy teenage dreams she’d had about him. And here she was, damp and dirty, bruised and scratched up, lying practically on top of him, grateful beyond measure to share a pile of saddle blankets with him. The world seemed to have gone crazy in the space of a day. But right now, in Collin’s arms, she felt safe.
Protected.
She closed her eyes. “I didn’t realize until now how tired I am....”
He touched her hair, gently. Lightly. “Rest, then.”
She started to answer him, but then she found she didn’t have the energy to make a sound. Sleep closed over her. She surrendered to it with a grateful sigh.
* * *
When she woke, the light was different.
Sun. It was sun slanting in the window—and the window faced east. That meant it had to be morning, didn’t it?
Also...
She was lying on a man. Collin. He had both arms wrapped around her and his cheek against her dirty, snarled hair. Her head was on his shoulder, one arm tucked in against her side.
Her other arm rested on Collin, which was perfectly acceptable, given the circumstances. But the hand that was attached to that arm? That hand was exactly where it shouldn’t be.
And where it shouldn’t be was hard.
Blinking, not quite putting it all together as reality yet, Willa lifted her head from his shoulder and blearily squinted at the morning light. Outside, faintly, she could hear birds singing.
Without moving her hand away from his very definite, very thick and large hardness, she looked down at him. Because, seriously. Could this actually be happening?
It was.
And he was awake. He gazed up at her with the strangest, laziest, sexiest expression. “Mornin’.”
She puffed out her cheeks as she blew out a slow breath. And then, with great care, she removed her hand from his private parts and whispered, “The sun’s out.”
He nodded. “The rain’s stopped. It stopped hours ago.” He was playing along with her, pretending the contact between her hand and his fly had not occurred. Which was great. Perfect. Wonderful of him.
She backed off him onto her knees, dragging the blankets with her, and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “You, uh, should have woken me.”
“Uh-uh.” He reached out and clasped her shoulder, a companionable, reassuring sort of gesture that made tears clog her throat. She swallowed them down. And he said, “You needed your sleep and so did I. I woke up in the middle of the night and it was quiet. I knew the rain had finally stopped. I thought about getting up, but then I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.”
Buster was up, making whining noises, scratching at the door that led outside. “I should let him out....” He took his hand from her shoulder. She wished he hadn’t, that he would touch her again, hold on tight and never, ever let go. But he didn’t. And she pushed the blankets aside, swung her legs over the edge of the hay bales and stood up. Barefoot, she went and pulled the door open. Buster went out and she scolded, “Don’t run off, now.” And then she lingered in the open doorway, staring up at the sky. Blue as a newborn baby’s eyes. She glanced back over her shoulder at Collin.
He was sitting up, bare feet on the floor. He had a case of bed head every bit as bad as hers, and he was kind of hunched over, his elbows on his knees. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “Put your boots on,” He raked his fingers back through all that thick, every-which-way hair. “We’ll see if the water’s gone down enough that we can get across the ravine to your folks’ house.”
* * *
They put on their damp socks and boots and pulled open the door that led into the main part of the barn.
“Needs a good mucking out in here,” Collin said. Did it ever. Most of the animals had wandered off, out into the morning sunshine, leaving a whole lot of fresh manure behind. “You supposed to be taking care of the place all by your lonesome while your folks and your brother are off at the rodeo?”
She shook her head and named off the neighbors who’d agreed to look after things and feed the stock until the family returned. “But I’m guessing they probably all have their own problems about now.” At least it was summer and grazing was good. The animals wouldn’t starve if left to their own devices for a few days.
Instead of slogging through the mess on the barn floor to one of the outer doors, they ducked back into the tack room and went out through the exterior door there. Buster was waiting for them, sitting right outside the door, acting as though he’d actually listened when she told him not to wander off.
Willa scratched his head and called him a good dog and tried to tell herself that the jittery feeling in her stomach was because she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before—not rising dread at the prospect of how bad the damage was behind the barn on the next rise over, and along the roads that crisscrossed the valley. And in town...
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, tipping her head up again to the clear sky. “You’d almost think yesterday never even happened.”
“Hey.”
She lowered her gaze to him. Even with his hair sticking up on one side and a smudge of dirt at his temple, he still looked like every well-behaved girl’s naughty, forbidden fantasy. “Hmm?”
His dark eyes searched hers. “You okay?”
And she nodded and forced her mouth to form a smile.
* * *
On the other side of the barn, the two pigs from the night before were rooting around near the water trough. A rooster stood on a section of busted-down fence and crowed as Willa stared across the ravine at her parents’ house.
The house was untouched by the flood, though the water had gotten halfway up the front walk that was lined with her mother’s prized roses. Her dad’s minitractor lay on its side at the base of that walk. And a couple of steers had somehow gotten through the fence and were snacking on the vegetable garden in the side yard.
Below, in the ravine, the water had receded, leaving debris strewn down the sides of the hill and up the one on which the house sat. There were tree trunks and lawn chairs down there, boulders and a bicycle, a shade umbrella and any number of other items that looked bizarre, scary and all wrong, soggy and busted up, trailing ac
ross the pasture. Willa turned her eyes away, toward the road.
And saw her red Subaru. It had drifted past the ditch and lay on its side in the pasture there. It was covered in mud.
“Guess I’ll be needing a new car.” She tried to sound philosophical about it, but knew that she didn’t exactly succeed.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go check out the house. Watch where you put your feet in that ravine.”
Buster and the two pigs followed them down there. They picked their way with care through all the soggy junk and knotted tree roots. It was going to be quite a job, cleaning up. And she knew that all the other ranches in the valley had to be in a similar state, if not worse. Her family still had a barn and the house, at least. And as far as she could see, there were no animals or—God forbid—people lying broken amid the wreckage down there.
When they reached the house, they skirted the downed tractor and went up the front steps. She’d lost her keys. They were probably still stuck in the ignition of her poor Subaru. But her mom had left a house key where she always did, in the mouth of the ceramic frog by the porch swing.
They went inside. The power and phone were both out, but still, it all looked just as it had the last time she’d been there, the white refrigerator covered with those silly smiling-flower magnets her mother liked, some of them holding reminders to pick up this or that at the store. There were also pictures of her and her brother and a few recipes her mom was meaning to try. In the living room, the remote sat on the magazine table by her dad’s recliner and her mother’s knitting bag waited in its usual place at the end of the fat blue sofa.
Her childhood home. Intact. It seemed a miracle to her right then. And she wanted to cry all over again—with a desperate, hot sort of joy.
Collin turned on the water in the kitchen. It ran clear, but they both knew that the flood could have caused contamination of any wells in its path.
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